Chapter One

Morning, pet

Spike Norman stretched languorously on the king-size bed. The covers had slipped down while he was sleeping revealing a lean, toned torso. He was of slim build but his well-defined abs and strong muscular arms prevented him from looking skinny.

He ran a hand through his bleach blond hair; it was free from its usual gel after being washed the night before. It was ruffled and slightly curly. He yawned and finally opened his vivid blue eyes, squinting a little at the bright California sun streaming through the window. He never slept with the drapes closed, preferring to be able to see the stars through the large picture window. His house had no near neighbours and the seven foot high security fence which prevented prying eyes was a good half mile away from it on all sides.

Spike rolled over to his right side, as he had every morning for the past five years, so he could watch the girl of his dreams as she slept beside him. He smiled to himself; he still couldn’t believe his luck at Buffy Summers being his lover for the last nine years. They’d lived together in this huge house for five years now. He propped his head up on his hand and waited. She always woke about five or ten minutes after he did unless they had to set an alarm clock. She looked so bloody adorable as she roused that he thought he’d die from wanting her so badly.

Buffy stirred and made that funny little sound that he loved so much – part sigh, part moan –then opened her big green eyes.

“Morning, pet.”

She smiled at him lazily.

“Morning, lover boy.”

He leant over and kissed her, gently at first, and then they deepened it until, when they parted their lips, they were both breathless.

“God, I love waking up next to you,” he said.

Buffy smiled again. She loved Spike deeply and it amused her that he said exactly the same thing to her every day. In fact the only time it varied was on the few occasions that they’d had to spend the night apart. In that case she was awoken by a telephone call and the first thing she heard when she picked it up was always ‘God, I hate waking up without you’. Yeah, predictable - that was Spike. Drop dead gorgeous but way predictable.

She glanced up at his face. She realised by the slightly anxious look in his eyes that she’d taken too long to reply. Despite everything he was still at times the insecure boy she’d fallen in love with in high school, though back then he’d tried to hide it behind his black clothes and bleached hair.

“I love you, Spike. Sorry, I lost myself there for a moment. I was just admiring the view.”

His face split into a grin, “That’s all right then.”

He ducked under the deep red satin quilt and gave a low chuckle as Buffy shrieked when he slipped a hand between her thighs. Buffy had decided long ago that she liked him being predictable, as this was the second thing he did on waking! She moaned and arched her back as Spike’s fingers unerringly found their way to her most sensitive spot. She climaxed a few moments later after his tongue had replaced his fingers. God, he knew exactly what buttons to push. He was a generous lover, taking almost as much satisfaction in seeing her pleasure as in seeking his own.

“I need you inside me now,” ordered Buffy.

Spike’s head reappeared from beneath the sheets, his face slightly flushed.

“Bossy bint,” he whispered in her ear as he thrust into her.

Both gasped as he entered her. Years ago Spike had said that their lovemaking got better each time and Buffy was sure that, even after so long together, each time surpassed the last. She climaxed again, her own orgasm provoking his. They collapsed sated, entwined together, with sheets having fallen to the floor. Eventually Buffy moved out of Spike’s embrace.

“I’d better go and get a shower.”

“Can’t you stay here a bit longer?” Spike tilted his head to one side as he spoke.

“Oh no you don’t, mister,” said Buffy sternly.

“Don’t what?” asked Spike, the very epitome of innocence.

“Do the old head tilty thing,” replied Buffy, “Next it’ll be the tongue thing.”

Spike remained silent. He just smiled at her, his tongue curled against his top teeth.

“I mean it,” she giggled, “It won’t work.”

She knew she was lost as soon as she spoke, the tongue thing being replaced by a truly irresistible pout. She leaned back into his arms and kissed the pout clean off his face.

“You get you own way far too often, Spike Norman,” she admonished gently.

“It’s all down to my boyish charm and handsome good looks,” grinned Spike.

Buffy ran her hand through his soft hair.

“I wish you’d leave it like this.”

“No way! I look like a bleeding poofter with the baby curls.”

“No, you don’t. They make you look cute,” she teased, knowing exactly what his reaction would be.

“Cute?” he roared. He pulled her towards him, “You’re so gonna pay for that.”

“Ooh, please!”

“Buffy Summers, you’ll be the death of me,” said Spike as he felt himself harden once more, “Mind you, it beats going to the gym.”

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It was an hour later when Buffy managed to go to get her shower. Spike sat up in bed and looked around the room, shaking his head in bemusement.

“Who would have thought that little ole William Pratt would have come to this?” he thought, not for the first time.

He swore the room was almost as big as the whole of the house he’d shared with his mom before that fateful trip to London which had changed his life forever.

He’d gone to London as William Pratt, the bullied, lonely, painfully shy, super geek and had returned as James ‘Spike’ Norman, the much cooler, slightly bad ass - on the surface - cousin. A car wreck had killed his mom, aunt, uncle and cousin and robbed him of his memory for over three weeks. He’d been wearing his cousin James’ black leather duster and had been wrongly identified as him courtesy of some ID in its pocket. The two boys had been so similar they were almost like twins.

Rupert Giles, his mom’s older brother, was his next of kin and, despite not having seen him for years, had flown from New York to take care of him. A bizarre twist of fate meant that on the day Spike had recovered his memories and realised that he was actually William, Rupert had announced that he’d taken a job at William’s high school and that the two of them were going to live in Sunnydale. Spike had panicked at the thought of being thrown back into the world where he’d been persecuted daily by Liam ‘Angel’ O’ Connor and hadn’t told Rupert who he really was. A visit to a hairdresser had given him his now trademark bleach blond locks and ‘Spike’ was born. He’d insisted on being called by the nickname James and his friend Rich had given to him when they’d spiked his drink to get him up to sing at a karaoke night.

Of course it had all eventually backfired horribly and he’d almost lost Buffy because of it. But her support meant that he finally had the courage to tell Rupert his true identity.

To be continued…

Chapter Two

The Thing Is…

Spike could remember the day he had told Rupert like it was yesterday and not over nine years ago. He let his mind wander…

“The thing is, Rupert. I’m really William.”

The words seemed to hang in the air for an age before Rupert moved, let alone spoke. His first reaction typically was to remove his spectacles and start to clean them vigorously. Spike gripped Buffy’s hand so tightly that she had to put her other hand on his wrist to make him let go.

“Good Lord,” said Rupert eventually, sitting down in a somewhat stunned manner. “Oh dear,” he added as he popped one of the lenses out of the frame.

Spike was frozen to the spot, his mouth so dry that he would have been unable to speak even if he knew what to say. He glanced at Buffy and was reassured by her smile. He knew that he could get through anything with her by his side.

Rupert finally managed to get the lens back into place and put his glasses onto the bridge of his nose.

“Well, that is…er…” His words trailed off. He looked up at Spike; the poor boy looked terrified. He smiled at him.

“I’m sorry, Rupert,” Spike blurted out. “Look, I’ll just move out, okay? I can get a job. I won’t bother you again.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Rupert sharply. “Why on earth would you need to move out?”

Spike took a small step back. “Um…well…wot with all the lying and all,” he said weakly. “I did promise you that I wouldn’t cause you any more trouble and here I am with loads more for you.”

“I think we need to go home, sit down and have a proper talk about it,” said Rupert calmly, although his mind was racing with all of the implications this revelation brought.

“Um, okay,” replied Spike.

“Buffy, can we give you a ride home?”

“That would be great. Thank you, Mr. Giles.”

The three of them walked to Rupert’s beat up old grey Citroen. After dropping Buffy off, Spike and Rupert arrived at the apartment in silence. They hadn’t spoken in the car, and Spike was feeling very nervous about the conversation to come.

“Sit down, Spike. I’ll make us some tea.”

Rupert went into the kitchen and switched on the kettle. He would rather have had a stiff brandy but didn’t want to be seen using liquor as a crutch in front of the boy. It wouldn’t be right, given his previous trouble with drink. When it was ready , he carried the two mugs and sat opposite Spike at the dining table. Spike didn’t meet his eye as he pushed the steaming mug over to him.

“So how long have you known that you are William?” he asked gently. Deciding that starting at the beginning was as good a place as any.

Eyes still downcast, Spike replied, “Ever since I got my memory back.” It was barely audible.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” asked Rupert incredulously. He continued before Spike could respond, “It was because I told you that we were coming here and about the memorial service, isn’t it?”

Spike nodded. He glanced up at his uncle, as always surprised at the kindness he saw in Rupert’s eyes despite the trouble that he invariably seemed to cause him.

“I know it sounds so stupid now, but when I was in England I felt …I dunno…like a normal person, I suppose. I wasn’t picked on, and I didn’t have to worry about what I said or did. I just couldn’t face going back to being like that again and no way would Angel have left me alone if he’d known that I’d lived after being declared dead.” He pulled a face and added earnestly, “God, it sounds so bleeding lame. I didn’t do it to get James’ inheritance or cheat you out of anything. I was going to tell you when I graduated, so I could move away from Sunnydale and leave all that behind and…”

“Spike.” Rupert interrupted him.

He fell silent and looked down at his untouched tea. Like Rupert earlier, he craved alcohol.

“Just calm down a little. Everything will be all right. I know that you never meant to cheat me, for goodness sake. No wonder you found things so hard when you came back. I just wish you could have confided in me sooner rather than going through it alone. We’ll get this all sorted out.”

Spike mumbled something Rupert couldn’t hear.

“What was that?” he coaxed.

“I let James be cremated as me.” His voice broke as he spoke. “How could I let him have a funeral as me?” Tears started to fall down his cheeks.

“Shh, you’re being too hard on yourself, Spike. The funerals took place well before your memory returned. It’s something we have to rectify but it definitely wasn’t your fault.”

Spike stood up abruptly, unable to keep still a moment longer. All of his instincts were screaming at him to run away - it’s what William had always done. Rupert slowly rose from his chair. He could see the conflict and distress his nephew was suffering. He wanted to hug him, to reassure him, understanding now why Spike shied away from physical contact most of the time. Both his father, and mother to a lesser degree, had been violent towards him. Rupert was amazed when Spike walked round the table and tentatively put his arms around him, desperate for comfort. It was the first time Spike had initiated a hug.

“Oh, Spike,” Rupert said softly as the boy clung to him, body wracked with sobs. “I promise you, it will be all right.”

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Rupert hadn’t been lying. He really did sort out the mess surrounding Spike’s identity. The first thing he’d done was contact the firm of solicitors in London who were handling the trust fund set up for Spike and overseeing the rental of the Norman family home. They had been amazing and in less time than Rupert had thought possible it was all sorted out legally and ready for them to sign. He arranged with Principal Snyder for him and Spike to have a week off from school so they could fly to London to do the finalities.

The legal team had all decided that the easiest thing for Spike would be for him to legally adopt the surname Norman. He had no regrets at losing the name Pratt - he didn’t want to bear the name of his abusive father. To the amusement of the solicitors, Spike had insisted that his first name be changed to Spike. So once everything had been signed, William Pratt, who had become James ‘Spike’ Norman, had evolved further to simply Spike Norman.

Rupert shuddered to think of how the name would appear on college applications but it was something he was happy to concede, as Spike had been stronger than Rupert had thought he could possibly be, through the endless hours with the solicitors.

Whilst they were in London, Rupert and Spike had a private service for the memory of James, and his ashes were re-interred under his own name. The only other person in attendance was Rich Bayliss, James’ best friend and now a true friend to Spike. He’d proven to be a Godsend during the week. He’d been to the house each evening, cheering Spike up after the arduous time he had in the day.

Although Spike had found the whole process extremely overwhelming, he realised that, for the first time since he’d regained his memory after the crash, he felt safe. A weight had been lifted from his shoulders. This time it wasn’t with dread that he stepped off the plane in California but with anticipation. Now he could really start to live his life properly.

To be continued…

Chapter Three

It’s Unreal Isn’t it?

“Hey, you haven’t fallen back to sleep, have you?”

Buffy’s voice startled Spike from his trip down memory lane.

“Huh? What? No, ‘course not.”

He got up from the bed and walked towards the en suite bathroom that Buffy had just come out of.

“See something you like, love?” he said with a smirk, as he saw her admiring his naked form.

“No, nothing at all,” joked Buffy, slapping his ass as he walked by. “See you downstairs, honey.”

“Yeah, get out of here before I take you back into that bed and ravish you.”

“Just hurry up and get dressed,” replied Buffy. “Don’t you have work to do today?”

“Okay, okay, no need to nag. I’ve got plenty of time yet. Just make sure that you have my breakfast on the table when I get down there, woman,” he said with a grin, ducking to avoid the hairbrush that she threw at him.

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Spike showered quickly and got dressed in a pair of tight fitting black jeans, a faded black Ghost of The Robot t-shirt that he’d had for years, and a red shirt unbuttoned over the top. His hair was now slicked back from his forehead.

“Bloody cute,” he grumbled at his reflection as he smoothed the gel on.

He strode down the curved staircase, taking two steps at a time, and made his way into the kitchen. The kitchen was bright and airy. The morning sun flooded in, illuminating Buffy in such a way that her hair looked like a golden halo. Spike’s breath caught at his throat. He never tired of looking at her. She was simply amazing.

“That was quick,” she said when she saw him. “Look! I’ve made cereal.”

They both laughed. Buffy’s lack of culinary skills was legendary and Spike’s weren’t much better. None of their friends were surprised that they both were so slim; in fact, if they relied on their own efforts, the couple would probably have starved. Thank God for catering companies and for Mrs. Benson, who came in to cook the evening meal when Buffy and Spike were at home.

Spike pulled up a stool and sat next to Buffy at the breakfast bar. He searched through the various cartons of cereals , opting for Cocoa Puffs. He sloshed on the milk and started munching happily away.

“Are you ever going to grow up?” asked Buffy, nodding to his bowl.

“Nothing wrong with this breakfast love - full of nourishment, got extra vitamins and all.”

“Big kid, that’s what you are, Spike.”

“You love it though.”

He had her there. As crazy as he was about her, he knew damn well that she felt the same way. All those corny ‘two hearts beat as one’, ‘they were destined to be together’ lines, really did apply to Buffy and Spike.

“Good thing I do. A break up could seriously harm your public image.”

“But just think of all the hot chicks out there who’d suddenly have some hope in their lives,” he said with a smirk, tilting his head on one side. “I reckon sales would triple.”

“You’re impossible!” cried Buffy, slapping his arm. Although he joked about it, she knew that Spike was deeply embarrassed whenever he was referred to as a heartthrob or such like. She was totally secure in his love for her.

Spike caught her hand and pulled her in for a kiss.

“It’s bloody unreal, isn’t it?” he said, shaking his head.

“When I look at all this…” replied Buffy, waving her hand in a sweeping gesture, “I still need to pinch myself.”

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To Rupert’s horror, Spike dropped out of college after two years, and the other band members, Daniel ‘Oz’ Osborne, Pete Rafferty and Joey Trader did the same. They knew that if they were going to have a chance of making it amongst the hundreds of other young bands, that they had to give it their all. Spike’s friend, Rich Bayliss, who he knew from London, had posted footage of Dingoes Ate My Baby on the Internet. The band had attracted a loyal following from their podcasts, and from the countless gigs that they played. They had practically lived in Oz’s zebra striped van for a year.

It was three years after Rich had first put them on Youtube that the band was picked up by a major record label. It was fitting that Rich was over from London when the scout approached them since he was their unofficial, make that unpaid, manager.

A year on from signing and all of their lives were changed forever. The only concession they’d had to make was their name. The label asked them to shorten it to simply ‘The Dingoes’ as they didn’t think it looked very good in the publicity to have ‘Ate My Baby’ in the name. The band members were happy to acquiesce as they had referred to themselves as The Dingoes for years.

Fast-forward another year and their second signed album ‘Infected’ went platinum and their appeal global. The quality of the songs they wrote and the charisma of their lead singer, Spike, meant the tour to promote it was a sell out.

Nowadays, they were established as one of the top bands on either side of the Atlantic. Their diehard fans from the early days of playing half full venues like the Bronze in Sunnydale were know as ‘The Babyeaters’.

Spike and Buffy’s move to the rather ostentatious house, with its private grounds, was prompted when a fanatical fan was discovered going through the trash can outside Spike’s apartment. It brought home to them just how successful The Dingoes were becoming, and on the advice of just about everyone, they reluctantly moved to live behind its impregnable fences. It was a small price to pay for basically living their dreams as they were.

The other band members had moved into similar properties. Rich had lived in California ever since they were signed up, and his management of the band meant that they were kept busy and they earned seriously large amounts of money.

Only Joyce, Buffy’s mom, remained in the same house as before the band achieved fame. This was mostly due to the fact that she’d been married to Rupert Giles, Spike’s guardian, for eight years. The two of them found that the surname ‘Giles’ gave them a little anonymity. They loved the house on Revello Drive, and despite Spike’s repeated attempts to buy them a property elsewhere, they’d stayed put. The two of them had expanded Joyce’s art gallery and it now had a great reputation and boasted artifacts from all over the world.

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“So what are you up to today?” asked Spike, as they cleared away the breakfast things.

“What? Apart from packing your clothes for the tour?” replied Buffy.

“Um…well…yeah.” Spike was a bit embarrassed and rightly so. Buffy had packed his stuff for touring ever since he’d gone with a suitcase of absolutely identical outfits. Black Levis, black t-shirts and black over shirts. Even the press had commented on the fact. Now, although black was still the predominant colour, Buffy made sure that the jeans were of several different brands, same with the t-shirts. Amazingly, she’d even found he’d wear the occasional coloured shirt over the top.

Buffy grinned at him. “Apart from that, I’m going to the office to go through the hotel and flight bookings and get through as much of the fan mail as I can before we leave, otherwise it’ll take me months to do it when we get back.”

Buffy had completed her education, graduating with a degree in art but she’d decided to work alongside Rich in The Dingoes management office. She wanted to stay as close to Spike as she could. She smiled at herself as she thought of her life, following a rock group around the world.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Oz wants us to run through a few new songs that we’re adding to the set to make sure we’ve got them right. Shouldn’t take more than half the day.”

She glanced at the clock. “More than half of the day will be over if we don’t get a move on.”

“You’d better watch out or else Rich will fire your ass if you’re late,” said Spike with a laugh.

tbc

Chapter Four

A Day At The Office


Spike walked through to the garage and he looked at the selection of cars he had to choose from. There was the brand new SUV with its tinted windows, and the little sporty bright blue open top. “A chick’s car,” thought Spike with a grin. It also had a couple of dents in it, proving that cars and Buffy were still pretty much unmixy things. Spike sighed with pleasure as he walked to the car at the far side; his beloved Desoto. He’d owned it since his first year at college, and loved it just as much now, as when he bought it. He’d had it totally renovated over the years. Unfortunately, pretty well every Dingoes fan knew it, and he didn’t drive it as often as he’d like these days. He tossed the keys into the air and caught them again.


“Fancy going for a drive, love?”


“I told you that I’d drive myself today. There’s no reason for you to drop me off,” said Buffy, walking up behind him. “And, I want to call in to see Mom and Rupert on the way home.”


Spike glanced at Buffy and quirked an eyebrow.


“Wasn’t talking to you, pet.” He grinned.


“What?” Then Buffy spotted which set of keys he had in his hand. “Oh, I get it. You’re taking your mistress out today?”


“Jealous?”


“No way! I totally had you claimed as mine before she showed up,” joked Buffy.


“Well, it’s been a while since she’s been out, and as I’m only going to the studio I thought it’d be okay.”


“Just make sure that you keep your passenger door locked. Remember what happened at the lights that time?” she laughed.


“God! Yes,” snickered Spike at the memory.


It was just when the Dingoes had been signed, and starting to get airplay on radio stations and interviews in music magazines. One printed a photograph of the band standing around Spike’s Desoto. A couple of days later, Spike had been driving to collect Buffy and had stopped at a red light, when a girl opened the door and got in next to Spike as bold as you like. The lights had changed, and Spike had driven forward intending to pull over as soon as he could without blocking the road. Well, that had been the plan anyway, but when Spike was halfway across the intersection the girl had leaned over and put her hand on his crotch. He’d been so shocked that he’d swerved and ended up side-swiping a car coming the other way. Hence the renovations!


“Well, I’ll see you later, sweetie,” said Buffy, giving him a kiss.


“Yeah, say hi to the folks for me.”


He watched as she got into her car and backed out of the garage. He climbed into his black car and followed her down the gravel drive. Both paused waiting for the electronic gates to open before driving through. Buffy turned right, heading for Rich’s office, and Spike went left to go to the recording studio.


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Spike pulled the car into the studio parking lot and climbed out. He could see by the array of vehicles that he was the last to arrive. He hurried into the building.


“Hi guys. Sorry I’m late,” he said as he walked into the rehearsal room.


Oz and Pete were lounging on the couch, and Joey was busy setting up his drums.


“Up late…again?” said Oz with a grin.


“No,” said Spike, defensively.


The three band members stared at him in disbelief.


“Okay. Okay. Point taken,” he added, holding up in hands in defeat. “I just can’t help myself.”


“No willpower, that’s you,” joked Pete.


“Not where Buffy’s concerned anyway,” said Oz.


“Um…so what’s the plan for today then?” asked Spike, successfully changing the subject from his love life.


“I want to run through those six new songs that we’re adding to the set list. I’m not happy with how my bass came through last time,” said Oz, all businesslike.


“Great. Hey, Joey, are you ready, mate?” called Spike.


Joey gave a little drum roll and a crash of the cymbals.


“Yep, I’m good to go.”


Pete and Oz picked up their guitars and Spike took his place at the microphone. They then worked hard at getting them spot on.


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Over at the other end of Sunnydale, Buffy walked into Rich’s office, finding, as usual, that he was already there, phone to his ear. She waved at him and then went into her own office and sat at her desk. The in tray containing fan mail was full to overflowing. She glanced at it for a second, but then turned her attention to the list of hotels that the band was booked into, on their upcoming tour in the UK.


They had planned their current tour in three parts. They had already played several dates in mainland Europe, then had a month off ,and next week were going to do dates in the UK. The US leg was the last one, and again, was starting a month after their return from Britain.


Buffy picked up the telephone and called the first hotel on the list. The tour would end with three nights in London, and Spike and Buffy were going to stay in the house that had originally been owned by Spike’s aunt and uncle. Once the mess of Spike’s identity had been sorted out, its ownership had passed to Rupert. He’d decided to keep it and it was now used whenever friends or family went to London. Buffy and Spike were planning on staying in London for another ten days or so after the last gig, and she couldn’t wait.


After an hour, Buffy had finished the hotel bookings and was just opening the first of the fan mail, as Rich walked in carrying two mugs of coffee.


“Hey, babe, ‘ow ‘ave yer got on? Everythin’ all right?”


He grinned at her, as he passed a mug over and sat in the chair opposite. Despite his years in the States, he sounded as English as the day Buffy had first met him.


“Hi, Rich. Yeah, all the hotels are confirmed as are the flights,” replied Buffy. “I’m just about to start on this mess.” She pointed to the pile of letters.


Rich followed her finger and grimaced when he saw how high it was.


“Least none of the envelopes look like they’ve got knickers stuffed in them.”


“Thank God!” exclaimed Buffy. “I’m sure the last pair that were sent weren’t clean. Eew!”


“Are yer sure you’re still ‘appy to do the fan stuff? We can always take somebody on.”


“No, I don’t mind, Rich. I like to keep busy, and if I had a regular job I’d not be able to travel with you on tour.”


“I was kind of thinking that yer didn’t need to work at all. Yer do know ‘ow much Spike earned last year, don’t yer?”


Buffy laughed, “Yeah, I know, but I’m not a sit at home girl. I like doing this.”


“That’s fine by me, ‘cause I’d miss yer if yer stopped comin’ in.”


“So what have you been doing? You were on the phone for ages.”


Rich looked a little shifty. “Um…I was talking to a breakfast TV show in London arranging an interview with Spike.”


“And the rest of the band, of course?”


“Er…no…just Spike. It’s only a short spot - about fifteen minutes - so it’s not possible to have them all on. Oz, Joey and Pete know about it and are cool.”


“But Spike, on TV…on his own!” cried Buffy. “He’s not the most eloquent in those situations, Rich. You know that.”


Even though Spike was the band’s ‘front-man’, off stage he could still be painfully shy and unsure of himself. Rich usually tried to have at least one band member with him for each interview in case he froze.


“I know, but it’s too good an opportunity to miss, and I’ll be there - you too, if you like. Hell, the guys can be there to ‘old his ‘and off camera if necessary. He’s twenty-six now, an’ it’s about time he learnt to give a good interview.”


“He can’t help the way he is, Rich,” admonished Buffy.


“He ain’t shy when he’s playing to crowds of fifteen thousand, and I’ve already got stadium gigs organised for next year.”


“But he still nearly tosses his cookies before each gig,” said Buffy.


Spike was certainly an unusual character. Larger than life on stage yet off it, he was quiet and shy, preferring to be home with his family and friends than going to celebrity parties and such like.


“The word to focus on there, Buffy,” said Rich with a grin, “is ‘nearly’. He’ll get better at interviews. God knows he can’t get any worse.”


Buffy threw a pen at him.


“You are so mean.”


“But truthful.”


“Yeah, truthful. Spike totally sucks at publicity,” said Buffy with a chuckle.


tbc

Chapter Five

A Little Accident

Buffy drove to her childhood home when she’d finished work. Although Spike wished that Rupert and Joyce would let him buy them another house, Buffy was pleased that they’d stayed on Revello Drive. She knew that a big part of why Spike wanted to do that was because he still felt that he owed Rupert for caring for him, when a car crash left him an orphan at seventeen. Rupert had made it quite clear that Spike owed him nothing, but it didn’t stop him from trying. Buffy liked the fact that she could still go into the room where she’d first made love with Spike. She’d initiated it.. She couldn’t believe she had at the time, but it had felt so right, and if left to Spike, it might never have happened as he had been so unsure of himself.

She let herself in the front door.

“Hey Mom, Rupert, are you home?” she called as she put her car keys on the table in the hall and hung up her jacket.

“We’re in here, honey,” Joyce replied.

“Hi. How are things?” she said as she walked into the kitchen.

“Hello, Buffy, we’re just planning my buying trip for the gallery,” said Rupert.

“Aren’t you going too, Mom?”

“No, not this time. Paula is on vacation, and we can’t just close up the gallery, so I’m staying behind,” replied Joyce. “We tossed a coin to see who got to go and I lost.”

“I’m sure you fixed that,” teased Rupert. “Are you sure that both sides of that coin weren’t heads?”

“Didn’t you want to go? I thought you liked the trips abroad,” asked Buffy.

“I do like them when I can go with Rupert or have time to do a bit of sightseeing, but when I saw the itinerary for this one I was pleased that Paula was going to be away,” Joyce replied with a smile. “Poor Rupert doesn’t have two nights in the same hotel.”

“But the bonus is that we should get some great artefacts,” added Rupert.

He’d worked as a museum curator in New York, before moving to Sunnydale and working in the library of the high school. He loved being a part of the development of Joyce’s gallery.

Spike and Buffy had been a bit embarrassed when Rupert and Joyce had started dating, but then they cottoned onto the fact that it meant that they got to see a lot more of each other as well.

“So is everything ready for the tour?” asked Joyce.

“Yes, it’s all finalised. It’ll be fun. I think The Dingoes are even more popular in Britain than they are over here.”

“Is that possible?” joked Rupert. “Every time I turn the radio on, at the moment, I hear Spike’s voice.”

“Got to hand it to Rich, he’s good at getting them on the station’s playlists,” replied Buffy.

“I seem to recall he was instrumental in getting them on the Internet right at the start. When he showed me the footage he’d filmed that New Year’s Eve, he told me quite definitely that The Dingoes would make it,” said Rupert.

“He wasn’t wrong, was he?” Buffy grinned at Rupert. “Spike and I were just saying this morning how unreal it all is. We’re so lucky. Life’s just perfect.”

“It is amazing, but well deserved. The boys worked really hard to get where they are,” said Joyce.

“Are you going to stay for dinner, Buffy? You could call Spike and get him to come too,” asked Rupert.

“He’s in the DeSoto,” said Buffy with a sigh.

“Ah,” said Rupert. “Perhaps not this time, then.”

“No, I’d better be going anyway. I just wanted to see you both before you left for your trip. The last thing you need is for Spike to turn up hotly pursued by ‘Babyeaters’,” laughed Buffy. She hugged and kissed them and then left.

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“Hey, gorgeous,” said Spike when she got home.

He was lounged on a large couch in the den, his bare feet up on the back of it.

“You look comfy.”

She walked over and sat next to him. He pulled her down and kissed her soundly.

“How are Joyce and Rupert? They’re off on their trip tomorrow, aren’t they?”

“The day after,” corrected Buffy. “But only Rupert’s going, Mom’s has to man the gallery. They’re okay about it.”

“That’s great, love.”

“So, did you and your mistress have any trouble today?”

“Nope, I don’t think people look out for her anymore since I barely drive her these days,” said Spike with a bit of a pout. “Poor old girl.”

“Poor old girl indeed,” said Buffy, cuffing him gently on his arm. “I got all the hotels and flights confirmed.”

“That’s good. I hope you’ve got us booked in somewhere nice and posh?” He grinned at her remembering the very dodgy lodgings they’d endured in the early days.

“Five star all the way!” replied Buffy. “Oh, and the airline upgraded the seats, so we’ll be using the VIP lounge and travelling first class.”

It was one of Rich’s tricks now that the band was famous. He’d book business class seats, and when the airline realised it was for The Dingoes, they always got upgraded for free!

“Shit, I hate using the VIP lounge,” said Spike. “I always feel like I shouldn’t be in there. I just keep expecting to get kicked out.”

“Oh, Spike, you are so funny some times. Will it ever sink in that you are actually pretty famous these days?”

“I dunno, pet. It’s just…well…I’m just me…I don’t really like a lot of fuss.”

“I bet you like this kind of fuss,” said Buffy, kissing him again and letting her hand travel to the waistband of his jeans.

“You’re not wrong there, love,” he replied, pulling her closer.

0000000000

It was the day before The Dingoes were due to fly to London. Everything was organised, their suitcases packed and waiting in the hall. Xander Harris, their chief ‘roadie’, had left the day before with all of the instruments and sound equipment. Spike and Buffy were just settling down to eat the Chinese food that had just been delivered when the phone rang.

“I’ll get it,” said Spike, rising from his seat and picking up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Hello, Spike, um…I’ve had a little accident, and I wondered if you and Buffy could bring me home please?”

“An accident? Joyce, what’s happened? Are you all right?”

“Mom? Is she hurt?” Buffy came and stood next to Spike.

“Don’t panic; I just had a fall. It was stupid of me but I can’t drive home.”

“We’ll come straight away. Where are you?” asked Spike.

“The hospital, but don’t worry, I’m fine - honestly.”

“Okay, we’re on our way,” said Spike and he hung up the phone.

“Is she all right?” asked Buffy, her eyes wide with worry.

“She says she’s fine, pet. Says she fell. Come on, let’s go and take her home.” He took Buffy’s hand in his.

“Where is she now?”

“She’s at the hospital.”

“Oh no!”

“Shh, pet, don’t get upset. We’ll be with her in no time at all.”

Spike put his arm around her as they walked to the garage. They took the nice anonymous SUV and got to the hospital as quickly as they could. They found Joyce waiting for them in the seats near the ER.

“Oh, my God, Mom,” cried Buffy when she saw her.

“Oh, don’t make a fuss, honey. I feel stupid enough as it is,” said Joyce.

“But you’re covered in plaster casts.”

“I don’t think two constitutes covered, Buffy. It’s just my ankle and my wrist.”

“How on earth did it happen?” asked Buffy.

“I was putting a statue back on to the top shelf and slipped on the steps. I managed not to drop it, though,” said Joyce with a wry smile.

“Bloody hell, Joyce,” said Spike. “You’ve broken your wrist and your ankle and you’re going on about saving the sodding statue?”

They all started to laugh at the irony.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” said Spike. “I’ll go and bring the car to the door, okay?”

“Thanks, Spike. By the way, I like the hat.”

“What? Oh yeah, well I reckoned people might not recognise me if they didn’t see the hair,” replied Spike with a grin, tugging at the peak of his baseball cap. He jogged away to get the SUV.

By the time they had gotten Joyce home, it was clear to them that she couldn’t be left alone. She’d insisted on going to Revello Drive and not back to their house, and so Buffy and Spike spent the night there.

00000000

“I’m going to have to stay and look after Mom until Rupert gets back,” said Buffy, that night, as they snuggled up to each other in bed.

“I know, love. I just wish I could stay with you, but I can’t.”

“Rupert will be back in a couple of weeks. I’ll be able to catch the last London concert.”

“It won’t be the same without you. You’ve never missed a gig. But your mom needs you more than me just now.”

He wrapped his arms around her as she spooned into him, her back against his front. He dropped several kisses along the line of her neck.

“Goodnight, pet,”

“’Night, Spike.”

tbc

Chapter Six

Like A Proper Rock Star

The next morning saw Spike and Buffy up early. They let Joyce sleep in, not wanting her to see their goodbyes, knowing that she felt guilty about Buffy missing the tour.

“So. Say goodbye to your Mom for me, yeah?” said Spike as he released Buffy from a bone crushing hug. “You’ll keep your cell phone on all the time, won’t you?”

“I will, but remember the time difference, okay? If it rings in the middle of the night, I’ll have a heart attack thinking that something’s wrong.”

“I’ll leave my watch on our time. Rich’ll be making sure I get where I need to be on time over there, so I won’t need to change it. God, I’m going to miss you so much.”

He kissed her again, a long lingering, passionate kiss that left her weak at the knees. He never felt complete unless she was by his side.

“I’ll miss you too, but it’s not for long, and you’ll be busy with the concerts and hanging out with the guys. You’ll be okay; you big dope.” She grinned at him.

“Hey! I object to being called a dope.” He reached out and tickled her, making her squeal.

“Stop it. You’ll wake Mom.”

“It’s not me making the noise, pet,” replied Spike. “But I’d better go. Rich’ll kill me if I’m not ready when the car arrives.”

He gently wiped away the tear that had escaped from her eye, and blinked back the ones of his own that threatened to fall.

“I’ll call as soon as I’m settled in the hotel.” He kissed her once more and went out to the SUV.

00000000

Spike had showered and changed, ready for the trip, and was pacing up and down the hall waiting for the car to arrive. He’d called Rich to let him know that Buffy wouldn’t be coming until later, and it was arranged for him to meet up with everyone in the VIP lounge at the airport.

His head snapped up as the intercom at the gate crackled, and a voice requested permission to drive up. A quick glance at the screen confirmed that it was the car, so Spike pressed the button to open the gates.

“Come on in.”

He grabbed his bags and coat and went out of the front door, gazing sadly at the suitcases of Buffy’s things that he left behind. The driver took his bags from him and put them in the trunk before opening the door for Spike to get into the limousine that Rich had arranged.

“Dunno about being a dope, but I feel a right bleeding ponce in here on my own.”

He glanced around at the luxurious interior and then shrugged and with a smirk put his booted feet up on the seat facing him.

“I reckon I won’t get told off for doing this, these days.”

In no time at all, they were at the airport. Spike put on his leather duster - he’d had it since he was seventeen and still wore it just about everywhere. When the driver gave him his bags he looked at Spike a little uncomfortably.

“Mr. Norman?” he said hesitantly.

“Just Spike, mate.”

“Um, Spike, I wonder if you would mind signing an autograph for my daughter, please? I wouldn’t ask but she a total fan of The Dingoes. She’s got tickets to your concert in Sunnydale in a few months.”

“’Course I will,” said Spike with a smile. “What’s her name? Have you got something that I can write on?”

Rich was always trying to get Spike to carry a couple of photographs in case he got asked, but Spike thought it’d be too embarrassing to pull one out like he was expecting to be asked all the time.

“I have - she gave me this just in case I got the chance,” replied the driver, passing Spike a photo of the band. “Her name’s Dawn. She’s been a fan since she saw you play The Bronze a few times when you were first starting out.

Spike grinned at him. “Oh? So she’s a real ‘Babyeater’ then?”

Much as Spike liked the fans that had come on board as their popularity grew, he loved that the fans from their early days still liked them. It proved that they hadn’t sold out.

“Oh yeah,” laughed the driver. “She’s very proud about downloading clips from Youtube years ago.”

Spike handed him back the photo, having signed it to Dawn, and then shook his hand.

“Thanks, mate. Look, if you contact Rich Bayliss, I’ll get him to give Dawn a couple of backstage passes for the concert she’s got tickets for. Got to keep our die hard ‘Babyeaters’ happy. He uses your firm all the time, so his number will be easy to get.”

“Thank you, Mr…er…Spike. She’ll go wild when I tell her.”

“No worries - that’s the last date of this tour so it should be a good one.” He shook his hand again, picked up his bags and walked away.

He signed a couple more autographs before he got into the cosseted environment of the VIP lounge. All of the band members had a policy of signing autographs as much as possible. Rich was delighted, because it was such a great PR move, but they just remembered what it was like when they were following their favourite bands about.

000000000

Spike spotted his band mates as soon as he walked into the lounge. His face split into a grin as he approached them. They stood out like sore thumbs amidst the designer clad others in the room. Spike chuckled as he realised they actually did look like rock stars.

“Hey, guys.”

He sat down next to them. Pete had squashed his lanky six foot three frame into one of the couches, feet up on its arms, playing his DS with avid concentration.

Joey sat with his arm around his wife of three years, Lisa. He’d met her when they had made a video for one of their singles, and she’d been the make-up artist. A whirlwind romance had followed, with a wedding in Las Vegas just a month later. The others’ fears that it wouldn’t work out, had been mercilessly unfounded, and The Dingoes now had their own personal make-up artist everywhere that they went. Lisa also helped with the wardrobe for the tours, which admittedly wasn’t too challenging since they all lived in jeans and t-shirts.

Oz, founder of The Dingoes and, alongside Rich, Spike’s best friend, was sitting with Willow. He’d dated the red haired woman in high school, but they’d split up when Oz had quit college to concentrate on the band, as she was so tied up with her psychology studies. Spike and Buffy had been delighted when they’d gotten back together a couple of years ago. Willow, having gained more qualifications then they would have thought possible, had surprised everyone by writing a column for a major newspaper, rather than teaching as she’d always intended to do. This was the first time that she’d accompanied Oz on tour.

And finally, Rich; good old Rich. Spike reckoned he worked harder than any of The Dingoes, but he seemed to love it as much as the band enjoyed playing music. Next to him, looking shy and a little uncomfortable, was a pretty girl with dirty blonde hair. She was fiddling nervously with the bracelet on her wrist. She had glanced up at Spike as he’d walked towards them, then blushed and looked down, not meeting his eye since.

“Hey Spike, sorry to hear about Joyce,” said Rich.

“Yeah, least she’s going to be okay. She could’ve broken her bleeding neck,” Spike replied. “So are you going to introduce us or what?”

“Shit, sorry, yes,” said Rich. “Spike, this is Tara Maclay. Tara, Spike Norman.”

“Hi, love, how are you doing?” said Spike, smiling at her. “So, I reckon that you must be the secret that he’s been keeping for the past few months, eh?”

“I…I…think so,” said Tara quietly, still not meeting his eye.

“Well, you must be some woman to make this git change his ways,” joked Spike, nudging Rich with his foot.

“Shut up, Spike,” groaned Rich.

“Ooh, sorry. Haven’t you told her about your sordid past?” replied Spike. “Ouch! Sodding hell,” he added as Rich kicked him back, hard on the shin.

Tara giggled and looked up at Spike.

“Was only meaning that you bought ‘Take That’s comeback album,” laughed Spike.

“I so did not!” retorted Rich. “Tara, you’ve got to believe me.”

“But isn’t that what you were playing, the first night that you cooked dinner for me?” said Tara, smiling shyly at Spike as she said it.

Spike grinned and decided that he liked Tara a lot.

“No, it bleedin’ wasn’t!” howled Rich, eliciting a few glares from the others in the lounge.

The friends all burst out laughing.

“Oh, man, this just gets better. Rich actually cooked dinner for you?” asked Oz through his fits of laughter.

“God, Tara, how did you survive?” asked Pete, putting his DS down to join in with the teasing. It was common knowledge that The Dingoes and their manager didn’t have a decent cook between them.

Tara flushed a little at all of the attention, but chuckled as she replied, “I did have to stop at a pharmacy for Pepto-Bismol on the way home.”

More gales of laughter ensued.

“Right! That’s it, Tara, I’m getting you booted back to economy,” said Rich, trying to stifle his smile.

“Don’t worry about him, pet. You can have Buffy’s seat and tell me all about what Rich has been up to,” said Spike.

“And I thought you was a mate,” grumbled Rich.

“So come and sit over here, and tell me everything,” Spike said to Tara, patting the seat next to him.

0000000000

“I could get used to this,” thought Spike as he sat in first class. “I swear, even the stewardesses are prettier up here.” He grinned to himself as he thought of the thump that he’d get from Buffy if she’d heard him.

He glanced around at the others. It was halfway through the flight and all of them had fallen asleep, apart from Rich. When he saw Spike looking at him, Rich gently eased Tara’s head from his shoulder, and went to sit next to him.

“So, do you like her?” he asked, inclining his head towards Tara.

“She seems really nice, mate, but a bit shy maybe?”

Rich snorted.

“What?” asked Spike.

“Have you noticed that she doesn’t seem so shy around the others?”

Spike thought about it for a minute, “Er…yeah. What? So your girlfriend doesn’t like me? What’s wrong with me?” replied Spike, trying not to whine.

Rich snorted again.

“Look mate, if you do that again, I’m gonna bleeding hit you.”

“Sorry, Spike. It’s just that she’s a huge Dingoes fan and well…she’s had a crush on yer for ages.” He started to chuckle. “The first time I went back to her place, she didn’t know that I was your manager and there was this huge poster of the band, well of you, to be more accurate. It’s the cheek bones apparently.”

“God.” Spike felt his cheeks colour up. “Wish you hadn’t shared that little snippet.” He glanced over to Tara. “Now I’ll feel bleeding weird when I talk to her.”

“Don’t be daft! I’m taking the piss about the poster. She is a Dingoes fan, though, and is just a bit overawed by being in yer presence. God knows why,” teased Rich.

“You right bastard,” said Spike with a grin. “So what does she do?”

“She’s got an internet store,” replied Rich.

“Yeah?” What does she sell?”

“Not sure really - this and that, but she says it’s doing well.”

“That’s great,” said Spike. “So why did you keep her a secret for so long?”

Rich looked down, “She’s different from the others.”

“I can tell that by the fact she obviously has a brain,” smirked Spike.

“Don’t joke about it, Spike,” replied Rich seriously. “I think she’s ‘the one’ and I’m terrified that I’ll stuff it up.”

“Wow,” said Spike quietly.

“Yeah, I know. So got any tips? Any advice on how not to screw it up?”

“Well, whatever you do, don’t let her think that you’re really your cousin. Apart from that you should be fine,” said Spike, nudging his friend’s arm with his elbow and smiling at him. “Just be yourself, Rich. You’re a good guy - it’ll work out.”

“I hope so,” replied Rich, looking lovingly at Tara. “I’d nearly given up hope of ever finding anyone special.”

“You’re twenty-six, mate, not fifty-six.”

“Yeah, but you and Buffy knew at seventeen.”

“True, but look at Joey, Christ, he only dated Lisa for a month before he married her. So what about Pete? Has he got a secret woman hidden away?”

Rich snickered. “Not likely, he makes me look like driven snow. He enjoys the party life too much right now. At least he steers clear from the drugs that are thrown around like sweets at them.”

“Well, I suppose one of us has to act like a proper rock star,” chuckled Spike.

tbc

Chapter Seven

Missing You

Spike looked around his hotel suite in the Vancouver Hotel in Leeds. The bed was huge and looked very inviting, draped in luxurious brown and cream covers. He sighed a little, thinking how much more inviting it would be with Buffy sprawled naked on it. He glanced at his watch and smiled; he could call Buffy. He sat on the edge of the bed and pressed the speed dial number on his cell phone.

“Hey, Buffy,” he said as soon as he heard her voice.

“Spike, hi! I wasn’t expecting you to call until later. What time is it for you? It must be the middle of the night.”

“Um…it’s about four a.m. I think. But you know what it’s like when we’re touring. We all kind of go nocturnal.”

Buffy giggled. It always took a while for the band to chill enough to sleep after the high of a concert, and so the wake up calls got later and later as the tour went on.

“So, you’re in Leeds now?” she asked, knowing his itinerary backwards and forwards.

“Yeah. Just walked in, saw the bed and thought of you.”

She could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Not much longer before I’ll be with you,” replied Buffy. “I can’t wait - I’ve missed you.”

“Nor can I. It’s just not the same without you waiting for me backstage. How’s Joyce?”

“She’s fine. We go to the gallery each day. I sit her on a chair, and she works the cash register, and I get the items and wrap them up. I can’t believe how busy the place is. I really think that they need to hire more help. Did tonight’s gig go as well as the others?”

“Yeah,” said Spike, lying back on the bed. “Was great fun - even Oz was happy with the sound.”

So far they’d played a couple of dates in Scotland, tonight’s one in Newcastle and then travelled down the A1 to Yorkshire, ready for the concert in Leeds. Then it was a couple of nights in Birmingham in the Midlands, Cardiff in Wales, and finally three concerts in London. The gigs so far had been well received, and Rich was busy talking to the press most days, while the band was doing sound checks.

After tonight’s concert, they’d all agreed to get together in Rich’s suite for drinks. There was a day between this gig and the next, so Xander could stay the extra night rather than going ahead with all the gear, like he usually did. So far they hadn’t seen much of him and were looking forward to catching up.

Spike’s conversation with Buffy was cut short as she was still at the gallery. After he hung up the phone, he undressed and flopped wearily back on the bed. Sleep took a long time coming as it always did when he slept alone.

He woke up at about ten thirty a.m. UK time and, after squinting at his watch, thought better of calling Buffy again. He got up, showered and was just getting dressed when the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Oh, you’re up,” said Rich chirpily.

“That’s pretty obvious,” replied Spike. “What’s up?”

“Nothin’, it’s just what with yer being on your own, we thought that yer might like to walk down the hall and have breakfast with us. I’m just about to order it up to the room.”

“Okay, yeah, thanks. I’ll be there in five minutes. Cheers, Rich.”

Spike was grateful for the invite. With everyone being ‘loved up’ he’d felt a bit of a gooseberry at times. Pete was no use because he was the ultimate party animal and only usually fell in to bed as dawn broke. They seldom saw him before the sound check in the evening. He’d asked Spike to go out with him, but it wasn’t really Spike’s scene.

“Some rock star, huh?” Spike smiled at the thought.

He walked across the corridor to Rich and Tara’s suite. The breakfast was being delivered as he got to the door. The waitress gave Spike a double take as she recognised him.

“Morning,” he said politely.

“Um…good morning, sir,” she squeaked, going pink.

Spike walked past her and sat on a couch next to Tara.

“Hello, Tara, how’re you doing? I hope you’re enjoying the trip.” He hadn’t had much opportunity to talk to her since being on the plane, as Rich was busy with the press most of the time.

“Hi, Spike, y…yes, I’m loving it, thank you. I’ve never been to the UK before,” replied Tara shyly.

“I hope that he’s giving you time to see a bit of it then. He works harder than the rest of us do, but I’d never tell him that,” grinned Spike.

“He’s being good to me,” said Tara. “I knew that he’d be busy working. It’s not like we’re on vacation.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll just have to get him to stay on after the last gig. There’s plenty of room at Rupert’s house in London.”

“I…I don’t know…it’s up to Rich.”

“Wot’s up to Rich?” he asked, coming out of the bathroom.

“Nothing,” said Tara.

“Not nothing,” said Spike. “I was just saying how good it’d be if you and Tara stayed on after the tour.”

“Hmm,” said Rich, glancing at Tara. “That sounds like a good plan. I’m sure that I can take a few days off. Fancy seein’ London wiv a local as a guide?”

“Oh, Rich, I’d really like that,” replied Tara, her face lighting up as she smiled broadly.

Spike looked at Rich, who was staring at Tara with such desire on his face that Spike started to feel a little uncomfortable.

“Um…guys, are you sure that you don’t mind me having breakfast with you? Wouldn’t want to be in the way.”

Spike grinned as Tara blushed scarlet, and even the ever in control Rich, shuffled from one foot to the other before replying,

“No, mate, we’re ‘appy for yer to be ‘ere, aren’t we Tee?”

Tara nodded, still blushing.

“That’s all right then. So what have we got to eat?” said Spike as he sauntered over to the table. “Bloody hell, Rich, did you order the whole soddin’ menu? Are the rest of the guys eating with us?”

Rich looked sheepish. “I couldn’t decide what to get so I got quite a lot. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, yer know.”

They all laughed at that and then sat down around the table, helping themselves to the array of dishes.

000000000

It was time to go to the venue, the arena at the NEC on the outskirts of Birmingham, to get started on the sound check for that evening’s gig. Pete, as usual, was the last one on the tour bus which was taking them there.

“Christ, mate, you look like you’ve only just gotten up,” said Spike as Pete blearily made his way to a seat.

“I have.” He grinned shamelessly. “I guess I partied a bit too hard last night. There was this really hot chick. Katherine…”

“You told me she was called Kathleen,” said Oz dryly.

“Did I? Oh? Well anyway, she kept me very busy, she - -”

“Whoa! Don’t need the details,” interrupted Joey quickly.

“Wasn’t gonna! What do you think I am? I was just gonna say that she’s coming to the drinks at Rich’s room tonight, if that’s okay with the rest of you.”

“Better remember her name by then Pete,” laughed Spike.

“I’ll just call her darling, and it’ll be all right,” he replied. “Wake me up when we get there.” He huddled down in the seat, letting his long legs hang out into the aisle.

“It’s only fifteen minutes away,” Oz pointed out.

“That’s fifteen minutes more sleep than I got last night.”

“Yeah, but you’ve slept the whole day. What are you? A vampire? I don’t reckon I’ve seen you in daylight for weeks,” said Joey, prompting the others to snicker.

“If I was a vampire, I’d bite you if it’d shut you up,” grumbled Pete.

00000000

As soon as the gig was over, the band was taken back to the hotel. They were all to meet at Rich’s suite in a half hour. Spike checked the time in California on his wristwatch and smiled. Buffy would be home from the gallery and so would be free to talk. He picked up the phone and tapped his foot impatiently until the connection was made.

“Hey, beautiful.”

“Spike, how did the gig go?” Her heart missed a beat as she heard his voice. This was the longest they’d ever been apart.

“Yeah, it was great; fifteen thousand capacity all sold out, but I don’t want to talk about that. I want to hear about you, pet. Christ, I wish you were here with me. Rich’s having a party and just about everybody will be paired off ‘cept me.”

Buffy chuckled. “What about Pete? No way will he be paired off.”

“He is. He’s bringing a bird called Katherine or Kathleen.”

“God, Spike, it’s not very nice, not to remember someone’s name like that; you should take more notice.”

“Hey, don’t tell me off. It’s bloody Pete who can’t remember it, not me,” protested Spike.

“Oh, he is impossible,” laughed Buffy. “ So you’ll be all alone at the party then, poor wittle Spikey.”

“Your sympathy knows no bounds, luv.”

Buffy just giggled. She knew how much Spike hated being away from her. She hated it too, but Spike just ended up being more like the shy teenager he had been, the longer he was away from her. After they talked some more, Spike’s description of what he wanted to do to her, banished all thoughts that he was still shy, from Buffy’s mind.

“Thank God Mom’s in the other room,” thought Buffy, as she got hopelessly aroused at his words.

“Anyway,” she said, changing the subject, “you’d better go and get a shower and go to the party, otherwise you’ll be late.”

“How do you know that I’m not sitting here ready to go out?”

“Because I know you too well, Spike. You’ll be sitting there in the t-shirt that you wore on stage, all damp and sweaty.” The image of him in her mind made Buffy’s body heat up. “You’ll catch a chill if you’re not careful. Then if you get a sore throat…”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Spike. “I know but I just wanted to hear your voice, pet. I’d better go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.”

tbc

Chapter Eight

Be In Me…

Spike sighed as he hung up the phone after talking to Buffy, and went to get showered and changed. Fifteen minutes later, he was at the door to Rich’s room - he could hear the music as he knocked. It was a good job that Pete and Joey’s rooms flanked it, otherwise there’d be complaints about the noise for sure. After a while Oz opened the door.

“Hey Spike, thought that you weren’t going to show. Did you call Buffy?” How’s her mom?”

“Joyce is doing okay, and it won’t be much longer before Buffy’s here, thank God. I’m missing her like crazy.”

They went into the throng and soon Spike was chatting with Xander. His wife, Cordelia, had stayed at home, unwilling to bring their two young children overseas. The thought of the flight alone had put them off. The eldest, Mark, was two years old and little Alyson, just three months. Xander was proudly showing off their photos to everyone.

Spike picked up a beer and took a swig. He very seldom drank as he found that he liked it just a little too much. Both of his parents had been alcoholics, and the memories of how they’d treated each other and him were enough to keep him from doing the same. If he had a drink at all these days, it was always beer. He hadn’t touched vodka since he was seventeen and had tried to drown his sorrows over a break up he and Buffy had had.

00000000

A couple of hours later, Spike decided to slip away. He’d had two more beers and decided to go to bed before he ended up drunk. He snuck out without anyone noticing and walked the few yards back to his room. He slid his card key through the lock and pushed the door open. He’d left a lamp on the side table switched on and so he left the main light off. He went into the bathroom, had a wash, brushed his teeth and then made his way to the bedroom.

He turned on the light and then froze. Lying there on the bed was a willowy dark haired woman. She smiled a very predatory smile at him.

“Hello, Sweet William,” she cooed, her accent similar to Rich's.

“What?” gasped Spike. It wasn’t public knowledge that he’d started life as William Pratt.

“I’ve been waiting ever such a long time to see you again.”

She began to get off the bed and Spike backed away. His first thought, that she was a fan who had somehow conned her way into his suite, started to fade. There was something distinctly odd about her. He glanced over his shoulder to where the phone was, wondering how long security would take to get there.

“Look…er…” He stopped himself from adding his usual tag of ‘love’, fearing that it would be misconstrued. “I think that you must have the wrong bloke, or room, or both.”

She climbed off the bed and walked to him, hips swaying provocatively.

“Oh no, I haven’t. The pixies were quite clear. You are a sweet William and, you’ll soon be my Sweet William. To make up for the one that was taken away.”

“Christ, she’s totally off her bleeding head.”

Spike increased his backwards steps, aiming for the door but not wanting to turn his back to her.

“I’m not your Sweet William,” he said as calmly as he could but by now he was feeling really spooked. “But why don’t I go and look for him, yeah? You stay here and I’ll bring him back to you, okay?” “Yeah, with a bloody straight jacket and a one way trip to a padded cell.” His hand touched the door handle. “Thank God.” He started to turn it.

“Say my name, Spike,” said the woman, staring at him intensely.

“Spike now, is it?” asked Spike. “What happened to William?” He cursed himself for engaging in a conversation when he should be getting the hell out of there. But he hadn’t been able to help it. What was this crazy bitch thinking?

“Drusilla happened to William,” she said, snaking her head back and forth eerily.

“Drusilla? Who’s bloody Drusilla?”

He found that he’d let go of the door handle. He grasped it again as she took another step closer. Just one more and she’d be able to touch him and somehow he knew that it wouldn’t be good.

“Be in me,” she said, waving her fingers at his eye level.

“Shite, I need to get out of here.” His mind shouted but his body didn’t move. Once more, his hand fell from the handle. “What…?”

He found himself drawn to her eyes. They were dark, seemingly bottomless pits and he just couldn’t look away.

“Be in me,” she repeated. “Be in me.”

Spike just stood and stared. She took another step and her fingers touched his cheek. He flinched as if he’d been struck but still his feet wouldn’t move. His hand couldn’t reach for the door.

“Say my name,” she ordered.

“Drusilla,” replied Spike softly as if in awe.

“Oh, you’ll do quite well, pretty Spike. The pixies were right to send me here to you. The stars will sleep happy tonight,” trilled Drusilla, smiling broadly at the enthralled man before her.

She gently stroked his cheek with her finger before digging in a razor sharp nail and slicing it open. The wound was about an inch long and a trail of blood trickled from it. She leaned forward and licked it off.

“Oh, my,” she said, clapping her hands and bouncing slightly up and down. “You taste just as good as the first Sweet William.”

She leant in to lick the wound again and then put her lips on his and kissed him gently.

“We’ll be together again. I’ve been so lonely without you. Taken me nine years to find you, it has.”

She kissed him again, and this time Spike kissed her back.

She led him by the hand into the bedroom. He walked slowly by her side, his expression vacant as the thrall she had cast over him maintained its effects.

“Undress,” said Drusilla.

Obediently, Spike took his clothes off and stood naked in front of her.

“Oh, this won’t do-this won’t do at all,” she muttered as she walked around him, eyes covering every inch of his body.

She reached out and touched the tattoo on the top of his right arm. “Spike should have no markings on him.”

Her pretty, if demented, features changed as she scowled at the mark. Her deep blue eyes turned amber, her teeth descended from her gums. She hissed in fury and then lunged at his arm and bit deep into the centre of the tattoo. The smell of his blood almost overcame her. She came to her senses just before she sank her fangs into his neck.

“No, can’t do it today. Today is just hello,” she said, shaking the vampire features back to human. “Make love to me, my pretty Spike.” She let her dress slip from her body. Beneath it she was naked. “Do you want me?” She put her hand on his manhood.

“I’ll always want you.” His reply was a monotone but she felt him harden in her grip.

“Then show me,” she said lying down on the bed.

He positioned himself on top of her and started to cover her bare flesh with kisses. Drusilla laughed in delight.

“Oh, I bet that you’re going to be even badder than the first Spike.”

tbc

Chapter Nine

Reflections

Spike woke up reluctantly, torn from his sleep by a pounding on the door that matched the pounding in his head.

“Shite, how much did I end up drinking?” He struggled to remember the party at all. “Bollocks.” He groaned as he sat up and for a second, thought that he was going to throw up.

“Spike! For Christ’s sake, are you in there?” Rich’s voice called out from the far side of the door, and the banging resumed once more.

“I’m coming, Rich. God, take it easy,” shouted Spike, his voice, to his horror, sounding a little hoarse.

He glanced at the floor, found his discarded jeans and pulled them on, fastening his belt as he walked a touch unsteadily to the door. His eyes felt gritty and sore, and he realised that he’d slept with his contact lenses in.

“Spike!” Rich shouted again.

“I’m here. Stop with the yammering,” complained Spike as he opened the door.

“Thank God,” said Rich, pushing his way past Spike and into the room.

“What’s with all the anxiety, Rich?” asked Spike, puzzled. He leaned on the wall near the door.

“Do yer know wot time it is?” said Rich, peering at him closely.

Spike looked at his watch, “Well, in California it’s - -”

“Shut up,” howled Rich.

“Sorry, mate, but what the hell have I done to wind you up this tight?”

Spike walked over, or rather tottered, to the couch and collapsed onto it.

Rich let out a big sigh. “No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t ‘ave had the party.”

“Why not? What’s happened? Don’t tell me one of the guys has hurt themselves?”

“Wot?” Rich looked at Spike. “No, they’re okay; it’s you that I’m worried about.”

“I know, Rich, I shouldn’t have done it, but I’d had enough and just wanted my bed, you know?”

“You’d ‘ad enough?” repeated Rich. “At least yer know your limits, but if I’d’ve known that you were hitting the ‘ard stuff, I’d’ve made it afternoon bleedin’ tea, not an after concert piss up.”

Now it was Spike’s turn to look confused. “What do you mean hard stuff? I only had beer and…” He squinted as he tried to recall how many, smiling triumphantly when he did so. “I only had three.”

“Shit, Spike, don’t lie to me, not in the middle of a tour. If yer need ‘elp just ask for it.”

“Are you saying that you don’t fucking believe me?” Spike glared at him.

“Spike,” said Rich wearily, “I know the party went on ‘til late, well early, but yer haven’t been seen or heard from in over twelve hours. Buffy called me when you didn’t pick up the phone just now. She was worried that something had happened to yer since yer usually phone her first thing in the morning.”

“I slept that long?” wondered Spike. “That’s a first; I don’t normally sleep too well when I’m on my own.”

“So yer were alone then?”

“Christ, Rich, what are you going to accuse me of next? So far it’s being out of my skull on vodka and sleeping with some skanky ho’ bag,” Something stirred slightly in his memory at that. “What else are you going to throw into the mix? Playing poker for sodding kittens, no doubt.”

Rich couldn’t help but chuckle. “Kitten poker, now that could catch on.” He glanced at Spike who, despite obviously sleeping all of the day, was looking pale and exhausted. “Are yer feelin’ all right mate? Yer look pretty ropey and wot did you do to yer arm?”

Spike twisted his arm so that he could see what Rich meant. There was blood over the top part of it. He touched it with the fingers of his left hand and yelped - it was sore.

“Um…I dunno…I can’t remember doing anything to it.” He glanced up at Rich, not liking the expression on his face. “I didn’t get pissed, Rich, I swear to you.”

“I believe you,” said Rich, and he did but something was clearly wrong with his friend, and the manager in him was worried about the tour. “At least there’s no gig tonight. Just go back to bed, and I’ll organise something for you to eat, okay? I just hope that you’re not coming down with a virus.”

“I need to call Buffy,” said Spike weakly. He did feel dreadful.

“I’ll do it. Just get some sleep.”

“Cheers, Rich,” said Spike as he gratefully wandered back to the bedroom.

He took out his contact lenses, pulled his jeans off and slid beneath the covers. Within seconds, he was asleep. Rich left the sandwiches he’d ordered from room service on the bedside cabinet and left him to rest, but not before he took a closer look at the mark on Spike’s arm.

“How the hell did that happen?” thought Rich. It looked like a bite of some sort. He shook his head, not knowing what to make of it all.

000000000

Spike woke a couple of hours later. Thankfully his headache had gone but the wound on his arm was burning. He sat up in bed and noticed the sandwiches that Rich had left. His stomach growled and he ate them quickly, washing them down with half of the bottle of water that was next to them.

“If this is what having three sodding beers does to me, that’s the last time I’m drinking alcohol at all,” he muttered as he made his way to the bathroom.

He glanced at his reflection and grimaced.

“I look like shite.”

His blue eyes were slightly bloodshot and he had dark shadows beneath them. He reached into his wash bag and took out some eye drops. He put a couple in each eye, hoping that it would soothe them.

“Can’t believe that I slept with my lenses in.”

He shook his head ruefully before stepping into the shower. He turned it to as hot as he could bear, letting the water soothe his body. After washing he grabbed a towel and dried off. He wiped the steam from the mirror and looked at the wound on his arm. It looked as though it might be infected as it was swollen and inflamed.

“How the hell did I do that?”

He heard the phone ringing, so he wrapped the towel around his hips and walked through to the bedroom where he’d left his cell.

“Hello?”

“Spike!” Buffy’s voice came over loud and clear, as did the worry in her voice.

“Hey, pet,” said Spike, slumping down on the bed. “It’s really late for you, isn’t it?”

“How are you feeling?” asked Buffy, ignoring his question. “Rich said that you weren’t feeling too well earlier.”

“I’m okay, just all caught up with me I reckon. You know that I don’t sleep too good when you’re not with me.”

“Rich said he was worried that you were coming down with a bug.”

“You know what Rich is like when we’re on tour; he always worries,” replied Spike, which wasn’t entirely true but it was worth a try. “Anyway, how’s Joyce?”

“She’s fine, Spike. Stop trying to change the subject,” snapped Buffy. “I’ve been really worried.”

Spike closed his eyes. “I’m sorry, pet. Just don’t yell at me, okay? I’m feeling a bit off but nothing to worry about. I’m going to rest up for the evening and then we’re heading to Birmingham tomorrow. It’s probably just withdrawal symptoms from not being with you.” He managed a chuckle.

“I hope so.” He could tell she was smiling. “I don’t like the thought of you being ill and having to do all of the concerts.”

“Sleep’ll sort it out I’m sure.”

They chatted for a while longer, just needing to hear each other’s voices.

“Spike,” said Buffy sharply.

“Huh? What, pet?”

“Are you sure that you’re okay? You didn’t hear what I was saying.”

“Yeah, sure I am. What was it?”

“Nothing important, I’ll leave you to rest but call me in the morning, okay? My morning, that is.”

“Will do, love. God, I wish you were here with me.”

“Me too. Just get some sleep. You sound exhausted.”

“’Night, Buffy. I love you.”

“Goodnight, Spike. I love you too, babe.”

Spike put the phone down and flopped back on the bed. He closed his eyes and once more was asleep in seconds.

00000000000

Spike rolled over on the bed as he felt kisses along his neck.

“Buffy,” he mumbled as he turned to wrap his arms around her. “Missed you.”

“I missed you too, my pretty one,” said Drusilla in his ear.

His eyes flew open; he stared at her in horror remembering their last encounter. He scooted across the bed away from her, going too far and falling off in a heap beside it. Drusilla laughed and clapped her hands softly together. She crawled across the bed and peered down at him. Spike frantically grabbed the towel he’d discarded earlier and covered himself up with it.

“How the hell did you get in here?” he snarled. This was getting ridiculous. What sort of a hotel was it where people could just walk into others’ rooms?

“It’s magic,” cooed Drusilla.

“Yeah? Well you can fucking magic yourself out of here right now.” Spike stood up, wrapping the towel around him.

Drusilla pouted, “Is my William all angry at me?”

“I’m not your sodding William. Look, get off the bed and get out.” He pointed to the door.

Drusilla didn’t move. “My place is with you and yours is with me.”

“Okay,” said Spike, “I’ll go.”

He turned towards the door and suddenly, she was in front of him. He glanced back to the bed. How had she gotten there so quickly? He tried to step around her but she blocked his path and stared into his eyes.

“Be in me,” she said softly. “Be in me.”

Spike broke eye contact, shook his head and tried once more to go by her. She grabbed his face with her right hand, fingers digging into his flesh, pulling his head up until their eyes met again.

“Christ, she’s strong.” He tried to pull away.

“Don’t fight it; just be in me,” said Drusilla.

All at once, he stood passively before her, eyes unfocussed.

“That’s right, Sweet William; listen to the other who’s going to give birth to you again.”

She led him back to the bed, pulling the towel from his hips and pushing him down onto it. She hesitated for a moment thinking of what she had to do as things didn’t work quite the same here.

“It won’t hurt if I play with you a little first.” She smiled seductively at Spike, who lay there unmoving. “You want to make love to me, don’t you?”

Spike smiled sleepily back at her, “’Course I do.”

“Am I your dark princess?” She stroked her hand along his leg from the knee to his thigh, mewling in pleasure as she saw him becoming aroused.

“My dark princess,” whispered Spike.

They kissed and she lowered herself onto him in one swift move that made him hiss at the sensation. She rode him slowly at first then increased her rhythm. At the moment of climax she nuzzled his neck, her face changing to show the demon she was, and then swiftly sank her fangs into his jugular vein. Spike groaned, though he wasn’t sure if it was from pleasure or pain.

“Six nice mouthfuls and no more,” thought Drusilla as she carefully counted the pulls she took from him, relishing the hot blood pouring into her mouth.

The thrall over Spike wavered, and he started to thrash wildly and cry out. She calmly clamped a hand over his mouth and held him down. Once she’d taken the correct amount of blood she nicked her wrist and then pressed it to Spike’s lips. He resisted, pursing his lips tightly together until she reinforced her thrall over him.

“Drink it,” she ordered.

Immediately, Spike grabbed her wrist and put it to his mouth, sucking eagerly at her blood. He pouted at her when she pulled it away, a trickle of blood running down his chin.

“More,” he said.

“Not yet, my darling, or else the stars won’t be happy.”

She wiped the blood from his chin with her index finger and held it for him to lick clean. Then she walked to the door.

“Don’t…don’t leave me,” said Spike.

“I have to go now. It’s different here,” said Drusilla. “But I will see you tomorrow and each day until you are truly my Sweet William, and then I shall make you Spike again.”

He blinked and when he opened his eyes she was gone. He tried to get up but found that he could scarcely move and fell into a deep sleep.

0000000000

When Spike woke up, the first thing that he noticed was that he felt much better than the day before. He glanced at his watch; it was ten p.m. in California so he reached for his cell and called Buffy.

“Evening, pet.”

“Hey there, how are you feeling?”

“A lot better. It must have been one of those twenty-four hour viruses or something.”

“Thank God for that. You really had me worried, especially when you spaced out when we were talking.”

“Sorry, but I just felt so tired. Feel great now, though.”

“It’s early for you, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but since I pretty well slept for a day I don’t think that I can stay in bed any longer. We’re heading off to Birmingham later to get ready for tonight’s gig.”

Buffy was delighted to hear Spike talking so animatedly. She was much happier when they finally hung up.

Spike wandered into the bathroom and took a shower. He’d noticed that the weird cut on his arm had settled down but as the hot water ran on the left side of his neck, it stung. He put his fingers to it and could feel something there. He stepped out of the shower and went to the mirror to have a look. The mirror was steamed up so he wiped his hand across it, leaving a clear part across it. He repeated the motion but stopped when his hand was halfway across. He pulled his hand away from the mirror and waved it about.

“What the hell?”

In the mirror there was no hand. He stepped closer so that his face was in line with the mirror. There was no reflection looking back at him.

“Is this a trick?” He glanced around as if expecting Joey, the band’s practical joker to suddenly appear. “I must be asleep. I’m dreaming - this is just a fucked up dream.” He started to shiver; he was still wet from the shower. He grabbed the towel from where it was hanging behind him and rubbed it over his hair.

“Christ!” he yelled, dropping the towel and backing away. His heart was pounding and his breathing was so rapid that he was in danger of hyperventilating. “Calm down, Spike,” he chided himself. “There must be a rational explanation.”

He backed further away from the mirror. “So how come a towel that I could clearly see when it was hanging on the wall suddenly sodding disappears when I’m drying myself with it? Oh, God,” he whispered as he hit the wall and then slid down it; his legs no longer were able to hold his weight. “What he hell is going on? How can I not have a reflection?”

tbc

Chapter Ten

Suspend Your Disbelief

Spike stayed on the floor of the bathroom for ten minutes, not moving until he got his heartbeat under control. He looked down at his hands.

“Okay, I’m not invisible. I can see me. There’s obviously something wrong with the mirror, that’s the problem,” he muttered.

He remembered the mirror in the bedroom. He rushed out of the bathroom, not bothering to cover his nakedness, and stood in front of it. Nothing; absolutely nothing. His mind reeled. He pinched himself – hard – but he didn’t wake up.

“Is this real?”

He decided to go to Rich and see if he was just losing his mind or whether the mirrors had been messed with in his room. As he dressed he kept glancing at the mirror. Once his clothes were on him, they disappeared too, even though he’d been able to see his t-shirt in the mirror when it was on the bed.

“This is way weird.”

Moments later he was banging on Rich’s door, not thinking that it probably would have been easier to call him on the phone. Spike just didn’t want to spend a second longer alone in his room.

“Rich, come on, wake up. It’s me,” he yelled, not caring if he ended up waking the whole floor.

“I’m coming,” Spike heard Rich mutter as the door handle moved and it started to open.

As soon as it was wide enough he went in, half tripping over his own feet and falling against Rich.

“Christ, what’s the matter?” asked Rich, steadying his friend.

“You can see me, can’t you?”

“Wot? ‘Course I can bleedin’ see you.”

“Has Joey or any of you messed with the mirrors in my room?” asked Spike, eyes wild.

“Wot?”

Spike grabbed his arm, “Have you? ‘Cause I’ve got to say it’s not funny, it’s bleedin’ freaking me out.”

“Spike, look. Just sit down.” Rich guided him to a chair. “Take a deep breath and start again.”

Tara peeped around the bedroom door and glanced at Rich who slightly shook his head, so she disappeared back inside. Spike was visibly trembling as he sat there.

“Spike, mate, have you taken anything?” He held up his hand to stop Spike’s angry retort before it started. “I don’t mean by choice. Has anybody had the chance to slip anything into you?”

Spike shook his head. “No, not unless it was at your party.”

Rich thought of who had been there and knew none of them messed with drugs, unless Pete’s date was the culprit. “Wot about that mark on your arm? Do you still have no idea how it got there?”

Again Spike shook his head, and then he remembered why he’d wanted to look in the mirror in the first place. He turned his neck towards Rich. “I woke up with this.”

Rich peered at it; it certainly looked similar to the already healing mark on his arm.

“It was when I wanted to look in the mirrors to see it that I realised somebody must have messed with them.” He shuddered at the memory.

“Why do yer keep going on about mirrors?”

Spike glanced at Rich. “’Cause I can’t see myself in them. I went to look at this thing on my neck, and it was like I wasn’t there-- and don’t bleeding laugh; it wasn’t funny.”

“I’m not laughing, Spike,” replied Rich honestly. He couldn’t remember seeing him so freaked out.

“There’s an easy way to settle this. Come on, let’s ‘ave a look in my bathroom mirror.”

They walked to the bathroom and Rich stood in front of it. He grinned at his reflection. “See, nothing wrong with it. Come on, don’t be shy.”

Spike took a deep breath and stood next to him. Even before he looked up, he knew from Rich’s sharp intake of breath that it was the same here; that he had no reflection.

“Wot the fuck?” exclaimed Rich.

Spike nudged him and Rich’s reflection jolted sideways by an unseen force.

“Oh, Christ, mate,” said Spike. “Am I dead? Am I a ghost?”

“No, you’re a vampire.”

Tara’s voice was quiet but it still startled both men. They spun around.

“What?”

“Wot?”

“I…I think that we need to sit down first,” said Tara with a small smile. “Before Spike falls down.”

Rich returned his attention to his friend who looked a bit green. Spike and Rich sat on the couch, and Tara sat in an armchair opposite them. They stared at her, eyes wide with shock.

“This is no time for joking, Tee, Spike’s really stressing out,” said Rich.

“I’m not joking, Rich. How could you think that I am?” replied Tara.

“But they’re not real,” whispered Spike. He turned to Rich, “Someone must have drugged us or something if Tara’s going on about vampires.”

“I’m not drugged and neither are you,” said Tara in the strongest voice either Rich or Spike had ever heard her use.

“But…vampires? For Christ’s sake, they’re myths at best,” Rich managed to utter.

“In this dimension, yes,” said Tara calmly.

“Dimension? Wot do yer mean ‘dimension’?” blurted Rich.

“Look, pet, have you been watching too many fantasy films lately, or am I really asleep and this is one weird dream?” said Spike.

“I’m not delusional,” said Tara firmly. “I’m a witch.”

“And it just gets better and better,” said Rich.

“Damn it,” Tara yelled, “Can you both just listen for a moment?”

Rich and Spike nodded.

“I know this will sound a bit odd.” She glanced at Spike as he made a disparaging noise. “But Spike, you’re in real danger if you don’t pay attention to me.”

“Wo - -?”

She silenced Rich with a hard stare. “Rich, what does my internet shop sell?”

“Um…er…herbs and candles?” he said tentatively.

“That’s right, but they’re ingredients for use in spells and enchantments. It’s a real growth industry,” she said with a smile. “I’m a witch and I advise my clients in how to use them wisely.”

Rich stood up and started to pace up and down. “I can’t believe that I’m hearing this. Wot kind of spells do yer do?”

Tara glanced at Rich. “Mostly healing spells and potions. I can help people find lost things, that sort of thing. And, no Rich, I don’t do love spells so I haven’t used one on you,” she said crossly.

“God, Tee, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that,” said Rich, going over to her. “I seem to recall that you took a bit of convincing to date me.” He gave her a hug and sat down on the arm of the chair that she was sitting on. “But I’m sorry if I find this all a bit strange. It’s not every day that your girlfriend tells you that she’s a witch.”

“Why am I in danger?” asked Spike, finally finding his tongue. “What was it you said about vampires and dimensions?”

“Okay, now you’re both going to have to suspend your disbelief while I go through this. I know that it seems kooky but it is real. There are things going on in the universe that most people never even know about.” She looked at each of them in turn, and she saw that they were ready to listen.

“The world we live in is one of countless realities that exist. The different dimensions can be similar to ours or they can be totally different, where demons rule and humans don’t exist. Some can be almost the same as ours but with the addition of things that don’t exist here, like the reality where vampires do exist. One thing that often happens in different but very similar dimensions is that the lives of the people in them can run parallel to each other. For example, somewhere there will be another Tara, Rich and Spike. It seems that if you’re linked to people in one reality then you are linked to them in alternate ones too, even though the dynamic might be different.”

“I don’t get wot yer mean, Tee,” said Rich.

“Things like in another dimension you and I may be friends or brother and sister, or you may be gay.”

“A gay Rich; that I’d like to see,” said Spike with a little chuckle. Rich’s womanising ways were legendary before he met Tara.

“Hey,” protested Rich.

Tara smiled at them both, pleased to see they seemed a little calmer.

“Getting back to Spike’s problem, I think that in another dimension that your equivalent must be a vampire.”

“Why do you think that?” asked Spike.

“Because of what’s happening. Since vampires don’t exist here, one must have passed through from another dimension where they do exist, and they’re trying to turn you. Probably because the ‘vampire you’ is dead and someone is looking to take you back as a replacement.”

Rich could sit still no longer. “Look Tee, I’m sorry but that just sounds too bloody bizarre to me.”

“It is bizarre, Rich,” agreed Tara. “But that doesn’t make it untrue.”

“So what’s going to happen to me?” asked Spike quietly, hating the fact that his voice wavered a bit.

“I’m not really sure how it works when they’re not in their home dimension. Normally what happens is a vampire drains its victim almost to the point of death and then they get the victim to drink some of their own blood before they drain them completely,” said Tara.

“We’ve all seen the films. Tee,” said Rich, earning a sharp look from Tara.

“Shut up, Rich. You’re not helping,” said Spike, staring at Tara. He touched the wound on his neck. “So you think that this is a bite then?”

She nodded.

“But I’m not dead, am I? I still have a pulse, and I don’t have fangs and I’m not a bat and…”

He stopped when Rich and Tara burst out laughing.

“This is so not fucking funny,” he yelled.

“A bat,” gasped Rich as he laughed.

Spike glared at him and then found that he was laughing too, albeit a little hysterically.

“So will he turn into a bat?” asked Rich when they’d finally stopped laughing.

“No,” said Tara, shaking her head. “That’s just a myth.”

“Thank God for that,” sighed Spike.

“The thing that we need to find out, is how this turning works and how to stop it,” said Tara.

“And how do we do that, pet?” asked Spike.

“You’ll have to leave that to me, but I promise you that if it can be done then I’ll find the way.

“I’m not sure that I’m liking the sound of that ‘if’,” said Spike.

tbc

Chapter Eleven

Acting Normal…

By mid morning, the band was settled in at the hotel in Birmingham; their home for the next two nights. Spike was quiet on the tour bus on the way there but otherwise he felt normal. The weird tiredness that he’d suffered the day before had gone. His fingers strayed to the bite marks on his neck. How the hell had he been bitten without knowing it? Tara had told him some facts about vampires, but none of them included the sods being invisible in this dimension.

“In this dimension,” he thought derisively. “This is like a cheesy horror flick. Well apart from the whole ‘it’s actually real’ thing.”

He shifted in his seat. He was scared. He was man enough to admit it. He was bloody scared to death.

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The rest of the day passed normally enough. Spike, for some reason, felt safer in this hotel room than he had in the one in Leeds but he wasn’t sure why. It totally freaked him out whenever he forgot himself and tried to look in a mirror as he was getting ready to go to the venue. It brought it all crashing back that something extremely disturbing was happening to him.

“God, you vain git,” he muttered, having glanced yet again at the mirror. He’d never realised just how much he’d looked at himself.

His nerves were frayed by the time that he got on the tour bus for the short drive to the venue. He was dismayed to find that Rich wasn’t on it, apparently busy doing some promotional stuff or other. He looked at his band mates wanting to tell them what was going on, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. At best, they’d think he’d gone crazy; at worst, if they believed him, they might not be up to playing tonight. No, it was better that they didn’t know. The concert was the only thing that Spike could focus on right now. He always felt great on stage, lost in the moment, and God, could he do with taking his mind off things.

Tara got on the bus and to Spike’s delight, she sat next to him. She gave him a smile and squeezed his hand.

“How are you doing?” she asked kindly.

“’M okay, I guess,” replied Spike doubtfully. “Still having trouble taking it all in though. It feels like a dream and a sodding bad one at that.”

“I’m doing all that I can research-wise,” she assured him, patting the laptop that she’d carried on with her.

Spike stared at her. “You can Google vampires?”

Tara giggled. “Well, yes, I’m sure that you can, but I’ve e-mailed various people that I know to ask their advice. Rich checked and the venue has internet access, so I can work during the concert.”

She’d intended on staying at the hotel but Rich had asked her to go to be there for Spike, since he couldn’t make it until the concert began. Rich knew that Spike would need someone to lean on. He’d always tried to run or hide from his problems in the past.

000000000000

Oz, Pete and Joey glanced at each other before Oz walked to the front of the stage towards Spike, who’d just thrown a wireless headset off the stage and into the pit below. He used it for the couple of songs that he played guitar for.

“Hey man, what’s up?” asked Oz calmly.

“The thing didn’t bleeding work,” snarled Spike.

“Bleeding won’t now,” said Oz, mimicking Spike’s accent - which was a curious combination of English and Californian - and looking at the offending item laying in pieces on the floor.

Spike turned to him angrily and was about to make some smart comment but then he took a deep breath and tried to relax.

“Look, sorry mate, just…well…you know what I get like,” apologised Spike.

Right from the early days, Spike had had trouble with nerves at the sound check and then even more so just before the performance, and things hadn’t changed with their success. Pete and Joey always let Oz talk him down if he got too stressed out. Oz was so laid back he was practically horizontal.

“Yeah, but you don’t normally murder microphones,” said Oz dryly.

Spike glanced at him and started to chuckle. He looked down at the broken head set. “Better give it a decent burial, I suppose.”

Oz put a hand on Spike’s shoulder, “Are you sure that you’re okay? I mean, you were ill in Leeds and how you’re being today…it’s worse than you normally are.”

Spike realised that he had to get a grip for the sake of the band. He glanced back at Pete and Joey who were watching him anxiously.

“I’m okay, just a bit worried that I’ll not get through the gig properly after being ill. I’m just worried that I might let everyone down.”

Oz pulled him in for a hug. “For a bad ass rock star you can be a bit of a girl with the worrying. You’ll be great, man, you always are.”

Cheers, mate,” replied Spike. “Let’s get back to work.”

The pair walked from the front of the stage and a roadie handed Spike another headset.

“Lindsey says that if you break this one, he’ll break you.”

“Bloody thing was already broken,” muttered Spike, taking it from him.

“He’s says to remember to turn it on at the battery,” replied the roadie with a grin.

“What? Oh bollocks.” Spike groaned as he realised what he’d done.

“Definitely murder one then,” quipped Oz. “You can’t plead down.”

Spike punched him lightly on his arm.

“Okay, okay, I’ll try to get the nerves under control.”

The rest of the sound check went without a hitch and the band went backstage to their dressing rooms to chill out before the show started. Sometimes, they stayed at the venue between sound check and performance, other times they returned to the hotel. They’d opted to stay at the venue since the facilities were really good.

Spike sat in his dressing room and sighed. He didn’t want to be alone, but the guys all had their girlfriends with them, apart from Pete, and he’d just be asleep again by now. He got up and wandered restlessly around the room, grimacing and then covering the large mirror with a towel to prevent him from being reminded that he had no reflection. Not that he needed reminding, he couldn’t forget if he tried.

He glanced at his watch. Buffy would still be at the gallery but he didn’t care, he just needed to hear her voice.

“Hey, you,” she said when she answered the call.

“Hey, pet,” he said. He swallowed hard, surprised at how choked up he felt.

You do remember what I said about the times zones, yeah?” said Buffy, “I’m still working and so I might not be able to talk to you for long.”

“I know. I’m sorry, love, it’s just…”

“It’s just that you’re between the sound check and the start of the gig, and you’re feeling a bit edgy?” supplied Buffy, her smile evident in her voice.

“You know me too well, Summers.”

“That, and the fact that I worked out the itinerary,” chuckled Buffy.

“Can’t Rupert come home any earlier? I’m really missing you,” said Spike, knowing that he was whining but unable not to.

“It’s only a few more days, hun, then I’ll be there with you and we can see the sights of London.”

“I asked Rich and Tara if they wanted to stay at the house after the last concert,” replied Spike, for a second forgetting the whole ‘turning into a vampire’ nightmare.

“That’ll be great. So tell me about Tara. What does she do?”

Spike came back to reality with a crash. “She sells stuff on the internet,” he said, deciding to omit the fact that she was a witch for now.

They talked for a few more minutes until Buffy had a customer to attend to so they made their goodbyes and hung up. Spike sat there wondering what he could do now to pass the time - the usual pre-concert nerves were tying his stomach in knots. He fingered the sore patch on his neck, wishing he could see what it looked like.

“Oh, Christ, this just can’t be happening,” he moaned, putting his head in his hands.

There was a tap at the door.

“Yeah?”

“Can I come in?”

It was Tara.

“Sure, pet,” replied Spike, not looking up as she walked in.

“As good as that, eh?” she commented when she saw him.

He glanced up briefly before once more looking down. “I’m never great before a show but today’s even tougher. I called Buffy but it just ended up making me feel worse. I’ve got to tell her. I promised years ago that I would never keep any more secrets from her, but how can I tell her this? I can’t even believe it myself.”

Tara sat next to him. “So don’t tell her just yet. At least wait until you can tell her in person.”

“So you reckon that I’ll still be me by then? We’ll have it all sorted?” he asked hopefully.

“I honestly don’t know, Spike, but I promise that I’m doing everything that I can to help you.”

Spike took her hand in his, needing to touch someone to ground him a little. “I know you are. I just hope that we can find something that works. I…I don’t want to d…”

“You won’t,” said Tara sharply. “It won’t come to that.”

Her positive tone reassured him and he smiled at her weakly. “I hope not, pet, I’m happy as I am.”

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Spike stood backstage waiting to go on stage with the rest of the band. His usual nausea at the thought of walking on had been replaced by impatience to get out there. He knew that on stage he was in control and that he’d lose himself in the performance, and be able to forget the weird shit that was happening to him. He jiggled from foot to foot, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Oz put a hand on his shoulder, mistaking Spike’s fidgeting for pre-show nerves. Spike glanced at him and nodded.

Finally, it was time to go on. The crowd went wild as the band went to their places and Spike’s spirits soared. He snagged the microphone from its stand in the centre and walked to the very edge of the stage.

He grinned at the sea of faces in front of him. God, this was a great way to make a living. “Evening, Birmingham!” he shouted, eliciting more screams from the crowd, “I hope you’re gonna stay this noisy all the way through.” He glanced back at Oz and nodded. In his ear piece he heard him count them in for the first song and the concert began.

Spike felt more buzzed up by the gig than he ever had before. He just couldn’t keep still. He was all over the stage and the crowd loved it. The only time that he was stationary was when he sang ‘Come Alive’, the first song of his own that he’d ever played live all those years ago at The Bronze. As he was passed his acoustic guitar and microphone headset from a roadie, he joked with the crowd.

“You’re going to have to put up with my efforts at playing this thing.” He held up his guitar - it was his favourite one, the first he’d ever owned. “I know that I’m no Oz or Pete but I’m getting better as any Babyeaters out there will testify. Back then I used to really, really suck; now I just suck.”

The audience laughed and cheered. This song was still one of the band’s most popular tracks when they played it live. Its lyrics told of Spike’s feelings after he’d lost his family and how his love for Buffy was saving him. He couldn’t help but feel that it was even more poignant that night. The title made him tremble because, according to what Tara had told him, if they didn’t fix this he’d be bloody dead.

tbc

Chapter Twelve

Google Vampires

The concert was a great success. The Dingoes played an extra couple of songs in the encore, as a reward for the audience being so appreciative. Now, the band was all ensconced in Rich’s hotel suite, trying to come down from the inevitable high achieved when 15,000 people were hanging on your every word.

Spike was carefully avoiding drinking any alcohol at all. After what had happened in Leeds, he was intending to teetotal for the remainder of the tour. He wanted to have his wits about him at all times. When he’d walked into the room, Rich had pointed out the mirror on one wall so that Spike could avoid going near it and having the whole thing blow open.

“So, Pete, where’s Kath?” asked Spike, opting to shorten the girl’s name as he still wasn’t sure what the full version was.

“I dunno,” said Pete with a shameless grin. “I said goodbye to her in Leeds. I thought that I might be able to find me a nice little Brummie.”

“Brummie?” asked Oz.

“It’s what people from Birmingham are called,” replied Pete. “I did some research.”

They all laughed.

“Yeah, right. The only research that you normally do is how many clubs are in the vicinity of the hotel,” said Spike.

Pete’s words gave him an idea. Spike spotted Rich and went over to him.

“Hey mate, can I borrow your laptop?”

“Why?” asked Rich suspiciously. Spike and technology weren’t the best mix - he’d heard about the murdered microphone.

“Jeez, Rich, what’s with the third degree? Just thought that I’d email Buffy, okay?”

“Okay, just don’t start clicking on icons that yer don’t recognise. If yer delete anything on there I’ll bloody kill yer.”

Spike grinned at him, “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

Once back in his own room he booted up the laptop and put ‘vampires’ in the search engine to see what turned up. He was amazed at how many results were listed. He scrolled down until one result caught his eye.

Vampires – the truth behind the myths

“Okay, let’s see what I can expect,” muttered Spike.

A few minutes later he wished he hadn’t had this great idea of looking up vampires. He felt sick and terrified and a whole lot of other emotions, too. Tara had obviously given him an edited version when she told him about vampires. At no point had she mentioned his soul, or the fact that it was in danger of being lost forever because a vampire doesn’t have one.

A soul, the article said, was the very essence of a person. When a vampire turned you, or rather sired you, as Spike now knew it to be, your soul was banished for good; leaving behind the shell of what you were but with a demon in the driving seat. A vampire had no use for a soul since it needed to be guilt and conscience free when it succumbed to its natural urges of feeding – killing – and sex. Vampires apparently had a copious appetite for both.

“At least I’ve got plenty of shagging to look forward to,” murmured Spike, just before he read on and discovered that the sex often was instigated as a means to ensnare a victim. The reward for the victim at climax was exsanguination.

Spike swallowed hard, “Fucking hell.”

He decided to list the points for and against being a vampire.

“Right, let’s stay positive. Good things about being a vampire. Immortal, never ages and enhanced senses. Okay, negatives. Soulless, combusts in sun, burns by holy water, wooden stakes in hearts so not a good thing, will eat all of my sodding friends most probably after raping them first, whatever sex they are.”

He pushed the laptop away from himself in disgust then gasped and lunged for it as it fell from the table. Luckily he caught it before it hit the floor.

“Oh, thank God.”

“Rich would’ve killed me if I broke it. Killed me…”

Spike started to laugh, the irony was just delicious. Soon he was laughing helplessly, and not a little hysterically, tears streaming down his face.

“What’s so funny, Spike?”

Spike whirled round. The voice sounded like it had been whispered in his ear.

“What the fuck?”

There was no one there. He checked the bathroom and then the bedroom to see if he could find somebody. When he got into the bedroom, he swayed and had to sit on ithe bed before he fell down. For a second, he got an image of a dark, thin woman lying there and then it was gone.

“Oh, Christ,” he exclaimed as he was hit by the memory of the woman in his hotel in Leeds. His hand strayed to the mark on his neck. He was shaking violently.

“You aren’t where I thought you’d be, my pretty Spike,” The voice echoed eerily in his mind. “But it’s all right. I’ve found you again now. I’ll be with you tomorrow - can’t come now. You were naughty to try to hide. Miss Edith says that you need to be punished and she’s right.”

“No!” roared Spike, putting his hands over his ears, desperate to silence the singsong voice.

He rocked to and fro on the bed for several minutes before he moved. When he did, he leapt up from the bed and raced, as quickly as his still wobbly legs could take him, to the bathroom. He fell to his knees in front of the toilet, hands gripping the seat as he vomited until there was nothing left. Spike sat gasping on the floor once it had passed.

“Oh, God, Buffy,” he moaned.

He remembered what had happened to him. He remembered Drusilla somehow controlling him. He remembered her biting him both on his arm and on his neck. He remembered having sex with her. He leaned over the toilet again as he retched again. He felt that his stomach was turning inside out, but that was nothing compared to what his heart was feeling. He’d never been with a woman other than Buffy. He’d never desired it and now he’d done it – twice – with some weird vampire bitch. He knew that vampires didn’t have a heart beat, was this why? Did they break your heart as they sired you? Spike was sure that his was being cleaved in two.

He staggered to his feet and went to the basin, wincing at his non-existent reflection. He splashed some cold water on his face, then went into the lounge part of the suite and looked around it fearfully. Locked doors hadn’t stopped Drusilla in Leeds. He went to the door; he wasn’t staying there a moment longer. He needed to talk to Tara and Rich. He walked back to their room, not caring what time it was, banging loudly on the door. Rich opened it.

“Spike, mate, wot’s up?”

“C…can I…sleep in here tonight?” he asked as he walked in.

“Wot’s ‘appened? ‘Course yer can crash on the couch if yer want to.”

Spike glanced around the room, seeing the debris left by the band. He saw a half empty bottle of whisky and picked it up. He managed to take a huge gulp before Rich snatched the bottle from his hand.

“Shit, Spike. Yer know that yer can’t drink that,” said Rich furiously.

“Why not? I’ll be fucking undead soon and won’t be able to front the band anymore. So it won’t matter if I’m pissed or not, will it? It won’t cost you any money, so what would you care?” snarled Spike, turning on him.

Rich punched Spike in the face. He fell sprawling, to the floor. Rich stood over him.

“Don’t yer bleedin’dare talk to me like that. ‘Course I’ll bleedin’ care about you whatever ‘appens, yer total git,” yelled Rich. “Yer my best friend.”

Spike stood up and squared up to Rich. “Your sodding meal ticket, you mean.”

“Yer bastard,” shouted Rich, flinging himself at Spike.

The two ended up on the floor, trading punches and each trying to pin the other down.

“Stop it,” shouted Tara, racing from the bedroom.

Neither man took a blind bit of notice of her.

“Spike, Rich, for God’s sake stop.” She tugged ineffectually at Spike who just happened to be on top at that moment.

“Sweet Goddess give me strength,” she whispered as she stepped back from the writhing mass of testosterone on the floor. She held out her hands, and took a deep breath. “Separatum,” she said loudly.

As if grasped by strong hands Spike and Rich were separated and flung across the room until they were some ten feet apart, gasping like fish out of water. Tara moved between them, glaring at each in turn.

“How did you do that?”

“’ow did yer do that?”

“Witch, remember?” said Tara, with a smile.

Rich and Spike glanced at each other.

“Bloody ‘ell,” said Rich.

“That’s some girlfriend you’ve got there,” said Spike.

They burst out laughing. Tara shook her head. “So have you stopped trying to kill each other now?”

Spike looked at Rich, shamefaced. “Shite, I’m sorry, mate. What I said…you know I didn’t mean it, don’t you?”

“’S all right, I know it,” replied Rich sincerely. “Sorry that I ‘it yer.”

Spike rubbed at his cheek which was sore. “Deserved it I reckon.”

They got to their feet and had a brief, slightly awkward hug; Rich had never got over his Englishness in the hugging department.

“That’s it? It’s over?” said Tara in amazement as they went and sat down together.

“Yeah, it’s forgotten, right?” Rich looked at Spike, who nodded gratefully.

“Men,” stated Tara calmly.

“Um…don’t turn me into a hoppy toad or anything but what the hell did you just do?” asked Rich, eyes wide.

“I separated two idiots; that’s what I did.”

“Okay,” said Spike. “Good point, pet. Different question. How did you do that then?”

“I called on the Goddess to give me the strength to do it. It’s not difficult,” said Tara, enjoying their discomfort.

She sat down near them. “Spike, did you come over for a reason other than to fight Rich?”

Rich chuckled at Spike’s face when Tara said that. “Yeah, Spike, wot was goin’ on with yer? Yer were really spooked when you came in.”

Spike glanced at the bottle that Rich had taken from him. Shit, he really needed to get wasted. Reluctantly, he pulled his gaze away and looked back at Rich and Tara.

“I remembered how I got bitten,” he said.

Tara leant forward. “Do you know who it was? Do you have a name?”

“Does that matter?” asked Rich.

Tara nodded. “Yes, without it we’re helpless. The coven’s seers need an individual to focus on. The blanket search for all vampires that have entered this dimension failed. It needs to be specific.” She turned to Spike. “Do you know?”

“Yeah, it’s some crazy bint called Drusilla.”

Rich snorted. “Sounds like a bad horror movie character – ‘Drusilla, Queen of the Damned’.”

“Not really seeing the funny in that, mate,” said Spike, “Since I’ll be joining the ranks of the damned if this goes all the way.”

“Rich, can you make us all a cup of coffee please?” said Tara.

Rich knew that she wanted to stop his interruptions and so went, with good grace, to make use of the kettle on the table at the other end of the room.

“What else do you remember? Think hard, Spike. The more we know the more chance we can stop it.”

Spike shuddered at the memory of Drusilla’s cold hands on his body. “She seems to think that I’m hers. Kept going on about being her Sweet William. Said she’d been looking for me for nine years, that ‘her’ Spike had died then,” said Spike.

“Nine years ago? That might help us too.”

“You remember how you said that some dimensions worked parallel to ours?” said Spike.

“Yes.”

“Well, nine years ago I was in a bad car wreck, nearly died…”

Tara nodded eagerly. “That’s exactly what I meant. Important events are mirrored in each dimension but in different ways and with different results. That could help trace this Drusilla. Anything else?”

“She…she could somehow control me,” said Spike, “I don’t know how, and I forgot about her once she’d gone.”

“Wow, it’s true then,” said Tara quietly. “It’s called a thrall. Not all vampires can do it, but basically they can get into your mind and make you think and feel things that you never would without it.”

“What, like…” He glanced over at Rich, who was still messing with the kettle. “Um…like…” He looked down. “Feeling like you’re in love with the skanky bitch?” He finished the sentence in a rush.

“Oh,” said Tara quietly.

Spike looked up his blue eyes clouded with pain. “So can it?”

“Yes, Spike. From what I understand about it, that would be one of the more common uses of that ability.”

“Honest?”

“Honest.”

“Thank God.” Spike was appalled to find tears running down his face. He wiped them quickly away and avoided Tara’s eye. She put a hand on his arm and he drew comfort from it. “I’ve never been with another woman, Tara. There’s only been Buffy and now…and now…” He choked up.

“Shh, it’s all right Spike. It’s not your fault,” soothed Tara.

“But, I remember that I enjoyed it, that I wanted it,” mumbled Spike, wiping his eyes again.

“That’s what a thrall will do, Spike. You had no choice in the matter.”

Spike heard Tara’s words but couldn’t draw much comfort from them. It was another secret that he was keeping from Buffy. He felt his whole world was crumbling and was terrified that this thing would be unstoppable and he’d succumb to the vampire’s advances. Once he was fully turned, he knew that he’d be a willing partner, and it made him nauseous again just thinking about it.

“When she bit me, she drank some of my blood and made me drink hers. She said things worked differently over here.”

“Did you see her tonight?” asked Tara, smiling as she saw Rich was reluctant to come back with the drinks in case he interrupted them. She put him out of his misery. “It’s okay, Rich. You can bring the drinks over now.”

Rich complied and gave them each a mug - Tara’s and his own holding coffee, Spike’s his preferred hot chocolate. He really was just a big kid.

“No, I didn’t see her - well, not properly. I heard her in my head and then sort of got a brief image of her,” replied Spike.

“Can you remember what she said to you?” asked Tara, pleased that Rich was keeping quiet.

“Yeah, she said that she hadn’t been able to find me but knew where I was now, and would come to me tomorrow night. Said that she’d punish me for hiding from her.”

“Shit,” breathed Rich.

Spike looked at him, “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he said smiling slightly at him.

“Right,” said Tara, all business. “I’m going to email all that you’ve told me to the coven and get them to work on it right away.”

She didn’t miss Spike’s look of panic when she’d said ‘all’, and smiled at him, trying to convey to him that she’d not mention what he’d done while under the influence of Drusilla’s thrall. Spike got it and nodded his thanks. Tara stood up and disappeared into the bedroom.

“So you can see why I needed a drink,” said Spike.

“I can, mate, but yer just can’t go there and yer know it.”

“I know, but this is so fucking hard to deal with. I keep thinking that it’s all just a joke, a bad dream, anything rather than bloody real.” He looked Rich in the eyes. “I’m petrified. It’s all so out of my control. Promise me that you’ll look after Buffy for me.”

Rich swallowed hard. “She won’t need me to ‘cause you’ll be there with her.”

“Rich, just promise me, please?” begged Spike.

Rich looked at the stricken and, it had to be said, bruised face of his best friend. “I promise you, Spike, that if anything happens I’ll take care of her.”

tbc

Drusilla

Drusilla lay back on her bed and stretched catlike, a smile playing on her lips.

“You won’t escape me, my pretty one,” she whispered.

The smile faded as she looked around her. Sometimes she almost forgot that she was being held prisoner by her sire. A scowl marred her features before she vamped out and hissed in anger at the thought.

“How dare he?” she said, climbing off the small, narrow bed and pacing around her cell.

For a time, she ranted and raved at her captivity, before remembering that it wouldn’t be for much longer.

“Ha! Angel will be the one in here then,” thought Drusilla. “When my Spike sees what he’s been doing while he’s been away from me.”

She sat back on the bed, tears clouding her eyes, as she recalled the day that she saw her lover of over a century dusted in front of her.

“No,” she whispered. “Naughty pixies, don’t want to see it again.”

She curled up into a ball on the bed, burying her face in her hands. The images played through her head as clear as if she were watching a video of it.

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Prague; the oldest part of the town. They were fleeing through the streets from a mob of people baying for their blood.

Drusilla shuddered as she recalled exactly why they were being chased. All her fault. Spike had told her not to hunt in that part of town, but she hadn’t listened. She’d slipped out while he was sleeping and fed off two children before he had found her. Their bodies were discarded like waste paper on the ground.

“Shit, Dru. What have you done?” he’d yelled, grabbing her hand and leading her away. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

They had almost made it. Then, as they rounded a corner, they nearly ran into a crowd of people. This was the reason that Spike had ordered no hunting. Prague might not be the home of the current Slayer, but the people here were hunters themselves. Each night they patrolled, seeking out and killing the demons that plagued the oldest streets.

Spike and Dru wheeled round as quickly as they could. Spike was aware that magics had been used; otherwise he would have heard or scented the crowd before even getting to the corner. In doubling back they ended up caught between two patrols. A crossbow bolt hit Dru in her arm and she squealed. Spike looked around frantically, and then he looked up and smirked.

“Here, Dru, climb up there. Get to the roof.”

He pulled the bolt from her arm, mashed a quick kiss on her lips, and lifted her up so that she could reach the wide, stone windowsills of the buildings.

“I’m scared, Spike,” Dru had said.

“It’ll be all right, princess, but get a bleeding move on.”

He wanted her out of range of the crossbows before he followed. He vamped out his features and faced the nearest group of people. He snarled and growled, like the demon he was. To his satisfaction, the crowd backed away a little. As he suspected, not all had seen a vampire close up. He glanced up and saw that Dru was almost to the roof. Her long flowing dress was billowing in the wind. He caught a glimpse of her bare arse and grinned. He leapt up and began to climb, moving from windowsill to windowsill with ease.

“Hurry,” shouted Dru, looking down at him from above.

He smiled up at her - another few feet and they’d be safe. He hadn’t wanted to come to bloody Prague in the first place and he’d be glad to leave. He felt a thump in his back; it knocked the unneeded breath out of his lungs. He just had time to glance at the wooden bolt sticking out of his chest before collapsing into dust, blown in all directions by the gusting wind.

“No!” Dru’s scream was drowned out by the raucous cheering of the mob below.

0000000000

“No!” screamed Dru, brought back to the present, tears falling like a waterfall down her face.

“Spike,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry, so sorry.”

She cried and muttered her apologies for hours, unaware of Angel opening the cell door and leaving her some blood on the small table near to her bed. It was the cell’s only other furniture. Angel put a hand soothingly on his Childe’s shoulder, but she didn’t react. He walked out of the cell, locked the door securely and went away, shaking his head. He just didn’t know what to do with her. She seemed to be getting worse, not better.

Angel had found Dru, nine years ago, after searching for her for six months, the distress of his Childe reaching him from Europe. She’d been a mess, clothes torn and dirty, hair a tangled mess; a far cry from the fastidious creature he’d known. She’d told him of Spike’s demise, but he’d already guessed as much. Nothing but the loss of her Childe and lover could have caused Dru such pain. They’d made their way across Europe and back to Sunnydale. Angel hadn’t been sure that the Slayer would appreciate Dru’s arrival, but he had a duty to care for her. Even his soul called for him to help her - she was his creation after all. The Slayer had made him promise to make sure that Dru wouldn’t hunt in her town.

Angel loved the Slayer all the more for that, knowing that her agreement was a measure of her love for him. The arrangement had worked well for years, right up until a few weeks ago. Since her return to Angel’s care, Dru had been almost silent, totally submissive and obedient. She had been more than happy not to leave the old manor house that he had found as his lair. Then something had changed. Dru had changed. She’d started to sneak out at night. She began ranting about the pixies, the stars and dimensions. Then worryingly, she began to talk about Spike - something that she hadn’t ever done since he’d found her. When she’d started to mutter about spells and finding him again, Angel had taken the decision to lock her up. He hoped that she would get better, and once more realise that Spike was gone for good, but she seemed to get worse.

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Dru opened her eyes as the smell of the blood finally worked its way into her consciousness. She was calm and smiled as she reached out to pick up the mug. Angel would be proud of her when she brought Spike back with her. She drank the blood slowly, savouring the taste, even though it was only pig’s blood. Her mouth watered at the memory of the sweet taste of her new Spike’s blood. Today she’d get to taste it once more. She was cross that she’d missed him the last time. She would punish him, just a little, just enough to make it fun. She was inexperienced at crossing through different dimensions and had locked onto where she’d expected him to be, rather than focussing on him. She giggled at how Angel had locked her up to keep her from doing anything. Little did he know, that she’d already found out enough for what she wanted to do. As long as she travelled when Angel was sleeping, her secret was safe.

She lay down on the bed, positioning herself on her back, with her arms crossed on her chest. She mumbled the incantation that would transport her to the other dimension. With a crackle and hiss of static electricity, she disappeared.

tbc

Chapter Fourteen

Getting Through the Day

Spike woke with a stiff neck from spending the night on the couch in Rich and Tara’s suite. He stretched and yawned. His cheek felt sore where Rich had hit him, and he cringed at the thought of the pair of them brawling like they had. He got up with a groan, and wandered over to the bathroom. He splashed some water on his face. His teeth felt in desperate need of brushing, but all of his toiletries were in his own suite. He walked out of Rich’s room, carefully leaving the door ajar, and crossed the hall to the door of his own. He hesitated as he slid the key-card in the lock.

“C’mon, Spike. Get a grip,” he muttered, rationalising that the bitch, Drusilla, had only ever appeared to him at night.

He went quickly into the bathroom and grabbed his toiletry bag and a towel. Then he rushed into the bedroom for a change of clothes. Tucking them under his arm, he hurried back to Rich’s room. Spike let out a breath that he hadn’t realised he was holding as he closed the door behind him. His heart was pounding. He grimaced; this was worse than when he was being victimised by Angel back in high school. He sighed deeply and went to take a shower.

Spike was back on the couch, rueing the fact that he’d forgotten his hair gel, as Rich and Tara appeared from the bedroom.

“Morning,” he said.

“Mornin’,” replied Rich.

“Hi, Spike,” said Tara, trying and failing to suppress a smile.

“What?” asked Spike.

“Nothing.” She shook her head and bit the inside of her lip, but her eyes were giving the game away.

“C’mon, pet, what’s so funny?”

She could hold her giggles in no more. “I’m sorry,” she snorted. “It’s just…I’d never have guessed that your hair was so…um…c- -”

“If you say ‘cute’, you’ll be the first that I’ll bite,” interrupted Spike, surprising himself that he could joke about his fate.

“I was going to say curly,” said Tara, still chuckling.

Spike scowled and ran his hand over his hair. “Forgot my gel, is all,” he grumbled.

“He’s a bit sensitive about ‘is ‘air,” said Rich, as he walked to the bathroom. “Not sure why though, when he insists on making it that radioactive colour.”

“Hey!” protested Spike, throwing a cushion at Rich’s disappearing form.

The bathroom door shut with a bang, cutting off Rich’s laughter. Tara sat down on the couch next to Spike and looked at him seriously.

“Are you okay? I sent off all that information last night. We should know more by tonight.”

Spike sobered a little. “Thanks, Tara. I’m okay I think. I mean, it might not get any worse than this. I can live without having a reflection.”

Tara didn’t like to tell him that it was unlikely to be as simple as that, so she just smiled. “I guess that you can smear gel on by touch then?” She ruffled his hair.

“Right, that’s it. I’m getting the sodding gel,” said Spike, standing up and going to the door.

“Shall I order your breakfast here?” asked Tara.

Spike paused and looked back at her. “That’d be great, thanks.”

Spike didn’t waste any time finding his gel and getting back to Rich’s room. He felt silly, like a kid that was scared of the dark, but he couldn’t help it. The thought of another encounter with Drusilla made his skin crawl.

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The rest of the day had passed without incident and also, to Spike’s dismay, without any news from Tara’s contacts. The upcoming performance began to occupy Spike’s mind more than the impending vampirism. For the first time, he was glad of his nerves. He sat at the side of the stage as the support band played their set, letting the buzz of the crowd lift his spirits. He’d chatted to Buffy, but had felt a bit awkward. He hated the fact that he’d had sex with Drusilla, whether he could help it or not. He was terrified that, even if everything else worked out, Buffy would find it too much to forgive.

At last, it was time to go on stage. The others watched in surprise as Spike marched on stage before any of them. He usually walked on last, needing to draw on support from Oz. Tonight, however, he was at his spot at the mike before Joey had managed to get to his drum kit. Spike stood, arms outstretched, almost feeding on the applause being offered to him. He grinned his trademark grin, head tilted on one side.

“Hello again, Birmingham!” he yelled. “I hope you’re ready, 'cause I fucking am!” He glanced to the side of the stage and laughed as he saw Rich shaking his head. “Oh, shit,” he added. “My manager’s gonna tell me off for swearing. Doesn’t bother you guys, does it?”

The crowd cheered even louder in response. Spike glanced at Oz and nodded. Oz counted them in and the concert began.

Towards the end of the set, Spike put on his radio mike headset, took his acoustic guitar from the roadie and went the very front of the stage. The crowd cheered, knowing which song was going to be played next.

“Don’t suppose any Babyeaters are here, with us being so far from home?” said Spike.

There were a few cheers. Spike glanced at the lighting engineer, “Hey, Andrew, can you get a spot out on the crowd?”

A couple of seconds later, a spotlight played across the audience.

“Okay, where are those Babyeaters?” called Spike. A group of about six people started jumping up and down frantically, waving their arms in the air. “No, shit! There are Babyeaters in the house. You do know that we’re playing the States next month, don’t you?” joked Spike. “Would have been a bit cheaper for you!”

They yelled back that they were going to the Sunnydale concert too. Oz walked to the front of the stage with an armful of t-shirts. He handed them to a big, burly security man, who was attending to the gap between the stage and the barrier holding back the crowd.

“You guys aren’t gonna start any trouble if we give them some shirts, are you? We’ll do the same for you if you get to the States,” said Oz.

Spike grinned at Oz, and then put his arm around his shoulder as they watched the security man pass the shirts out to the delighted Babyeaters. Spike let his eyes wander across the sea of faces. He froze, as one woman seemed almost apart from the crowd. She wasn’t smiling or shouting like the others; just standing there impassively, staring at him – Drusilla.

“Spike? Are you all right?” asked Oz, giving him a bit of a push.

“Huh?” He glanced at Oz then back to where he’d seen Drusilla. She was gone. “Imagined it, that’s all I did. She’s not here. Can’t hurt me if she is. Not in front of fifteen thousand people.” “Yeah, I’m fine.” He didn’t meet Oz’s eye for fear that he’d see it for the lie that it was.

“You sure?” pressed Oz.

“Yeah. Better get back to the set list. Can’t stand here doing nothing all night,” said Spike, more sharply than he intended.

Oz gave him a hard stare as he turned to walk away.

“Um…so this one is ‘Come Alive’,” said Spike, wishing it was a faster number and not what he thought of as his self-pity song.

Spike knew that he’d not given a great performance for the remainder of the concert. He hadn’t screwed it up, but hadn’t set the place on fire either. The crowd seemed happy enough, so he was glad of that.

Back at the hotel, he was thankful that Rich had put off the rest of the band from gathering in his suite again, pleading tiredness on Tara’s behalf. Spike didn’t fancy sleeping in his jeans again so he went into his room to get a t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts to wear. He knew Buffy always packed a few pairs even though he preferred going commando. He’d convinced himself that he’d imagined seeing Drusilla but was still uneasy about going into his room. Spike had almost asked Rich to come in with him, but his pride kicked in and he went alone.

He regretted that almost as soon as he got through the door.

tbc

Chapter Fifteen

What Have I Done?

“C’mon, don’t be a ponce,” muttered Spike, as he pushed the door open and stepped in to his hotel suite. “Just grab the stuff and get out.”

He only just managed to stop himself from running to the bedroom for his clothes. But he knew that if he did, he’d end up panicking. He’d left the door open and nearly jumped out of his skin when it slammed shut behind him. He whirled around, praying that it had just closed on its own, but even before he saw her, he knew she was there.

“Where are you rushing away to?” asked Drusilla, with a scowl. “I don’t want to rush.” She put her hands to her head. “That noise you were making made my head hurt.”

“So it was you?” gasped Spike, his mind racing almost as fast as his heartbeat, in an effort to decide how to get out of the room unscathed.

“Yes, it was me. Your dark princess.”

“You’re nothing to me,” retorted Spike, backing away. His intention was to get to the phone on the side table to his right.

“Miss Edith was right. You do need to be punished. My Spike would never say that.” She stalked towards him.

Spike backed up further. “Well, that’s the rub, isn’t it? I’m not your Spike.” He glanced at the phone, he was almost within reach. He daren’t go for it until he was certain that he could get it. “You don’t belong here. This isn’t your world,” he said, as he looked back at her.

He drew a sharp intake of breath. She was so much closer than he’d expected. He kept his eyes averted, remembering how she enthralled him previously.

“Your place is with me,” she stated calmly. “You’ll soon learn your lesson.”

Her hand snaked out so fast that Spike couldn’t see it before it gripped his throat in a choking hold. His own hands flew to his neck, clawing frantically at hers, desperately trying to pull them away.

Drusilla smiled eerily at him. “See how silly it is to need to breathe?”

His vision was starting to have black spots in it. They grew larger and larger until he passed out altogether. Drusilla released her grip and Spike fell limp to the floor. Dru twisted her hands through her hair.

“This isn’t how it should be. My Sweet William wouldn’t make me do that.”

She looked down at Spike. For a moment, she was worried that she’d gone too far; that she’d killed him. She smiled as she could hear his heart still beating. She carried him effortlessly to the bed and put him down so that he was on his back. She lay down next to him, snuggling into his warm body. Two more bites and he’d be hers forever and able to travel back to her real world. She stroked her hand along his chest. No fun now that he was asleep. After a few minutes, she got bored and vamped out. She bit through his t-shirt and into his chest. Her teeth surrounding his left nipple. The pain was intense enough to make Spike startle back to consciousness. She clamped a hand over his mouth, silencing his cry. She stared at him, her yellow eyes meeting his blue ones. Spike started to struggle. Drusilla thought about enthralling him again, but then remembered what Miss Edith had said. He needed to be punished, and it would hurt if he wasn’t in her control.

She moved until she was straddling him. She pinned his arms down with her knees. Spike thrashed uselessly. He couldn’t believe that something so frail looking could be so bloody strong. Drusilla leant forwards and licked his neck. Spike felt bile rise in his throat, repulsed.

“You will be mine again, Spike,” said Drusilla, as she sank her fangs in to Spike’s neck; the opposite side than before.

The pain was like nothing that Spike had ever experienced, and he’d suffered some injuries in his time. She drank of his blood; six long swallows before pulling her fangs out and licking the wound closed. Drusilla laughed. It was the scariest sound that Spike had heard.

“Now your turn,” she trilled.

She nicked her wrist and held it to Spike’s mouth. He redoubled his efforts to get the bitch off him. She sank her fingers in to his jaw, forcing his mouth open. Blood trickled in to his mouth. He tried to spit it back out, but got a back handed slap across his face that made him see stars. He had no option but to swallow it. He shuddered as he felt it go down his throat, surprised that it felt cold. He was suddenly light-headed, almost as if he were floating. His eyes rolled back in their sockets. He was dimly aware of Drusilla climbing off him.

“There, William, doesn’t that feel better?” She smiled sweetly down at him, before she walked towards the door.

Spike looked around him vaguely, as if unsure of where he was. He sat up, groaning and pressing the palm of his left hand to his forehand. His head was spinning. His vision was blurred, sort of hazy around the edges. He stood up, swaying violently, but he managed to stay upright.

“What’s going on?” he whispered.

He took a couple of steps forward, putting a hand on the wall to steady himself.

“You’re nearly ready, my pretty one,” cooed Drusilla.

Spike looked in her direction and squinted. “Buffy?”

Drusilla howled, “Not the Slayer! She has my daddy. She won’t have you.” She punched Spike. He flew backwards, hitting the bed, before sliding to the floor.

Spike shook his head, trying to clear both his thoughts and his vision. He glared angrily at the vampire and suddenly his vision cleared.

“Drusilla.”

He got to his feet, the strange dizziness had passed. In fact, he felt strong; powerful. Drusilla’s eyes widened. He thought that for a second that she looked afraid. He smiled nastily. About time the boot was on the other foot.

“You’re nearly mine,” she said, backing away a little.

Spike felt a weird emotion go through him at her words. A connection was probably the best way to describe it. It was weak as yet, but Spike knew without doubt that it would get stronger, and he didn’t want it to.

“Dru, pet,” he said.

She smiled at the use of the shortened version of her name. Her old Spike always called her Dru. Her eyes lost their fear. She held her arms out to him. Spike walked towards her.

“I’ll never be fucking yours,” he yelled as he lunged for her.

He grabbed her shoulders, his momentum taking them both to the floor. Drusilla threw him off her.

“You will be mine; the stars don’t lie.”

Spike picked himself up, wiping a trace of blood from his mouth. She’d split his lip as she’d slapped him when getting him to drink her blood.

“Maybe where you come from they don’t. But here the stars don’t care what a crazy bitch like you believes.”

His heart was racing and somehow the sound of it rushing in his ears was exciting. He walked towards Drusilla, smirking as she backed away.

“What’s up, pet? Don’t like it when we fight back? Funny that, ‘cause I’d’ve thought that a girl like you would have loved to be dominated.”

“Don’t, Spike. Don’t be a bad, rude, man.”

Emboldened by her retreat, Spike approached her again, not sure what he intended to do.

“What do you reckon Miss Edith would think of me now?” asked Spike, remembering how she’d told Dru to punish him.

Spike’s heart stopped, he was sure it did. Ever said the wrong thing? Dru’s face contorted with fury as she reached out and punched him in the stomach. He was thrown across the room, landing with a bone shaking crunch on the coffee table. He cried out in pain as he hit it, and the table collapsed, its legs breaking with the force of it. Before he had chance to move, she was there, raining blows on him.

“You will learn your lesson,” shouted Drusilla. “I’d forgotten how much training William had needed before. Daddy will help me make you behave.”

Spike tried to fend off the punches. He protected his head with his right arm bent over it, and frantically reached out with his left hand for anything that he could use to defend himself with. His fingers wrapped their way around a piece of wood; part of the table’s broken leg. He swung it as hard as he could, hitting her on the side of her head and knocking her to the ground beside him.

Spike rolled over, the opposite way from her, and tried to catch his breath. He was almost at the end of his endurance; his legs were wobbly. He staggered towards the door. He needed help and fast. He didn’t know what had possessed him to goad the bitch; it had just seemed ‘right’. He had just reached the door, when with a scream, Drusilla flew at him once more. Spike turned round to face her, brandishing the piece of wood. He stabbed it towards her heart. It worked in all the movies he’d ever seen. It was a bit different in real life though. As the wood was plunged in to her body, Drusilla exploded in to dust.

“What the hell?” gasped Spike.

He backed up coughing and choking on the dust. His legs decided that they’d had enough and finally gave out on him. He was on his hands and knees gasping for air when he became aware of a pounding on the door.

“Spike! Spike!” Rich’s worried voice called out. “What’s going on? Open up.”

Spike crawled the couple of feet to the door and with a trembling hand, reached up and opened it. Rich and Tara nearly fell over him as they rushed in.

“Oh, my God,” exclaimed Rich when he saw him.

Spike’s chest was covered in blood, and the bite marks were livid on his neck. He was shaking uncontrollably. Tara knelt down beside him.

“Was she here, Spike?” she asked urgently.

Spike looked at her, his eyes unfocussed. He blinked a couple of times.

“Rich, I think he’s going in to shock. What are we going to do? If doctors get their hands on him…”

Rich glanced at her aghast. She was right. He’d be treated like a lab rat. He took in the wreckage of the room. He bent down and touched the carpet just in front of where Tara and Spike were sitting. It was covered in greyish powder. His eyes went back to Spike. He was coated in the stuff too.

“Tee, wot is this stuff?” he asked.

Spike startled them by starting to chuckle. He rocked backwards and forwards slightly. Tara put her arms around him.

“Are you all right?” she asked. “Do you know what this is?” She brushed some of the powder off his arm.

“Drusilla,” giggled Spike.

“Where is she, Spike?” said Rich, shaking him gently, trying to get him to concentrate. “It’s important. Where is Drusilla?”

Spike stopped laughing and stared at them. He rubbed his hands over his hair and saw that clouds of dust fell from them. He retched violently, bracing himself on his hands as he brought up a small amount of blood. Rich and Tara exchanging worried glances when they saw it. It confirmed what they thought. Drusilla had been here again.

“Spike, mate. I need yer to tell us. Where is she? We need to get hold of her. Wot did she do to you?” said Rich.

Spike scraped up some of the dust. “I killed her.”

“Wot?”

“This is her,” said Spike letting the powder fall to the floor again. “She was in here and…she bit me again…and then I felt all weird. We were fighting and…and…she threw me over here.” He paused, looking around him wildly. “I thought that she was going to kill me. I hit her with this.” He picked up the broken chair leg from where he’d dropped it. “She just went ‘poof’.”

“Poof?” said Rich.

Spike looked at Tara. “You never told me that they went poof.”

Tara smiled despite herself. “That’s because I didn’t know.”

“So, Drusilla is dead,” stated Rich, baldly.

Spike nodded. He felt the hysterical laughter building up inside, but it died when he noticed the expressions on his friends’ faces. He frowned as he concentrated on what Rich had said earlier.

“Why did you need to get hold of her?” he asked, not sure that he wanted to know the answer. His stomach lurched again.

“Um…let’s not worry about that now,” said Tara, glaring at Rich and helping Spike to his feet. “You need to get cleaned up and to have some rest. Then we can talk.”

“No, tell me now.” Spike pulled free from Tara.

“You may as well, Tee. It’s not going to be any different in the morning,” said Rich.

“I heard back from the coven. They had found a solution to your situation.”

“Had?” said Spike tremulously.

“Are you certain that you want to know now?” asked Tara.

Spike nodded, but he knew what she was going to say.

“Drusilla was the key to your cure. Her blood was the key.”

“What have I done?” He stared at them in horror. “What have I bleeding done?”

tbc

Chapter Sixteen

Another Development

Angel felt like he was falling. This was odd, considering that he was lying in his bed in the old manor house. Correct that; was lying in his bed. He just had enough time to realise that he actually was falling before hitting the pavement with a crash that would have killed a human. Fortunately, a vampire isn’t quite so fragile, but he was still knocked unconscious.

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Spike stared at Tara and Rich, and then back at the pile of dust that had been his tormentor and, apparently, his saviour.

“So, that’s it then? I’m buggered,” he said bleakly.

Tara put her arm around him once more. “Come on, let’s go to our room. I think we all need to sit down.”

Spike allowed her to lead him the few yards to their suite. His legs felt like they belonged to someone else. He collapsed gratefully onto the couch and leaned forward, putting his head in his hands. He couldn’t believe it. A few days ago he had everything. Now his world was falling apart.

“So what did the coven say?” he asked, although he knew that it was pointless. “Were they sure that it would have worked?”

Tara glanced worriedly at Rich before replying.

“Um…they were confident, not certain, that it would have reversed it all.”

There was a long silence, as none of them had any idea of what to say next.

“She said that she had to bite me twice and then I’d be fully hers,” said Spike, remembering Drusilla’s words.

Rich’s eyes fell on Spike’s torn t-shirt and the angry bite mark on his chest. “Looks like she did.”

Spike touched his chest. “What? This? No, that was just her waking me up.”

“Christ,” said Rich.

“When she first got hold of me, she choked me until I passed out,” explained Spike. “The next thing I knew was when she did this.” He winced as he pulled the t-shirt away from the wound, the congealing blood sticking onto his skin.

“You need to go get cleaned up, Spike,” said Tara.

“I will in a minute, pet.” He gave her a half smile. “Just need to get it straight in my head what damage has been done tonight. What if I’m a danger to you?”

“So, she needed to come back again to complete the job?” asked Rich, not willing to answer Spike’s question.

Spike nodded. “That’s what she said. She drank my blood again and then sodding made me drink hers. It hurt like hell too, because she didn’t put that thrall thingy on me. Bet she wishes that she had now.”

He bit his lip to prevent a hysterical giggle escaping his lips. In addition to everything else, he really felt like he was going insane. Perhaps all vampires are insane? Drusilla had certainly seemed to be.

Rich caught Tara’s eye. “So there’s still hope then?”

“I’m not sure,” replied Tara honestly. “I’ll get with the coven again right now.” She gave Spike’s shoulder a squeeze as she walked past him on the way to the bedroom, where she’d left her laptop. “Go and get a shower, Spike.”

“Okay, I will.”

Spike stood up and glanced at Rich’s face. He was unable to read his expression. Then he was almost bowled over as Rich enveloped him in a bear hug – this was Rich, who didn’t ‘do’ hugs. It terrified Spike.

“Er…it’s all right, mate,” he said, trying to disentangle himself from Rich’s clutches.

“Sorry,” sniffed Rich, wiping his eyes and letting him go. “It’s just…” He backed up a stride, his eyes wide. “Christ!”

“What now?” said Spike, impatiently. He’d just about had enough of people’s reactions to him; even Drusilla had looked at him strangely for a time before he’d pissed her off.

“Yer eyes!”

“What about them? Bit bloodshot? I took my lenses out before I got on the bus ‘cause my eyes felt a bit tired.”

Rich shook his head. “No, they’re not bloodshot,” he said quietly. “They’re yellow.”

Anger flashed in Spike. “Yellow? The whites of my eyes are sodding yellow. That’s just great,” he said sarcastically.

“Um…calm down a little, yeah?”

Spike growled. That gave them both cause to pause.

“Did you just…?”

“Shit, I guess I did,” said Spike wearily, deciding that sitting down would be a good option right now. “What’s wrong with my eyes, Rich?”

“Um…they are okay again now, but they were yellow. The irises were yellow – not blue.”

“God, Rich, I really am changing. That bitch’s eyes were yellow when she vamped out.”

“When she wot?”

“Vamped out. You know – got her fangs out.”

“So the Lost Boys got it right then?” said Rich.

“The lost boys? Who the hell are the boys, why are they lost and what did they get right?”

Rich chuckled. Spike glared at him. He really didn’t feel up to laughing right now.

“Um…yer eyes have done it again,” said Rich.

This time Spike realised that his vision had sharpened, heightened somehow. He remembered how it had cleared in his room, and the look on Drusilla’s face as she backed away. It must have happened then, too. He sighed and glanced back at Rich, who visibly relaxed.

“Blue again, yeah?” said Spike, weirdly aware of the slight change of the intensity of his vision.

“Yeah. Will yer stop doing it? Gotta say it’s freaking me out a bit.”

“I can’t sodding help it, Rich,” said Spike with another small growl. He leapt up from where he was sitting. “I can’t take this, Rich. I just can’t take any more.”

“I’m sorry, Spike. I shouldn’t have said that. We’ll find something to help you. Look, Tara’s in there already, trying to get information for you. She won’t fail.”

Spike took a shuddering breath as he ran his hands over his face. He could tell that his eyes were back to normal again. “But, what if I’m too far gone? I mean, the eye thing is new.” As he said it, they flashed amber for a second. “And the growling, what the fuck is that about?”

“I don’t know, Spike, I really don’t but we’ll get through this. The worse won’t ‘appen; I won’t bleedin’ let it.”

“I want to believe you, Rich, but I’m not sure that I can,” replied Spike, his voice breaking a little. He was rapidly becoming overwhelmed by all that was happening to him. “I guess I’ll go and get that shower.”

Spike stood up again, and Rich watched him as he walked to the bathroom. Spike’s shoulders were slumped; he looked like he was defeated already. Rich’s heart went out to him. He turned and walked quickly to the bedroom. Once inside, he hugged Tara tightly as she sat at the dressing table, typing on the laptop. She stopped typing and leaned back into his embrace. He buried his face in her neck and she felt his hot tears on her skin.

“Oh, God, Tara. We’re losing him.”

Tara put her hand up to Rich’s head. “Hey, try not to get upset. It’s not hopeless yet. Don’t give up.”

She twisted around until she was facing him and wrapped her arms around him. He clung to her. “It’s moved on from what it was before this last visit from that cow,” said Rich, as he told Tara of Spike’s eyes and his strange new ability to growl. He broke down in tears again when he finished.

“Shh, Rich,” soothed Tara. “It’ll be okay; you’ll see.”

“He’s my best mate, Tee. I can’t lose him. I lost James. I still miss him everyday. I can’t do it again.”

“James?” said Tara gently.

Rich tensed in her embrace for a second as he tried to work out what to say. James had been his best friend when he was a kid. He’d been killed in the crash that had left Spike an orphan. The complication was that for a time, Spike had lived as James and still had his surname.

“Um…he was a friend I had at school. He died years ago.”

“Oh, Rich. I’m so sorry.” Tara kissed his cheek, cupping his face in her hands.

“Thank God, that I’ve got you, Tee,” said Rich, returning her kisses but seeking out her lips, not her cheek. “I love you so much.”

Tara smiled at him, willingly deepening the kisses. “I love you too, hun.”

Rich sighed and released his hold on her. “I’d better go and see how Spike is.” He wiped his eyes and sniffed a couple of times. “Sorry about that.” He felt embarrassed at breaking down as he had.

“Don’t be sorry, Rich. You love him. You’re going to be afraid for him.”

“Yeah, but I’m English, remember? What about the stiff upper lip that I’m supposed to have?” he said, trying to make a joke of it.

Tara smiled at him. She reached out and took one of his hands, squeezing it tightly. “Spike’s English, and he has no trouble showing his emotions.”

“Uh…yeah,” replied Rich. “But he’s been in the States for years – it’s rubbed off on him.” “I’m going to have to tell her the truth about Spike’s past soon; he’s as American as she is. I hate bleeding lying to her.”

The computer chose that moment to chirpily inform them of an incoming e-mail. Tara turned to look at it.

“It’s from Jessica. She’s the head of the coven,” Tara said. “I’ll see what she says.”

Rich dropped a kiss on her head and walked from the bedroom to check on Spike.

00000000

Spike stood under the jets of water and put his hands on the wall to steady himself. His legs felt weak. He forced Buffy from his thoughts, because he almost came undone every time that he let her fill them. For years, ever since he was seventeen, she’d been his rock. She’d held him together through the mess of his identity. Even now, she was the strong one of the relationship. She was his anchor, and now he felt as if he had been cast adrift. He fervently wished that she was here and was glad that she wasn’t, in just about equal measures.

He rested his forehead on the tiles of the shower cubicle. His thoughts were bleak. He’d worked so hard to get to the top with the band; they all had. Now, he knew that if things carried on the way they were right now, The Dingoes would be finished. He decided that should he begin to change even more, he’d kill himself before he had the chance to kill any of those that he loved. The fact that his eyes now changed, apparently of their own volition would be tricky to hide from the others. He shuddered at the thought of the low bestial growl he’d uttered earlier. He truly was turning into a demon, a beast.

He took a deep breath as he turned off the shower and stepped out onto the mat. He picked up a towel and dried himself off. He quickly got dressed and shaved, glad that he always used an electric razor. He smiled grimly to himself as he realised that he no longer glanced at the mirror as he shaved. He was getting used to the fact that he had no reflection.

tbc

Chapter Seventeen

Angel

Angel groaned and rolled over on the ground. He put his hand to his head and felt sticky blood on the back of it. He licked it from his fingers, features changing to his vampiric ones as he did. They faded back as he tried to sit up. A wave of nausea hit him, and he lay down again for a moment, waiting for it to pass. He glanced around, bewildered as to how he came to be out of his comfortable bed. He tried to sit up again and this time managed to do it.

“What the hell happened?” he muttered as he struggled to stand.

Once upright, he had to set his feet wide apart to balance as he swayed a little. He cracked his neck and took a better look at where he was. He realised that he was about half a mile from the manor house where he’d been sleeping. He sniffed the air and was pleased to learn that dawn was still some way off. So he set off to walk home as he wondered what magics had been involved and for what reason. He rubbed the back of his head. He’d taken quite a bang and perhaps that was why every thing seemed to smell a bit odd - either that or the left over residue of the magics.

He hoped that Buffy was okay. They weren’t seeing each other that day as she wanted to spend some quality time with Dawn, who was visiting for a week. He smiled as he thought of Dawn. Buffy was so proud of her and so was he. Amazingly, for a girl brought up on the Hellmouth, she’d managed to live a fairly normal life these past few years. Mind you, going to a university in New York probably helped. Buffy had despaired of her for a time after they’d lost their mom, but the kid had more than made up for it since.

Angel was lost in his thoughts and it wasn’t until he was about to open the door to the manor that he realised that something was most definitely wrong.

“What the hell…?”

He stared at his home. It was wrecked. It had always been pretty dilapidated but now it was little more than a ruin. Most of the roof was missing and the door was now just a few planks of wood nailed to the frame.

“Drusilla!”

He ripped the wood off and ran through the rooms, almost tripping over the debris. He skidded to a halt at the room that contained Dru. Or rather, he skidded to a halt where the room containing Dru should have been. This part of the house was in even worse shape. He sniffed the air to see if she was buried beneath the rubble.

He spun around, eyes darting everywhere. He couldn’t understand it. There was no trace of Dru’s scent. Or even of his.

“Buffy!”

If magics as powerful as this had been used against him, there was no way that Buffy wouldn’t be at risk too. Their relationship was well known. They’d been together since she was just sixteen; ten of the best years of his existence. He’d come to help the newest Slayer to defend the Hellmouth from the likes of his own kind, and they had fallen in love. He’d left for a time to rescue Drusilla from Europe after the death of his grandchilde, Spike. In the six months that he was away, Buffy had discovered a problem with the gypsy curse that had returned his soul. A moment’s pure happiness would banish it once more. Fortunately, she was contacted by a descendent of the gypsies, and by the time that he’d returned, a counter spell had been devised, anchoring his soul to him forever. He’d always be grateful to Jenny Calendar for defying her elders to give him the solution that enabled him to be with Buffy. She was convinced that the good he could do was worth the wrath of her uncle.

He ran across the town at a steady lope. Buffy’s house was in darkness as he approached it, which was not surprising considering how late it was. He went to the back door and dug the key out from his pocket. They had never moved in with each other - Dru being the problem. Buffy understandably refused to have her in the house, and Angel couldn’t abandon her to her own devices. Not for the first time did he silently curse the fact that Spike had been killed. His devotion to Drusilla was unswerving, and he would have looked after her forever. He put the key in the lock and pushed the door inwards. It wouldn’t budge. He kicked at it in frustration. The door flew open but his foot felt like it had hit a solid wall. He tried to go in. Again, the invisible barrier prevented him from doing so.

“No way,” he muttered. He couldn’t believe that Buffy would do a dis-invite spell on the house that he considered home. Something decidedly weird was going on.

“Buffy!” he yelled. “Dawn!”

He walked to the kitchen window and banged on the glass.

“Buffy!”

His features vamped out, and he hit the window hard enough to crack the glass. Where the hell were they? He went to the open door and inhaled deeply. Buffy’s scent was there but it was faint. He was getting really worried now. He glared at the door, trying to decide what to do. He heard the wailing of a police siren. He froze as he heard it getting closer. Snarling in frustration, he ran out of the back yard and hid a few doors away to watch.

The patrol car pulled into the driveway of Buffy’s house. Two officers got cautiously out of the car. They had their hands on their holstered guns, ready to draw them if necessary. Flashlights showing the way, the officers walked around to the back yard and into Angel’s view.

“It was the back door that was breached,” said the taller of the two.

“Doesn’t look like whoever it was is still here though,” replied the second, walking boldly towards the door.

“Jesus, Reece, take it easy. No point in being careless.”

Reece grinned back at his partner. “It’s only a freaking alarm call. You need to relax a bit.”

“Yeah, well, maybe the reason I’m only two years off retirement and have never been shot or stabbed is because I don’t relax on the job.”

“Okay, Ted, point taken,” admitted Reece. “Well, they’re right about the back door.” He pointed his flashlight at it. “But look, there’s a key in it. It hasn’t been forced.”

“That’s odd,” replied Ted.

The two officers stepped cautiously across the threshold that had denied Angel access. Angel heard them calling out and going through the rooms, checking for the possibility of an intruder. His mind was reeling. Alarm? Since when does Buffy have the house alarmed? It’s all a bit pointless when you’re dealing with demonic invaders, not humans.

He waited until the police had left, cursing as they took his key with them. He didn’t know what to do. He had to get under cover soon, otherwise he’d be dust. Angel decided to return to the manor and try to find a bolt hole there. He was sure the cellar would still be intact. His head still hurt and he needed some blood. Hopefully whatever had damaged the manor wouldn’t have damaged his stash of blood. The huge old fashioned refrigerator was pretty sturdy, and its place beneath the staircase should have offered it some protection.

Angel made his way back to the manor. He scrabbled over rubble to get to the staircase. By the time he got there, he wasn’t surprised to find no sign of the refrigerator. He didn’t know what had happened, but it most definitely wasn’t anything good. His head was aching from the concussion, and he decided to rest and hope he could find Buffy when the sun went down once more. The magics still swirling around the ruins of the manor took hold of him as he lay there and his sleep deepened. He wouldn’t awaken for several days.

tbc

Chapter Eighteen

Telephone Call

Spike woke early. Or rather, it was early when he gave up trying to sleep. He’d spent a very restless night on the couch in Rich’s room. He’d been a bit alarmed to find that his night vision, when his eyes changed to yellow, was extremely good. He could see almost as clearly as in the daylight. He reckoned that it was an essential thing for a nocturnal creature to have.

“Creature! Shite, I’m a bloody creature now!”

He’d tried to control the changing of his eyes, but had had no success. One thing that he had learned was that they swapped to yellow whenever he was feeling frustrated or angry. Stress seemed to do it too, which meant that they had been yellow for most of the night. By focusing hard on his breathing, he had managed to turn them back to blue a few times, knowing that it’d been successful by the lack of night vision.

Now that it was daylight, Spike realised that even when his eyes were ‘normal’, his sight was better than it should be. There was no need for the contact lenses he usually wore. That cheered him up a little – one less thing to worry about.

He had a bit of fun trying out his new found ability to growl. He decided that he sounded a bit like a lion, which he thought was better than if he’d sounded like a dog. That’d just be too ordinary. He had a chuckle. He felt better than he had last night. More positive. He wasn’t sure why though. His situation was still desperate. His cell-phone rang, and he answered it quickly before it could wake Rich and Tara.

0000000000

Buffy sleepily reached for the telephone by her bedside. Her fingers fumbled at it, almost knocking it off the table before finally picking it up. She fully expected it to be Spike even at ‘ridiculous o’clock’. She mumbled grumpily into the handset.

“’Lo?”

“Miss Summers? Miss Buffy Summers?” the official sounding voice said clearly.

Buffy sat bolt upright in the bed, heart pounding, instantly awake.

“Yes,” she said tremulously. “Please God, don’t let Spike be hurt. Please God, don’t let Spike be hurt.”

“Sorry to bother you so late.”

“Who is this? Can you please get to the point; you’re scaring me.” “Oh, God. Not Rupert. Not Spike and not Rupert.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Summers…”

Buffy felt like she couldn’t breathe.

“…to call so late but you are listed as the contact should the alarm go off and the householders not be present.”

“What?” Buffy shook her head, trying to make sense of what she was being told. “What alarm?”

“I do have the correct person, don’t I? My name is Carl Johnson. I’m from Five Star Alarms and Security. The house – number 1630 Revello Drive, Sunnydale - I have it down that your parents live there and that you’re the alternative contact.”

Buffy let out a deep breath and then spoke.

“Oh, thank God.”

“Excuse me?” said Carl.

“Listen, Carl. It’s…” She glanced at the clock. “nearly one thirty a.m. and you call me up, waking me up, and the first thing you say isn’t ‘Hello, please don’t worry that your loved ones are injured and maybe dying as we speak. I’m only the guy reporting an alarm has gone off in a house that is empty!” Her voice raised to a shout as her relief kicked in.

“Oh, sorry,” said Carl. “I regret worrying you unnecessarily.”

He didn’t sound particularly sorry. Buffy scowled. He probably got off on scaring people half to death. She resisted the urge to rip into him.

“So, what has happened then? Has the house been broken into?”

“Police were in attendance at the scene,” said Carl. “The report we have is that, although the back door was opened, the house itself looked untouched. The alarm, as you know, is linked to the police, and so they were there very soon after it went off. They assume that they disturbed the would-be thief before they had a chance to get in.”

“That’s good,” said Buffy. “So, do I have to organise getting the place secure again or is that part of the contract we have with you?” She couldn’t remember whether Joyce and Rupert had taken that option when they’d had the security installed at Spike’s insistence.

“That’s our responsibility, Miss Summers. However, the police informed us that the burglar used a key. The door was unlocked rather than broken into. Do you know of any lost keys? Or is one hidden in a safe place?” Carl’s voice held the hint of a sneer, letting Buffy know, in no uncertain terms, that doing such a thing was foolish.

“No,” said Buffy firmly. “They haven’t lost any keys otherwise we would have had the locks changed. And no, they do not leave keys out anywhere.”

“That’s good,” replied Carl. Buffy could tell that he didn’t believe her and she ground her teeth to keep from slamming the phone down. “I will arrange for a locksmith to change the locks as soon as possible. Although the police have retrieved the key it is unwise to think that the possibility that it was copied doesn’t exist.”

“Fine,” said Buffy. “Do whatever you have to do. I’ll check the house in the morning. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Miss Summers.”

With a sigh of relief, Buffy put the phone, none too gently, back in its cradle.

“What an asshole,” she muttered, slumping back into the pillows of her bed. “Thank God that mom and I stayed at my house tonight.”

Buffy had managed to persuade her mom to let them stay at the her house that night as she needed to check the mail and wanted to get a few things ready for when she left to go to England in a week’s time. She had loved snuggling up in the bed she normally shared with Spike, though it had felt huge without him in it with her. He was a terrible wriggler when he was asleep. He could kick as if he were running a marathon some nights - hence the enormous bed. It enabled her to get out of range.

She reached out for the telephone again, dialling the number from memory.

000000000

Spike’s face split into a grin when he saw the caller ID.

“Shouldn’t you be getting some beauty sleep?” he joked.

“Just needed to hear your voice.”

“Buffy, what’s wrong? Is it your mom?”

She smiled as she realised that she was doing to Spike what the stupid man from the security firm had done to her.

“No, Spike. She’s fine, as is Rupert. I just got scared half to death by the security company calling to let me know that Revello Drive had been broken into.”

“Bloody knew that they should move out,” said Spike. He couldn’t live with himself if Rupert or Joyce were hurt because of his fame.

“It’s OK. The house isn’t even damaged. The back door got unlocked, that’s all. Mom must have lost a key and not realised it.”

“That’s odd,” replied Spike. “Glad that you weren’t there, pet. If anything had happened to you - -”

“It didn’t.” Buffy cut off his words.

It was understandable, given that he’d been in a car wreck that had claimed the lives of four people that he loved, that Spike could be a little paranoid about the vagaries of fate.

“I’ll make sure that we stay here until Rupert gets back. The locks will be changed before the night’s out.”

“Good,” said Spike. “Least I know that you’re safe when you’re there.”

“So, what did you mean ‘shouldn’t you be getting your beauty sleep’? Something that you want to tell me, buster?” said Buffy, successfully changing the subject.

Spike laughed softly. “No, love. Was just picturing you all snuggled up in bed is all.”

“Not going to trade me in for some groupie then?” teased Buffy.

Spike’s laugh faltered as he recalled his experiences with Drusilla. “No, never,” he said. “Not as long as I have my own free will, anyway.”

He knew that he had to tell her everything, but he needed it to be face to face, like Tara had suggested. It was too big to say over the telephone.

“I should think not,” said Buffy.

Spike lowered his voice a few octaves. “So, are you naked?”

Buffy felt her skin heat up. God, he sounded sexy when he did that.

“No, I’ve got my pyjamas on,” she replied with a chuckle.

“Please tell me that they’re those gorgeous blue silk ones that I got you last Christmas?”

Buffy giggled. “Nope. I’m wearing my--”

“Not those bloody yummi sushi ones?” interrupted Spike. He almost forgot what he was going to say as he felt his eyes change as he groaned. “Shite, it’s a good thing that I didn’t sodding growl!” “But you’ve had them forever. I threw them out once.”

“I know. I still haven’t forgiven you for that.”

“Take them off.”

“What?” Buffy pretended not to know what he was intending to do.

“You heard me.” His voice was even lower, huskier, sexier. “Take them off.”

He heard rustling as Buffy did as she was told. He got off the couch and walked into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He didn’t want Rich or Tara to come out and hear their conversation or see what he was going to have to do, either. He got himself as comfortable as he could on the lid of the toilet, and he slipped his hand down the front of his boxer shorts.

“God, you look beautiful,” he said as he closed his eyes and leaned back against the cistern; clearly seeing her in his mind’s eye.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, except that you’re not naked.”

“How do you bloody know that?”

“Because you were already awake when I called, and since you said you weren’t entertaining groupies there would be no reason for you to walk about naked, would there? Unless you’re vain enough to want to check out your body in the mirror?”

Spike swallowed hard. “Not that vain, pet.” He pulled the boxers off, but left the t-shirt on. She’d never know. “Naked now.”

“Well, if you were lying here beside me, I guess my hands would be sliding down your chest. I’d pinch each nipple in turn,” said Buffy, really getting into the game.

She could visualise him flinching and yelping a little as she pinched the nipples. He was remarkably sensitive there. Spike had closed his eyes and tucked the cell phone between his head and his shoulder so that he could trace his hand down his body as she described it, his left hand still gripping his now hardening member.

“Let go of yourself with your left hand. That’s cheating,” said Buffy.

Spike’s eyes flew open. She knew him too well. Reluctantly, he let go. He’d already cheated with the t-shirt and so felt he had to be honest about that.

“Evil bint.”

Buffy laughed softly. “Where was I?”

“I dunno about you, but my fingers were just about to slip inside you,” said Spike softly. He heard her give a little gasp as she used her fingers on herself. His erection twitched at the thought of her lying there, pleasuring herself. “That’s it, pet. Find that sweet little spot that I know so well.”

He closed his eyes again. He wished that he was somewhere a little more comfortable, preferably in bed next to Buffy and doing the work for her.

They each took it in turns describing what their hands and fingers would be doing on the other’s body. Spike was soon aching to touch himself.

“Christ, love. Have a heart and let a fella find a bit of release,” he pleaded.

“Patience is a virtue,” teased Buffy. “But you’re right. The only thing is…if I really was with you, it would be my lips, not my fingers, that would be going to work.” She laughed as she heard Spike groan.

“When you get over here, you better not want to do anything other than shag for the first day,” gasped Spike as he gripped himself firmly and began to slowly move his hand up and down. All of his current worries were forgotten as he lost himself in phone sex with the only woman he’d ever loved.

Their words and actions drove them closer and closer to climax. The last few moments were filled with soft pants and moans, each lost in the fantasy. As Spike heard the familiar sound of an orgasmic Buffy, he pumped faster for a few more strokes before climaxing hard, his whole body tingling. He growled and leaned his head back as he got his breath back.

“Buffy,” he muttered when he could speak.

“I love you, baby,” sighed Buffy. “The reception on the phone went a bit funny. It made you sound like you were growling like a big cat.” She collapsed into fits of laughter.

Reality hit Spike with a thump, but he couldn’t help but laugh with her.

“Yeah, big cat, that’s me.”

“Pussy cat maybe?” joked Buffy.

“You should know all about that,” he said, purposely choosing to make it a double entendre.

Buffy could tell he was smirking. This next week couldn’t be over soon enough. Her…um…cat…was desperate for his attention!

tbc

Chapter Nineteen

Smells Good

Buffy told her mom about the attempted break-in over breakfast. The two of them were sitting at the table in the kitchen. Buffy loved this room; it was always so bright. Light flooded in from several windows on two sides of the room. Joyce, understandably, was upset at her home being breached and immediately called Rupert on his cell phone.

“Buffy, will you please take me over there?” asked Joyce. “I know the police say nothing was taken, but I need to see it for myself.”

“Sure I will,” replied Buffy. “It’s this sort of thing that Spike is worried about. This is why he wants to buy you a house similar to this, or at least one in a gated community.”

“I will not be leaving my home, Buffy,” said Joyce sternly. “I love that house and so does Rupert. I’m sure the break-in had nothing to do with Spike’s fame. Houses do get broken into by ordinary thieves, you know. They don’t have to have a particular reason to do it.”

“I know, Mom,” said Buffy, knowing it was an argument that she wouldn’t win.

“If we had been there, it might not have happened. It was probably because it was empty.”

Buffy sighed. “Great, so this is all my fault. Thanks, Mom.” “Shall we go to take a look then?”

“Thank you,” said Joyce, getting hold of her crutch.

Fortunately, the hospital had put a ‘walking’ cast on her ankle as she was unable to use two crutches because of her injured wrist. She was now pretty adept at getting about.

They made their way out to the garage, and Buffy opened the door to her sports car for Joyce. Once her mom was safely inside, she got behind the wheel and drove over to Revello Drive. They pulled up onto the driveway, and Buffy helped her mom out of the car. They went to the front door and found a note pinned on it by the locksmith, stating that the keys to the new lock on the back door were lodged with the local police station and for them to get in touch, should they decide to have the others changed as a precaution.

Buffy pulled the note off the door, put her key in the lock and walked in. Joyce followed her, anxiously looking round for signs of disturbance. They walked through the rooms and were relieved to find that nothing had been taken. In fact, apart from the fact that the kitchen window had a crack in the glass, it looked like nothing had even been touched.

“Looks like the alarm and quick response from the police did stop them from getting in,” Buffy said as they sat on the couch in the living room.

“Yes, thank goodness. I didn’t like the idea of an uninvited stranger being in my home.”

“I can understand that,” replied Buffy with a bit of a shudder. She hated the thought, too. Just way creepy.

“I’m staying here tonight,” said Joyce.

“OK. I’ll stay, too. I got most of the things done that I needed to anyway. I’ll do the last couple of things in a few days when Rupert gets back.”

Joyce smiled at her daughter. She knew how much she was missing Spike. She felt guilty that Buffy had missed the tour for the first time ever and all because of her.

“You’ll be able to do them tomorrow evening if you want to.”

“What? I’m not leaving you alone, Mom.”

“I won’t be alone. Rupert is catching the first flight back. He’s just about spent the budget we set anyway, so there is no real reason for him to stay away any longer.”

“You know that he’s just coming back because he’s worried about you, don’t you?” said Buffy, returning her mom’s smile. “The budget thing is probably a fib.”

Joyce reached out and tapped Buffy’s arm. “That’s my husband that you’re calling a liar. But you’re probably right! Mind you, I think he’s had enough of the travelling, and I’m sure that if I’d said a light bulb needed changing he’d have still come home.”

Both laughed at the idea.

“So, why don’t you call the airline and see if you can change your flight to one a couple of days earlier? I know that you’re dying to get out there.”

Buffy’s face lit up, but she didn’t want to leave her mom alone. “I’ll call them when I know when Rupert will be back. No way am I leaving you alone.”

Joyce’s cell phone rang and she pulled it out of her pocket to answer it.

“It’s Rupert,” she said before pressing the button. “Hello, honey.”

“No, nothing’s been touched. We’re here now.”

“That’s great. I can’t wait to see you.”

“I love you, too, darling.”

Joyce hung up the phone and filled in the part of the conversation that Buffy hadn’t been able to hear.

“He’s just about to get on a plane. He managed to get a stand-by ticket. He’ll be home in a day. So why don’t you book your flight?”

“That sounds like a great idea. But are you sure that you don’t need my help at the gallery? Rupert will be tired after his trip.”

“We’ll be fine. Just call that man of yours and put him out of his misery. I know how much he’ll have been missing you.”

Buffy grinned cheekily at her mom. “I’m not going to tell him. I’ll let it be a surprise. If I can get there for the first of the London gigs, he’ll be staying at Rupert’s house. With a bit of luck, I’ll get there before him and- -”

“Whoa! Stop right there! I’m your mother, remember? There are some things a daughter should never share with her mom!”

Buffy blushed. “Mom!” she protested. “As if I would say anything like that. I was going to say that I’ll love to see his face when he sees that I’m waiting for him.”

“Of course you were,” said Joyce, winking at her daughter and laughing at her deepening blush.

00000000

Spike was in a good mood. He’d really enjoyed the telephone ‘conversation’ he’d had with Buffy, and by the time Rich and Tara surfaced, looking somewhat dishevelled, from the bedroom, he was showered, dressed and not a little bored.

“Morning,” he said.

“Morning, Spike,” said Tara, disappearing into the bathroom.

Rich sat down on the couch next to Spike. “All right, mate?”

“Yeah, I am. I feel good today. Called Buffy and she’s OK. It won’t be much longer before she gets here. I can’t wait.”

“I bet,” replied Rich with a grin. “She better not tire you out before the last concert.”

Spike smirked at him. “Don’t bet on it.”

Rich was pleased to see his friend was looking more at ease and positive, but part of him did worry about what had brought this about. Last night he’d seemed depressed and now…?

Tara emerged from the bathroom and went into the bedroom to get dressed.

“Did Tara find anything out?” asked Spike.

“I think so, but to be honest I was falling asleep by the time she logged off the computer, and then this morning…erm…I got a bit preoccupied.”

Spike gave Rich a bit of a shove. “You old devil, you.” He grinned.

“She’s bloody amazing, Spike. I can’t believe my luck in finding her.”

“Go and get a shower,” prompted Spike. His eyes changed and he suddenly realised that he could smell the sweat and…the sex…on his friend.

“Okay.”

Spike had felt his eyes change and he thought about the new found olfactory ability. More developments. His heart plummeted. He hoped that Tara had some news for him. Although he was feeling great physically, he was still afraid of what might happen in the future. He longed for Buffy to be by his side. He got up and walked restlessly around the suite until Tara walked back into the lounge.

“Spike, do you want to sit down with me? I’ve got a bit of news for you,” she said from behind him.

Spike turned around to face her, his anxiety keeping his eyes vampiric. Tara stepped back a half pace when she saw them. Rich had told her about this happening, but she hadn’t realised how strange he would look with his expressive blue eyes a harsh yellow colour.

Spike saw her reaction and took several deep breaths, trying to calm enough so that his eyes would return to normal. “Sorry, pet. They just do that sometimes. I can’t really help it,” he said as they changed back.

“Th…that’s okay. Rich had told me, but it still took me by surprise.”

“I bet,” said Spike quietly. He walked over to her, took her hand in his and led her to the couch where they sat down. “So what have you got to tell me then, love?”

“Jessica has detected another vampire that has passed into our dimension.”

“I thought that unless they knew the vampire’s name they couldn’t find them. Isn’t that why they couldn’t find Drusilla until I’d been able to remember her name?” asked Spike. Feeling puzzled, he released his hold on her hand and ran his hand through his hair.

“That’s true, but apparently this one is from the same line and so was picked up.”

“Same line?”

“As I understand it,” said Tara, “a vampire is connected – related if you like – to the ones that they sire. If their ‘offspring’ or ‘childer’, as they are known, go on and sire their own, the link continues back in the direct sire’s line. So if we had been in their dimension and Dru had sired you, then you would be related to her sire and the sire before that and so on.”

“Oh, okay,” replied Spike. “So it was one of these related vampires that arrived over here?”

Tara nodded. “That’s right.”

“Shite, so I could have another one coming after me to finish the job?”

Spike eyes flashed to amber as he spoke. Tara made sure that her discomfort at seeing that didn’t show in her face. Spike tilted his head to one side as a new scent hit his sensitive nostrils. What was it? He looked deep into her eyes and recoiled as he realised that it was apprehension that he was smelling. He dropped eye contact and willed his eyes to turn back but they wouldn’t respond. He knew that the more frustrated by it he was, the less chance he had of them changing to blue.

“Sorry about the eyes, Tara. I just can’t control it. I don’t mean to frighten you.” He glanced at her and smiled, not knowing that that made it look even weirder.

“It’s all right, Spike. I’m not afraid.”

“You are, love. I can smell it.”

“You can smell it?” repeated Tara, eyes wide.

“Yeah, when my eyes are like this, my senses all seem to be heightened. It’s bloody strange.”

Tara reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s just concentrate on what Jessica thinks we can do, shall we? Whatever your nostrils are telling you, I know that you won’t hurt me. It was just a bit of a shock seeing it, that’s all.”

Spike stared at her, hearing the sincerity of her words, his eyes fading to blue. “Is there still hope then, or was me killing Drusilla sealing my fate?” His voice broke a little.

“She seems pretty sure that if we can locate this vampire then we should still be able to reverse what’s been done. The link between the two vampires ought to enable the ritual to be viable.”

“Ritual?” Spike wasn’t sure that he liked the sound of that.

“Yes. Don’t worry though. It’s nothing too bad; just need some blood letting and a few enchantments.”

Spike shook his head. He still couldn’t get over how matter of fact Tara was when she spoke of the arcane. “So, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, shall we?”

“Yes,” agreed Tara. No need to tell him, just yet, that he was going to have to drink some of the vampire’s blood.

“Have they got any idea on how to find this relation?”

“They’re working on it now. But they don’t think that it crossed to the same place that Drusilla did.”

Spike slumped forward, resting his head in his hands. “It could be like looking for a needle in a haystack then? The sodding thing could be anywhere.”

“The feeling of the coven is that it will try to find you.”

“Oh,” replied Spike weakly. “I suppose that’s a good thing.”

Rich had tiptoed past them after his shower so that he could get dressed, and now he joined them in the lounge area. He flopped down in the chair nearest to Tara.

“So wot’s the plan then, Tee?” he asked.

“I was just telling Spike that another vampire passed through to this dimension. It’s related to the one that attacked Spike.”

“Related?”

“I’ll tell you later,” said Tara. “The important thing is that once we’ve found it we should be able to perform the same ritual as we would have done with Drusilla.”

Rich grimaced. He remembered her telling him about this just before he went to sleep. “Oh, yeah, I remember. He’s got to drink the vampire’s blood, hasn’t he? Yuck!”

“I’ve got to sodding what?” exclaimed Spike.

Tara sighed, “Thanks, Rich.”

“Wot? Oh, yer weren’t going to tell him just yet?” He glanced at Spike’s face which had paled a little. “Sorry for blurting it out.”

“’S okay. Got to know it some time, I suppose,” replied Spike. He didn’t dare tell them that a part of him found the thought appetising. He didn’t dare admit it to himself, though he felt his eyes change as he thought of it.

Rich glanced at his watch. “Let’s get some breakfast sent up and then we’ll be on the move to Cardiff, ready for tonight’s gig.” He got up and went to pick up the bag that he used for his laptop computer. He dug in to the front pocket of it and pulled out a small box. “Here, I think you’d better use these.”

He tossed it to Spike, who caught it cleanly with his left hand and looked at it. He opened it. Inside was a pair of sunglasses, the lenses of which were mirrored. He smiled at Rich. With these on no one would be able to tell if his eyes changed colour; the reflective lenses hiding his eyes from view. He put them on.

“What do you reckon? Do they suit me?”

“They look fine,” said Tara.

Rich grinned. “Looks more like a proper rock star, hiding behind them. Bono, eat your heart out.”

“Hey!” protested Spike. “You always tell us off if we leave our shades on in public. You say--what’s the phrase…? Oh, yeah, ‘it makes yer look like a right bunch of ‘wankers’.”

Tara burst out laughing at Spike mimicking Rich’s voice so accurately.

“Um…yeah…well, the public likes to see your faces. Makes for much better PR,” said Rich sheepishly. “Anyway, it’s the exception that proves the rule.”

tbc

Chapter Twenty

Cardiff

The band and their gear were soon on the road and on the way to Cardiff. Spike was glad for the pair of sunglasses that Rich had given him, as he could feel his eyes change from blue to yellow and back again, several

times on the journey. It was pretty disconcerting; not least because when they were yellow and his sense of smell was also heightened, he became acutely aware of the scent of the people around him. Each had their own unique scent; though, in the case of the bus driver, it was hidden by terrible body odour that Spike was barely aware of when his eyes were blue. Spike wondered if he’d be offended if he gave him some deodorant spray.

Spike leaned his head back against the head rest of his seat and closed his eyes. He could tell that Joey was walking down the bus towards him, even with them closed.

“Hey, Spike, what’s with the shades?” asked Joey, trying to snatch them from Spike’s face as he walked by on his way to use the bathroom at the very rear of the tour bus.

Spike bit his lip to suppress the growl he felt building as without opening his eyes, he grabbed Joey’s wrist and prevented him taking them.

“Got a migraine, mate. Eyes feel a bit sensitive to light, okay?” he snapped, opening his eyes and glancing at Joey. He released his hold on his wrist.

Joey looked at Spike for a moment. It wasn’t like him to be grumpy; well not until the sound check anyway. He hoped that his friend wasn’t going to be ill again. They’d all been worried about him in Leeds.

“You sure that you’ll be all right for tonight?” he asked Spike, dropping a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, ‘course I will. Just need the painkillers to kick in. I’ll be fine by tonight.” Spike smiled up at Joey. Truth be told – he felt great.

“Cool,” said Joey and left Spike in peace.

Spike stared out of the window as they travelled to Cardiff. It was the first time that The Dingoes had played anywhere in Wales, and the concert had been sold out for months.

The hotel they were booked in to over looked Cardiff Bay, and as Spike looked out of the window, he wished that he could go for a walk around the area. He didn’t need his reflection to remind him that his hair hardly made it easy for him to go unnoticed, now that the band was well known.

“Shite,” he grumbled to himself as he flopped down on the king sized bed, taking off his sunglasses.

He pulled the cell phone from his pocket and hit speed dial one. He screwed his face up as Buffy told him off for not checking the California time, but soon they were chatting away. Both of them wishing that they were together. Buffy could hardly stop herself from telling him that she’d be arriving a couple of days earlier than he thought.

“God, I wish that you were here,” said Spike with feeling. “I’ve got that sodding TV interview the day after tomorrow. I can’t believe that Rich is making me do it on my own. He knows that I hate being on bloody camera.”

Buffy giggled. “You’ll be fine. Rich’ll be there to hold your hand, and it’ll be great publicity for the Dingoes.” Unfortunately her plane arrived too late for her to go to the studio with him, but she hoped that she’d make it to the house in time to see it live on TV. “Remember that first video that Rich did of you guys?”

Spike joined in with Buffy’s laughter. “Yeah, the git, bloody lied about not taping when he really was.”

Spike had totally frozen when faced with Rich armed with Buffy’s camcorder at a gig they were playing on New Year’s Eve at The Bronze. He had only just been released from hospital after being badly beaten by his high school nemesis, Angel O’Connor. He remembered, all too clearly, how bad he’d felt that day when they did the sound check. Being hit around the head and back with a baseball bat was something not easily forgotten.

Even nine years on, the footage of that concert was still being aired on Youtube. The sight of the seventeen year old Spike with his battered face, singing songs that they still played to this day, kept it popular with the Babyeaters who’d been in the crowd. Buffy often sneaked a peep at the footage because Rich had caught Spike glancing at her and winking, and it still made her heart beat quicken when she saw it.

“That was a great night, wasn’t it?” said Buffy, lost in the memories.

“It sure was, pet. That was the start of it all really. Without that footage online, I don’t think we’d have made it.”

He heard Buffy yawn loudly.

“Shit, sorry, love. I forgot how late it is for you.”

“Early,” chuckled Buffy.

“I’ll let you go then. I love you, you know that, right?”

“I know it, Spike, and I love you, too. I’ll be seeing you soon, too.”

“Can’t wait. Night, Buffy.”

“Goodnight, or whatever it is,” said Buffy with another yawn as she hung up.

Spike tossed the phone down on the bed next to him. He surprised himself by falling asleep.

He’d been asleep for a couple of hours when he was roused by knocking on the door. He got up from the bed and walked over to open it.

“Lunch is served,” Rich said with a grin, waving a bucket of chicken wings in front of Spike.

Spike snatched it from his hands. “Well come on in then. What are you waiting for?” He went over and put the carton on the table in front of the window. “Where’s Tara?”

Rich followed him and they both sat at the table. “She’s catching up on a bit of sleep. She spent a lot of time on the laptop last night, and I woke her up pretty early,” he replied with a smirk.

Spike chose to ignore the innuendo- he already had been able to smell what they’d been up to that morning. “Mm…these are good.”

“I didn’t even ‘ave to go to get ‘em. Just asked the concierge. The band really has made it if we can get a hotel to go out to find chicken wings for it’s lead singer,” Rich teased.

“Just wish I could go for a sodding walk. Feel like a prisoner; I’ve been stuck in hotel rooms for so long.” Spike’s eyes flashed amber as he spoke.

Rich could hardly believe his ears. It was like Spike had forgotten what was happening to him. It seemed like he was well up that river in Egypt right now.

“Well, if you didn’t have hair that bleedin’ glows in the dark, you might find it easier to get about.”

“Can you get me a hat? I really need to get some fresh air.”

“Sure, I’ll sort it out for you.”

Spike grinned at his friend. “You’re the best manager ever.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Just don’t get bloody mobbed anywhere. And keep your cell on you, okay?”

“Yes, boss,” said Spike, his eyes now back to a twinkling blue. “I promise.”

The pair ate the rest of the chicken talking amiably about anything except vampires.

Soon after Rich had left, he was back knocking at Spike’s door again. He tossed him a black knitted woollen hat.

“There yer go. It’s the best that I can do to cover up yer bleeding ‘air. Whatever yer do – don’t get caught on camera with this one. It’d seriously damage yer public image.”

He laughed as Spike’s eyes flared yellow for a second.

“You’re a sod; you know that, right?” said Spike as he pulled the hat on and then put the sunglasses on too. “What do I look like?”

“Like a total prick. There’s no way that anyone will know it’s you.”

Spike thumped his friend affectionately as he pulled on his jacket. Not his beloved leather duster - that was as much his trade mark as his hair - but a khaki coloured combat style jacket.

“I’ll see you later then, mate,” he said as he walked out of the door.

“Make sure you’re back here in two hours, okay? We’ll be going to do the sound check then.”

Spike glanced at his watch. It was still on California time but noted what time according to it that he needed to be back.

“Yeah; no worries. I’ll be here.”

Rich stood watching Spike until he disappeared in to the lift. He shook his head as he thought that he really should have gone with him. God, he hoped he’d be okay. He sighed and went back to see if Tara had woken up.

000000000

Spike wandered around the Bay area near the hotel. He looked around a couple of galleries selling local art and such. He resisted on taking a trip around the Bay on a boat, but watched them come and go as he sat eating an ice-cream cone. He sat there for about an hour, chuckling softly to himself from time to time as people walked by him, barely giving him a second glance. In fact, the only unwanted attention he had was when an old woman pressed a £2 coin into his hand, telling him that he was too thin and to go and get a sandwich. He tried to give it back to her but she’s insisted. Spike had managed not to laugh out loud until she was out of earshot. The woman had thought he was a beggar or homeless or something. Maybe Buffy was right and it was time that he threw out this jacket? He decided that he better get back to the hotel rather than risk giving Rich a heart attack by being late. He felt more relaxed than he had since being bitten by Drusilla.

0000000000

Oz, Joey and Pete stared at Spike as he stood at the front of the stage. They’d only just started the check, but something was very wrong.

“Um…Spike? You okay, man?” asked Oz tentatively, as always the job of dealing with Spike during the pre show routine, falling to him.

Spike spun around and grinned at Oz. “’Course I’m okay,” he exclaimed. “Why wouldn’t I be?” He tilted his head and peered at Joey and Pete who were watching him anxiously.

“Er…well…it’s the sound check and…um…”

“Um...what? God, spit it out, Oz! What’s up?”

Oz glanced at the others who nodded at him, urging him to speak. Oz took a deep breath. “Well, you’re not freaking out.”

Spike stared at him, and then burst in to fits of laughter. “You guys are upset with me ‘cause I’m not freaking out?” he gasped. “You’re always telling me that I’ve got to chill out; that there’s nothing to worry about. Then when I do, the three of you look at me like I’m a loon.” He doubled over with his hands on his knees.

“It must be the pills that he took for his migraine,” said Joey quietly to Pete.

Spike looked up at them. “It’s not any bloody drugs okay, and before you ask, I haven’t been drinking. I’m just feeling good – is that so bad?”

Joey and Pete looked startled that he’d heard what Joey said but then shrugged. This cheerful version of Spike was much nicer to be around than the normal panicky version.

“I’m okay, Oz, honest. I’ve just had a good day and Buffy’ll be here soon. The gigs have been really well received. I’ve got nothing to worry about; tonight will be as good as the others, if not better. So no point in stressing at all is there?”

“I’ve been telling you that for years and it decides to sink in finally?” Oz grinned at Spike.

“Something like that,” replied Spike winking at him.

00000000

The concert was a great success. Spike had been on great form. Much to the amusement of his band mates, he’d kept the mirrored shades on throughout the concert. If they were surprised at the fact Rich hadn’t tried to persuade him to take them off, they didn’t show it. The fans hadn’t seemed to care. Mind you most of the girls were too busy swooning when Spike pulled off his sweat soaked t-shirt about two-thirds of the way through the set. His well defined six-pack more than making up for them not being able to see his baby-blues.

Spike was feeling as high as a kite as he walked off stage for the last time. The thought of going back to his room to try to sleep didn’t appeal.

“Hey, Pete. What are you up to tonight?” he asked as he walked back with him towards the dressing rooms.

“One of the local security guys told me about this great little club in a back street, not far from the hotel. I thought I’d go take a look at. Why?”

Spike put his arm around him. “I thought I might come with.”

“What?” Pete stopped short. “You want to come out clubbing with me?”

“Yeah. Would you rather that I didn’t?”

“No, you’re more than welcome. Just a bit surprised, that’s all. I mean, you haven’t been out with me after a gig since…well…ever!”

“’Bout time I gave it a go then, eh? Just really not feeling like I want to go to sleep.”

“Cool. We can get the bus to drop us off at the end of the street that it’s on. It’s on the way back to the hotel.”

“Great. It’ll be fun.”

They split when they reached their respective rooms and freshened up quickly before climbing on to the bus. Spike had put a clean t-shirt on, and for a change, instead of slicking his hair back, he used the gel to spike it up. He wanted to look a bit different, because no way was he going to a club with the horrid woolly hat on.

Pete had sat up front near the driver so that he could tell him where to drop them off.

“That’s the street- there,” said Pete ,and the driver pulled over and opened the door. “See you tomorrow,” added Pete as he got off the bus.

Spike got up and made his way down the bus. He dropped his duster in Rich’s lap. Laughing at Rich's face as he realised that he was going with Pete.

“Look after it for me okay, mate,” said Spike, giving Rich’s cheek a friendly slap. “Don’t look so surprised. Just fancy a night out.”

Rich was about to protest but stopped when he felt Tara’s hand on his arm.

“Let him go,” she whispered. “He’ll be all right.”

Rich glanced at her and then at Spike’s back as he exited the bus. “Are you sure?”

“I think all his senses are enhanced when his eyes change. The concert is bound to make him feel wired.”

Rich wasn’t so sure, but short of leaping off the bus and hauling him back on, there was nothing that he could do. Pete, for all of his partying ways, would make sure that Spike was okay. He got a glimpse of the two men walking along the street before the bus turned a corner and they were out of sight.

0000000000

To Spike’s delight but also his amazement, Pete made no attempt to get in the club for free by telling them who he was. When he commented on this to Pete, he was rewarded with a grin.

“Is that what you all think I get up to when I go out?”

“Well…yeah,” admitted Spike.

“I do sometimes, but most of the time I just want to be out like a regular guy. Then I can chat up a few girls without them knowing I’m in The Dingoes and I get to meet girls who like me and not the whole fame thing.” He laughed at the astonishment he saw on Spike’s face, despite him still wearing the shades. “Mind you, when it gets to the end of the night, it does mean that they’re less likely to say no after I confess who I am!”

“You’re a shit, Pete,” admonished Spike, but he was smiling.

He’d never really thought of how being famous affected the way you got to interact with women. Not for the first time, he counted his blessings at finding Buffy before the whole fame thing went a bit crazy.

Spike settled himself on a bar stool and watched as Pete got chatting to some girls. He introduced Spike as James, which was the name that he used before it was legally changed to Spike.

One of the girls looked carefully at Spike. “Hey, has anyone ever told you that you look a bit like that lead singer of The Dingoes…what’s his name? Spike. That’s it – you look a bit like Spike.

Spike and Pete exchanged a glance before he replied, “What? That wanker? I’d rather that you thought I looked like Billy Idol.”

“Billy who?” said the girl, obviously not a music fan.

“Never mind. Do you want a drink?”

He bought them all a drink and declined the offer of joining them on the dance floor. He sat sipping his orange juice, happy to watch Pete in action.

A couple of hours later and Pete disentangled himself from the girl who’d been wrapped around him for the past hour and walked over to Spike.

“You ready to go?”

“Yeah, but don’t think that ‘cause I’m here that you can’t bring her back to the hotel if you want to.”

“What? No, I had fun with her, but I’m not sure that I want to wake up next to her.” He smirked shamelessly. “I’ll save myself for a nice little Londoner.”

Spike thumped him. “I was right. You are a total shit. Come on, let’s get back.”

They walked the half mile or so back to the hotel and were soon asleep in their respective rooms.

Tbc

Chapter Twenty-One

Gotcha!

Spike glanced at the clock in his hotel room just before he fell in to bed. He couldn’t believe that it was four in the morning. He wasn’t usually much use after midnight, but tonight he would have been happy to stay for another hour or so. He checked his wrist watch and grinned. It wasn’t too late to call Buffy.

“Spike! Are you okay? It’s like the middle of the night for you isn’t it?” said Buffy as soon as she picked up the phone.

“Hello to you, too,” said Spike dryly.

“What? Oh, sorry. Just had me worried. Is everything all right?”

“Quit worrying, woman. Things are fine.” “Well, more or less, if you forget the vampire thing.” “I was awake and thought I’d call you and tell you what I’ve got planned for you when you get here.”

“Um…hang on a minute,” said Buffy. “Okay,” she added a few minutes later. “Just getting somewhere a bit more private.” She giggled.

“And why would you need to do that?” asked Spike feigning innocence. “Just gonna say that we’ll do the whole ‘tourist thing’ with Rich and Tara that’s all.”

“Sure you were!”

“You doubt my word? Shame on you!”

“Anyway, buster. I might have a few plans for you myself.”

“That right, pet?” Spike felt himself harden as she spoke. God, it’d been way too long without being able to be with her. Thank God that he’d see her in four days time.

“That’s right,” replied Buffy and proceeded to, quite graphically, tell him exactly what she expected from him when she got to London.

“Bloody hell,” gasped Spike, opening his jeans and slipping his hand in to give himself some relief. She always got him horny as hell. “And you kiss your mom with that mouth.”

She giggled. “What are you doing now?”

“You bleeding well know what I’m doing, you saucy bint. You’re driving me crazy,” he gasped as he came to a climax.

“Well, I’d better leave you to it. There’s a good programme starting on the TV in a minute.”

“What?” spluttered Spike, unable to believe his ears. He was getting the brush off for a sodding TV programme.

Buffy’s giggles dissolved in to full blown laughter. “Gotcha!”

Spike chuckled. “You are evil, Summers. Totally, bloody evil.”

He sobered as he realised that he’d be the totally evil one if Tara and her witchy friends didn’t sort out what was happening to him. He missed what Buffy had just said.

“Sorry, pet. What did you say?”

“Nothing important - just to tell you to get some rest now that you’ve had a bit of stress relief.”

The smile returned to Spike’s face. “You’re the best stress buster I know. Whether you’re with me or not.” He could see the sky was lightening through the window in his suite and he yawned. “You’re right though. I better try to get some more kip. Got to be up at the crack of sparrow tomorrow.”

“Crack of sparrow?” asked Buffy

“It’s a ‘Rich’ saying. It means ‘up at the crack of dawn’ – you know – when the birds begin to sing!”

Buffy laughed softly. “I’m sure he makes up half of his sayings himself, then tries to pass them off as normal ‘English’ phrases.”

“You’re probably right there, love. Well, I’ll say goodnight to you. Sweet dreams.”

Buffy’s heart lurched as she heard the longing in his voice. Getting to London couldn’t come soon enough. She was ready to leave for the flight to take her to him. She was leaving her cell with her mom so that if Spike called whilst she was on the plane, her mom could cover by saying she was in bed with a headache or something. She couldn’t wait to see his face.

00000000

Spike had fallen asleep almost as soon as he hung up the phone. All too soon, Rich was knocking at the door and waking him up. Spike growled a little, which startled him enough to fully wake up.

“Shit,” he muttered as he rolled over and got up.

He walked over to the door and opened it.

“God, Spike. Yer looked like yer slept in those clothes,” remarked Rich as he walked in.

Spike grinned at him unashamedly. “That’s ‘cause I did.”

“Wot time did yer crawl back in ‘ere then?”

“’Bout four,” replied Spike. “But don’t panic. I behaved myself; as did Pete. I didn’t dance with anyone or have anything alcoholic to drink. Even Pete came home chickless. I think I cramped his style a bit.”

Rich looked relieved. “Did anyone recognise you?”

“Nope. Well, one girl said that I looked a bit like that Spike from The Dingoes, so I told her that he was a right wanker and I was trying to look like Billy Idol.”

They both laughed.

“That’s true – he can be a right wanker,” said Rich, ducking as Spike threatened to clip his ear. “Get yourself some breakfast and be ready to leave in an hour for London.”

“Yes, boss,” said Spike, standing to attention and saluting him.

Rich looked at him. Should he be worried that Spike seemed so normal? Or be glad that he wasn’t freaking out?

“So…um…how are yer feeling?” he asked Spike seriously.

Spike’s shoulders slumped a little and his eyes briefly flashed yellow. “Physically, I feel great. I always feel fit when I’m on tour. Being on stage is like a workout.” Spike glanced at his friend and Rich saw the torment in his – now back to blue – eyes. “I guess I’m just hoping it’ll all go away. Least there’s been no other changes, so maybe it doesn’t matter if we find that other vampire or not? Maybe this is as bad as it gets? It’d be okay wouldn’t it, if all I have to deal with is no reflection, a strange ability to growl and the eye thing? I mean, surely I’ll end up being able to control them changing with a bit of time?”

“Yeah, we could deal with that,” replied Rich hoping that he made the words sound a bit more convincing than he actually felt. “Anyway…go get a shower and make sure you eat something. Meet us in the lobby in an hour okay?”

“Yeah, mate. An hour. I’ll be there.”

0000000000000

Spike squinted in the light as he walked the few yards to the tour bus, despite wearing Rich’s shades. He climbed on the bus and slid on to a seat about half way down. Far enough away for him not to be too aware of the pungent aroma of the driver when his eyes changed! He was nudged awake by Rich as they got to the hotel. Although Spike, Tara and Rich were going to stay in Rupert’s house, they got off the tour bus at the hotel and then got a car to take them to the house. The sight of the tour bus emblazoned with The Dingoes’ wild dog logo might just be a bit much for the suburban street it was on. It was early evening by the time they were all settled in.

Spike always had mixed feelings about being in this house. It was where he’d been staying when the crash had wiped out his family. It was the last place that he’d seen his mom. He still avoided going in to the guest room that she’d used, if he could help it. Rich and Tara would be using it. He - and Buffy when she arrived - was staying in the room that had been his Aunt Julie and Uncle Thomas’s. He pushed the door to the third bedroom open as he passed it, once he’d put his bags in the master bedroom. If he closed his eyes, he could still hear the banter between him and his cousin James. This was the room where William Pratt’s efforts at poetry were transformed in to song lyrics; where his beloved duster was worn for the first time. His heart clenched at the memory of the loss of his cousin. He wished James were here now to see how things had turned out. But, with all this new knowledge of parallel dimensions and such, he wondered how different things might have been had they not gone on the trip to Bodium Castle and consequently been involved in the terrible motorway pile up.

He sniffed and wiped his eyes with his hands. He hoped that somewhere in the universe there was a James Norman who was having a great life; not dead at just seventeen. He pulled the door shut and closed off the memories. He walked slowly downstairs to join Rich and Tara.

Hi, Spike,” said Tara as he walked in and sat in one of the huge green armchairs.

“Got all settled in, love?”

“Yes, thanks. It’s a lovely house.”

“It is at that. Just holds a few too many memories for me. It always takes me by surprise when I come here. I expect it not to hurt, but it does.” He glanced at his friends and realised that his melancholy mood was making them uncomfortable. He smiled at them as they sat entwined on the matching couch. “Sorry. I’ll be okay.”

“Why do yer stay ‘ere if it upsets yer?” asked Rich looking worriedly at his friend.

“I dunno, I suppose it’d seem like I was being a coward if I didn’t come here. I’m usually better after the first day. It’s good to remember them all.” He saw that he wasn’t really helping them feel at ease. “I can’t explain it. But after learning about the dimensions, Tara, do you think that somewhere they’ll all be okay?”

Tara smiled at Spike. “I’m sure that they are, Spike. And don’t forget that there are heavenly dimensions too. Where ever they’ve gone from this plane. I’m sure it’s a good place.”

She reached out and put her hand on his knee. He covered it with his own and squeezed it.

“Thanks.”

He took a deep breath, and then smiled at them. “I’ve got a little surprise for you both tonight. I organised it before…well, before my troubles, but now it’s a bit of a thank you for everything you’ve done - are doing - for me.”

“We don’t need any thanks, mate,” said Rich.

“I know, but I wanted Tara’s first night in London to be special. You both need to get dressed in your glad-rags and be ready for eight o’clock.”

Tara giggled. “What’s happening at eight?”

“You, my dear,” said Spike dramatically, “are going to the very famous Ivy restaurant for a meal.”

“’Ow the ‘ell did yer manage that?” gasped Rich. The place was booked solid for months and months.

Spike grinned. “For once, I shamelessly used the fame card. Didn’t expect it to work, but it did.”

“But…we can’t go…not after…we can’t leave you alone,” said Rich.

“’Course you bloody can. I’m a big boy. I’ll be okay for one night without you babysitting me.” Spike glanced at Tara. “Anyway, there’s no indication of where this other vampire is yet, is there?”

Tara shook her head. “No, sorry. Not yet.”

“So for all we know, it could be in sodding China then? Go out. Have a good time; please.”

“If you’re sure?”

“I am, mate. Go on, have some fun. Just don’t let old Michael Winner pinch Tara’s arse if he’s there,” joked Spike.

00000000000

At eight sharp, a very well turned out couple walked down the drive to get in the limousine that was also part of Spike’s treat for them. They got in to the car and the chauffeur gently closed the door. Spike was just about to go back in to the house when he heard Rich shout his name. The window of the car rolled down and Rich stuck his head out.

“Spike! Don’t forget that interview tomorrow morning. Get an early night, okay? We need to leave at five thirty.”

“Will you quit worrying. Go!” Spike waved his arms at him. “Have some sodding fun!”

Rich’s face split in to a grin, and he rolled the window back up and turned his attention to Tara.

Spike wandered restlessly about the house. He couldn’t settle. He tried playing some music but just couldn’t focus. His conversation with Buffy was cut short as she said that she was at the gallery. He opened the refrigerator which had been newly stocked up for their arrival. He glared at its contents before slamming it shut with a bang that set the whole thing rattling.

“Sod this.” He pulled out his cell phone and called Pete. “You going out?” he asked as soon as Pete picked up.

“Yeah, Spike. I am. Why? You want to come with?”

“If you don’t mind? Rich and Tara are out, and I’ve got that sodding interview tomorrow and just can’t settle.”

“Get a cab over to the hotel and we’ll go from here, okay?” replied Pete. “How long will you be?”

“About a half hour.”

“Cool.”

00000000000

An hour later and Pete and Spike were in the VIP room of one of the top London clubs. The place was dimly lit; the music almost deafening, and it was gaudily decorated in rich reds and golds. This time Pete had used their celebrity status to get them in. So, unlike in Cardiff where they were anonymous - just one of the crowd,-here they were fawned over in what Spike found to be a rather irritating manner.

“For the umpteenth sodding time, I do not want a cocktail. Orange juice is what I bloody want,” Spike snapped as the scantily clad waitress approached him for the fifth time in what felt like five minutes.

She walked off with a huff and a muttered “Bloody must be alcoholic if he’s a rock star on orange juice and wound up so tight.”

Spike resisted the urge to go up to her, pull his shades off, revealing the eyes that he knew were amber and growl at the miserable cow. That’d show her.

Pete walked up behind him and whispered in his ear. “Um…the cocktail she’s offering is actually a euphemism.” He chuckled. “If you take it, she takes you to another room and attends your needs, if you get my meaning?”

Spike whipped around to face Pete. “Tell me that you’re joking!”

Pete collapsed in to fits of laughter. “Nope. I reckon I might just have a ‘cocktail’ off that little brunette over there,” he said between gasps, nodding in the direction of a very pretty slim girl of about twenty.

“Where have you bleeding brought me, you git?”

“Whatever you do, don’t get a drink off one of the waiters – same rules apply.” By this time Pete could hardly keep himself upright, he was laughing so hard.

“Great,” groaned Spike. “Just great.”

Spike watched Pete pull himself together and weave his way through the crowd to the brunette. He whispered something in her ear, was rewarded with a brilliant smile and then, with a backward glance at his band mate, he let her lead him away. With a sigh, Spike tried to find a quiet corner and called Buffy, needing to hear her voice.

“Bollocks,” he growled as he found that he couldn’t get a signal. He switched it off and thrust it back in to his pocket.

He felt a hand on his arm.

“Spike?”

He turned to see who was hassling him this time, but smiled with relief when his eyes fell on to a familiar face.

“Hey, Chris, how are you doing?”

“I’m great, thanks. I didn’t think that this was your scene though,” said Chris pulling Spike in to a huge bear hug. “Where’s your better half?”

“Um…she’s still in the States. Her mom had an accident, and so she had to stay behind. She’ll be here in a couple of days. I’m missing her like crazy,” replied Spike as he tried to unravel himself from the hug.

“So, she won’t know if I do this then?” said Chris, planting a firm kiss on Spike’s lips, tongue trying to get admittance to his mouth.

“Ugh! For God’s sake, Chris,” said Spike pulling free and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

“Aw, chill out, honey. You can’t blame a guy for trying. I do keep holding on to the hope that one day you’ll give me a chance.”

Spike laughed. “You’re something else you know that, right? There’s only one woman, one real woman for me and that’s Buffy.”

“You bitch,” said Chris slapping his arm.

“So how’s the solo album coming along?” asked Spike.

Chris had been the very camp and openly bi-sexual lead singer of a band that had been the support act for The Dingoes first UK tour a couple of years ago. The band had broken up, and so Chris was now busy working on a solo project; otherwise they would have had him support them this time. He was great fun to have around. Chris was just over six feet tall and built like a heavy weight boxer. But it was his cross-dressing tendencies that got him noticed. A predilection for sling back stiletto shoes and floaty dresses meant that he never failed to get him seen. This wasn’t the case tonight, though. He was dressed almost normally, if somewhat colourfully, in jeans and an open necked shirt.

“What’s with the outfit? All your dresses in the laundry?” teased Spike.

Chris leaned in close. “No, I’ve got a new lover.”

“What, and he doesn’t like you in skirts? Shouldn’t change to please a fella, you know.”

Chris smiled at Spike. “It’s a woman and she makes me come over all manly. No dresses when I’m with her.”

“Manly?” Spike raised an eyebrow and tilted his head on one side as he looked Chris up and down. “Yeah, pink jeans. Real manly.”

“It is compared to a floral dress,” countered Chris.

Spike grinned. “Good point.” He glanced around and spotted an empty table at the other side of the room. “Come on, you can tell me all about her.” They went over and sat down as Chris began extolling the virtues of his new love.

00000000

Rich and Tara got home at one o’clock to find the house in darkness.

“Thank God, he’s had an early night,” he said as he fixed Tara and himself a night cap. “Did you have a nice time, Tee?”

“Oh, Rich, it was lovely. As are you,” she said setting her drink down and then taking Rich’s from him and putting it beside hers. She pulled him in to her embrace and kissed him soundly. “So if the kiddies are asleep…”

“Oh, Tara,” mumbled Rich as they kissed and then collapsed together on the couch.

“I think we’d better take this upstairs, just in case,” said Rich, making Tara squeal as he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom.

0000000000

By four thirty, Spike thought that he’d better head for home. Pete had long since left for the hotel, taking the petite brunette with him. Spike had spent the night talking to Chris. They left together, walking to their respective cabs. Chris was a touch worse for the drink and so Spike had his arm around the larger man to steady him as his new found ‘manly’ attire still included stilettos. As he helped lower Chris in to the cab - no mean feat to achieve without him falling in the gutter - Spike was rewarded with a rather sloppy kiss on the mouth.

“Goodnight, Chris,” said Spike closing the door.

“Night, babe. Been great catching up,” replied Chris.

Spike stood on the street watching the cab drive away before climbing into his own.

Neither man had noticed lone paparazzi with a long lens, standing in the shadows across the road from them. He smiled to himself as he looked back on the digital display of his camera. The picture of the two men kissing had come out beautifully. The larger man’s face wasn’t visible, but the chiselled features and bleach blond hair of the lead singer of The Dingoes was unmistakeable.

“Gotcha,” he muttered with a triumphant smile.

Tbc

Chapter Twenty-Two

Breakfast TV

Spike paid the cab driver and began to walk up the driveway to the house. The door flew open as he got halfway up it.

“Where the bleedin’ ‘ell ‘ave you been?” hissed Rich, mindful of the proximity of the neighbours - otherwise he would have yelled. “The car will be here to pick us up in fifteen minutes.” He glared furiously at Spike.

“Fifteen minutes, yeah? Plenty of time,” replied Spike, trying and failing to diffuse Rich’s temper by smiling sweetly at him.

“Jesus Christ, Spike! You’re going on live TV, and you haven’t even been to bloody bed!”

“’S all right, Rich. I’m not tired.”

“Not tired? Yer bleedin’ better not be! I’ll kill Pete. Yer went out with him again, didn’t yer?” said Rich, pushing Spike towards the house. “I don’t know what’s got into yer.”

Spike planted himself, resisting Rich’s pressure. He turned to look at his friend and lifted the sunglasses from his nose. He quirked an eyebrow at Rich - an eyebrow above a harsh yellow eye.

“Don’t know what’s got into me? Sure about that?” He grinned at Rich and pinched his cheek. “Come on, we better get a move on. Wasting time out here, aren’t we?”

“I’ll bleedin’ kill yer myself if yer do this to me again,” snapped Rich. “I’ve got bloody Lisa in there ready to do yer make up so we don’t ‘ave to ‘ave yer near a mirror in the studio. So for God’s sake, keep yer eyes closed if they stay like that.” He began to propel Spike towards the door again.

“Okay. Okay. Sorry, mate.”

“She’s in the kitchen,” said Rich. He’d avoided taking Lisa into the lounge room as it had a big mirror above the fireplace.

“I’ll just go and get changed first. Is that all right?” asked Spike contritely, beginning to feel guilty at worrying his friend.

“Just bloody hurry up. And put a coloured shirt on. Buffy’ll kill me if you just wear black again.”

Spike pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “I want to call Buffy. I couldn’t get hold of her last night.”

Rich snatched it out of his hands. “Yer can call her afterwards.” His voice raised a little. “Go and get ready. The driver’ll be here soon. We can’t be late.”

“Sorry, Rich,” muttered Spike as he ran up the stairs two at a time to get changed.

Luckily, by the time that the car from the TV company arrived, Spike was ready. Lisa had put the make up on him to prevent him from looking shiny when on screen and had left just before the car got to the house. She was a bit puzzled as to why Spike couldn’t have had the make up done at the studio, but was more focussed on getting back to the hotel, and into bed with Joey, as soon as possible.

Rich let out a huge sigh of relief as he and Spike settled back into the car.

“Don’t do that to me again or else I’ll quit.”

“I’m really sorry, Rich. I just wasn’t tired and couldn’t settle, so I called Pete.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have gone out and left yer alone. Yer worse than a bleedin’ kid to look after.”

“Calm down, mate. There’s no harm done, is there? We’re on time. Did you have a good time last night?”

Finally, Rich smiled at Spike. “Yeah, it was terrific. Thanks.”

“Thought you’d like it. Tara looked stunning.”

Spike allowed himself a little smirk at saying exactly the right thing to diffuse Rich’s bad temper as he began to tell Spike all about his evening at the Ivy.

00000000

The paparazzi photographer was working at his computer, getting the best image that he could of the male on male kiss he’d caught Spike Norman enjoying outside London’s infamous sex themed club, the unimaginatively named ‘Sex Appeal’. He couldn’t believe his luck that he had been the only one there to catch it. It meant that he could ‘sit’ on the photograph for a time without being worried about losing the exclusive. He wanted to do a little research as to why Spike’s long-term partner Buffy Summers hadn’t made the trip to the UK. Was there more to it than the ‘her mom’s had an accident’ spiel that had been released? He’d put a few feelers out to his contacts in an effort to find out. He was just about to call it a night and go to bed when the phone rang.

“Hey, Ethan,” said a woman’s voice.

“Sandra, hi. So what have you found out?” She had been one of the contacts that he’d called earlier.

“Got some news that you’ll like,” she said. “My contact at Heathrow has told me that Buffy Summers is due to land in an hour. She requested a car and driver to be waiting for her. She doesn’t want any fuss, just to get off the plane as soon as possible.”

“Hmm. That’s a little odd,” replied Ethan. The few previous times that the couple had travelled separately had given photographers the gift of some great photos of them embracing in the airport.

“Spike Norman is appearing on breakfast TV this morning. Perhaps that’s why?”

“You’re probably right,” replied Ethan. He hadn’t shared the news of his photograph to her. “Thanks for letting me know.”

After a brief goodbye, he hung up the call to Sandra and quickly redialled.

“John, are you still at the airport?”

“Just about to leave. Why?”

“I need you to get some photographs of Buffy Summers. She’s landing at six thirty and will be coming through with the regular passengers in an effort to get to her driver as soon as possible. Try to get her not smiling if you can.”

John laughed. “What are you plotting, you old sod?”

“Put it this way: if we get the right shots, we’ll be quids in. There’ll be a race to get their hands on the story and photos between the magazines and newspapers.”

“Are you telling me that rock’s golden couple aren’t all they’re cracked up to be?”

“I am indeed. Now go and get the bloody shots. Let me know as soon as you’ve got them, and we’ll take it from there.”

“Sure thing, Ethan.”

Ethan yawned and leaned back in his chair as he put the phone down. He was tired but knew that he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he heard back from John. He got up and walked out of his study and into the small kitchen of his apartment to make yet another cup of coffee.

000000000

Buffy glanced at her watch anxiously. It had seemed like it had taken forever to get through customs, even though she’d travelled first class. Before getting off the plane, she’d pulled her hair back into a pony tail. She hated flying and despite drinking copious amounts of water, she always ended a flight feeling dehydrated and in need of a shower. She’d slept a little but was still feeling tired. She looked at the bank of people holding notices with names on, trying to spot her alias of Ruby Winters. Buffy scowled when she didn’t immediately spot it and cast another worried glance at her watch.

“At this rate, I’ll miss him on TV.”

Then, she spotted it. She smiled and walked over to the driver.

“Hi, I’m Ruby Winters. I’m in a bit of a rush, I’m afraid.”

“Hello, ma’am. Can I have the password please?” asked the driver politely.

“Dark mountain.”

The driver smiled and took the suitcase from her. “Pleased to meet you. I’m a huge fan of The Dingoes. Let’s get you to where you’re staying as quickly as we can, eh?”

“Thanks, I’d appreciate that. I really want to catch his TV interview,” replied Buffy as she followed him out to the car.

As John watched them leave, he called Ethan. “Got a couple of great shots of our Miss Summers looking anything but happy,” he said as he scrolled through the images. He thought that the one with her running a hand over her hair and scowling was the best one. He quickly deleted the ‘smiley’ ones when she saw the driver.

“Excellent.”

“I’ve got Mark tailing the car on his motorbike, then we can keep tabs on where she’s staying.”

Ethan smiled. Things were looking good for their exclusive. “We’ll need to keep an eye on where she’s staying round the clock. Can you organise that?”

“Yeah, mate. No problem. Talk to you later, okay?”

“Thanks.”

Ethan hung up and looked again at the photo that he’d taken outside Sex Appeal.

“You little beauty.”

00000000

“You didn’t take anything when you were out clubbing, did you?” asked Rich as he and Spike sat waiting for him to be called onto the set of the TV station.

Spike rolled his eyes, not that Rich could see them as he was resolutely wearing the shades despite all attempts by the show to take them off.

“God, Rich. Why are you always accusing me of bloody doing some drugs or drinking? It’s getting old.”

“Because we’re ten minutes away from you going on live TV and you’re sitting here cool as a sodding cucumber!”

Spike sighed. “And that’s bad because…?”

“It’s not ‘bad’, it’s just not ‘normal’ for you.”

“I know, mate. I can’t believe myself, truth be told. Just feel pretty chilled. It’s not like I haven’t been on TV before, is it?” said Spike, nudging his friend and grinning.

“I think this is something to do with the whole vampire thing,” whispered Rich. “You just seem a bit different. The sooner we get this sorted, the better. It’s really starting to freak me out.”

“You’re freaking out? What about me? I’m the one the crazy bitch bloody bit,” replied Spike. “I don’t think that it’s anything to do with that, so don’t worry. There’s been no other changes, has there? I even reckon I might be coming to grips with the whole eye changing thing. Maybe I should take these off?” He put a hand on the sunglasses.

“Don’t you sodding dare! If you get stressed out there and they change, we’ll be fucked.”

Spike laughed. “Don’t worry, only joking.”

“That’s it,” said Rich. “The world must have stopped spinning. Spike Norman is joking before he goes on TV.” He shook his head with a rueful grin.

“Shit. Am I usually that bad?” asked Spike.

Rich nodded. “Yep.”

They were interrupted by a girl politely asking Mr. Norman to follow her to prepare for his appearance.

Spike grinned at Rich, lifting his shades and winking at him. His eyes to Rich’s horror were amber. Then he calmly sauntered after the girl. Rich felt sick with nerves. He longed to call Tara to see if she’d had any more news from the coven. Spike was changing. He was sure of it, even though he hadn’t been bitten again.

Spike was told to sit on the sofa to the side of the two presenters. A make-up artist popped up out of nowhere to powder his nose.

“Thanks, love,” he said as she disappeared, glancing back at him with a smile when he spoke.

The presenters were a man and woman. Both had a kind of ‘plastic’ appearance. Not a hair out of place and perfect make-up. No shiny noses for them. Spike decided within five seconds that the man – Jeremy Jacobi – was a total prick. The woman – Nathalie Kinsley – was another matter. She was ten years older than Spike, at thirty-six, but was giggling like a teenager as soon as Spike sat down. A smile and head tilt by him confirmed what he suspected - she had a major crush on him. Spike smirked as his heighten senses picked out the smell of lust on her.

“This could be fun,” thought Spike as they were counted in from the commercial break.

Nathalie smiled her hundred watt smile at the camera as soon as the light on top of it went on.

“Welcome back. We’ve got a real treat for you, now. Spike Norman, the lead singer of the famous rock group The Dingoes is here with us.” She turned to Spike. “Hello, Spike. Thanks for agreeing to join us this morning.”

Spike matched her smile with a huge one of his own. “That’s all right, love. The pleasure’s all mine.” He grinned as even beneath the pancake make-up he could detect a blush. His nose wasn’t lying – this woman thought he was hot.

000000000

Buffy snatched her bag from the driver, thanking him quickly, and raced up the path to the front door. She fumbled the key in the lock and as soon as she was in, she raced to the living room. She stopped short when she saw a woman sitting on the couch watching the TV.

Tara started as Buffy burst into the room.

“Oh!” she squeaked.

“Um…hi,” said Buffy. “I’m sorry. I forgot you would be here. I take it that you’re Tara?”

“Y…yes. Rich went with Spike to the studio. It’s just about to start. I didn’t think that you would be here for another couple of days. You don’t mind that we’re staying here too, do you?” babbled Tara nervously.

Buffy put her bag down, walked in and sat on the couch next to Tara. “Rupert came home a bit earlier so I thought that I’d surprise Spike. I suppose I should have let you and Rich in on the secret. Of course I don’t mind you staying. It’ll be fun.” Buffy smiled at her.

“Ooh, look! It’s coming back on. He’s on now,” said Tara, pointing at the TV.

Both women focussed intently on the screen. Buffy’s face split into a grin when she saw Spike lounging on the sofa.

“God, I can’t wait to get my hands on him,” she thought. “Hang on a minute…lounging…Spike’s on TV and he’s sitting there so relaxed that he’s lounging? I never thought I’d see that.”

Spike normally sat bolt upright and rigid when he was being interviewed. His one word answers had been known to reduce interviewers almost to tears with frustration. Spike just didn’t ‘do’ publicity very well. But there he was, large as life. His arms were stretched out along the back of the sofa, with legs slightly apart. Buffy wondered if it was just her eyes that were drawn to the crotch of his skin tight jeans?

Buffy had to stop her mouth from hanging open as she watched him, chatting easily about the tour. If she didn’t know better, she’d think that he was flirting with the over-made up trollop who was interviewing him. He was acting as confidently as he did on stage, once the performance got under way. Maybe Rich was right and that Spike was finally learning to deal with the PR stuff.

“I don’t know why Rich was worried about how Spike would be,” said Tara. “He’s doing a great job.”

“He is,” agreed Buffy. “But trust me, this is not how he normally is. I can’t believe that he’s finally conquered his nerves.”

Buffy missed the slightly alarmed look that Tara shot her way when she said that. Like Rich, she was worrying that things were still changing for Spike.

“So, Spike, your lovely partner Buffy Summers hasn’t joined you on tour this time. Is there trouble in paradise?” said Nathalie, leaning in towards Spike, showing rather more cleavage than was appropriate at such an early hour.

Even with the sunglasses on, it was clear that Spike was enjoying the view. He licked his lips before he replied, playing up to the woman’s advances.

“Well, Nathalie. What can I say? Sometimes it’s nice to be out and about without the ‘little woman’ tagging along.”

Nathalie positively beamed at his response, a stark contrast to both Rich and Buffy who howled.

“What?” yelled Buffy.

“He’s lost ‘is bloody mind,” said Rich.

Spike shifted in his seat, moving slightly further away from Nathalie. His body language closed down. He brought his arms from the back of the sofa and folded them across his chest.

“You know what, Nathalie?” he said quietly.

“What?” Nathalie breathed.

“That question was out of line,” he said firmly. “As we told the press when we came over here, Buffy’s mum had an accident and suffered a couple of fractures. Buffy had to stay to take care of her. She’ll be here in time for the last concert and I can’t wait. That woman is the centre of my universe. Anyone who’d actually done their homework on me and the band before doing an interview would know that and not try a cheap shot like that. I love Buffy. End of story.”

“Oh…um…that’s…um…lovely,” stuttered Nathalie.

Jeremy decided to step in and help his colleague out. He quickly thanked Spike for coming in and smiled sweetly at the camera, telling viewers that they’d be back in a couple of minutes.

00000000

As soon as he could, Spike stood up and stalked off the stage, finding Rich waiting for him.

“Stupid, bloody cow,” said Spike as soon as he got to him.

“Yeah, she is, but one minute you were looking like you wanted to bed her and the next you’re jumping down the bint’s throat.”

“I never wanted to bed her, you git,” protested Spike. “But I could smell the desire on her and couldn’t resist playing up to it.”

“You could smell her desire? God, that’s gross.”

“Yeah, it is a bit,” giggled Spike. “Look, can we get out of here, mate?”

“Come on then. We’ve got a car waiting for us. I think you need to get some sleep before tonight’s gig. I still can’t believe that you haven’t had any sleep. I’m knackered and at least I had about four hours.”

“I always did have more stamina than you. Don’t worry, I won’t tell Tara,” teased Spike.

Rich gave Spike a none too gentle, but affectionate, push. “You git.”

0000000000

“Oh,” said Buffy when Spike had set the presenter straight about her. “I guess that’s all right then.”

“Wow,” said Tara. “He just told half of the United Kingdom on live television that you are the centre of his universe.”

Buffy’s face split into a wide grin. “He did, didn’t he? God, I love him so much. I can’t wait to see him.”

“I bet. I know he’s really missed you. He talks about you all the time.”

“And I’ve been hearing a lot about you. It appears that you have tamed the infamous Rich Bayliss.”

Tara blushed slightly. “We are getting on really well. Um…would you like a cup of coffee? I could use one. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Really?” said Buffy, cheekily raising an eyebrow.

Tara’s blushed deepened. “I…I didn’t mean that! We were out until late.”

“Late. Right,” said Buffy with a chuckle. “Let’s get that coffee and you can tell me all about what I’ve missed on the tour. I want all the gossip. Has Pete been behaving himself? There was this one time…”

Buffy and Tara walked through into the kitchen.

000000000

Spike and Rich walked up the path and into the house. Spike froze.

“What’s up?” asked Rich.

Spike grinned. “Buffy’s here.”

“Buffy?” said Rich, looking around to see what Spike had seen that made him think that Buffy was here. She wasn’t due for another two days. “Why do yer think she’s ‘ere?”

“I can smell her perfume,” replied Spike as he ran towards the kitchen.

tbc

Chapter Twenty-Three

Together At Last!

Spike ran along the hallway and in to the kitchen. Buffy was standing with her back to the door, talking to Tara. Before she could react, he grabbed her and swung her off her feet, pulling her back against his chest and burrowing his face in her neck.

“Oh, God. I’ve missed you so much,” he said. His voice had a tremulous edge to it.

He put her back on the ground and then spun her around so that they were facing each other.

“I’ve missed you, t…”

Buffy’s words were lost as Spike kissed her hungrily.

Rich walked in to the kitchen, and he and Tara exchanged amused glances before he coughed loudly.

“Er…get a room, yeah?”

All four of them laughed. Buffy pulled back just enough to be able to look at Spike’s face.

“What’s with the shades? I can’t believe you wore them on TV.”

He let her pull them off. He knew that his eyes were blue, but he did see Rich and Tara tense a little as they were removed.

“Rock star, remember?” Spike smiled. “What are you doing here anyway? I thought I still had a couple more days without you.”

“Rupert came home a little early, and so I thought that I’d surprise you.”

“You did that, pet.” He kissed her again and squeezed her tightly. He felt like he never wanted to let her go again.

When they parted, Buffy turned around and met Rich’s eyes. “I want you to fill me in on all the gossip. What have I missed?”

Rich rocked from one foot to the other, unsure of what to say. He glanced at Spike who was looking at him over the top of Buffy’s head.

“Please don’t say anything,” mouthed Spike. “Not just yet.” His eyes were still blue and Rich could clearly see the pain in them.

Spike held his breath and prayed that Rich would do as he asked. He would tell Buffy, but he wanted to be with her first before he ruined everything by telling what was happening to him. He felt sick at he thought of telling her about having sex with Drusilla. His stomach lurched.

“We can fill yer in on all that later. I reckon Spike wants yer to himself for a bit first.”

“Thank you,” Spike mouthed.

Buffy turned back to Spike. “Is that right? You want me to yourself for a bit? A bit of what I wonder?”

Tara giggled as Spike smirked and took her by the hand and led her from the kitchen. “It’d be easier to show you.”

Rich glanced back at Tara when he heard Buffy and Spike walking up the staircase.

“Do yer think he should ‘ave told her now?”

“No, Rich. Let them have their reunion. I can see why he wants to wait before he tells her.” She looked at Rich seriously. “I haven’t told you this before now, and please don’t let Spike know that I’ve told you.”

“Told me what, Tee?”

“When Drusilla bit him, she also enthralled him and made him have sex with her. When under the influence of a thrall, you feel exactly what the person controlling you wants you to feel. In Spike’s case it was that he loved Drusilla and that he wanted her. Spike is terrified of how Buffy will react to hearing about that. I’m guessing that he’s looking for a bit of comfort from her, before it might be taken away from him if she can’t handle it.”

“Oh, God. If Buffy freaks and rejects Spike, I swear it’ll kill him. Do you think that she will?”

“I have no idea, Rich. I’ve never dealt with anything like this before – the same as you haven’t. What was going on with Spike in the studio? He was flirting with that presenter and then got cross with her when she mentioned Buffy. I don’t think Buffy was too impressed by it until he said that he loved her.”

Rich shook his head. “I don’t know what came over him. He was normal – well more than normal – fooling around and not a bit nervous. Trust me, Tee, he can’t usually string a coherent sentence together when there’s a camera on him.”

Tara smiled at Rich. “I know. I’ve seen him on TV before.”

Whilst they’d been talking, Tara had made some coffee, and now she handed Rich a mug and suggested that they go and sit in the lounge room. They both sat on the couch and Tara leaned against Rich, pulling her feet up to the side of her.

“He wouldn’t normally stay out all night either. Tara, I’m really worried that things are still changing for him. Is that possible? Drusilla told him that she needed to drink his blood three times – what if she lied?”

“I’m sorry, Rich, I honestly don’t know. But from what I’ve seen of him, it is out of character that’s for sure. I’m concerned too. I just wish we could locate that other vampire. It might be able to tell us what is going on.”

“Or, will it just try to finish what its relation started?”

“Oh, please don’t say that, Rich. We’ve got to find a solution.” Tara’s voice broke a little.

“Shh, Tee. Don’t get upset,” said Rich putting his arm around her and pulling her closer.

000000000

Once in the bedroom, Spike led Buffy to the bed. It was ridiculous, but he felt a little nervous. He felt that somehow she would know that his body had been unfaithful to her, even if it was against his will.

Buffy reached up and put her right hand against his cheek. “Are you all right? You look worried.”

Spike leaned into her touch. “I’m all right, now that you’re here,” he said seriously before smiling at her and pulling her close once more. “Do you want me to show you how much I love you?”

“If you don’t, you’ll be in big trouble.”

Spike ran his hands down her back before lifting up the back of her blouse and touching her bare flesh. He quickly closed his eyes as he felt them beginning to change. He willed them to change back, after a few seconds, they obliged.

Buffy’s hands lost no time in finding the waistband of Spike’s jeans. “Come on, then. Show me what you’re made of.” She giggled.

Spike reopened his eyes and smirked at Buffy, tilting his head on one side. He pulled his t-shirt over his head, revealing his taut torso. Then reached out and began to unbutton Buffy’s blouse.

“Gosh, what did you do to your chest?” asked Buffy, touching the mark left by Drusilla’s bite around his nipple.

Spike covered her mouth with his own. “Talk later. I need you now,” he mumbled, his hands deftly unfastening Buffy’s bra. His distraction worked, and they were soon lost in each other.

Spike struggled to keep his eyes blue, having to close them several times as they flashed to amber in response to Buffy’s attentions. The worst moment came as Buffy unwittingly brushed her lips against the bite mark on his neck, which she luckily hadn’t yet noticed. Spike groaned and only just bit back a growl as it sent a shiver through his whole being. He almost climaxed. Then he had to fight the urge to run away when he realised that the reaction was due to something that Drusilla had done to him and not Buffy. For a second he froze, and then he got a grip on his free-falling emotions and concentrated body, mind and soul on Buffy.

He covered her body with kisses. He felt a need to ‘own’ her somehow. As he kissed her neck, he faltered, his lips were almost tingling with the feeling of the blood rushing just beneath the soft, delicate skin. He moaned with desire, his breath tickling Buffy’s neck and making her giggle.

They reached heights never before achieved before that morning. Their pent up desires, after being apart for so long, released in wave after orgasmic wave. Finally, exhausted, they settled back in to each others arms, legs entwined, and fell asleep.

0000000000

A couple of hours later, Spike woke up. He propped his head up on his right hand; elbow bent, and watched Buffy as she slept, just as he did at home. He knew that she’d soon wake. They were so in tune that she never slept for long, once he was awake. He reached out with his left hand and gently brushed a tendril of hair from Buffy’s face. His heart ached. When she woke, he was going to have to tell her what had happened to him. He would tell her the whole truth. He’d promised her when he was seventeen that he’d never lie to her again. He’d learnt that lesson the hard way as he nearly lost her when she’d inevitably found out the truth. The thing that terrified him now though, was the fact that telling her the truth might be the very thing that pushed her away.

Buffy shifted slightly and sighed. Spike leant forwards and placed a tender kiss on her lips. Her eyes opened and his heart melted as she smiled at him.

“God, I love waking up next to you,” she said, returning his kiss.

“Oi,” protested Spike. “That’s my line.”

“Mine now, just like you are. All mine.”

Spike cupped his hand against her cheek. He blinked his eyes to keep the tears he felt from falling.

“Spike, honey. What’s wrong?”

Buffy sat up and stared at him worriedly. She knew by now that Spike wore his emotions close to the surface, but she was certain that the look he was giving her wasn’t just because he’d missed her. Her heart clenched.

“God, Spike. What is it?” she asked again.

Spike closed his eyes tightly as he felt his eyes beginning to change. A solitary tear escaped through the lashes, and Buffy stroked it away with her fingers.

“Please tell me,” she coaxed again. She moved closer to him on the bed and wrapped her arms around him. “You’re trembling. Tell me what’s wrong. You’re scaring me.”

Spike took a deep breath, keeping his eyes closed, he fumbled until he found her hand and clasped it tightly.

In an echo of what he’d said years ago to Rupert, Spike said, “The thing is Buffy…”

tbc

Chapter Twenty-Four

Truth Is Told

“The thing is, Buffy…” Spike paused. How the hell did you break something like this? Gently?

The seriousness of his tone made Buffy stiffen beside him. She wanted to prompt him, to push him into telling her, hating that he was hesitating. It just made her more afraid of what he was going to say. But she bit her tongue. She knew that he was just trying to get whatever it was straight in his head before speaking. He was still trembling and for some reason had his eyes closed. She squeezed on the hand he was holding, hoping that he would draw strength from her.

Abruptly, he snatched his hand away and turned around, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed. He buried his face in his hands. He knew his eyes were still amber, but in his distress, he just couldn’t make them change back.

“I c…can’t,” he stuttered. “It’s too hard. Oh, God, Buffy. I love you so much and…I…”

Buffy shuffled over until she could wrap her arms around him. She stayed behind him rather than sitting next to him, somehow managing to give him space even though she was holding him. For a second, he relaxed in her arms and then, to her horror, he began to sob; heart-wrenching sobs that shook his whole body. Now she was terrified. What on earth had gotten him so upset?

“Shh, baby. It’s okay. I’m here. Whatever it is, we’ll deal, okay?” she whispered softly in his ear. “Just talk to me, Spike.”

Spike finally got his sobs under control and wiped his still amber eyes with the palms of his hands. He sniffed a couple of times and then started, hesitantly, to speak.

“You remember when I was ill that day in Leeds?”

“Oh, my God!” blurted Buffy. “Are you still ill? Is it serious?”

“Not exactly,” replied Spike.

“What?” Her mind was working overtime, thinking of all the things that could be wrong with him.

“Please, just hear me out, pet,” Spike said wearily. This was going as badly as he feared it would.

“Well, tell me straight then. It seems to me that you’re trying to break something to me gently, and all you’re doing is making it worse for me. Just freaking tell me,” Buffy snapped. She unwrapped her arms from around his body and as soon as she did Spike stood up.

He kept his back to her. “Something happened to me in Leeds. You want it straight? Well, here it is. I was bitten by a vampire.”

Buffy snorted. “This isn’t the time for jokes, Spike.”

“It’s not a joke, love, nor a bad dream. Trust me, I’ve prayed that it was.”

Buffy leapt off the bed and moved swiftly to stand in front of Spike. He took a step back and kept his eyes on the floor.

“You’ve been drinking or doing drugs, haven’t you? I knew that this lifestyle would suck you in eventually. You were wired this morning when you were on TV, weren’t you?” Buffy demanded.

Spike lifted his head. “What? No, ‘course not.” Without thinking he stared at her.

It was Buffy’s turn to step back. “Shit, your eyes!”

“Bollocks,” snarled Spike. Then he closed his eyes and sighed as he realised that a growl had escaped in his frustration. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. It’s like the eyes – I can’t always control it.”

Buffy stared at him open-mouthed. “But…how…? Coloured contact lenses,” she said. “That’s what it is - you’re still fooling with me.” Even as she said it, she knew that it wasn’t true.

Spike reached out and took her hands in his. “I’m not fooling with you. I wish that I was.” He began to lead her to the dressing table at the other side of the room.

“Spike? What are you playing at?” Buffy still couldn’t believe her ears. Was he having a nervous breakdown? He wouldn’t be the first rock star to crack under the pressure, and Spike always did live on his nerves during a tour.

“Look,” he said simply.

“Look at what?” She glanced at him, feeling bewildered.

“The mirror.” His voice was a whisper.

“What do y--” She stared at the mirror in disbelief.

She was alone. She turned to him. He was watching her carefully, as she met his gaze his eyes faded from the harsh yellow to his beautiful blue ones.

“Oh, my God, Spike. I can’t take this in. What’s going on? It’s not possible – you said a vampire? But they’re not real.”

She backed away from him until she saw the hurt and fear in his eyes. She rapidly crossed the space she’d put between them and flung her arms around him. She began to weep.

“What does this mean to us, Spike? What’s going to happen to us?”

“I honestly don’t know, pet. Let’s sit down and I’ll tell you the whole thing, yeah?”

He guided her back to the bed and began to talk, hesitantly at first, and then more confidently as she kept a firm grip on his hand the whole time. His eyes changed several times as he spoke, but to her credit Buffy barely reacted to it apart from giving a little gasp the first time it happened.

He couldn’t look her in the eye when he told her of Drusilla, his voice breaking as he confessed that he’d had sex with her. Finally, when he had brought her up to date with the whole thing, he met her gaze and spoke. His eyes changed colour so many times that Buffy felt dizzy.

“Please believe me, Buffy. I didn’t want to be with her. I didn’t mean to betray you.”

It was disconcerting to see tears falling from eyes that one moment were blue and the next yellow.

“Why are you getting so upset about it? I know that you would never go with another woman, Spike. I trust you completely. If you say she enthralled you then what is there for me not to believe?”

“Tara can tell you about a vampire’s thrall,” continued Spike, still trying to convince Buffy.

She silenced him with a kiss. “Spike, honey. Just take a deep breath. I know you haven’t betrayed me, so Tara doesn’t need to tell me about it. I. Believe. You.”

Spike glanced at her and saw concern for him on her face, not the revulsion that he’d feared. His emotions got the better of him again, and he clung to her so tightly that she had to make him let go so that she could breathe.

Buffy’s mind was reeling. She’d told him the truth when she said that she believed him, but it didn’t mean that she liked the thought. Spike had been her only lover and she knew that she was his, too. But now…? She didn’t want to think about it. She knew Spike well enough to know that if she let him see that she was upset by it, that he would be destroyed.

“You said that Rich and Tara have been trying to help you. Shall we go down and talk to them now? I think I need to hear what’s being done to try to stop what’s happening.”

Spike glanced at her. “Okay.” His voice was low.

He stood up and started to walk to the door. Buffy reached out and took his hand, making him turn to look at her. Spike could tell that his eyes were yellow and closed them tightly. He didn’t want her to see them.

“Hey, Spike, we’ll get through this. I’m here now. We’ll sort this out.” She reached up and kissed him, letting her fingers brush his eyelids. “Don’t be ashamed of these. I love you, whatever colour they are.”

He opened them and stared at her. She didn’t recoil from the harsh amber gaze like Tara and Rich did. Her love for him was too strong for it to happen.

“God, I love you, Summers.” His voice broke and more tears fell as he hugged her close.

“I love you too, Spike.”

A few moments later, they walked downstairs and found Tara and Rich in the lounge watching TV.

Rich glanced up as they entered the room. “So you told her then?”

Spike nodded and flopped down in an armchair.

Rich turned his eyes to Buffy. “So, you’re not going to rip me a new one for not telling yer sooner?”

Buffy shook her head. “No. Not just yet anyway!” She smiled weakly at him. “Like Spike said. It needed to be told face to face.” She looked over at Tara. “A witch, huh?”

Tara blushed a little. “Yes, I am.” She tensed up, worrying what else Buffy would say.

“Thank God that you are! Spike said what a help you’ve been to him. Have you managed to find anything else that might help?”

They discussed what Tara and the coven had been working on. About half-way through Buffy being brought up to speed, Spike stood up abruptly.

“Sorry, I’ve got to get out for a minute. I can’t…it’s…sorry.”

He fled the room and they all started as the front door slammed shut behind him. Rich stood and was going to follow him but Buffy put a hand on his arm as he passed her.

“Leave him, Rich. He’ll be okay. It’s just what he does when things get too much. He just walks about and it clears his head.”

Buffy knew exactly how to react to Spike’s emotions, when to give him space and when to force him to face his fears. He’d borne this burden without her help for some time and telling her had hit him hard. She knew that he just needed time to get his emotions back in check.

“If you’re sure?” Rich sat down again.

“He’ll be back within the hour. I’m certain of it. He’s a complex character; sometimes puts too much on himself. It’s not like he could have prevented this, could he? But the fact that he had sex with that bitch has freaked him out.”

“What about you?” asked Tara. “Are you okay about it?”

Buffy grimaced. “I can’t say I like it, but I do believe him when he says that he had no choice.”

“He didn’t. It’s a reported vampire trait,” said Tara. “They use it exactly as Drusilla did, to ensnare their victims without a struggle.”

“So tell me how this parallel dimension thing works? I couldn’t really take it in when Spike told me.”

Rich went and got them all a coffee as Tara started to tell Buffy all that she knew.

000000000

Spike stalked around the leafy streets near to the house.

“Come on, Spike. Get a sodding grip.”

He found himself at a small park where he’d been a few times with James all those years ago. He wandered over to the children’s play area and sat on one of the swings. He put his head in his hands and slowly rocked himself backwards and forwards with his feet. His thoughts were bleak. If nothing could be done, then surely he was going to turn into a monster. He shuddered at the memory of how aware he’d been of Buffy’s heartbeat and pulse as they made love. He’d been excited by it.

“Oh, bollocks.”

He sighed deeply and got up from the swing and slowly walked home, once more unaware that he’d been photographed.

000000000

“Hey, Ethan.”

“Mark, what have you got?” said Ethan as he answered the telephone.

“More pictures of our troubled rock star,” replied Mark. “I copped him coming out of the house like the hounds of hell were behind him. Then he sat in a park for half an hour looking pretty miserable.”

“Buffy’s only just arrived, too,” said Ethan with a grin. “You wouldn’t expect him to go storming out with her there, would you?”

“Nope. Something is definitely off. So, are we going to get these out in the open yet? The longer we take to sell them, the more chance of someone else getting similar images.”

“Patience. This could be huge. Just give it another couple of days – you never know what else we might get.”

“Okay,” agreed Mark. Ethan Rayne was an awkward bastard but he knew the job inside out, and had made a lot of money trusting his instincts.

0000000000

Spike walked back into the house and as soon as he found Buffy, he enveloped her in a hug. “’M sorry, pet, for rushing out; just needed some air.”

“That’s okay, Spike. How are you feeling now?” she replied.

He let her go and stood with his head on one side, and quirked a brow over a blue eye. Buffy giggled.

“Okay, dumb question. But you know what I meant.” She gently cuffed his arm.

“Yeah, I did. Honestly? I’m bleeding terrified. If that other vampire gets his hands on me before we get his blood for the ritual, he could finish the job that Drusilla started.” He swallowed hard as he felt his eyes change. After a moment they returned to blue.

“It won’t come to that,” replied Buffy firmly.

“But—”

“It won’t!”

Spike stared at the petite blonde in front of him and smiled. She’d always been protective of him. A mini lioness. She’d stood up to the school bully one time when he was giving poor old William Pratt a hard time. Looking at her, he thought that maybe, just maybe, things would be all right.

Tbc

Chapter Twenty-Five

London Town

Rich got to London’s O2 Arena just after the sound-check had been completed. He’d stayed at the house working on some press details whilst Tara contacted the coven to try to get more details of how to locate the other vampire that had arrived in this dimension. She’d opted to stay at the house and not to come to the concert, feeling that she had to find as much out as she could.

He was walking down the corridor in the backstage area when he came across Joey, Pete and Oz huddled together, having what appeared to be a rather heated conversation. As soon as they spotted Rich, they leapt apart guiltily. All three looked at him, and then Pete and Joey walked quickly away. Rich heard Joey hiss at Oz.

“Tell him!”

He walked up to Oz and leant on the wall next to him.

“Tell me what, Oz?” he said calmly.

Oz glanced at him before scowling at his rapidly disappearing band mates. “Why the fuck is it always me?”

Rich tried not to show his shock. Oz never, ever got stressed by anything – the bloke was frustratingly laid back. He wondered what had gotten him wound so tight. Rich kept his mouth shut, taking the question for the rhetorical one that it was.

After a minute or so, Oz sighed. “It’s Spike.”

“Oh, shit. They’ve sussed it out! Bollocks.” Though Rich’s thoughts were in turmoil, his voice didn’t show it. “What about ‘im?”

“We’re worried - the guys and me. Do you know what’s going on with him, Rich?”

“Um…what’s made you worry?” asked Rich, fishing to see how much they knew before spilling the beans.

“It’s his behaviour. He was laughing and joking all through the check. Even Buffy being here shouldn’t be enough to make him able to be like that. And the TV appearance – we couldn’t believe our eyes.”

“So, you’re worried because he’s behaving more confidently than usual? Strange thing to worry about.”

“Don’t try to play me with that diplomatic manager crap,” snapped Oz. “We’re worried that he’s on drugs.”

Rich smiled. Both he and Buffy had thought that Spike was on drugs and now his band mates did.

“It’s not funny, Rich. I was there when he got too attached to the bottom of a bottle when he was a kid, remember? He’s searched for a crutch before, so why not now? It’s not easy for him. Being the front-man means that he gets more press than the rest of us. It could be taking its toll.”

Rich’s mind raced. “He is on drugs.”

“What?” Oz’s eyes were wide. “Oh crap. We’ve got to help him.”

“Take it easy. Not those sorts of drugs. Tara’s got him on a mix of herbs to calm his nerves. I’d say that they work, wouldn’t you?”

“No shit?”

“No shit,” repeated Rich. “She sells lots of it on her website, so Spike thought that he’d give it a try. He asked me not to tell you guys ‘cause he said that he felt like a bleedin’ poofter for needing them.”

Oz laughed. “That sounds like Spike. Well, I hope Tara’s got plenty of it because, man, it is good not to have him a nervous wreck at the check.”

“Make sure yer tell Joey and Pete not to say anything to ‘im, okay? He’ll kill me if he knows that I’ve told yer.” He put a hand on Oz’s shoulder. “Thanks for your concern, mate.”

Oz shrugged, back to his usual laconic self. “Sure.” He ambled down the hallway to his dressing room.

Rich watched him go and let out a huge sigh. “Shit. That was close.” He walked towards the stage area. He hadn’t seen the venue in the flesh as it were. As he got closer, he could hear giggling. He stepped onto the stage to see Spike pushing Buffy around on one of the wheeled boxes that the sound gear was transported in. He was spinning it around as fast as he could with Buffy clinging on for dear life.

“Stop that right now, kiddies!” yelled Rich, startling both of them. “It’ll end in tears – you know that it will.”

“Jeez, Rich. You nearly gave me a heart attack,” complained Spike as he leant on the box, gasping for breath.

“Yeah, well, you’ll give me a soddin’ heart attack if yer break a limb before the bloody show!” joked Rich.

“Sorry, dad,” said Spike solemnly.

“Piss off!”

“And to think that I missed the two of you while I was at home,” said Buffy, still sitting on the box. “Must have been your eloquence!”

Rich and Spike glanced at each other, nodded, and then flew at the box, spinning it even faster. Buffy squealed.

“I’m going to fall off, you assholes!”

They stopped pushing it round. Spike raised an eyebrow at Rich.

“Eloquence, huh?”

The comment earned him a slap on his arm from Buffy.

“You’d better start to get ready for the show,” Rich laughed.

“Yeah, okay. Coming, pet?” He held his hand out to Buffy.

“If I come with you now, you’ll never be ready on time and you know it.”

Spike batted his eyelashes. “What on earth do you mean?”

“You know very well. Go on; get ready for your adoring public.”

Spike pouted.

“Oh, no yer don’t,” said Rich, giving Spike a push. “Sod off and get ready.” He turned to Buffy. “I know that yer can’t resist when he bloody pouts like the girl he is, but stay strong.”

All three of them burst out laughing.

“You’ve got us sussed out right and proper, Rich,” said Spike. He went to Buffy and kissed her hard enough to make her knees weak. “If you’re sure, love?” He cocked his head to one side.

“She’s sure,” said Rich, as the heat between them began to build. “Christ, you’re like a pair of teenagers. Pack it in. Spike, go and get ready – you’ve got work to do.”

Spike grinned and walked away, muttering about pots and black kettles. He could smell what Rich and Tara had been up to before he got here.

Once Spike was out of sight, Buffy turned to Rich.

“I’m really worried about him.”

“The sound-check, right?”

“Yeah, how did you know?”

“The lads made Oz have a word. They thought that he was doing drugs.”

“Shit. What did you tell him?” asked Buffy.

“That Tara had given him an herbal calming remedy.”

“And he bought it?” Buffy snickered.

“Yeah, seemed to,” said Rich, a touch defensively. “It was the best that I could come up with on the spot.”

“No, it’s brilliant.”

“So what was he doing that got everybody so worried about him?”

Buffy’s face clouded. “You should have seen him, Rich. He was totally hyper. He made what he does during the show look like he just stands still. It was like he was playing to the crowd that wasn’t even there. He snatched Joey’s drumsticks at one point, and it took the three of them to pin him down to get them back so they could carry on with the check. And this from the guy who is normally monosyllabic and tinged green before the gig.”

“Shite. I’ll have to ‘ave a word to get him to cool it a bit.”

“I don’t think he could if he tried.” Buffy glanced up at Rich with her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “From how the guys acted, I’d say that he hasn’t behaved like this before, even after being bitten? Is this to do with what’s happened to him? Tara said that his senses were probably heightened. Is he getting worse even without being bitten again?”

“Hey,” said Rich, pulling her into a hug. “Don’t get upset. That’s why Tara stayed at the house tonight. We were thinking the same thing after the TV appearance. She’s trying to find out more.”

“Oh God, Rich. I can’t take this. I’m trying to be strong for Spike’s sake but when I let myself think about it…” She leant her head against Rich’s shoulder. “I can’t lose him, Rich. I love him so much.”

“Shh,” soothed Rich. He could understand what she was feeling. He was afraid of what would happen and he wasn’t Spike's lover. The two of them were practically inseparable. “God, Tee, I ‘ope your coven can trace that other bleedin’ vamp.” “We won’t lose ‘im, Buffy, not while I’ve still got breath in my body.” He kissed the top of her head. “Go and see if he’s nearly ready. I’m guessing a hug off ‘im will cheer yer up more than one off me.”

Buffy squeezed him tightly before letting go. “Thanks, Rich.” She wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “I don’t look like I’ve been crying do I? I don’t want him to worry.”

“No, you look gorgeous. Just don’t make ‘im late on stage, okay?” he said with a chuckle.

“I won’t, Rich, and thanks for all you and Tara are doing for him.” Buffy gave Rich another hug then headed off to find Spike.

Rich sighed deeply. He stared at the empty auditorium. Soon it would be full of fans and the show would start again. He wondered if the band would be able to do the U.S. leg of the tour. Would Spike still be ‘Spike’ by then? He shook his head to dispel the worrying thoughts.

“Tee will find the answer. I know she will.”

00000000000

The concert had been an amazing success and the sex that Buffy and Spike enjoyed afterwards wasn’t bad either! Buffy had been exhausted but well satisfied by the time they’d succumbed to sleep.

Now, they were enjoying breakfast with Tara and Rich.

“So what’s the plan for today?” asked Buffy, amazed that they were up so early.

She’d been awakened by Spike’s fidgeting and then had been rewarded for waking by being given another amazing orgasm. Christ, Spike was insatiable. She grinned as she poured more maple syrup on her pancakes – no need to stint with it; she’d burnt off enough calories last night.

“We’re going to show Tara the sights of good old London Town,” said Spike with a grin. “As long as you don’t mind me wearing this cunning disguise?” He held up the woolly hat that Rich had given him in Cardiff.

“Oh, my God!” shrieked Buffy, snatching it and putting it on his head. “You went out with this on?” She burst out laughing.

Spike told her about the old woman thinking he was a down and out. Soon all four were laughing helplessly.

“So, Spike, as a local, where are you going to take me first?” asked Tara.

Rich, Spike and Buffy all exchanged glances, no one feeling comfortable with her not knowing the truth considering how embroiled she was in Spike’s problem.

“What?” said Tara. “What have I said?”

Rich looked at Spike, who nodded and said, “Tell her, mate. She deserves to know.”

“Tee, um…well, it’s a very long story but Spike is actually as American as you.”

“But…?”

Spike grinned at her, “This is where the whole ‘it’s a long story’ thing kicks in, pet. Better get another coffee - it’ll take a bit of time.”

Between the three of them, they told Tara the whole story of Spike’s eventful past.

“Oh, sweet Goddess,” she said when they finished. “And now this.”

They all sat in silence for a minute before Spike stood up.

“Come on, enough of that. Let’s go and see London. I reckon we should do the open top bus tour first, don’t you, Rich? Then we’ve got to do the Tower.”

“Off with your head!” shouted Rich in a posh accent.

The sombre moment passed and they all were laughing again as they went to get their coats.

0000000000

When Buffy looked back on this day in the future, she thought that it had been just about perfect. Rich and Tara were great company. She was delighted that Rich had found someone that he obviously thought the world of. Spike had been clowning around most of the day, never missing an opportunity to touch Buffy or kiss her. Yes, it had been a great day.

They were all stretched out on the couch and armchairs in the lounge, having a rest before going to the venue for the second show. Spike watched them all dozing and wished that he could join them. He still felt full of energy. It scared him because he knew that it was due to the impending vampirism and nothing else. He watched Buffy as she slept, his heart clenched with the love that he felt for her. He glanced at his watch – now on UK time – and saw that they had an hour before the car was collecting them to go to the O2 Arena. He couldn’t bear to sit there for all that time and so quietly got up and slipped out of the front door, deciding a walk was in order.

He strolled along, hands deep in his pockets, woolly hat pulled down to his eyebrows. He hadn’t put the shades on, figuring that they would draw more attention in conjunction with the hat. He was finding that as long as he didn’t feel stressed that he could change them at will now - another thing that scared him.

Rich had told him about the band thinking that he was on drugs and about the herbal calmer he was supposed to be on. They had talked about whether to tell the band or not, and decided to leave it for now.

Spike caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see what it was. He saw a man staring at him for a second before averting his eyes.

“Uh oh, been spotted.” He thought it was a fan but wasn’t really feeling in the mood for chatting and signing autographs so he dipped his head and upped his pace until he got home.

Mark breathed a sigh of relief as Spike walked briskly away. He had managed to hide the camera. Ethan would have gone crazy if he had tipped Spike off to being photographed. He made a mental note to be a little more careful.

Tbc

Chapter Twenty-Six

Love Bites

Spike stood on the very edge of the stage, the toes of his boots hanging over it. He grinned at the crowd, throwing his arms out and his head back. God, he loved his job. It was the last gig of the UK leg of the tour and the band had gone for broke. The Dingoes were well known for playing long sets, but tonight they had played an extra fifteen minutes, taking it up to two and a half hours. Spike should have been exhausted but he felt as high as a kite.

The final strains of the music faded away and for a second the stage was shrouded in darkness as the lights were switched off. The audience went wild. The lights came back on and the other three members of the band had joined Spike at the front of the stage.

“Well, London, we’ve had a great time!” shouted Spike. “I think that maybe you have, too?”

All four men laughed at the explosion of noise. When it had died down a little, Spike spoke again. “That’s Pete Rafferty, Joey Trader, Oz Osborne,” he pointed to each in turn, “and I’m Spike. We’re The Dingoes, and we’ll see you again soon!”

After soaking up more applause for a moment, the band walked slowly off the stage.

“Man, that was a great gig,” said Oz as they got backstage.

They all agreed that it was probably the best show they’d ever done. They had a few drinks backstage before they all left the venue for the last time. Spike, Buffy, Rich and Tara went to Rupert’s house. The others all decided to go clubbing, to celebrate the end of that part of the tour. They would get a month off before the U.S. leg started.

Spike was still pretty hyped up by the time they got home, but Rich and Tara were beginning to flag.

“I think we need to work off a bit of that energy,” joked Buffy, taking Spike’s hand and leading him upstairs.

“Think you’ve got enough stamina to outlast me, do you?” leered Spike as he went with her.

“We’ll soon find out.” She pulled him into the bedroom, pushing the door closed with her foot.

By the time they got to the bed, they were both naked.

“Oh, Buffy, you’re so bloody beautiful,” murmured Spike as he smothered her with kisses.

Buffy slid down his body until her lips found the tip of his erection. He groaned and raised his hips towards her. She teased him with licks until he was swearing at her.

“For Christ’s sake, Buffy, you’re bleeding killing me. Won’t last another sodding minute if you carry on doing that.”

“What was that you said about stamina?” teased Buffy.

“Cheeky sod,” said Spike, as he grabbed Buffy’s shoulder and, lightning fast, flipped them over so that he was on top of her. “See how you like it, shall we?”

He put his hands on Buffy’s hips to keep her still and went in search of her most sensitive of spots, nibbling and sucking until with a cry Buffy climaxed. She collapsed boneless into the pillows.

“Think we sorted out the stamina issue, eh pet?” chuckled Spike.

He moved up the bed and trailed kisses along her neck. Her pulse throbbed in her neck and he moaned softly as he felt it beat beneath his lips. His eyes changed colour, so he closed them. He willed them to change back, and after a moment, they did. He gasped as he felt a small hand firmly grip his erection.

“Need to do something about this,” said Buffy. She moved to sit astride him, but he stopped her.

“’S all right, love. I’ll do the work.”

She lay back on the bed and smiled lasciviously at him. “Sounds good to me.” She opened her thighs, inviting him in.

He didn’t need asking twice. He wanted to be on top of her. He wanted to be the one in control. He wanted to own her. As he moved inside her, his eyes changed to amber again but this time, he didn’t care. The heightened senses added both to his arousal and his pleasure.

“Christ, Buffy, I love you so much. You’re mine,” he gasped, close to climax.

“I’m yours, Spike. All yours.” Buffy trembled as he licked her neck. “Yours,” she repeated.

Spike thrust one last time and climaxed hard. He growled, startling Buffy with its primitive sound. “Mine,” he whispered. His lips felt the throb of her pulse and he bit into her neck.

“Ow! Shit, that hurts!” Buffy yelled, slapping at Spike’s head.

He came to his senses; he could see the livid bruise that he’d left on her neck. He scooted backwards across the bed in horror.

“Buffy!”

He glanced at her face. She was staring at him, eyes wide with fear, her hand clamped to her neck. Fear – she was looking at him with fear. What had he done? He leapt off the bed, scanning the bedroom wildly.

“Oh, God! No! I didn’t mean to hurt you. It just…just…” He grabbed his jeans from the floor and began to pull them on. “I couldn’t help it, Buffy – I couldn’t stop myself. Oh fuck.” He made for the door.

“Don’t go!” yelled Buffy, scrambling off the bed.

“I can’t stay, Buffy. What if…” He shook his head violently.

“You can stay,” insisted Buffy. “I’m okay. I’m all right, Spike.”

She got between him and the door. “Spike, let’s just talk this through, okay?” She could see the anguish on his face. She knew that he hadn’t been in control and that freaked her out, but she had to ground him and make him talk about it. She took a step towards him.

Spike backed away. “Don’t,” he snapped. “Don’t come near me.”

“Okay, whatever you want. Just sit down, all right?”

Spike realised that his legs were trembling, and he sat on the bottom corner of the bed, as far away from her as he could get.

“Don’t come close,” he said, his voice wavering.

Buffy’s heart felt like it would break to see him like this. “I won’t, but you’re not going to hurt me, so it wouldn’t matter if I did.”

He looked up at Buffy. She was still naked. His eyes changed to yellow as they fell on the bruise that he’d made. “Already have.”

Although she had never let Spike know, she hated it when his eyes were that flat amber colour. As he regarded her, she found that she didn’t want those hateful eyes looking at her nakedness. She glanced around until she saw Spike’s t-shirt on the floor. She scooped it up and put it on, pleased that it was long enough to cover her ass. She sat on the bed near the pillows.

“It surprised me, that’s all,” she said gently.

Spike leapt to his feet. “How can you say that? A bleeding surprise doesn’t leave a sodding great bruise on your neck!”

“Shh, Spike. Calm down.”

“Calm down? Calm fucking down? I just tried to rip your bleeding throat out!” He still wanted to taste her blood - to make her his.

Despite herself Buffy blanched. There was no going away from the fact that although he hadn’t been drunk from a third time, things were still changing for Spike. For the first time, she began to think that they might fail in their quest for a solution. Tears welled in her eyes. Spike cringed when he saw her tears. His eyes finally changed to blue. He put his head in his hands.

“It’s getting worse, Buffy. It’s going to happen.”

“It won’t! Tara’s got everyone looking for that vampire. It’s just a matter of time before it’s found.”

“Time? But have we got enough left? I couldn’t live with myself if I hurt anybody. Hurt anybody else,” he corrected.

Buffy sidled up the bed to get a little closer to Spike. She was pleased that he didn’t move away. “Tell me what you felt when you did it.”

Spike lifted his head to meet her eyes, his own clouded with emotion. “What I was feeling? What the hell does it matter? I hurt you, Buffy.”

“Humour me, okay? We were making love. What made you have to bite?”

Spike buried his head in his hands once more. He was silent for a long time. “It was when you said that you were mine. To make it true I had to taste your blood.” He glanced at her again. “I wasn’t trying to kill you.” He was amazed as he realised that he had only wanted to taste her, not drain her. “I wasn’t.”

“Well, when you growl, you do sound kind of like a lion, and they bite the lioness when they mate,” said Buffy with a slight smile. “Maybe it’s something like that?”

“Oh, God, Buffy. You’re incredible.” He couldn’t help but laugh quietly.

Encouraged by this, Buffy moved closer to him and was dismayed when he stood up and moved away.

“Spike, it’s all right. You didn’t want to kill me so there’s no need to avoid me.”

“I can’t, Buffy,” said Spike bleakly. “I’m too afraid that I’ll do it again. I need to talk to Tara about it. She might have a spell that will protect you all from me.” He walked to the door.

“Spike, look at the time. Let her sleep, she was exhausted. Come back to bed.”

Spike glanced at his watch. It was almost two thirty am. “Okay, I’ll wait until the morning, but I’m going to sleep in the spare room.”

Buffy’s eyes widened. Spike never went into the room that had been James’ if he could help it and now he was saying that he was going to sleep there.

“You stay here, I’ll go,” said Buffy.

“No, Buffy,” said Spike firmly, he reached the door and walked out, closing it behind him.

When the door closed, the tears that had been threatening were unstoppable. Buffy lay back on the bed and silently sobbed. Part of it was shock, but most of it was fear of what the future held for Spike.

Spike leant against the door. His eyes were amber, and his heightened hearing that went alongside it had no difficulty in catching the sound of Buffy crying. He gritted his teeth to stop his own tears. He knew that he’d be unable to stop if he started. He walked across the landing to the spare room - to James’ room, as he still thought of it. He went inside and sat on the bed. After a minute, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to sleep, so he quietly crept downstairs and into the lounge room. He slumped dispiritedly onto the couch.

“Thank God that the UK tour’s over,” he thought in relief. But his stomach clenched as he thought that the U.S. leg might never be done at all. He might be dead by then.

He was startled out of his dark thoughts by a voice suddenly announcing ‘you have mail’. Spike glanced around and saw that Tara had left her computer on. He walked to it and peered at the screen. It was already on the e-mail page. Spike could read the heading on the new message.

WE’VE FOUND IT!

It could only mean one thing. The vampire had been located. He clicked the ‘read’ button.

Hi Tara,

Thank the sweet Goddess for her help. We’ve traced the vampire that crossed over!

The really strange thing is that it’s in America, Sunnydale to be precise. Do you think that it knows of Spike?

Please be very careful when you try to catch it. They may not be of our dimension but they are still in possession of all of their powers.

We don’t know what sex it is, or exactly where in Sunnydale that it is located. I have a horrible feeling that it will find you rather than the other way around.

The coven sends their blessings,

Love,

Jessica

“Sunnydale. The bastard is trying to find me.”

Spike clicked the ‘keep as new’ button. He knew what he had to do. He pulled on his leather duster over his bare chest and shoved his sockless feet into his boots. He checked that he had his cell phone and his wallet, and then he walked to the front door. He paused, turned around and searched for a piece of paper and a pen. Luckily he found them near the computer.

He wrote. “I’m sorry. I just have to be alone for a while. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

He put the note in the kitchen, near to the kettle. He walked back to the door and this time he went through it.


Tbc

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Awakenings

Spike stalked down the sleeping streets until he found an ATM machine. He withdrew as much cash as he could. He then walked a little further to where he knew there was a taxi rank. Even at this hour in the morning, he knew he’d have no problem finding one there. Sure enough, a cab was waiting as he walked around the corner.

“Heathrow, mate,” said Spike, sliding into the back seat.

“Heathrow it is,” replied the cabbie.

Spike pulled the duster tightly around him. He should have gotten a shirt but he hadn’t wanted to risk waking Buffy. He knew that she’d be upset at him leaving, but he hoped that she’d understand. He’d call her tomorrow so she didn’t worry when he didn’t return. He couldn’t risk being near her; he was terrified and revolted at how much he had wanted – needed – to taste her blood, and now that he knew where the vampire was, he had to go. He ignored the little voice in his head that reminded him that it would be a much better idea to go back to Sunnydale with Buffy, Rich and Tara there to help him. The voice that told him that all he was doing was running away.

He growled quietly, earning a sharp look from the cabbie as he glanced over his shoulder at him. He shifted in his seat to make sure that he wasn’t in line with the cab’s rear view mirror. He didn’t want to get kicked out because he’d scared the poor git half to death when he noticed that he didn’t have a reflection.

He threw the notes for the fare at the cabbie and jogged to the departures area. He paused long enough to locate the desk that he needed, and then walked briskly to it. He concentrated hard to keep his eyes blue; he didn’t want to have to hide behind his shades. He needed to play the celebrity thing to the hilt. He gave his sweetest smile to the woman behind the desk.

“Hello, love. When’s the next flight out to L.A.? I need to get a first class ticket on the first plane available. Bit of an emergency.”

The woman pressed a few buttons on her computer. “Um…there is one that has just given the final call, but it’s too late for that one. Your baggage would take too long. The next one is at ten am.”

“I need to be on this flight now. I haven’t got any bags.” Spike let his duster fall open revealing his bare chest. “In too much of a hurry to even get a shirt on. I can run pretty fast. C’mon, pet, get me on it, yeah?”

The woman looked at him properly for the first time. “Ooh! You’re Spike.”

Spike leaned on the desk. “That I am, love. Now can I get on the plane?” He read the woman’s name tag. “I’m desperate here, Sharon. Help me out, please.”

“Hold on one moment,” she said as she picked up the telephone. “I’ve got Spike Norman from The Dingoes wanting to get on the flight. He has no baggage. Can you take him?” Sharon giggled at the reply.

Spike didn’t blame her. His sensitive hearing had picked up the ‘I’d take him anytime’ response. Luckily that was also followed by ‘yes – get him here ASAP!’

Sharon smiled at Spike, “We can get you on the flight. So if I can just have your card please.” Spike handed her his credit card.

“Look, I don’t want any attention at the other end. Can you leave my name off the passenger list, or at least not put my real name?”

“Certainly, sir.”

“Thanks, Sharon. One other thing - can you book me on the first flight to Edinburgh - this time under my name please?”

She looked at him quizzically.

“Trying to throw the bleeding paparazzi off the trail,” he said. “If they think I’ve gone to Scotland then they won’t look for me in California, will they?”

Sharon quickly processed that transaction too. Then she gave Spike his boarding card. “Please go straight to the plane, sir. It’s waiting for you.”

“Will do, love.” He winked a sparkling blue at her and jogged off to the gate.

He did make a quick detour though and bought a t-shirt as he passed one of the shops. Once on the plane he took off his duster and pulled the t-shirt over his head. He didn’t miss how the stewardess stared at him when he did. The sweet scent of her arousal hit his nostrils. He grimaced as he looked down at his chest. He’d just grabbed the first shirt that had been his size. It was a black t-shirt – no problem there – but the front was emblazoned with the union jack; hardly inconspicuous.

It wasn’t until the plane was in the air that Spike began to think that his bright idea of going to confront the vampire alone wasn’t as bright as he’d thought.

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Ethan was awoken at three thirty by the shrill ringing of the telephone.

“Hello?” he muttered.

“Ethan, we’ve got more shots of Spike Norman. He ran out of the house at about half past two, then went to Heathrow and onto a flight to the U.S. He travelled under the pseudonym of Thomas James, but also booked a seat on a flight to Scotland under his own name. He’s running from something and trying to make it look like he hasn’t left the UK.”

Ethan was instantly awake. “That’s fantastic. I’ll make sure that he’s picked up at the other end. Thanks. Get the photos to me as soon as you can. This is going to make us rich.” He couldn’t help but get excited.

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Spike couldn’t settle. He fidgeted in his seat. He was hyped up and wished that he could do something other than just sit there trying to watch a lame film about ice-skating. His mood wasn’t helped by the fact that he knew that Buffy would love it. Buffy. Was he right to run? All he knew was that he had to keep her safe. He closed his eyes at the memory of the livid bruise he’d left on her neck. Why were things still changing for him? He thought that he’d be okay once Drusilla had been staked. Even though it had looked like he wouldn’t return to normal, he really thought that things would stabilise. But sitting here, he was disconcertingly aware of the heartbeats of those around him. He rubbed his hand across his face. This just couldn’t be real. Vampires! Fucking vampires. Spike groaned.

“Are you all right, sir?” the stewardess asked politely.

“Huh?” Spike looked up. “Oh, yeah. I’m okay.”

“Can I get you anything, sir?”

“Um, a pen and some paper, if you’ve got it.”

Spike had realised that in his rush to leave, he’d left behind the pad that he always carried with him to write lyrics in. He wanted to write something. It might be the last he ever wrote. He hoped that he’d have the courage to kill himself before he ever tasted human blood.

“Certainly, sir.”

The stewardess returned moments later with a notepad and a pen.

“Thanks, love.”

Spike pulled his feet up onto the seat; one advantage of first class travel – huge seats. He chewed at the pen before beginning to write.

I wish I were with you but I couldn’t stay

Every direction leads me away.

Pray for tomorrow but for today

All I want is to be home.

Spike felt tears tracing lines down his face as he wrote. He brushed them impatiently away.

Stand in the mirror, you look the same…

“Bollocks!” Spike threw the pad across the plane.

All the other passengers turned to glare at him. The stewardess sighed and walked to Spike. She’d heard that he was different from the usual rock stars that they had to put up with, but apparently not. She picked up the pad and handed it back to him.

“Keep it, I don’t bleeding want it,” snarled Spike. He was never going to get his life with Buffy back. Nothing else mattered.

The stewardess didn’t miss a beat. “Can I get you anything else, sir?”

“No,” said Spike, more reasonably, but as she turned away he changed his mind. “There is something you can get for me, please.”

“Sir?”

“Vodka. Lots and lots of vodka. Oh, and a can of Coke.”

“It’s going to be one of those flights,” thought the stewardess as she fixed Spike’s drinks.

“Ta, love,” Spike said as she left him a quart bottle of vodka, can of Coke and a glass with ice in it.

The ice didn’t have time to melt before Spike knocked the first shot back. He’d barely splashed any Coke in it at all. He grimaced as the liquor seared its way down his throat. He swiftly followed it by another. He hadn’t tasted vodka since he was seventeen, but nothing else was going to help him to find the oblivion that he needed.

The stewardess was pleased to see that at least Spike Norman was quiet when he was drunk. She watched him drinking steadily for some time before he fell asleep. She moved the drinks so that he wouldn’t knock them over should he stir in his sleep.

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Angel rolled over and groaned. Even before he opened his eyes, he knew that he hadn’t dreamt the weird shit that had happened. He opened them anyway and saw that dusk had fallen. He cursed as he tried to get up. His back was aching from lying on the floor of the ruins of the old manor house.

“I’m too old for this,” he muttered as he got up.

He brushed his clothes down and put a hand on his stomach as it growled loudly. He needed to eat and soon. He had no idea that he’d actually slept for several days. He climbed over the rubble and headed for Revello Drive.

Angel payed close attention to his surroundings this time. The strange smell still persisted. Apart from the manor, everything else he passed looked the same. Had Dru done a spell that had gone wrong and destroyed the manor and her with it? He could feel her loss. But that didn’t explain the dis-invite that Buffy had done.

He saw lights on in the lounge room as he walked up to the front door. He paused before knocking. He couldn’t believe that he was shut out of what was essentially his home, too. He sighed and knocked loudly. He heard footsteps approaching. The door swung open.

“Giles, thank God,” said Angel when he saw him.

“Angel?” said Rupert, incredulously backing up a little. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“What do you mean, Giles? Is Buffy here?” Angel peered over Rupert’s shoulder and inhaled deeply. He caught only a faint scent of her.

Rupert pulled the door half shut. What on earth was Angel doing here? And the sniffing…? Well, that was just odd.

“I don’t see how that is any concern of yours,” said Rupert firmly. “Why have you come here? When did you get out of prison?”

“Prison? Giles, are you feeling all right? I haven’t been in prison. I need to see Buffy. I tried to see her the other night, but I couldn’t get in.”

“So it was you who attempted to break in?” said Rupert. “I think that will violate your parole, so unless you want me to call the police, I strongly suggest that you leave.”

“Look, Giles, just let me see Buffy,” said Angel. He was struggling to remain civil with the Watcher.

“She doesn’t live here and even if she did, she wouldn’t be here. She is on holiday in England.”

“What?” This was getting more bizarre by the second.

“Who is it, honey?” asked Joyce as she limped into the hallway.

“Joyce!” exclaimed Angel, “But you’re dead!”

“Right! That’s it. Leave now or I will call the police. I will not have you threaten my wife.”

“Wife?” repeated Angel stupidly. “But Buffy…”

“She is not here. She is on holiday with Spike. Now leave.”

“Spike?” Angel’s mind reeled. “He’s dead, too.”

Joyce had come to stand beside Rupert. “He is alive and well, no thanks to what you did to him. Now get the hell off my porch!”

Rupert slammed the door shut. Angel stood there for a moment but then walked away. Clearly things were very different. He was beginning to think that he must have gone back in time somehow.

“God, I need a drink.”

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“I didn’t even know that Angel was out of prison,” said Joyce as they settled back in the lounge room.

“Neither did I,” replied Rupert. “I suppose it has been nine years, perhaps that was long enough. I still don’t know why you didn’t let me call the police.”

Joyce took a sip of the coffee that Rupert had made for her. “I just don’t want to get involved. He didn’t actually do anything tonight, did he?”

“What, apart from threatening you?” said Rupert. He was furious about giving in to Joyce but the Summers women were notorious for getting their own way.

“He didn’t actually say that he was going to harm me,” said Joyce. “He said ‘but you’re dead’ and he did look like he’d seen a ghost. I don’t think that he’ll be back, and if he does come back you can call the police right away.

“I don’t like the fact that he came here, not one little bit,” grumbled Rupert.

Joyce went over to where he was sitting on the couch. She snuggled up to him and kissed him. “I know something that will take your mind of it.” She stroked her hand down his chest and to his crotch.

Rupert laughed and took hold of her hand. “I think that will work very well.” He stood up and pulled her to her feet. He scooped her up in his arms and walked to the stairs.

“Put me down! You’ll hurt yourself,” protested Joyce.

“I won’t,” he replied calmly.

He carefully mounted the stairs and dropped her onto the bed in their room, and then collapsed onto it next to her, gasping for breath.

“Ooh, I think you were right. I think I’ve pulled my back,” he groaned.

Joyce slapped his arm. “I’m not falling for that.”

Rupert grinned and wrapped his arms around her. “Was worth a try! So what was it that you had in mind? Where were you?”

Joyce put her hand on to the bulge in his pants. “About here.”

Laughing they quickly undressed and Joyce was right, it did take Rupert’s mind off Angel.

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Spike woke with a start and a yell. His eyes flashed amber for a second until he remembered where he was. Luckily no one saw them. He groaned and reached for another drink. He jumped as the stewardess announced that they would be landing shortly and went through the routine of seats in the upright position and seatbelts to be fastened. Spike quickly downed another couple of shots before the drinks were cleared away for landing.

Once they were on the ground Spike stood up and swayed violently.

“Uh, oh. This could be tricky.”

He took a deep breath and held firmly onto a seat until he felt steadier.

“You can do this, Spike.”

He tottered off the plane and though the VIP lounge. He sat down gratefully as he ordered a car and driver. He planned on staying in a hotel rather than going home. He pulled out his cell and sent Buffy a text.

GONE SCOTLAND – NEED SPACE – BACK TOMORROW. LOVE YOU X

“Love you,” he muttered as he put his phone away.

“Your car’s ready for you, sir.”

“Oh, right. Thanks, mate.”

Spike stood up then he put his hand to his head as the room spun slowly for a second. He got to the car without mishap and felt rather proud of himself.

“Where to, sir?” the driver asked.

Spike giggled, “Um…a hotel.”

“Which one?” the driver asked with a sigh. Freaking celebrities.

“You pick. I don’t care.” Spike slumped lower in the rear seat.

“But don’t you live in Sunnydale?”

“Yeah, but I’m not going home, am I?” replied Spike. “Hotel, don’t care which.”

“Okay,” the driver said as he pulled out into the traffic.

00000000

Angel needed blood. If he didn’t eat soon, his demon would be making its presence felt, soul or no soul. He made his way to the butcher’s, not wanting to risk going across town to the hospital for expired human blood. The shop was closed but a quick thump with his shoulder and Angel was in. He felt guilty for stealing it but there wasn’t anything else that he could do. He found the blood and drank his fill, tidily throwing the empty bags in the trash can. He pulled the door closed and was pleased that it stayed shut so the break in wasn’t as obvious as it could have been.

He decided that he needed somewhere to sit and try to work this out. He paused for a moment trying to think of somewhere to go. He smiled when he thought of just the place, and started walking purposefully towards it.

000000000

Spike groaned. He was beginning to sober up. Not good. Not good at all. He squinted out of the window of the car as it crawled along a back street on the way to the hotel the driver had decided to take Spike to.

“Stop the car!” he yelled, startling the driver, who brought the vehicle to a halt with a squeal of the brakes.

“What is it?” the driver asked, looking back at Spike.

“’M getting out here,” replied Spike, his hand scrabbling at the door handle.

“I thought you wanted to go to the hotel?”

“Need a drink,” said Spike. “Going there.” He pointed at a building with a neon light flashing on and off above the door.

“Um…I’m not sure that you want to go in there. Why don’t I take you to the hotel? They’ll have drinks there.”

Spike pouted. “Want to go in there. How much do I owe you, mate?”

The driver was worried. He was certain that if Spike Norman hadn’t been totally wasted that he wouldn’t have entertained going into such a place. I mean, the guy went home to Buffy Summers. Why would he want to go there? But at the end of the day he was only the driver and not the guy’s father.

“You’ll be billed for the trip, Mr. Norman. You don’t pay me now.”

“Okay,” said Spike, finally mastering the door handle and climbing out of the car. “Thanks for the ride, mate.” He slammed the door shut and the driver watched him weave unsteadily into the bar.

The driver shook his head wearily; he’d never stop being surprised at the difference between the public persona and the true persona of celebrities. With a last look at the neon sign, the driver pulled slowly away and disappeared down the street.

Spike walked straight up to the bar. He was pleased to see that it didn’t have mirrors behind it like some did. He pulled out a fifty dollar note and put it on the bar, keeping his fingertips on it as he hitched his ass onto a stool.

“What can I get you?” asked the barkeep over the loud music.

“Vodka - plenty of it and plenty of ice.”

“Anything else?”

“No, just keep ‘em coming, okay?”

“You got it.”

“Have one yourself, mate.”

“Thanks, I will.”

The barman couldn’t believe his eyes – Spike Norman – in here! He would never have guessed.

Spike had been in there for several hours when someone sat on the stool next to him.

“Do you want a dance?”

“Huh?” Spike kept his eyes on his glass, turning it slowly around.

“You look lonely. I thought that you might like to dance?”

A hand was placed high up on Spike’s thigh. He looked at it curiously and then back at its owner. He nearly fell off his stool when he saw that the hand belonged to a man. It’s not that Spike was homophobic or anything, it’s just that he was most definitely straight.

“Um,” he said eloquently. “I’m just here for a drink, mate.”

“I could join you for the drink. My name’s Greg.”

“Thanks, Greg, but I’m wanting to be on my own. Got stuff to work out. You can take your hand off my leg anytime that you like though.”

With a disgruntled moan, Spike’s admirer walked away. Spike shrugged and went back to drinking.

000000000

Angel turned into the back street; he was almost at his destination. He glanced at the building and stopped short.

“What the hell?”

Willy’s bar was still there, but it was no longer a demon bar. That part didn’t surprise Angel; he’d had no scent of a demon since he had found himself in the middle of the street. What surprised him was the huge neon light in the shape of a penis – not to mention what happened as the lights flashed! The wording below it proudly proclaimed:

WILLY’S – THE ANYTHING GOES – BEST GAY BAR IN TOWN!

Angel shrugged. He needed alcohol and this was probably as safe a place for a vampire to drink than anywhere else. He pushed open the door and winced at the volume of the music. Perhaps not the best place to try to think things through. He couldn’t hear himself think.

His attention was drawn to a disturbance at the bar. It looked like one of the customers was cutting up rough. A bleach blond was being refused a drink and wasn’t happy about it. Angel froze. The bleach blond turned slightly towards him.

“Spike!”

Tbc

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The Perils of Drinking!

Angel stared at the lean figure that was doing his best to avoid being manhandled out of the bar. The bleach blond was stretching his hand out to a stool nearby.

“Least let me get my sodding coat, you git.”

The words were slurred but clear enough to annoy the security man who had hold of him.

“Look, just cool it, pal. I don’t care that you’re a famous rock star - curse at me again and I’ll throw your skinny ass out without calling you a cab.”

“Rock star? What the hell is going on?” Angel shook his head as he tried to take it in.

“Do what you bleeding like!” snarled Spike as he managed to grab his beloved duster, a low growl escaping before he could prevent it.

The security man grabbed Spike by the scruff of his neck, lifting him off the ground.

“Did you just growl at me? That’s it! You’re out of here!” He carried the still struggling Spike towards the door. He glanced over his shoulder to the barman. “Forget the cab, Mike, a walk will do him good.”

“The cab’s already on its way, Paulie,” said Mike as he watched him manhandle Spike away from the bar.

“Well, he can wait for it outside,” replied Paulie, glancing back over his shoulder.

The pair pushed past a bemused Angel and out the door. A minute or so later, the security man walked calmly back inside.

“Erm,” said Angel. “Was that –?”

“Spike Norman? Yeah, that was him.”

“So, you know him?” asked Angel, still trying to take it in.

“Who doesn’t? Hey, Mike, show this guy that Rolling Stone magazine you have back there. He didn’t recognise Spike!”

The two men laughed, and Angel walked to the bar and took the magazine from Mike’s hand.

“Sweet Jesus,” he whispered as there, in full colour, was a close up of Spike on stage, guitar in hand and a shit-eating grin on his face. “How on earth has he managed to be a rock star?”

Mike heard him and looked at him curiously. “Do you know him then? I thought that you didn’t recognise him?”

“Um…” Angel gathered his wits. “Er…I used to know him years ago. I never knew…”

“What? That he was a singer or that he’d be in a gay bar? I couldn’t believe it myself when he walked in. Spike and Buffy are the best known couple in rock and roll.”

“B…Buffy?” squeaked Angel. “This just gets better and better.”

“Yeah, I never figured him being gay, but then I suppose you can never tell. I mean, you don’t look it either.” Mike winked at him.

“I just came in for a drink,” said Angel, ignoring Mike’s ‘that’s what they all say’ look. “Shit! I need to go after Spike. Maybe he’s got the answers to what’s going on, and I’m standing here looking at a freaking magazine!”

Angel turned and ran out of the bar, pushing the magazine into his pocket as he did. As soon as he got outside, his nostrils were assaulted by the smell of fresh vomit. He glanced to the right and, sure enough, there was Spike, one hand on the wall, the other on his knee as he was doubled over, retching violently.

Angel sighed. Typical Spike, never could handle the drink. He walked towards him, and then paused. Hang on; Spike was human. But there was a little something off about him, too. Not pure human maybe? But how? That blew the theory that Angel had been forming about going back in time to before Spike had died. Just what was he in the middle of?

Spike groaned and stood up. He had managed to get his duster on, but it hung off one shoulder. He leant back against the wall.

“Oh, bollocks.”

His legs gave way and he slid slowly down the wall until his ass hit the sidewalk. He looked up as a pair of feet appeared in front of him.

“Spike?”

Spike glanced up, and up, finally having to tilt his head back to see the face above him. “Crap, how tall is this guy?” “Yeah, what of it?”

He put a hand on the floor beside him and tried, rather unsuccessfully, to stand up. Angel grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet. Spike started to giggle.

“Like an elevator,” he chuckled.

“Yeah, right.”

“Thanks, mate. I just got kicked out of the bar,” said Spike, waving a hand expansively and almost overbalancing.

“I kind of gathered that,” said Angel, dryly.

“Hey, don’t I know you? You look very familiar.” Spike squinted at Angel, his eyes flashing amber for a second.

Angel couldn’t believe his eyes when Spike’s changed. He thought of the crazy ramblings that Drusilla had uttered, of getting Spike back. He roughly pushed Spike’s head to the side. Spike lashed out with a fist and pulled out of Angel’s grasp.

“Get off me, you git!” he snarled. He suddenly recognised who it was. “Angel? When did you get out of prison? Come to try to finish what you started, huh? Well, remember the only time that you bested me, you bastard, was when I didn’t see it coming. I see you now!” He tried to throw a punch, missed his target altogether, spun around and then went white and passed out, collapsing gracefully at Angel’s feet.

“Great, just great.” Angel looked down at Spike. “She did it. The crazy bitch managed to cross dimensions to find a Spike.” He had clearly seen the bite mark on Spike’s neck. It was Dru’s. He’d seen them often enough over the years. “I’m an ex-con and he’s a famous rock-star! Just my luck! How the hell did I come to be here? Where’s Dru if she came to this dimension?”

He knelt down beside Spike and slapped him gently on the face. “Spike? Come on, wake up. Need to get you home.”

Spike slowly raised his head. “’M staying at a hotel.”

“Oh? Okay, which one?”

“I dunno. I never got there.” He struggled once more to his feet. “I went there for a drink instead. They kicked me out, the gits.” He glared at the door to Willy’s.

“Yeah, I know.”

Spike craned his neck back, looking up at Angel. “You’re very tall. Did you know that your hair goes straight up?” Spike started to giggle.

“And yours is still radioactive!” snapped Angel. “Come on.” He put his arm around Spike.

“Do I know you?” asked Spike.

Angel sighed. “No. We’ve never met.” It was the truth after all.

“’M gonna throw up.”

“Oh, for God’s sake!”

Spike turned back to the wall and braced his hands against it as he was sick again. Angel stood behind him, a hand under his hip, holding him upright.

“Spike, are you a pain in the ass in every dimension?”

“Huh?” said Spike when he could.

“Nothing.”

Spike stood up and grinned at him. “So where are we going?”

“Home, Spike. I think you need to go home.”

“Okay. Need a drink first.”

Angel put his arm around him. “Trust me, Spike, you’ve had enough.”

Spike pouted prettily up at Angel. “Not enough. Need to forget.”

“Forget what?” Angel couldn’t help but smile down at him. Spike had always been a funny drunk. Seems like whichever version you were with, that was the same.

Spike burst out laughing. “Can’t remember!”

Angel laughed too. There was really nothing else that he could do but join in. They walked to the end of the street to wait for the cab that had been ordered. When it arrived, Spike half got in, half fell in to the rear seat, and Angel climbed in after him.

0000000

As the cab pulled away, a motorcycle roared into life. Its owner stowed a camera in a box on the rear of it and pulled his helmet on. He was smiling broadly. He didn’t bother to follow the cab; he’d heard the two men say that they were going to Spike’s home. He couldn’t wait to tell Ethan what he’d gotten. He knew that once Ethan saw the shots that he’d agree that now was the time to blow the story wide open.

00000000

“Oh, man! It’s Spike Norman,” said the cabbie excitedly as Angel pushed Spike across the seat and sat down next to him.

Spike rested his forehead against the window, enjoying the coolness. He tried to reply to the cabbie but his mouth had seemed to stop working. He closed his eyes and fell asleep, or rather, lost consciousness.

The driver felt uncomfortable at the silence that greeted him. “Er…where to?”

“Good question. Where the hell does he live?” Angel remembered the magazine. He pulled it out of his pocket and quickly flicked to the page where the feature on Spike was. Sure enough it mentioned that he lived in Sunnydale Heights. “Er…Sunnydale Heights, please.” He prayed that the driver didn’t need the house number.

“Oh, right. Going home,” replied the driver and he swiftly took them to their destination.

“Need to have the gates opened,” said the driver as he pulled up in front of the huge electric gates.

Angel shook Spike. “Spike, we need the number for the gates.”

“Hmmph,” replied Spike, barely stirring.

“Are we going to sit here all night?” snapped the driver.

“Good thing I’ve got a soul,” muttered Angel.

“What was that?” asked the driver.

“Just said that I’ll get it.”

Angel climbed out of the car and walked to the keypad where the combination could be entered by hand. If he couldn’t get it to open, he’d just get rid of the cab and climb over the fence.

“I wonder…?”

Angel keyed in Buffy’s birth date. It was worth a try. To his delight, the gates began to open. He jumped back in the cab and stared open mouthed as they went up the long driveway to the house. The drive and the house were lit up bright against the dark night sky.

“Wow,” muttered Angel.

He rummaged through Spike’s pockets to find the money for the cab, thinking that he could pay for it since he lived in a goddamn mansion.

He gave the driver the notes including a big tip and pulled Spike from the rear seat. Spike roused a little as the fresh air hit him. He peered blearily around.

“Oh. Home,” he said.

“Have you got a key, then?” asked Angel.

“’Course I have.”

Spike dug his hand into the front pocket of his jeans and pulled out a key ring. He weaved his way to the door and got the key in at the third attempt. He swung the door open and winced as a shrill buzzing noise hit his ears.

“Alarm,” he said in explanation. “Got to turn it off.” He stood on the door step.

“Go and turn it off then, Spike, for God’s sake,” said Angel, giving him a bit of a push.

Spike fell over the threshold and landed on his knees, his head spinning. “Just need a little rest.” He curled up into a ball on the floor.

Angel tried to go in, but this dimension still obviously required a vampire to have an invite. “Crap! Spike, invite me in!”

Spike opened one eye. “Door’s open. What’s stopping you?” He closed his eye and curled up even smaller.

The buzzing sound stopped. Angel glared at Spike’s inert body. “Spike! Wake up! Invite me in!” It was no good. Spike was out for the count.

Angel cursed as he heard sirens. “Of course, Mr. Famous Rock-Star’s house is hooked up to the police!” He tried once more to rouse Spike but as the squad car began to come up the driveway, he thought that it was safer to disappear. If he was an ex-con in this dimension, no good could come of an encounter with the cops. With a last frustrated glance at Spike, Angel loped off into the grounds at the rear of the house.

The two police officers looked at each other as they saw that the front door was wide open. They cautiously got out of the car and walked to the door. They could see the figure lying on the floor in the hall. The hair colour and leather duster told them that it was the owner of the property, Spike Norman, even before they saw his face.

“Crap,” whispered the first, a tall skinny man.

He and his partner concentrated harder on their surroundings. Had he been attacked? The first officer crouched down next to him as his partner stepped past to secure their position from behind.

Spike groaned and rolled over onto his back.

“Sir? Are you hurt?”

Spike just groaned again in reply, eyes still tightly closed.

The officer began to check him over. As he pushed Spike’s duster to the side so that he could see Spike’s torso, Spike lashed out with his left arm, catching the officer on the side of his head.

“Get off!” snarled Spike.

“You okay, Jim?” asked the tall officer’s partner, seeing him sent reeling with the blow.

“Yeah, Dave, I’m okay. He’s out of it. Don’t think that he knew that he did it. He’s maybe been knocked out.”

Spike staggered to his feet at the same time that Jim did. Spike glanced at the tall man and frowned. What was it that he remembered about a tall man? Shit! Angel.

Jim reached a hand out to steady the very wobbly Spike and was rewarded for his efforts with another wild punch being aimed at him.

“You’re not fucking touching me again,” roared Spike, his mind full of the day that Angel attacked him with a baseball bat.

He hit Jim on his shoulder, but the momentum of his punch made him overbalance and he fell headlong onto Jim, both winded as they landed in a heap on the floor.

Dave ran over and pulled Spike off his partner. Spike was looking a bit green by this stage but still tried to shake him off. Spike couldn’t understand how there came to be two of them.

“He doesn’t have a concussion, Jim, he reeks of liquor. He’s wasted.”

“He’s coming with us,” said Jim. “Being hit once I can take, but not twice. Read him his rights if he can understand them. Assaulting a police officer. A night in the cells might cool him down a bit.”

Between them, they cuffed Spike’s wrists behind his back then half carried, half dragged him to the squad car and bundled him into the rear seat. All the time, Spike kept up a steady diatribe of what he thought of them for hauling him away from his home.

“Will you shut the hell up!” snarled Jim, glaring at Spike over his shoulder.

“Will when you bleeding let me out. Not content with sodding hitting me, got to kidnap me now. Didn’t know you were out of prison.” Spike was lying across the seat, feeling decidedly unwell and still under the impression that Angel was there.

“Just leave him, Jim. I don’t think that he knows where he is,” said Dave.

“Yeah, but if he starts saying that I hit him…”

“Won’t matter if he does. We both know that you didn’t. He’s so drunk, I doubt if he even knows who he is,” soothed Dave. “Hey, buddy.” He called to Spike. What’s your name?”

“Huh?” Spike had almost passed out again. “William,” he mumbled.

Dave started to laugh. “See I told you. Can’t even get his name right. Spike Norman. William! Where do you think that he got that from?”

“He better not throw up in here,” grumbled Jim.

Spike was monosyllabic whilst he was being processed, much to the relief of the officers, who had decided that they had heard quite enough of him muttering about angels and vampires. A doctor checked him out before he was taken to the cells. Spike swore at him as he was given an injection to prevent him from vomiting again.

“That bleeding hurt. Why won’t you all just let me sodding sleep? Where’s my coat?” Spike looked around blearily. “I need my coat…and a drink.”

“You’ve had more than enough alcohol for one evening. You can have your coat back when you leave.”

“Want my coat,” mumbled Spike grumpily.

A police officer walked into the room where the doctor and Spike were.

“Is he good to go?”

“Yes. He’ll have a terrible hangover in the morning, but now that I’ve put a stop to the vomiting, he should be okay. Keep a close watch on him though. Wouldn’t do the force much good if Spike Norman died in custody,” replied the doctor wryly.

“Angel tried to kill me. Was here,” said Spike, looking round the room. “Where’s he gone? Kidnapped me, he did. Can I go home?”

The officer took his arm and helped him to his feet. “How about a bed? Will that do?”

“Bed.” Spike grinned. “Bed’s good.”

He allowed himself to be led to a holding cell. They were putting him in on his own, on account of his intoxication. The officer leaned Spike against the wall as he removed the belt from his jeans.

“Hey! Gerrof! Bleeding poofter!”

Spike tried to wave the officer’s hands away but ended up sliding down the wall instead. The officer finally got Spike onto the narrow bench that served as a bed, sans belt and boots.

“Okay, I’m going to ask one more time. Do you want to call anyone?” Spike had been asked repeatedly but as yet hadn’t told them a number.

Spike shook his head, and then squeezed his eyes shut as he was hit by a wave of nausea. He flopped down onto the bench and was softly snoring by the time that the officer had locked the door.

“Hey, Phil, how’s our celebrity guest?” asked Jim, who had just finished his shift.

“Sleeping now,” replied Phil.

“I looked him up, and he was pulled in for stealing liquor and breaking and entering when he was a kid. He was called James Norman then. No charges though. Looks like he still hits the bottle, huh? There he was on the floor just inside his own front door.” Phil chuckled and shook his head as he waved goodbye to his colleague and went home.

Tbc

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Where’s Spike?

Buffy woke up slowly. She stretched her hand out to touch Spike and then came fully alert in an instant as she felt only cold sheets and not her lover. It all came crashing back. She put a hand to her neck and winced. The bite mark was still very sore. She didn’t know when she had fallen asleep. She had stayed there quietly crying for what had seemed like hours. Buffy had desperately needed to go to Spike for her own comfort, but she knew that if she did it would make him back off. She cursed him for being such a complex character; not that it was his fault. His family life had left scars that would never fully heal. Spike was fiercely opposed to any form of violence towards women after seeing how his mother had been abused by his alcoholic father. And now here he was, guilty of it himself even if it wasn’t of his own making.

Buffy wearily rubbed her hands over her face. She’d heard him go downstairs soon after leaving their bedroom, but she must have fallen asleep before he came back up. She had hoped that he would have returned to their bed, but obviously he had not. Buffy climbed out of bed and had a quick shower before getting dressed. She rummaged through a few drawers before she found a silk scarf, which she tied around her neck. The last thing that Spike needed to see was the multicoloured bruise that his, mercifully still human, teeth had made.

She opened the door and walked out onto the landing. As she passed the smallest guest room, she tapped lightly on the door before pushing it open. The bed looked as if it had not been slept in. Spike could never make a bed as tidily as this one was. She wasn’t surprised. Spike barely set foot in the room if he could help it. He had lived as James for a time and still felt guilty that James had been cremated in Spike’s true name of William Pratt. He hadn’t recovered his memory by then and so he wasn’t to blame, but it still haunted him. Buffy pulled the door closed with a sigh and walked downstairs.

She peered into the lounge room as she passed but it was empty, and so continued on her way to the kitchen. Enticing smells greeted her so she knew that someone was in there. Her heart fell when she saw that it was only Rich and Tara.

“Mornin’, babe,” said Rich as he saw her, before turning his attention back to the frying pan. “Spike still asleep? Lazy git! Just teaching Tee the fine art of the perfect English fry up! Hash browns! She thought hash browns were traditional, for God’s sake!” He grinned at Tee, waving a spatula. “You will learn, my girl, you will learn!”

Buffy smiled weakly. “Um…so you haven't seen Spike?” Her voice wavered a little.

Rich was at her side in an instant, turning off the heat from under the frying pan. “What’s the matter? We haven’t seen him since last night.”

Tara went to her too. “Has something happened?”

Buffy tried to be strong, she really did, but collapsed into tears regardless. “I’m so worried about him. He got really upset about something last night. Where is he? He should be here with us!”

“What upset him, Buffy?” asked Tara gently, glancing at Rich with worried eyes.

Buffy pulled out of Rich’s embrace and untied the scarf from her neck.

“Shite! Buffy, did he do that to you?” Rich was horrified.

Buffy nodded miserably. “But it wasn’t his fault, we were…we were making love and he bit me as we…er…” She glanced at them and was relieved to see that she needn’t explain further.

“Did he just take off afterwards?” asked Rich.

“No, I managed to get him to talk about it a bit, but it really freaked him out and to be honest, it scared me. I asked what he was feeling when he did it and he said that it was to make me his. That he hadn’t wanted to kill me, just taste me.” She shuddered at the memory.

“A claim,” whispered Tara.

Buffy and Rich turned to look at her.

“A wot?” asked Rich.

“It’s what vampires do when they want to be connected forever. They say a few words and then taste the blood of the one that they are claiming.”

“Shit,” breathed Rich.

“So, it’s like a good thing really? Not aggressive?” said Buffy.

“From what I know, it’s like a marriage, only more permanent,” replied Tara.

“Keep telling him that it’s about time that he made an honest woman of you,” said Rich with a smile. “Looks like he’s finally taken my advice.”

“Oh, Rich,” said Buffy, not sure whether to laugh or cry.

“But where is he?” asked Tara. “Has he just gone for a walk to clear his head? He’ll soon be home.”

“I don’t know, Tara. I heard him come downstairs last night. The bed in the guest room hasn’t been slept in. I’m really worried for him. Things seem to be changing faster than ever.”

“He’ll ‘ave slept on the couch, Buffy. You know what he’s like about that room. Come on, let’s get our breakfast and I’m sure he’ll be back by the time we’re finished.”

“You’re probably right, Rich,” agreed Buffy.

“Aren’t I always?” This comment earned Rich a slap on his arm from both Buffy and Tara.

Rich went back to his ‘perfect English breakfast’, but both women opted for the less calorific option of cereal. Buffy pushed hers around with the spoon, eating only a few mouthfuls. She was seriously worried about Spike, and couldn’t help looking at the clock on the kitchen wall every few minutes. When they had cleared up the breakfast things, they all walked through into the lounge room. Buffy sank with a deep sigh into an armchair, its cushions enveloping her small frame. Rich plonked himself down on the sofa and Tara went to sit at the table where she’d left her laptop.

“Um…Buffy,” said Tara hesitantly.

Buffy’s head whipped up, alarmed at the tone of Tara’s voice. “What is it?” she asked when she saw Tara holding a piece of paper in her right hand.

“It’s a n…note from Spike.”

Buffy leapt to her feet and snatched the scrap of paper from her, not caring about good manners.

I’m sorry. I just have to be alone for a while. I’ll be back tomorrow.

It was in Spike’s familiar scrawl. Buffy’s heart clenched as she noticed that he used neither her name nor his own. No term of endearment – just the statement that he was going, not even any indication of where. Buffy felt tears prick at her eyes. Why would he go away overnight? He’d never done that. Okay, so he’d never been turning into a vampire before either, but she hated the thought of him trying to cope alone.

“Buffy?” Rich’s voice was soft as he touched her arm. “What does it say?”

Wordlessly, Buffy passed him the paper. Once he’d read it, she spoke. “He’s never gone away overnight before, Rich. I’m really worried that he might do something stupid.”

“Stupid?” repeated Rich. “Like hurt himself, stupid? He wouldn’t do that, would he?”

“I don’t know, Rich. I really don’t know. I should have stayed awake. I shouldn’t have let him leave the room.”

“It’s not your fault, Buffy,” said Tara firmly. “He’s a grown man, not a child that you are responsible for.”

“But…”

“No, Buffy, Tee’s right. Don’t go blaming yourself for him taking off. He’ll be okay and he’ll be back tomorrow with his head a bit clearer. He loves you, Buffy – you’re his bloody world – he’d never leave you.”

“He’s terrified of hurting me - hurting all of us. I think that he just wants to be away from us so that he won’t succumb to the temptations that he’s starting to feel.” Buffy felt more tears run down her face as she spoke.

“Shh,” soothed Rich as he wrapped his arms around her. “He’ll be back, and maybe Tara’s colleagues will have some news for us.”

He looked at Tara over the top of Buffy’s head. Tara smiled at him. It amused her to hear her fellow witches referred to as colleagues, but that was what they were, she guessed.

“I’ll have a look at my e-mails.” She turned back to the computer. “Oh, sweet Goddess, they’ve found the vampire!”

“What?” asked Rich, letting go of Buffy and moving to look at the screen over Tara’s shoulder.

“Where is it?” asked Buffy, doing the same as Rich.

“It’s in Sunnydale. How odd is that?” said Tara.

“Sunnydale?” gasped Buffy. “Do you think that it knows Spike is from there?”

“It’d be a very strange coincidence if not,” replied Tara.

“Well, at least we know that Spike is safe from it since he’s over here,” said Rich.

“Hm,” said Buffy, not convinced. “I just wish that I knew where, exactly, that he is over here.”

“He’ll be okay, Buff, I’m sure of it,” said Rich, although inwardly worrying just as much as Buffy was.

Buffy took out her cell phone and tried to call Spike, but it was turned off. She toyed with the idea of sending a text and then decided against it. She’d rather talk to him.

000000000

As the day went on, Buffy felt like she was going insane. She picked up her cell at regular intervals, but there was never anything from Spike. Rich and Tara did their best to keep her spirits up but as time went on, they all got more worried.

Suddenly, Buffy’s cell phone beeped. A message. Buffy’s hands were shaking as she pushed the buttons to read the text.

GONE SCOTLAND – NEED SPACE – BACK TOMORROW. LOVE YOU X

“At least yer know where he is now,” said Rich after she’d read it out.

“He’s not in freaking Scotland,” snapped Buffy. “The stupid son of a bitch!”

“Wot?” Rich was astonished at her outburst.

“He’s not in Scotland,” repeated Buffy, a little more calmly.

Rich looked at Buffy and then glanced over to Tara, who shrugged.

“Um…not sure that I followed you around that corner, Buff. He sent you a text saying that he’s in Scotland. Why don’t you believe him?”

“He used capitals.”

“Capitals?” asked Tara, a puzzled frown on her face.

“Yes, he wrote it in capitals; he never does that since I told him that it was like shouting at someone,” explained Buffy.

Tara and Rich exchanged glances.

“Need a bit more than that to get wot yer mean,” replied Rich.

“Something is wrong. He isn’t himself if he is using capitals,” said Buffy impatiently.

“He must be feeling stressed, Buffy, that’s why he left,” said Tara.

Buffy shook her head. “I’m sure there’s more to it.” She slapped her forehead. “I’m an idiot! We all are!”

“Hey, speak for yourself!” protested Rich.

Buffy turned to Tara. “Is there any way that Spike could have seen the e-mail from Jessica? Does he know the password on your computer?”

“I left it on last night. I got a little…er…sidetracked.” Tara’s eyes widened. “Oh, Goddess, you’re right. I left it on the e-mail page because I was hoping it would come through before I went to bed.”

“Spike knows,” said Rich, suddenly understanding what Buffy was getting at. “He knows and – ”

“He’s going to find it!” finished Buffy.

“Shite! We’ve wasted all this time!” Rich took his cell phone out of his back pocket and dialled a number.

“Who are you calling?” asked Tara, putting a hand on his arm.

“I’m calling in a few favours. If he’s left the country, I’ll find out. Fuck! I should have done this earlier! I can’t believe that I’ve been so thick,” said Rich. “Oh, hello…”

The girls sat down on the couch and anxiously listened as Rich pulled a few strings to find out if Spike had left the country. Tara reached out and squeezed Buffy’s hand, who held on to it gratefully, drawing strength from her.

Several phone calls later and Rich hung up for the last time. He took a deep breath and faced the girls.

“He caught a flight to LAX in the early hours of the morning. He also booked a flight to Scotland as a red herring.”

Buffy, stood up. “I’ll kill him,” she announced. “When I find him, I swear I’ll kill him. What was he thinking?”

“I’m going. Rich, can you book me on a flight as soon as possible?”

“Book for all of us,” added Tara firmly.

Buffy hugged Tara. “Thank you so much for saying that. I really need your help.”

“We’ll find him and keep him safe, Buffy. Then we can concentrate on being able to do the ritual to put an end to all of this,” said Tara.

“Oh God, Tee, I bleedin’ well ‘ope so,” Rich said.

“Let’s get our bags and get to the airport,” said Buffy.

The girls hurried up the stairs to get ready, as Rich used his cell one more time to secure them seats on the first available flight.

Tbc

Chapter 30


Allegations


Spike groaned and rolled over in his sleep; the groan turned into a yelp as he fell off the narrow bench and hit the floor, face down, with a thud.


"Oh, bollocks.”


He put his hand to his head to try to stop the pounding behind his eyes. It failed. Blearily, he opened them and looked around.


“Where the hell am I?”


Spike pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, resting there for a moment before struggling back onto the bench. He felt terrible. He put his elbows on his knees and rested his head in his hands as he tried to recall what had happened.


“Oh, shite,” he muttered as he remembered that vodka was involved - a lot of it, judging by the way he felt.


His eyes flared amber and for a second his heightened senses picked up the faint aroma of vomit from his clothes. Spike sighed with relief as they changed back. He sat up straight and wriggled backwards until he could lean against the wall. Staring around the room, he took in the sickly pale green coloured walls and the toilet in one corner. The walls were simply painted brick and the room had no window. The door was solid metal and had a small hatch in it that was currently covered over.


“A cell. I’m in a sodding cell.”


He winced as he vaguely remembered some police officers.


“Shite!” he exclaimed as he recalled a punch was thrown. His stomach clenched and for a moment, he thought that he was going to be sick again. “Great, Spike. Way to go.”


He slid down the wall, pulling his legs up onto the bench, and went back to sleep.


0000000000


Angel had watched, from the shadows, in despair as Spike was bundled into the back of the patrol car. It was getting close to dawn and he needed to find somewhere to hide. Afraid that the rest of Spike’s property was as well alarmed as the house, he decided against trying to get into the garage or the outbuilding that he’d spotted near the pool.


“Near the pool!” Angel ground his teeth together. “The sooner that I can get out of this damn weird dimension the better.”


He didn’t really have any option other than to go back to the old Crawford mansion and wait out the day there.


As soon as dusk fell again, he made his way through town to the police station. Angel sincerely hoped that Spike hadn’t been released yet as he wasn’t convinced that Spike would talk to him if he got back to his home. There had obviously been something between his parallel Angel and this Spike.


“Not really so surprising, come to think of it,” admitted Angel with a grin.


Angel stopped short as he turned the corner near the station house. There was a crowd of people gathered. To his amazement he could see a couple of TV cameras there. A man walked out of the crowd and down the street towards Angel.


“Hey, buddy, what’s going on?” asked Angel.


“Oh, man! Where have you been?” The man thrust a newspaper into Angel’s hands. “Spike Norman’s the hot news of the day. Caught on camera in very compromising circumstances – twice, and now he’s been arrested. We’re thinking another George Michael-style lewd incident rap.”


“What?” Angel was a little embarrassed at how shrill his voice sounded.


The man thrust a newspaper into Angel’s hands. “See for yourself.” Then he hurried away to a van parked across the street.


Angel stepped back around the corner, out of sight of the crowd of people. He leant against the wall and unfolded the paper.


Spike Norman - Clean Cut Image A Sham!


Is the sky about to fall on one of rock’s best loved singers?
Inside are the photographs that have torn apart rock’s golden couple. Rumours abounded when his partner of nine years, Buffy Summers, 26, didn’t accompany The Dingoes on their recently completed UK tour. Rich Bayliss, The Dingoes’ manager and close personal friend of the pair, was quoted as saying that Buffy had stayed behind to care for her mother. But in light of these photographs, we’re not so sure!


Below this was a large photograph of Spike and Buffy, arms around each other, laughing to the camera. Angel gasped when he saw it. He touched the picture.


“It’s Buffy,” he whispered.


Somehow, although Spike looked like Spike, he had hoped that Buffy wouldn’t look exactly like his version. He squeezed his eyes shut as he thought of her left behind, not knowing where he’d gone or if he were dust.


Beneath this happy times photograph were two more; one of a strained looking Buffy, scowling and running her hand through her hair at London Heathrow Airport and the other of Spike sitting, head in hands, on a swing in a park. With the footnote: Not such a happy reunion…


Angel turned the page to find the rest of the story.


“Holy crap!” Angel’s voice echoed down the street and he looked around anxiously, but it seemed that everyone in the area was congregating at the police station’s front door.


The first photograph was the unmistakeable figure of Spike kissing another man near a taxi cab in London. It was beneath a headline proclaiming.


Once could be a mistake…


The next photograph made Angel take an entirely unnecessary sharp intake of breath.


But twice looks like a habit!


At first glance, Angel thought it was Spike having sex with a man up against a wall in a dimly lit backstreet. He felt irrationally furious that the little creep was cheating on Buffy like that. Then he looked more closely at it.


“Jesus!”


He was the man with Spike. He remembered holding Spike up as he vomited! The photograph looked pretty damn convincing though. Another photograph showed the two of them walking together. Angel’s face was turned to Spike and so couldn’t be seen clearly, but Spike was grinning broadly and looking up at him.


“Shit, Spike. Why is every thing always so complicated when you’re involved?”


The paper had gone to town with the article. A photograph of Spike lounging on a sofa in a TV studio was headed with a quote from the interview.


“Well, Nathalie. What can I say? Sometimes it’s nice to be out and about without the ‘little woman’ tagging along.”


Seems like Spike has been making the most of his time away from Buffy. The article continued. Only days after being joined by Buffy in London, Spike caught a flight back to L.A. and was in the arms of this mystery man, enjoying a little ‘quality time’ outside Willy’s, the most popular gay bar in town. According to the barman, Spike had been drinking for several hours before leaving the bar. A man, claiming to be an old friend, followed him out and as you can see from our exclusive photographs, they soon got reacquainted!


“Oh great, Spike. Just great,” muttered Angel as he folded the paper up and stuck it in his back pocket.


He walked back to the corner and glanced up at the crowd. Would any of them recognise him as the man in the photographs if walked into the police station? Angel decided to risk it. He had to try to make contact with Spike. He clenched his fists at the thought of the little idiot hurting Buffy by fooling around with that guy in London. Angel didn’t consider that the photograph, like his, might be innocent. He gave a deep sigh and walked swiftly to the entrance of the station house. No one paid him any attention as he squeezed through and up the steps. He walked to the desk sergeant and waited politely until the man actually bothered to acknowledge his presence. Angel could see that he was reading the same article that he just had.


“May I help you, sir?” he asked eventually, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from the story.


“Is Spike Norman still here?”


The desk sergeant’s eyes narrowed. “Nice try, buddy. We have no comment to make to the press.”


“I’m not press. I’m a friend,” replied Angel.


“Yeah, right. I repeat, nice try.”


“Oh, for God’s sake,” snapped Angel. “Can you at least get a message to him? Tell him that Angel will be waiting for him when he is released.”


“Whatever I say to that comment will let you know whether Spike Norman is or isn’t here. So once more I have to say – no comment.”


How Angel didn’t vamp up, he’ll never know. He wanted to rip the man’s head off his shoulders. He knew Spike was still there. He could smell him.


“Look, I know that he’s still here because he would be with me if he wasn’t.” Angel gritted his teeth and let his eyes fall on the newspaper. The sergeant followed his gaze and his eyes widened as he realised who was standing in front of him. “Just pass on the message. I’ll wait out in the back, okay?”


“O…okay.” The officer couldn’t wait to tell his wife that he had spoken to Spike Norman’s lover. He didn’t think that his daughter would appreciate it. She’d been crying ever since she’d seen the report. Like thousands of others, she’d dreamed of luring him away from Buffy one day…


Angel turned on his heel and pushed his way through the crowd as he left the building. He walked quickly to the street corner and ducked around it, leaning on the wall.


“I’ll kill him. I swear I’ll kill him when I get my hands on him.”


Angel hadn’t appreciated the speculative luck his ruse had earned him. He walked round until he found the rear entrance to the station. There was a crowd there, too. Whichever way the cops took Spike, he was going to have to get through a mob of reporters. He decided that the police would most likely take him home in a patrol car unless Spike called a friend. He needed a car to be able to follow wherever he was taken.


He jogged down the street until he found a car parked in a driveway. Several newspapers were sticking out of the tube near the mail box. The occupants of the house must be away. Angel broke the side window of the car, pleased that it was too old to be alarmed and pulled up the lock on the door before getting behind the wheel. He deftly hot wired the vehicle, shifted it in to gear and reversed out on to the road. He drove it to the back entrance of the station house and resigned himself to wait. He hoped that they wouldn’t wait until daybreak to release him. He didn’t think that Spike would talk to him again if he was safe in his own house.


00000000000


Spike pushed himself up to a sitting position as he heard the metal cover to the small opening in the door slide back.


“Woke up now have you, lover boy?” sneered the officer as he grinned at Spike.


Spike just glared at him. “You just gonna look at me, or are you here for a reason?” His hangover made him surly.


He was rewarded with a scowl and the cover being slammed back over the hatch. He tensed as he expected the door to be opened but it wasn’t.


“Sodding sightseer then,” moaned Spike. He glanced at his hands. They were shaking. He couldn’t believe that he’d lost it and drunk so much. “Weak git.” He craved another drink. He thought of Buffy and had to squeeze his eyes shut to prevent tears from falling. He’d bitten her.


“Oh, God. I bit her. I hurt her.”


He couldn’t take it. The depressive effects of the alcohol helped him to decide that as soon as he got out of this place that he would kill himself. It was the only solution that he could see. He smiled and nodded.


“That’s that, then. Problem solved.”


Buffy would be rich. She was still young and could find love with someone who wasn’t going to try to bleed her dry.


He dozed again until the door finally opened and a tall serious looking officer in casual clothes walked in. He had his badge hooked onto the belt of his jeans.


“Hello, Spike. How are you feeling now?”


Spike looked at him sullenly. Only the thought that he wouldn’t be able to go through with his plan unless he got out of there enabled him to be civil.


“Been better. Who are you and can I get out of here yet?” He stared at the man until, to his horror, he felt his eyes begin to change. He dropped eye contact immediately and closed them until he knew that they were blue once more.


“I’m Detective Roberts. We have met before. Mind you, you were James Norman then. I think you and I need to have a little talk before we release you.”


Spike glanced back at the officer and groaned inwardly. He was the officer who had dealt with him when he’d had his problems with the police when he was seventeen.


“Um…all right.” Spike stood up. He swayed a little but stayed upright. He looked down at his feet. “Do I get my boots back yet?”


Detective Roberts smiled. “In a little while. Come on, let’s go to the interview room.”


Spike followed Roberts along the corridor and into a room furnished only with a battered looking table and four chairs. Roberts gestured for Spike to sit and, judging by the way he collapsed onto the chair, it wasn’t a moment too soon. Spike’s face was very pale.



Roberts observed Spike curiously. He’d followed his rise to fame with interest after encountering him as a juvenile. Like countless others he had thought that the man was as clean living and likeable as the press would have you believe. But it seems like it was all just an elaborately woven public persona. He obviously hadn’t kicked the drinking and now had stooped to sexual acts in dark streets with someone he barely knew by all accounts. Roberts shook his head sadly. Some people could have their dreams come true and yet still not be happy and make as mess of their personal lives.


“What?” asked Spike as he saw Roberts shake his head. He wished that he didn’t feel like a kid again. His heart was pounding, keeping time with the pounding of his head.


“I was just thinking that it is a shame when successful people make such a mess of their lives.”


“You what?” Spike couldn’t believe his ears. How dare this man sit in judgement on him? “I had a bit too much to drink and now I’m making a mess of my life! You don’t even know me.”


“I know that you threw a couple of punches at one of my officers,” countered Roberts.


“Shit. Look, I’m sorry about that. I was…er…well…a bit confused, I reckon. I thought he was someone else.”


“An angel perhaps or a vampire?” asked Roberts with a grin, chuckling a little at Spike’s expression.


Spike’s mind was racing, but he had no clue as to what to say to that, so he stayed quiet and fiddled nervously with his hands.


“You’ll be happy to know that the officer is happy not to press charges.”


“Thanks,” mumbled Spike, not looking up.


“I would like to hear your side of the story of what went on outside of Willy’s Bar though.”


Spike’s head snapped up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”


Roberts sighed and pulled a newspaper out of his back pocket and slapped it down on the table between them. “Does this jog your memory?”


Spike glanced up at him before pulling the newspaper towards him. Roberts saw him visibly flinch as he saw the headlines. He quickly skimmed over the text and took in the numerous photographs.


“Oh, bollocks,” he groaned, burying his head in his hands.


“Hmm.” Roberts wasn’t impressed. “Do you not think that private life should be just that – private?”


“Oh, don’t get all bleeding righteous,” snapped Spike, willing his eyes to remain blue. “My life is private.” He tapped his fingers against the newspaper. “This isn’t true.”


Roberts leaned back in his chair and gave Spike his best ‘heard it all before look’. Spike closed his eyes as his flaring temper made them change.


“You’re sodding naïve if you believe everything that you read in the papers,” snarled Spike, opening his eyes and staring at the officer.


“The camera never lies,” said Roberts with a grin.


Spike realised that by getting angry he was playing right into Roberts’ hands. “Well, it can give a snapshot of a moment that can be completely misconstrued.” He tapped the photograph of him with Chris. “That is me having a bleeding kiss slapped on me by an old tart of a friend as I helped him into his cab. He nearly fell off his sodding stilettos.”


Roberts had to hide a smile behind his hand. Spike’s outraged face told him that the rock star was telling the truth. “What about this?” Roberts pointed to the photo of him bent over against the wall. “If you’re doing what it looks like you’re doing then you could well be facing charges. Are you sure that you don’t want to have a lawyer present?”


“For Christ’s sake,” yelled Spike, looking away from Roberts as his eyes blazed yellow. “I was tossing my bleeding cookies, not shagging! Go send your boys down to check – I left several nice little piles of vomit along there. Gonna analyze it?”


Roberts actually laughed out loud - he couldn’t help it. Spike gazed at him in amazement. “Oh, you’re real professional, aren’t you? Laughing at someone under arrest. Just bleeding great!”


“You’re not under arrest. The officer dropped the charges, remember?” replied Roberts.


“So, why, exactly, am I still here?” sighed Spike.


“I needed to talk to you about the allegations brought to our attention of lewd behaviour.”


“Allegations brought to your attention by a bloody paper!” Spike stood up quickly and then wished that he hadn’t. He pressed his left hand to his forehead. He turned to face Roberts, leaned down and picked up the newspaper. He folded it until the photograph of him bent over with Angel behind him was the only one that could be seen. “Seeing as I’m not actually gay, I might be wrong but if someone is taking it up the arse wouldn’t it be easier with the jeans pulled down?” He tossed the paper at Roberts who merely smiled at him. “You’d seen that too, hadn’t you? You’re just having a bit of fun at my expense. Well, sod you! Either arrest me or I’m out of here. That’s a bleeding pack of lies and you know it.”


Spike walked to the door, and Roberts didn’t reply until Spike’s fingers touched the handle.


“Angel said that he’ll be waiting for you,” said Roberts quietly.


Spike froze. Shit. He’d hoped that the whole ‘meeting up with Angel’ thing had been alcohol induced delusion. He’d tried to convince himself that the man in the photos was just somebody who’d been in the bar.


“A word of advice, son,” said Roberts to Spike’s stiff back. “Tell your girlfriend the truth, if she hasn’t already seen this crap.”


Spike closed his eyes. Buffy. Soon she’d be free of all the trouble he caused her. “I’m not sodding gay,” he muttered. “I need my boots and my coat.” He opened the door and walked out.


Roberts followed him and oversaw him being formally released. He told Spike that he would get a patrol car to take him home. Spike was silent throughout. He put his boots on and his beloved duster; he merely nodded to acknowledge the ride home. Roberts almost stopped Spike as he walked away. A sudden feeling that something was badly wrong with the rock star hit him. But he let him go. He had no reason not to.


Tbc

Chapter 31

Going Home

Spike put on his duster, pleased to cover up the Union Jack t-shirt that he was wearing. Once his boots were on his feet, he followed a police officer to a patrol car in the yard at the rear of the station. He put his hands in his pockets to hide the fact that they were shaking slightly as the level of alcohol in his bloodstream continued to drop. He gritted his teeth against the urge to find more liquor as soon as possible. Then he remembered his decision and smiled grimly as he considered how best to do it.

“You might want to pull that coat over your head as we drive out of the yard,” said the officer.

“Huh?” Spike glanced around, surprised that they were standing next to the car.

“It’s a bit of a zoo out there.”

“A zoo?” repeated Spike stupidly.

The officer sighed. “God, this one’s real bright, isn’t he?” “Reporters,” he explained. “Lot’s of them.”

“Oh,” replied Spike weakly.

The officer opened the door of the vehicle and Spike got in. He didn’t see the point of covering his face. He didn’t have anything to hide – well not about being gay anyway. The duster was just as much a trademark of him as his hair. He kept his eyes downcast as the car exited the yard. Spike’s eyes changed as anger flared when he glimpsed the number of cameras and reporters.

“Bleeding vultures.”

He was tempted to glare at them with his amber eyes – give them some real news, but wisely didn’t.

The officer stomped his foot on the gas and they sped away.

Angel steered his stolen car away from the curb and followed the car, being careful not to get too close. The last thing that he needed was the cop noticing that he was being tailed. He cursed loudly as he turned in to the road leading to Spike’s property. He kicked himself for the not thinking that reporters would be camped out here, too. His plan of overtaking the patrol car and waiting at the gates, so that he could talk to Spike was useless now. He’d be lost in the crowd.

He pulled over to the side of the road and abandoned the car. A quick glance around told him that no one was looking in his direction – all focus was on the patrol car. So he took a few steps back and then ran forwards and leapt over the seven foot high perimeter fence. He ran towards the house.

The officer drove up to the gates, parting the sea of photographers all clicking away. Spike let out a low growl. He was horrified to discover that he wanted to go out and tear in to them. He shuddered. He really was a beast; a demon. He’d never sought a fight in his life – apart from once with Angel in high school – but now, he could barely sit still with the urge to wreak havoc amongst them. His eyes blazed yellow; he closed them against the glare of the flash from the many cameras.

“Um, you’ll have to key in the numbers to get the gates to open. I don’t have the remote control with me,” muttered Spike, telling him what the numbers were. The sooner he was back in his own house the better.

The officer placed the car as close to the keypad as he could before rolling down the window. “You’ll have to change it as soon as possible,” advised the officer.

“Yeah.”

The officer called out to the gathered paparazzi, “Anyone attempting to follow through the gates will be arrested for trespassing.”

A chorus of groans met his words, but they all stayed on the outside of the gate as they drove through.

“Here you are, sir,” said the officer politely as he let Spike out of the rear of the car. His expression wasn’t as polite as his words – he looked at Spike with disgust. “The man has it all. Gorgeous girlfriend, big house, rich, and yet he fools around with men when his girl’s not around, totally wasted too.”

Spike just mumbled his thanks and went to the front door. The bloodlust that he’d felt for the reporters had faded and he simply felt exhausted and crushed by the weight of what was happening to him.

Angel groaned as he saw the car disappearing down the driveway and Spike go inside the house. He’d miscalculated just how freaking extensive the grounds were, and hadn’t got to the doorway in time.

000000000

Buffy was grateful for Rich’s organisational skills as he arranged for their luggage to be collected and sent on to Buffy and Spike’s house and for a car to take them all there as soon as they cleared customs. What he couldn’t have anticipated or do anything about was the swarm of press that surrounded them as soon as they were in a public part of the airport.

They stared at each other in horror. They knew! The press knew about Spike! Rich put an arm around each of the girls and tried to bustle them through.

“Buffy, can we hear your side?” yelled one reporter thrusting a microphone near her face.

Rich glared at him and ground out a curt, “No comment.”

“How do you feel, seeing photographs like this splashed all over the papers?” said another pushing a folded newspaper in to her hands.

“Oh Christ, they’ve got pictures of his amber eyes. He’ll never cope with this.” Buffy thought desperately.

She hardly dared to look at the paper, when she did glance at it she stopped short. Rich anxiously looked at her; her expression was unreadable.

“Oh, God, Buffy. Are they –?”

“No,” whispered Buffy and then gave the paparazzi exactly what they wanted by bursting in to uncontrollable sobs.

Rich snatched the paper from her hands and then understood. Buffy was crying with relief as the photograph showed Spike being kissed by Chris. Thank God for small mercies. Rich had to stifle a smile at the thought that the world now believing that Spike was gay and cheating on Buffy was a relief compared to what it could have known. They all had presumed that the breaking news would be the fact that Spike was turning in to a vampire!

Wordlessly, he passed the paper to Tara, whose eyes widened when she saw the photograph. She quickly moved around Rich to comfort Buffy. At that point the airport security arrived and ordered the press to back off.

“About bleedin’ time,” grumbled Rich as they made their way to the waiting limousine.

Once inside the vehicle, all three sat together, Rich in the middle and the girls on either side as they poured over the article.

“I’ll sue the bastards,” snarled Rich. “That quote is taken right out of context and everyone in the business knows what Chris is like – the old slag. The whole report is a joke.”

“Who’s that?” asked Tara, pointing to the photos of Spike and Angel.

“I have no idea, have you, Buffy?”

Buffy stared at the picture. There was something vaguely familiar about the man but his face was never shown. She shook her head. “I don’t know either.”

00000000000

Spike slammed the door and leaned back on it.

“Fuck, what a mess.”

He covered his face with his hands and took a deep, shuddering breath. He felt his eyes change to amber and found that he no longer cared. Idly, he wondered what colour his eyes would be when he was dead. Or would there not be a body left behind at all? Would he disappear in to dust like Drusilla had? He took his hands away from his face and strode purposefully in to the kitchen.

He opened the drawer containing the cutlery and after a moment’s consideration, he picked up a short bladed knife. It was the sharpest that they had in the house. Spike smiled sadly and a tear rolled from an eye as it faded back to blue. He remembered how Buffy had cursed loudly last Christmas when she’d cut her finger with it whilst preparing vegetables for the dinner. Her mother had admonished her for using such language and then turned on him and Rupert as they had failed to hide their chuckles at Joyce’s outrage.

Where should he do it? The flooring in the kitchen would be the easiest to clean afterwards, but he didn’t think that he could do it sitting on one of the hard chairs around the table.

He walked to the refrigerator and took out a can of beer, regretting that they never had stronger alcohol in the house. He popped it open and took several long swallows, belched, wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and walked in to the lounge room. Okay, so it would be harder to clean up in here but it’s not like Buffy couldn’t afford to throw it out and replace it, was it?

He drained the beer and sank down in to his favourite sofa. He put the empty can on the floor. Spike held the knife in his left hand and turned his right wrist over. Where to cut? He needed to get this right. Couldn’t mess this up like he had everything else. He laid the blade against his wrist. He’d cut it there first and then in the crook of his elbow too, he’d had blood taken from there in the past.

Angel peered through the window and watched Spike walk out of the kitchen swigging the beer and carrying the knife. Angel followed his movements to the lounge and watched curiously as Spike sat down. Angel had a clear view of Spike as the sofa that he sat on was side ways on to the window. It suddenly dawned on him what Spike intended to do.

“The young fool!”

Angel rammed his right fist in to the window pane, putting all his vampiric strength behind it. He winced as it felt as if he’d hit a brick wall thanks to the invisible barrier protecting the house, but the glass shattered.

Spike jumped as he heard the crash and the blade dug a deep furrow across his wrist, blood flowed freely from the wound. He stared at the window.

“Look what you made me do!” he yelled.

A burst of hysterical laughter escaped his lips. Like it mattered! “Need to finish off properly.” He positioned the blade again, his left hand shaking.

“Spike! Don’t be a freaking idiot!” shouted Angel.

“Fuck off,” said Spike not looking at him, his eyes on the knife.

Angel glanced around frantically, his eyes lit on a small plastic trowel, forgotten by the gardener. He picked it up and threw it at Spike. It was a great shot, connecting with Spike’s temple. With a howl of pain and surprise, Spike dropped the knife, stood up and turned to glower at Angel.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Piss off out of here and leave me alone.”

“Oh, yeah. Leave you alone so that you can kill yourself. Now why should I do that Mr. Got-It-All Famous Rock Star. Especially since we’re apparently lovers!”

“I’ll call the cops. You’ll be back in jail before you know it.”

“Do it,” urged Angel.

It took quite a while to bleed out from a slashed wrist. Spike would be saved even if he chopped at his wrist again. Spike wavered, obviously thinking the same thing as Angel; he couldn’t do what he had to do if the place was swarming with cops. For the first time since he discovered that it could happen, he consciously willed his eyes to change to yellow.

“Just leave me, the hell alone,” he snarled., expecting Angel to back off.

“Anything you can do, I can do better,” sang Angel, changing his face to show his demon. He added a growl for good measure, baring his fangs.

Spike recoiled a few steps, tripped over his own feet and landed with a thud on his ass.

“Wh…Wh…?”

“Invite me in, Spike. I can either rip your throat out and finish you off much quicker, or we can talk. Your call.”

“Invite?”

“For Christ’s sake, Spike. Repeat after me – Angel, please come in. I can’t come in unless you ask me to.”

Spike’s eyes changed back to blue as he spoke. “A…Angel, please come in.”

Angel, still in his game face, grinned and put his hand through the broken window, reaching for the frame’s handle. He opened it and climbed in to the lounge. Spike stood, wide eyed and trembling as Angel approached.

“You’ve ruined that sofa and the carpet; blood’s a bitch to get out,” said Angel conversationally. “The bathtub is the traditional place for slashing your wrists. Was it too much of a cliché for you?”

Spike was dumbstruck as Angel grabbed his right wrist and brought it up to his lips. He tried to pull it away as he felt Angel’s cold tongue lick the wound. When Angel let him go, the bleeding had stopped.

“I think that we need to talk, don’t you?” asked Angel. “Or would you rather I finished what you started?”

Tbc

Chapter Thirty-Two

Home Truths

Buffy dug in her purse and pulled out the remote controller and pressed the button as the car approached the gates to her home. The car swept through them, and the swarm of reporters stuck their cameras to the windows, clicking frantically whilst trying not to end up beneath the car’s wheels. Thankfully, the windows were darkened and they would be lucky to get even a silhouette.

“Do they ever take a bleeding lunchbreak?” snarled Rich when he saw all the press.

Rich, Tara and Buffy got out as quickly as they could and walked briskly to the door as the car drove away. Buffy opened the door and frowned as the alarm didn’t buzz, indicating that it wasn’t currently on.

“Spike!” yelled Buffy, dropping her purse on the table in the hall.

She ran in to the lounge room, fully expecting to see him there. She let out a shriek that had Rich and Tara race in after her. All three stood and stared at the scene before them. One of the sofas was upturned and had what looked like spots of blood on it. A window was open and swaying in the breeze, the glass in it was broken.

“Oh, God, Spike!” Buffy’s feet finally consented to move further in to the room and she walked behind the upside down sofa. She held her breath, terrified that she would find Spike’s body there.

Rich felt sick as Buffy walked to the sofa. He couldn’t do it again. He couldn’t lose another friend. He still missed James and had gotten so close to Spike since he had died. He sagged against Tara’s shoulder when he could tell from Buffy’s face that Spike wasn’t there.

“There’s blood all over the carpet,” said Buffy weakly.

Rich’s knees gave way and despite Tara’s efforts, he sank to the floor, sobbing.

“Rich, baby, shh, it’s probably not as bad as it looks,” soothed Tara, hugging him to her chest as she knelt beside him.

Rich clung to her like a small child would. “I…I didn’t keep him s…safe.”

“Hey, you have done all you could. This is not your fault,” said Tara, she glanced up at Buffy. Rich was always so together, so in control, she didn’t quite know what to say.

“I sh…should h…have known t…that he’d r…run. Sh—”

“That’s enough, Rich,” said Buffy sharply. “None of this is your fault. Okay, so we should have anticipated that he’d run, but ultimately he is a grown man and has to take responsibility for his actions.”

Rich was so shocked by Buffy’s tone that he stopped crying and looked up at her in astonishment, wiping his eyes on his sleeve and sniffing.

“But—”

“No, Rich. I’m not having you or anyone else thinking that they are to blame. God knows, all the way here I’ve blamed myself. But he is the one who ran, who ended up having those freaking photos taken in that back street. He must have been wasted by then. He’s run away to the bottom of a bottle and not just to get away from us.” Buffy was furious.

Tara and Rich got up from the floor.

“Buffy, are you okay?” asked Tara timidly.

“What?” Buffy took a deep breath. “Sorry, Tara. No I’m not. I’m worried half to death but also so angry with him. What the hell has happened here? Where do we look next? Is he all right or has the change taken over him completely?” Her face crumpled and she began to cry.

Both Rich and Tara put their arms around her and they hugged each other tightly. Tears were streaming down Rich’s face once more. Tara was the only one still dry eyed, and the reason for this was that she was thinking hard. She was pretty sure that she knew a spell that would lead them to Spike, if the blood was his. If it wasn’t, then it would still lead them to someone who probably had some answers to their questions.

Rich quit the group hug first and looked a little embarrassed at breaking down. The girls pretended that they hadn’t noticed that he had, and he pulled his shreds of English dignity together gratefully. They went out of the lounge and in to the kitchen.

“So what do we do now?” asked Buffy.

“Um, I think that I have something that we can do,” replied Tara. “It just depends on what herbs you have in stock.”

“Herbs?” Rich snorted, recovering his sense of humour. “This is Buffy and Spike we’re talking about. They don’t use ingredients – just TV dinners.”

“Hey!” protested Buffy. “I’ve got herbs. I’m all over having herbs!”

“Can you show me, please?” said Tara with a smile.

Buffy led her to a cupboard in the kitchen where a large number of dried herbs and spices in small glass jars where stored. “The cook keeps a good stock for when she’s here,” she explained.

Tara searched through them and smiled broadly when she found the ones that she needed. There was also a marble pestle and mortar in the cupboard and she took it out and placed it on the counter, it would be ideal for mixing the ingredients.

As she put the supplies on the counter next to the pestle and mortar, she became aware of Rich watching her very intently. She dipped her head and silently cursed. This would be where he ended the relationship. She’d never been with a man who had been able to deal with her casting spells – oh, the quirky stuff she sold on the Internet was okay but to actually do things… She shook her head. It was no good, Spike needed her help, and if Rich dumped her afterwards well…it just wasn’t meant to be after all.

“Wait here,” she said firmly.

She needed to collect some of the blood and didn’t want the others to get upset at the sight of it again. She asked Buffy for a spoon and thus armed she went back to the lounge. She knelt beside the blood stain on the carpet and closed her eyes, silently seeking help from the Goddess in the casting of the spell. She scraped the spoon against the stain and several flakes of dried blood were scooped up. She nodded. That would be ample.

Buffy and Rich both stared wide-eyed at her as she returned to the kitchen. She dropped the blood into the mortar and mixed it with the other ingredients with the pestle.

“Like a cauldron?” said Rich nervously, regretting his words as he got a sharp look from both Tara and Buffy.

“Essentially, yes,” replied Tara coolly. “I need a map of Sunnydale. Have you got one?”

“I think we have a street map somewhere,” replied Buffy. “But why just Sunnydale? How do you know that he will be here?”

“I just got a very powerful sense of closeness when I collected the…er…blood,” said Tara. “We’ll go nationwide if this doesn’t work.”

“Oh,” said Buffy quietly, and ran to the study to get the map.

Tara risked a glance at Rich. He was staring at her but looked away as she met his eye. “I’m so dumped.” She refocused her energy, pushing away the pain at the thought of not being with Rich. She took the map from Buffy and spread it out on the counter.

“Now, I need you both to stay silent. If you don’t think you can be, can you please leave?”

“We’ll be quiet,” said Rich, taking Buffy’s hand in his. Buffy looked at him curiously - his hand was shaking.

Tara added a few drops of water to act as the catalyst and chanted the spell. There was a puff of smoke and a flurry of yellow sparks rose from the mortar and swirled over the street map. They slowly settled on the surface and one by one were extinguished; all apart from one which continued to glow brightly.

The three of them leaned over the map to see where the spark was indicating. It was out of town, right on the edge of the map.

“It’s the old Crawford mansion,” said Buffy. “It’s not much more than a ruin.”

“Well, that is where he is, or rather where the person whose blood it is will be,” said Tara. “Shall we go then?” she added as Buffy and Rich stood still staring at the spark. As she glanced back at it, it went out.

“What does that mean?” gasped Buffy. “Is he dead?”

Tara smiled kindly. “No, it just means that the spell is over. We know where to go and its job is done.”

“Oh, thank God,” said Buffy with a nervous laugh. “Let’s go then shall we?” She picked up the keys to the SUV and walked towards the garage.

Tara went to follow but stopped when Rich spoke her name.

“Tara,” he said seriously.

His face was grave when she turned to look at him. “Look, when this is over…um…”

Tara drew herself up. “I know, it’s not working out…let’s split up,” she said a little bitterly.

“What?” Rich was horrified. “Yer don’t think that it’s working out? Yer want to split up?” His voice wavered.

Tara stared at him. “No, I don’t want to split up but I thought that y—”

“Tara, will you marry me?” blurted Rich.

“Wh…what?”

Rich went to her and took her hand in his. “Um…I had this all planned to do it properly. Soft lights, romantic music, amazing food – not cooked by me – me on bended knee.” He dropped to his left knee. “I can still do that part, I reckon. I know it’s not appropriate and I don’t expect yer to give me your answer now, but when yer were doing that spell, you looked so bleeding beautiful and I can’t believe that you’d like a stupid English sod like me and –”

Tara cut off Rich’s babbling by leaning down and kissing him soundly on the mouth. He was breathless when they parted. She stared at him. God, he felt that she could see his very soul when she looked at him like that. She let her lips brush his ear.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Really?” yelled Rich, leaping up and crushing her to his chest and swinging her around so that her feet were off the floor. “Oh, God, Tee. I love you so much!”

“Are you guys coming?” shouted Buffy from the garage.

“Um, yeah! We’re coming,” called Rich.

He put Tara back on her feet, grasped her hand tightly and they ran to the garage together.

“No way, Buffy,” said Rich when he saw Buffy behind the wheel. “I’ve not got a death wish. I’ll drive. Move over.”

Buffy grinned at him. “Okay, I’ll let you this time.”

She climbed over to the passenger seat and Tara got in the back. Rich caught Tara’s eye in the mirror and winked. He felt his heart would burst when she blew him a kiss.

“So when’s the wedding?” asked Buffy, laughing at their startled looks. “Aw, come on! Did you really think that I couldn’t hear this idiot babbling on?”

Rich looked at Buffy seriously. “I didn’t mean to ask today. Not really appropriate with what else is going on.”

“Don’t be silly. It’s great! I’m delighted for you both. Now let’s go and find that stupid man of mine.”

“Gotcha,” said Rich, throwing the vehicle in to drive and speeding out of the garage and down the driveway.

0000000000

Spike groaned and shifted position. God, his head hurt. He brought his left hand up to his forehead. He heard a noise but was too bleary to know what it was. It wasn’t until he brought his right hand up too that it registered. It sounded like – his eyes flew open – like the rattle of chains! He sat up abruptly, making his head swim a little.

“What the hell…?”

He groaned again as he remembered Angel coming in to the house. How had his old high school nemesis come to be a bleeding vampire? Had that crazy bitch, Drusilla, bitten him first? Tara said that there were no vampires in this dimension, but she’d been wrong. He stared at the chains on his wrists; they went through a ring on the wall. He gave a half-hearted tug at them but knew that they wouldn’t give. Angel wouldn’t have used them if they would. He closed his eyes as he remembered what had happened after Angel had offered to kill him or talk to him…

Spike just stared at Angel for a moment and then took a swift step towards him and punched him with all his might with his left hand. He hadn’t been able to believe his eyes as Angel flew backwards across the room as if he were in a TV show and on a wire. He looked at his fist and shook it – it didn’t even hurt. He glanced up in time to see Angel’s fist heading his way, he ducked but couldn’t get out of the way of the blow completely. It took him on his shoulder and sent him reeling backwards on to the sofa, the force tipping it up. He crawled out from under it and felt Angel grab the neck of his t-shirt. He struggled and was pleased when the cheaply made shirt tore, and Angel lost his grip.

“Just listen to me for a minute, you moron!” yelled Angel as Spike wriggled free.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” retorted Spike. “I don’t know how the hell you’re a vampire. They’re not supposed to exist in this dimension. When did it happen? You were out in the light in school. Shit, were you turned when you were in prison?”

Spike threw a punch that Angel easily dodged. “I was never in high school with you, for Christ’s sake! Can’t you work it out?” shouted Angel. “What the hell Buffy sees in you, I’ll never know!”

“Don’t you even say her name, you bastard,” said Spike, eyes blazing.

Angel grinned at him, an unnerving sight with a mouthful of fangs. “She’s mine. Has been for years.” He deliberately goaded Spike.

“No!” howled Spike, lashing out with a foot and kicking Angel in to the air.

Angel grunted when he landed some eight feet away. “Think about it Spike. You’ve obviously learned a little about dimensions,” he said as he got to his feet. “Has it even crossed your stupid, tiny brain, that I might not be of this dimension? That I might have gotten sucked in to this bizarre world when Drusilla died?” He knew his childe must be dead. The connection was gone.

Spike stood still, panting hard. “Fuck! You’re the sodding vampire that the coven told us about!” Spike flew at him, fists flying, irrationally angry at finally meeting the vampire that he’d come to America to find.

“Oh, for God’s sake! You really are just like him aren’t you?” said Angel as Spike ran at him. “You never think things through – just freaking overreact.”

Angel met Spike’s attack with a well placed punch and the vampire-to-be dropped like a stone.

“Always was the best way to shut you up,” said Angel with a grin as he let his features fade back to human and picked Spike’s limp body up and over his shoulder.

He had a feeling that to get this little hot-head to listen to him properly that he might have to be restrained somehow. Unless this Spike and Buffy were kinky and had hand-cuffs in the bedroom – he shuddered at the thought – then the best place to take him was back to the old mansion. He knew that there were still chains there that should do the job. He glanced at the lightening sky; there was enough time to get there before dawn.

“Time to get some answers, Spikey-boy. Need to find out a few home truths.”

Tbc…

Chapter Thirty-Three.

All Together Now

Spike opened his eyes and looked around himself properly. He didn’t have a clue as to where he was, but it looked like the place was falling down. His heart clenched – was he even still in the same dimension? What if this version of Angel had taken him back to where he came from?

“Oh, Christ!”

He took a deep breath, willing himself not to sob. How much more was he expected to bloody take? He touched the shackle on his right wrist and moved it so that he could see the mark where he had cut it. He fervently wished that he had cut deeper and that sodding Angel hadn’t been around. It’d be over by now. He’d be at peace. He wondered if he’d get to see his mom again, or James? Death wouldn’t be so bad if he could.

He struggled to his feet as he heard footsteps approaching. The chains held his hands down by his sides; they were only just long enough to let him stand. His heart was racing. What was going to happen next?

Angel walked in to view. “Aha, sleeping beauty awakes,” sneered Angel. “Sleep well did you?”

“How long…?”

“How long have you been out of it? Well I got you back here before I could have spontaneously combusted and now it’s well past noon, so let’s just say quite a long time shall we? Thought that you’d be able to take a punch better than that; very disappointing.”

“If it’s that much of a disappointment to you, how come you feel threatened enough to have to bleeding chain me up?” yelled Spike, rattling the chains at him.

“That’s just because I wanted to make sure that you listened to me before you tried to do something stupid – again!”

“So what have you got planned then?” said Spike with a bravado he didn’t really feel. “Where have you brought me?”

“Well, I need to get back to my world – gotta tell you – a dimension that has a Spike as a freaking millionaire rock-star, isn’t a place that I want to stay.”

“You knew the other Spike then, Drusilla’s Spike?” asked Spike unable to stem his curiosity.

“Knew him? He was family. Irritating, infuriating but family,” replied Angel. “Do you know how vampire families are made?”

“Yeah, I reckon so. If you bite someone and don’t kill them and they drink your blood then they turn in to vampires, too.”

Angel smiled and sat down on a pile of rubble. “You’ve done your homework, I see.”

Spike leant against the wall and slid down until he was also sitting, glad to do so as he still felt a bit wobbly. “Yeah, but what I don’t get is why you’re here at all? Are you hunting me down for staking Drusilla?”

Angel glared at him, eyes flashing yellow. “You killed her?” he snarled.

Spike swallowed hard. “Don’t upset the nasty vampire, Spike.” Then he changed his mind. If he got Angel to kill him, it would be over – but what if he turned him instead? “Shit! This is too fucking complicated.” “Yeah, but I didn’t plan it. She was coming at me to bite me again and –”

“How many times did she drink your blood?” interrupted Angel.

“She bit me three time but only drank my blood and made me drink hers twice,” replied Spike. “She had said that she needed to drink from me three times before I was turned –”

“Sired,” interrupted Angel.

“Sired – whatever. I thought it would just stop then – the changing you know? But it hasn’t. Things have continued to change. I even tried to bite Buffy…I did bite her but I didn’t manage to break the skin. Oh, Christ!” Spike buried his head in his hands.

“Spike!” said Angel sharply. “Don’t fall apart on me. So that’s why you wanted to kill yourself?”

Spike looked up, his blue eyes were tortured. “I couldn’t live with myself if I hurt anybody,” he said quietly.

“Oh, and B…er your girlfriend finding your body wouldn’t hurt her at all, would it?” snapped Angel, stumbling over saying Buffy. He still couldn’t get his head around this Buffy being with Spike.

Spike’s eyes widened. He’d never really thought of that. He turned it around – what if it was he who found her? Oh, God, it’d kill him. He stood up. He had to get in touch with her; she’d be worried to death.

“Unchain me,” said Spike. “I need to talk to Buffy!”

“Sorry, Spike. You’re not going anywhere just yet. We need to work out what to do to get me back where I should be.”

“You git! Let me bleeding go,” roared Spike with a ferocious growl, eyes blazing yellow and tugging at the chains.

Angel stood up and walked up to Spike. “You said that you’re continuing to change. I can’t have you running around trying to bite people. Even if you haven’t got any fangs yet, you’ve got the strength of a vamp – well a little skinny ass one anyway – and could create havoc. So, no, you’re staying right where you are.”

Spike remembered the fury that he felt at the reporters and hung his head, shoulders slumping. Angel was right. He was a liability.

“Oh, bollocks,” he said weakly as he leaned back on the wall and closed his eyes.

Angel felt sorry for the young man that was Spike. It was a strange emotion to feel for Spike, even though it was a Spike and not the Spike. It certainly looked that the two versions shared more than just really bad taste in hair colour. This Spike obviously wore his heart on his sleeve like his Spike had.

“Look, we’ll work something out,” said Angel.

He froze and vamped up his features. Spike tensed, not sure what Angel was going to do. Perhaps he was going to kill him or sire him after all?

“What –”

“Be quiet – someone is coming,” Angel cut Spike off. “Stay here.” He turned and jogged out of the room.

“Oh, yeah! I’ll stay here,” muttered Spike. “Don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

Spike sat back down on the floor as it suddenly hit him that if Angel just upped and left, no one knew where he was. He could starve to death before he was found. It was pretty ironic that now he wanted to live, he could end up dying.

0000000000

“Go back, go back,” said Buffy urgently. “We’ve missed the turning; it was there on the right.”

“Are you sure?” asked Rich. “I didn’t see anything.”

“Yes,” replied Buffy, leaning forward in her seat as Rich swung the SUV around. “I came up here a few times when I was a kid with Willow and Xander. It was supposed to be haunted and each Halloween we’d dare ourselves to come and take a look. Never got past the gateway though.”

“Chicken,” teased Rich.

“We were only about twelve,” said Buffy defensively. “Slow down! You’re going to miss it again.”

“I can’t bloody see a gateway.”

Tara tapped him on his shoulder. “There, you can pick out a white gatepost in the hedge.”

Rich eyed the gap with dismay. It was hopelessly overgrown. “There’s no way we can drive up. We’ll have to leave the car here.” He pulled to the side of the road and once they were all out of the SUV, he locked it up.

“Come on,” said Buffy, striding briskly through the gateway.

Rich reached for Tara’s hand. “Um…haunted, huh?”

“Who’s the chicken now?” said Tara, grinning and giving him a peck on the cheek.

They ran a couple of steps to catch up with Buffy, and then the three of them walked up what once had been a gravel drive, but was now overgrown with weeds.

“There is actually a house here, isn’t there, Buffy?” said Rich after they had walked for several minutes but hadn’t seen more than trees and wild shrubs.

“Yeah, the drive is about a half mile long, I think.” She smiled at Rich.

Tara walked quietly beside Rich, trying to sense the aura of the place. She shuddered a little. She wasn’t about to say it but the legend of it being haunted was right. Lots of things had happened here, and all had left their mark. Rich squeezed her hand and smiled at her when he felt her tremble. She returned the smile and glanced at Buffy who was looking very determined as she strode along. Tara silently prayed to the Goddess for the safety of her friends.

“Er…it’s a bit of a fixer-upper,” said Rich as the mansion finally came in to sight when they went round a corner.

They all stopped and stared at it. Even in bright sunlight it looked dark and foreboding. One side of it was tumbled down as if trodden on by a giant foot. The other side looked a little more intact, but large parts of the roof were missing.

“Why do I suddenly feel like I’m in an episode of Scooby Doo? Any minute now a zombie will come tearing out of there, waving its fist and yelling ‘You pesky kids’.

The girls giggled nervously. “You’re a bit too old to be called a kid,” said Tara, still chuckling. She glanced at Buffy. “Are you okay to go in?”

Buffy swallowed hard and nodded. “Spike’s in there. I’ve got to find him.” She nudged Rich. “Anyway, the Scooby gang always wins, so we’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Rich took Buffy’s hand in his free one and holding hands with both girls, they walked the last few hundred yards to the mansion. He let go of their hands as they got to the door. Planks had been nailed across it but several had been ripped off and so they were able to go in. Rich glanced at the girls and stepped inside. It was gloomy and as his eyes were adjusting from the bright light outside, he was punched on the chin and crumpled soundlessly to the floor.

“Rich?” said Tara peering inside. “Quit fooling around; it’s not funny.”

Buffy and Tara exchanged glances and then stepped through to the murky interior. Tara just about tripped over Rich’s body.

“Rich!” she yelled and fell to her knees beside him.

Tara felt her arm grasped by a firm hand and she was pulled back up to her feet. She screamed.

“Let go of her!” shouted Buffy, taking hold of her other arm, barely able to make out the dark clad figure that was tugging at her friend.

Tara was abruptly let go. “Buffy? Oh, my God!” said Angel taking a step backwards, his face fading to human before they saw it.

“You know me?” snapped Buffy. She walked closer, her eyes getting used to the dimness. “Angel?” She glanced at the unmoving body of Rich. Tara was kneeling beside him, stroking his face and crying quietly. “What did you do to him?” She glared up at Angel.

“God, you’re just the same,” breathed Angel, taking another step backwards.

“And so are you!” she snarled. “Always did like to beat people senseless. Well, I hope you enjoyed your time as a free man because if I have anything to do with it, you’ll be going straight back inside!”

“I…er…I didn’t know…he’ll be okay…I just knocked him out,” stuttered Angel. It was so weird seeing this Buffy. He wanted to take her in to his arms and kiss her until she nearly fainted from lack of breath, but he couldn’t. She wasn’t his.

“Just knocked him out?” Buffy was incensed. “Tara, is he okay? I need to find Spike.”

“Y…yes, I think so. His breathing is regular. I’ll stay with him,” replied Tara. “Go to Spike.”

Buffy turned to Angel. “Where is he?” He pointed to the room where Spike was, he couldn’t speak. Buffy planted both of her palms against Angel’s torso and pushed as hard as she could. “Get out of my way!” He went backwards a couple of jerky steps before he hit the wall. Buffy ran past and down a corridor before it opened up again and she saw Spike.

Spike had been tugging frantically at his chains since hearing Tara scream, but he stilled his movements and stared at Buffy. “How could I have thought about leaving her behind?” Her beauty took his breath away. Her eyes were blazing and her face had twin spots of colour on her cheeks. Her hair billowed out behind her as she ran to him.

Spike tried to spread his arms to enable him to hug her but the chains were too short. Not that it mattered. She flew at him. He opened his mouth to speak but she was too quick for him. She drew back her right arm and slapped him with all of her might across his face. His head rocked back and slammed in to the wall. He saw stars, his legs gave way and he slid down to the floor.

“You absolute bastard!”

Her furious words were the last thing that he heard before the darkness claimed him.

Tbc

Chapter Thirty-Four

Introductions

“Spike!” Buffy cried in horror as he slid slowly down the wall and lay in a boneless heap. “Oh, God! Oh, baby! I didn’t m—”

She turned abruptly as she heard slow hand clapping behind her. Angel was grinning from ear to ear, leaning with his left shoulder against the wall, applauding her.

“He’ll be all right – he’s got a thick skull,” he chuckled.

“Thank God that he has, otherwise you would have killed him with that baseball bat,” yelled Buffy.

“Ah, that explains a lot.”

Buffy marched up to him. “What the hell are you playing at – having him all chained up?”

“Just keeping him safe. Didn’t realise that I should have included safe from you, too. You’ve got a good right hand on you.”

Buffy raised her arm to hit him but he effortlessly caught her wrist.

“God, you’re exactly like her.”

“Let go of me, you big oaf!” shouted Buffy, trying to pull free.

Angel let her go. “Buffy,” he said in wonderment. “You’re exactly like Buffy – even down to the way your eyes flash when you’re angry.”

“What?”

Without thinking, Angel pulled her into his arms and nuzzled her neck, breathing deep of her scent. It wasn’t exactly the same but very similar.

“Oouff!” He fell to his knees, and then to his side, hands covering his balls. Eyes watering, he glanced up at Buffy.

“I told you to let go of me!”

Angel rolled over on to his back. “Yeah, just like her!” He struggled to get enough air into his lungs to be able to speak. “I’m not who you think I am.” He let his features vamp out and was pleased to see her back up in fear.

Buffy’s hand flew to her chest. “Oh, my God! But how?”

A rattle of chains behind them indicated that Spike was waking up. He groaned loudly and then added a growl that made both Angel and Buffy look at him sharply.

“Bloody nice to see you, too,” mumbled Spike as he sat up. “Oh, my head.” It was throbbing fit to burst. Being knocked out twice in twenty-four hours wasn’t to be recommended.

Buffy backed up and made her way to Spike, reluctant to turn her back on the vampire.

“He’s the one we’ve been looking for,” said Spike quietly. “He’s not the Angel that you think he is.”

Buffy stared at Angel and watched with fascination as his features faded back to human, the brow smoothing out, the fangs receding, harsh yellow eyes being replaced with brown.

“Wow,” she whispered. It had been weird seeing Spike’s eyes change but the whole face… “Does it hurt?”

“What? My balls or my face changing?” asked Angel as he stood up.

Spike snorted.

Buffy turned to glare at him. “Don’t you say a word – I’m not finished with you.” She punctuated her words with a pointing finger, her relief at him being okay giving way once more to the anger she felt for him.

Another noise, this time to the left of where Angel stood, told them that Rich and Tara were approaching. Sure enough, a very pale Rich leaning heavily on Tara staggered into view.

“Rich! Are you okay?”

Rich managed a bit of a lop-sided smile. “Okay would be a bit strong – still breathing might be more appropriate.” He swayed dramatically and Angel went to help him.

“Keep back,” snarled Tara. She held a hand, palm foremost, out towards Angel, and he stared at her in surprise as he felt the magic flowing from her stop him in his tracks.

“A witch,” he said. “You might be of use.”

“Keep yer sodding hands off her,” snapped Rich, choosing a large piece of rubble as a seat. “What the hell did yer hit me for anyway? And just who, exactly, are you?”

Angel backed off. “You can stop with the magics. I’m not here to hurt anybody –”

“My head kind of disagrees with that,” said Rich, rubbing the bruise on his chin.

“Mine, too,” Spike chirped up.

Spike was delighted to see Buffy and his friends, and he reckoned that he’d deserved the slap from Buffy – he just wished his head hadn’t hit the sodding wall. She must have been worried sick about him.

“Oh, Spike!” Buffy went to him, kneeling by his side and pulling him into the hug that he’d expected earlier. She burst into tears. “I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, “but when I got to the house and saw all that blood and the sofa upturned, I thought…I thought –”

“Shh, love. It’s all right. I’m okay. I should never have left. But the thought of me hurting you…” He kissed the still livid bruise on her neck and closed his eyes as he sensed the blood rushing just below the skin.

They held each other for few moments before a loud cough made them part.

“Look, can you stop with the snuggling – it’s kind of making me feel ill,” said Angel with a grimace. “I think we’ve got a lot of talking to do.”

“It’s you!” exclaimed Rich suddenly.

“Rich, honey, we know that he’s the vampire that we’ve been looking for,” said Tara, putting a hand on his shoulder as she stood beside him.

“We do?” Rich’s brow furrowed.

“Tara, how did you know that? You weren’t here when he showed us what he is,” said Buffy.

“Who,” added Angel. “I’m a who, not a what.”

“Why the hell are you all talking at once?” asked Spike, rubbing the back of his head. He felt entirely too battered to follow this.

“His aura,” explained Tara. “It shows the evil that he’s done.”

“It does?” said Rich, Buffy and Angel in unison.

Spike just groaned and carried on rubbing his head.

Tara nodded. “It’s very clear to see.”

“That’s so not fair,” whined Angel. “I have a soul now. Surely that should make my aura show that I’m not evil?”

“That’s not the way auras work,” replied Tara with a bit of a shrug. “They show the whole of what you’ve done in your existence. I’m thinking that the soul is pretty new?”

“Not especially,” replied Angel. “I’ve had it a century or so.”

“A century? You’re a hundred years old?” Rich couldn’t believe his ears. He glanced at the faces of Buffy and Spike and saw that they were equally shocked.

“So, you are at least twice that age. Your aura will change when you have existed as a souled vampire longer than unsouled.”

Angel smiled. That was better. Not long to go before his past evils were dispersed a little.

“You’re good,” said Angel.

Tara stuck her chin up a little. “I know.” She was determined to let this vampire know that she wasn’t afraid of him, even if it wasn’t quite the truth.

“So, you’re over two hundred years old?” said Buffy, eyes wide.

“Yeah, and please resist the urge to say ‘you look good for your age’. Believe me, it gets kind of old,” Angel replied with a grin.

“But, it’s you,” said Rich.

All of the others stared at him.

“If you’ve seriously hurt him…” said Buffy, glaring at Angel.

“I’m not hurt,” said Rich. “Well, yeah, I am a bit, but what I meant is that it’s him with Spike in the bleeding newspaper.”

“God, yes – it’s obvious now,” said Buffy.

“Shite,” muttered Spike. He’d forgotten about the photographs. “You’ve seen them then?”

“Hard not to when you get off the plane and are mobbed by the paparazzi,” snapped Buffy.

“Oh, God. I’m sorry.”

“So what, exactly, were you doing in that dark alley, Spike?” asked Rich with a theatrical wink.

“Puking,” added Angel, to the amusement of the others. “He was totally wasted and getting kicked out of Willy’s bar as I got there.”

They all giggled.

“Oh, that’s it. Bleeding laugh at the injured party,” grouched Spike.

Buffy sighed. “I can’t believe that you got drunk. You know how you got when you were younger. Why did you choose a gay bar? And a few beers didn’t get you tossing your cookies.”

Spike reached out with a clank of chains and squeezed her hand. “I know, it was bloody stupid, but I thought that I’d never see you again and well…” He rubbed his eyes with his free hand, and then pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“Oh, for God’s sake! What is it with Spikes and being so freaking soppy over women!” said Angel. He just couldn’t stomach Buffy and Spike getting cosy. He knew it wasn’t his Buffy but it still rankled.

“Shut up, you git,” snarled Spike with a low growl as his eyes turned amber. “When are you going to unlock these chains?”

Angel glared at Spike. “You can stay there until we can find a way of getting me out of this hell dimension and back to my own.”

“Until we find a way to cure Spike,” corrected Tara firmly.

Rich gazed up at her in awe. She was truly remarkable. And she was his – all his. As if she felt his eyes on her, Tara looked down.

“What?”

“I was just thinking how much I love you,” replied Rich with a goofy expression on his face.

Angel pushed away from the wall that he’d been leaning on.

“I can’t take this!”

He walked briskly towards the way out. Tara waved a hand and he recoiled as if he’d walked into a glass door without seeing it. Angel vamped out and growled angrily, his features changing. Rich almost fell off his pile of rubble when he saw the vampire’s face.

“If you think that you can keep me here, witch, you’re mistaken,” snarled Angel.

“Maybe, if I were on my own, that would be right, but I have the power from a large coven behind me and trust me, vampire, when I say that I could dust you without even touching you.”

All five remained silent and motionless after hearing Tara’s calmly spoken words. Tara made sure her expression didn’t give away the fact that she was lying. She’d managed to bounce a little spell at him but it could no sooner prevent him from leaving than a piece of tissue paper could.

“Bloody hell, Rich, if you ever upset her you’ll end up a sodding frog!” said Spike, quietly.

Angel surprised them all by bursting out laughing. This Spike really did remind him of his lost childe.

It lightened the mood a little and all settled themselves on either the floor or a pile of rubble whilst they talked things through.

“Oh, my God!” exclaimed Buffy, looking aghast.

“What is it, love?” asked Spike, trying to put his arm around her but being brought up short by his chains.

“Mom and Rupert! They’re bound to have seen the papers. They’ll be worried sick. They still think that we’re in London.”

“Oh, Christ,” groaned Spike.

He wasn’t looking forward to explaining what he’d been up to. He felt like that screwed up seventeen year old again. Then he started to chuckle.

“It’s not funny,” chastised Buffy.

Spike managed to suppress his mirth. “No, I know it’s not, but I was just worrying about telling Rupert that I’d been on the hard stuff, and then it hit me that maybe I should be telling him that I’m turning into a sodding vampire!”

“Yeah, like that’s real believable,” added Rich with a laugh that soon had Spike giggling again.

“We need to focus here!” shouted Angel.

Rich and Spike quietened down like kids in a classroom, eyes downcast and looking guilty.

Tara could contain her curiosity no longer. “Angel, in your dimension, have you come in contact with any of our equivalents? I mean Spike, obviously, but what about us?”

Angel was aware of the intensity of the stares that bored into him. “Buffy,” he said quietly.

“What?” she replied.

“No. I meant that I know another Buffy.”

They all exchanged glances. This was strange.

“Really?” she said.

Angel nodded. “Yeah, and it’s so weird because you are just like her in so many ways. Apart from not smelling quite like her –”

“Smelling? Gross.” Buffy wrinkled her face.

“It’s a vampire thing, Buffy,” said Spike. “I can do it now too; I notice it more when my eyes change. Is that how it is for you?”

Angel nodded.

“What else were you going to say?”

This time it was Rich with the question. He was clinging to Tara’s hand as if his life depended on it. She was sitting on the floor leaning back on his legs.

Angel looked a little shifty. He rubbed a hand over his hair. “Um, well that’s why I got a bit…er…cranky when you were kissing.” He looked at Spike and Buffy. “In my reality – Buffy is my girlfriend.”

“What?” Buffy said. “So I’m a vampire, too.” She glanced at Spike. “That’s just…odd.”

“No, my Buffy,” God, he missed her so much that it physically hurt, “she’s the Slayer.”

Tara inhaled sharply. “So the Slayer is real, too?”

“What’s a slayer?” asked Spike, curious to find out about his lover’s parallel life.

“Not a slayer. The Slayer – capital S. She’s the Chosen One. She protects the earth from demons,” said Angel.

“And vampires,” added Tara.

Rich stared at Angel. “So how come she’s your girlfriend? Why hasn’t she…um…staked you?”

“Well, I’m on her side now. I fight for the good guys. And I have my soul. Trust me when I tell you that I feel enough guilt about what I’ve done in the past without adding to it.”

“How come you’ve got a soul?” asked Spike. “When I was looking on the Internet, it said that vampires were soulless.”

“That’s a long story but we have more important things to discuss right now.” He glanced at Tara. “Have you got any ideas?”

Tbc

Chapter Thirty-Five

Things Are Hotting up…

Tara felt the weight of expectation on her as the others all turned and stared at her. She stood up and walked a few yards away from Rich, almost having to pull her hand from his grasp.

“Well, I need to check back with the coven, but we have found a ritual that we think should work. We just need to know the order that every thing has to be done in – we can’t afford to get a blood sacrifice wrong.”

“Blood sacrifice!” yelled Angel.

“No one told me that it was a sodding sacrifice,” added Spike, getting to his feet with a rattle of chains.

“I thought it was just that Spike had to drink the vampire’s blood?” said Rich helpfully.

“Drink my blood!” Angel abruptly stood up. “Like that’s going to happen.”

“Oh, it will,” stated Tara, calmly fixing him with a hard stare. “We just need to find out exactly how the blood has to be taken. It’s a little difficult to work out because what we really needed was the one who bit Spike initially, but since she’s dust, we have to use you.”

Angel opened his mouth to protest but closed it again.

Buffy looked at Tara anxiously. “Do you think that it will work?” she asked in a small voice, reaching up for Spike’s hand as he stood beside her.

“Honestly? I don’t know. But the fact that the vampire was pulled through to this dimension makes me think that it should do. He must be here for a reason.” Tara walked back to where Rich was sitting, needing his touch to reassure her.

“The vampire has a name,” said Angel grumpily.

Spike snorted. “Yeah, real manly name it is, too. Did your mom want a girl?”

Rich chuckled but the two girls kept quiet as Angel’s eyes flashed amber.

It’s not as bad as Spike,” snarled Angel.

“It is too,” retorted Spike. “Spike’s a good name.” He stepped forward as far as his shackles would allow.

“I suppose it is compared to William Pratt,” said Angel. The others all gasped and stared at him. “What?” He opened his hands out and shrugged. “What did I say?”

“So, was the other Spike called that too?” asked Spike quietly.

“Well, yeah,” sneered Angel. “Same as my equivalent was called Liam O’Connor, right?” He pointed at Buffy. “And hers is Buffy Summers.”

“It’s just a bit much to take in,” said Spike.

“Did you know me?” asked Rich, feeling a little disappointed when Angel shook his head.

“No, I don’t know you or Tara at all.”

Spike rattled his chains loudly. “Look, I’m getting a bit pissed off with everyone chatting away and me being still chained to the sodding wall.”

“Why did you chain him up in the first place, Angel?” asked Buffy. “You never said.”

“Well, he was busy trying to off himself and –”

“What?” yelled Buffy, turning to glare at Spike.

Spike flinched a little and wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Shit, she’s going to freak!” “But I didn’t, did I? I’m still here.”

“Only because I hit you with that trowel,” said Angel.

Spike raised his head and glared at Angel with harsh yellow eyes. “I wouldn’t have even cut myself if you hadn’t smashed the sodding window in the first place!”

“Oh, no. Sure you wouldn’t. You’d just got the knife on your wrist because…?” Angel retorted.

“Will you two shut the fuck up!” screamed Rich, his voice echoing through the ruined mansion.

All eyes swivelled to meet his.

“Look, I feel bleeding sick. My head’s throbbing; thanks to your attention.” He scowled at Angel, pointing an angry finger in his direction. “And I can’t remember when I last got a good night’s sleep with worrying about all this. So the last thing that I need to hear is you two bickering away like a couple of old women.”

Tara and Buffy frowned at Rich.

“It’s just an expression – that’s all. I meant no offence,” Rich said quickly.

“Frog,” said Spike.

All eyes now turned to him.

“If you keep saying stuff like that – I bet that’s what you’ll be. That right, Tara?” Spike grinned.

Tara chuckled. “I was thinking more along the lines of a rat. I could keep him in a little cage.”

“And get him one of those wheels to run in,” said Buffy, collapsing into fits of laughter.

Rich had to chuckle when he saw Angel’s unimpressed expression and the mirth of the others. After waiting until the laughter had died down, Rich spoke.

“It’s all very well that we’re having such a good time but seriously, can’t we do all this somewhere with comfortable chairs? My arse is sodding numb, which is more than I can say about this bruise.” He gingerly rubbed his chin. “Ice would be a good thing.”

“Oh, baby, I’m sorry,” said Tara, dropping a kiss on the top of Rich’s head. “But where can we go?”

“Someone here has a freaking huge mansion – why don’t we use that?” snarled Angel, still having trouble adjusting to this Spike’s obvious wealth.

“Something to do with the paparazzi camped out at the gates,” replied Buffy. “Don’t really need to add to the photographs of you and Spike together.”

She looked up at Spike who then sat down next to her, gazing at her with a very worried expression on his face. “I’m sorry that I made such a mess of it all.”

Buffy stroked his face. “I –”

“Oh, for God’s sake, don’t’ start with the mush again. I’m going to hurl!” howled Angel, burying his head in his hands. “God, I’ve got to get home.”

“Hey,” said Rich, looking alternatively at Spike and Angel. “Neither of you told us why you ended up at a gay bar.”

Angel sighed dramatically. “Great priorities, people!” “In my world, it’s a demon bar. After I’d been to Revello Dr—”

“You went to my mom’s?” yelled Buffy, leaping to her feet.

She would have flown at Angel again but for Spike’s firm grip on her wrist. She glared at Spike and tried to pull free, but his hold never faltered – had he always been that strong?

“Um…well…yeah. I sort of live there,” replied Angel sheepishly.

“Shite! Did they think that you were ‘this’ Angel?” said Spike. He tugged gently on Buffy’s arm. “Sit down, love. He wasn’t to know. What did they say?” he added to Angel.

“Well, among other things, ‘I’ll call the cops’ and ‘get the hell off my porch’,” replied Angel with a rueful smile. “No wonder that they were a bit freaked. From what I can figure out, I should be in jail – something to do with a baseball bat…?”

“Yeah, tried to bleeding kill me, you did,” said Spike with feeling.

“It wouldn’t be the first time – you’re like the Spike I knew – irritating.”

“Hey, I—” began Spike.

“Oh, please! Don’t you two start again,” begged Rich.

They all chuckled a little.

“You said ‘demon bar’?” asked Rich. “They have their own bars? What, do they, like, just walk about mixing with humans?”

Angel shook his head. “Some can pass as humans but they mostly keep out of sight, especially in Sunnydale with the Slayer and me patrolling. No, they keep out of sight and Willy’s is a safe haven for them.” He smiled at Rich. “What you should be asking is why your client was in there – not why I was. Maybe there’s a little truth in that report after all.”

Spike squeezed Buffy’s hand so tightly that she winced.

“Spike, you’re hurting me,” she gasped.

Spike let go of her hand in horror. “Oh, my God! Are you okay – I didn’t break it, did I?”

Buffy rubbed it. “No, it’s okay. So why were you in Willy’s, Spike?”

“Ashamed to say that all I saw was a place that sold liquor,” replied Spike, staring deep into Buffy’s eyes. “I just needed more to drink.” “Still do.” He hated that he was desperate for another drink, but he craved it.

Buffy wrapped her arms around him. “You’ll be fine,” she whispered in his ear.

Spike wasn’t sure whether she meant regarding the drink or the impending vampirism. He hoped that it was both.

“Still haven’t got a solution to my numb arse,” said Rich, shifting uncomfortably on his rubble.

“Well, our place is out,” said Buffy. “I really can’t face all the reporters. I guess that Mom and Rupert’s will be being staked out, too – God, I need to call them as soon as possible – so I don’t really know where we could go. They’ll be at your place too, Rich.”

“Bloody hell,” groaned Rich.

Spike just kept his eyes on the ground, feeling guilty about all the trouble he had caused by fleeing London.

“They won’t know about my house, will they?” said Tara. “It’s only small but –”

“It’s got chairs!” exclaimed Rich with glee.

“Oh, Tara, that would be great. Thank you,” said Buffy.

“Great. So get these chains off me,” Spike said, looking hopefully at Angel.

“Before you do,” said Buffy. “Why did you chain him up?”

“It was just so I didn’t run off again,” said Spike quickly.

Angel stood up and walked towards Spike and Buffy. “No. I chained him because he has vampire strength and I was worried what would happen if he carried on changing.”

“Okay, so I’m super strong, but I’m still me – I mean I’m not going to start eating anybody or anything,” countered Spike, pushing the fact that he had bitten Buffy to the back of his mind.

Angel vamped up with a growl and took another couple of steps towards them, causing Buffy to recoil but prompting Spike to leap to his feet with a growl of his own, his eyes blazing yellow. Angel shook his head slightly as he let his features fade back to human. Spike’s eyes returned to blue and he looked a little puzzled to be standing.

Angel nodded at him. “Yeah, that wasn’t a conscious response, was it?” Spike stared at him, eyes wide, and he shook his head. “That was your fledgling demon responding to a perceived threat to your mate.”

Spike swallowed hard. “She’s a bit more than a buddy to me.”

Angel grinned. “I meant mate as in sexual partner, you idiot!”

“Oh,” said Spike weakly. “A demon! I’ve got a fucking demon in me!”

All of a sudden, he was back to wishing that he’d been successful when he’d wanted to kill himself.

“So am I going to be left here when you all go to Tara’s?” Spike blinked back the tears that threatened. He already felt afraid and alone and he really didn’t want to be left totally on his own.

“I’m not leaving you,” said Buffy, taking his hand.

“And we’re not leaving the two of you here, either,” said Tara.

“Christ, I’m never gonna see a bleeding sofa again,” Rich thought miserably.

“You can go to Tara’s but you need to take some precautions with him,” said Angel.

“What about you?” snarled Spike. “I might be turning into a vampire but you’re the real deal already! Why aren’t we chaining you up?”

“Because I’ve got a soul and I know that you guys are the only chance that I’ve got to get home.”

“I’ve got a soul!” wailed Spike. How come he was the bad guy here?

“But if the change completes, you won’t and trust me, you won’t care where your first meal comes from,” stated Angel baldly.

They were silent for a moment.

“Fuck! We won’t let that happen,” said Rich. “No way.”

“I hope not,” said Angel. “Because I have a horrid feeling that if he turns fully, then I’m going to be stuck here.”

“So what precautions do we need to take?” asked Tara.

“I had a look around this place when I needed the chains and found some hand-cuffs.” He grinned. “I bet some fun has been had with those in here. So, I want you to cuff his hands behind his back until I get there.”

“What do you mean ‘until I get there’? Why aren’t you going to come with us?” asked Rich. “We’ve got the SUV at the bottom of the driveway – we’ll all fit in.”

“It’s daylight – I won’t make it to the end of the driveway,” said Angel.

“So it’s like in the movies then? Sunlight, crosses, garlic…?”

“Garlic’s not so lethal, but the others are bad news.”

“How can we trust you to turn up at Tara’s if we leave you here?” asked Buffy.

“I have nowhere else to go, Buffy. And don’t get me wrong – you’re nice – but I really need to get back to my Buffy.”

Spike stared at him and saw the truth in his brown eyes. “I believe you.”

Tara looked around the floor of the room that they were in. When she spotted what she needed, she got up, walked to it and picked it up. She then walked over to Angel, trying hard not to feel intimidated by his height and bulk.

“If you’re serious about it, then you won’t mind me having a few drops of your blood,” she said, showing him the piece of glass in her hand.

In response he vamped up and bit into his wrist. He held out his dripping wrist. “Help yourself,” he said dryly.

“Oh,” squeaked Tara before gathering her wits and letting the blood pool on a handkerchief that she’d found in her pocket. She held it there until it was soaked with Angel’s blood. “Thank-you”.

Angel ran his tongue across his wrist a couple of times before the bleeding stopped and then let his features return to human.

“Locator spell, right?” he asked.

“Yes,” replied Tara, looking him in the eye.

“You won’t need it – I’ll be there as soon as the sun sets.”

“So, can we go now?” asked Rich, trying not to whine.

“I’ll get the cuffs,” said Angel.

He walked to the far corner and came back with them.

“Put your hands behind your back, Spike,” he said.

“Why behind my back?” asked Spike, remembering how sore his arms had gotten that time when he’d been arrested for suspected burglary.

“Because you can still do damage to people if you have them in front of you,” explained Angel.

Grudgingly, Spike put his hands behind his back. Angel put the cuffs on before he removed the chains.

“You’re good to go,” said Angel.

Spike glanced at him sharply. “You’re enjoying this, you git!”

“At last,” said Rich, getting up from his pile of rubble with a groan. He didn’t feel too good. “I don’t think that I’ll be fit to drive.” He passed Tara the car keys. “Will you drive it, please? The way Buffy drives, I’ll be throwing up in the damn thing – I feel like shit.”

“Hey!” protested Buffy.

She saw that Angel was grinning at her like a fool. “What’s your problem?” she snapped.

“I was just wondering if there was a dimension where a Buffy was a decent driver.”

All but Tara, who had yet to experience the horror of Buffy’s driving ability, laughed.

“Can we get out of here?” asked Spike. “This place gives me the creeps.”

“Come on then,” said Tara, beginning to walk away.

The others followed. Buffy held Spike’s elbow to help him balance as he negotiated the rubble.

“I’ll see you at dusk,” said Angel as he watched them walk away. Suddenly he felt very lonely.

Spike blinked rapidly as they got out into the sunlight. Since they had achieved the ability to change colour, his eyes had been more sensitive to light. The sun felt warm on his face as he trudged down the drive.

It was when they were about halfway down the drive that Spike became aware that the sun was getting uncomfortably warm on his face and his exposed hands behind his back. It felt like it was burning him – and not in the ‘get a nice tan’ way.

“Um…got a bit of a problem, guys,” said Spike.

The sun was coming from the right side of them and it was his right cheek that was protesting about its rays. Buffy, who was walking on his left, glanced up at him.

“What’s wrong?”

Spike turned his head so that she could see his right cheek.

“Oh, my God!”

Tara and Rich stopped and turned around.

“Shit! Your face!” exclaimed Rich.

“I think I need to get in that car as quickly as possible,” said Spike, beginning to panic. What if he burst into flames? He shuddered.

Tara moved to his side and pulled his leather duster up to cover Spike’s head. “Buffy, come on – help me to hold it up here – it should deflect the rays for long enough.”

So with Buffy on his left and Tara on his right, Spike began to run down the drive. His face screwed up with pain as his lower arms fell victim to the sun’s vicious rays. Covering his head meant that the sleeves of the duster were pulled up his arms.

He nearly sobbed with relief as he saw the SUV. He felt hot – right to his core – almost unbearably hot. Rich had sped up and was holding the rear door of the vehicle open for them.

“Only a few more steps, Spike. Just hold on,” he thought desperately just before everything went black.

“Spike!” screamed Buffy as suddenly she had nothing in her grasp…

Tbc

Chapter Thirty-Six

Waiting for News

“No!”

Buffy’s desperate scream made Rich leap into action. He raced to where the girls were standing, rigid with shock. He didn’t let his mind dwell on the sight before him. He bent down and put his hands under Spike’s armpits. He dragged him as quickly as he could to the SUV.

“Help me!” he yelled as he struggled to get the limp and smouldering body of his best friend into the rear seat.

Tara was the first to react and helped Rich shove Spike in. Rich and Tara looked at each other in horror.

“Oh God, Tee,” gasped Rich. “What the hell is happening to him now?”

“The sun – it must have been the sun,” said Tara with a sob.

She suddenly realised that Buffy wasn’t with them. She turned around and saw her slumped on the gravel drive with her head in her hands, body racked with silent sobs. Rich went to follow Tara as she moved to go to Buffy but Tara stopped him with a squeeze of his hand.

She shook her head. “Stay with Spike,” she said softly.

“Buffy?” she said, kneeling beside her.

“Oh, Tara,” sobbed Buffy. “I can’t take any more. I thought he was going to…I…” Her words were lost as she began to cry uncontrollably.

“Shh, Buffy.” Tara wrapped her arms around her. “He’s okay.”

Tara glanced at Rich to make sure that what she was saying was true. Rich’s face was pale with shock, but he nodded and managed a ghost of a smile.

“We need to go,” he said. “I’m not sure how safe he is in there.”

“Buffy, sweetie, we’ve got to go. We need to get Spike to my house. He’ll be safe there,” said Tara, gently coaxing Buffy to her feet and supporting her as they made their way to the car.

Buffy managed to get her emotions under control and insisted on sitting next to Spike on the rear seat. She cradled his head on her knees and stroked his hair softly. The right side of his face was covered with burns and she could see that the same was true of his hands.

“Oh, baby,” she whispered as tears fell slowly from her eyes.

“Thank God that this tank has darkened windows,” said Rich, as Tara slipped the SUV into gear and pulled away from the side of the road. “Do you think that it’s enough protection?” He glanced over his shoulder to look at Spike. “He’s stopped smoking now.” He had to bite back a hysterical laugh “He was smoking! My friend was about to fucking spontaneously combust!”

Tara’s hand touched his knee. As always, he drew strength from her.

“I think so, but let’s get home as quickly as we can,” said Tara.

The journey was silent. After about fifteen minutes, Tara turned into the driveway of her little house. Rich glanced at her with relief when he saw that the drive and the way to the side door were in deep shade.

“Wait until I get the door unlocked before you bring Spike out,” she said, leaning over and kissing Rich. Then she climbed out of the SUV and hurried to open the door.

Between them, Buffy and Rich hauled Spike into the safety of the house. Tara ran around, pulling all the drapes shut. They lay him on the couch, managing to keep him on his side so that he wouldn’t be pressing on his burnt hands.

“Surely we can undo those cuffs now,” asked Buffy.

She sat on the edge of the couch, fingers resting on Spike’s arm, needing to touch him and wishing that she could hold him in her arms.

“I was thinking the same thing,” replied Rich. “But we’ve got a problem. Angel never gave us the key.”

“Oh, God, Rich. He’s hurt. We have to do something.” Buffy turned to Tara. “Do you have anything that could cut them or…or could you do a spell?”

Tara walked across the lounge room and put her hand on Buffy’s shoulder.

“I don’t have any tools. I’m a ‘get someone in to do the job’ kind of a girl and I’m sorry, but I don’t know anything that could unlock the cuffs using magics.”

Spike chose that moment to stir. All three watched anxiously as he moved on the couch. His eyes flew open when he rolled over and lay on his hands. He had a moment’s panic as he tried to move his arms from behind his back and then cursed softly under his breath as he remembered what had happened.

“B…Buffy,” he whispered, turning to look at her.

“I’m here. You’re okay,” she soothed.

“Am I still alive?” asked Spike, his brow furrowed with worry.

“Sure you are,” replied Buffy with a smile before kissing the top of his head.

Spike struggled into a sitting position. “No,” he said urgently. “I mean do I still have a heartbeat? Tell me that I’m not like him.”

“Hey, mate. Calm down a bit, yeah? You’re still alive – properly alive.” Rich reassured him. “You’ve just got to use factor ten million sun cream.”

Spike managed a small smile. Tara had slipped quietly to the kitchen and returned with a glass of water.

“Here, drink this.” She held it to his mouth. “Take it slowly.”

Spike winced a little as he put his lips to the glass. They were chapped and sore. The right side of his face felt stiff. His hands were throbbing.

“Does it hurt?” asked Rich.

“What do you think?” retorted Spike, eyes flashing amber.

“Take it easy,” said Buffy, resting her hand on Spike’s knee. “He saved your life just now.”

“I’m sorry,” mumbled Spike. “It’s just--I’m starting to think that all my future holds is a dusty ending.”

“No way will I let that happen,” said Buffy firmly.

Such was the conviction in her voice that Spike almost believed her.

It was an uncomfortable wait for Angel to arrive. Spike was obviously in some pain and having his hands cuffed behind his back didn’t help. Tara got some healing lotion from her supplies of potions and between them, she and Buffy gently rubbed it on every half hour or so.

Spike wasn’t a happy man. He was terrified of this new development. As far as he could see, he only had the fangs and the stopping of his heart to go before he was totally a vampire. To make matters worse, he could smell that the others were equally worried despite their over-bright smiles and chit chat.

The lotion that Tara used really helped to take the edge off the pain of his burns. Spike leaned back, ignoring the flash of pain as he squashed his hands against the back of the couch. He closed his eyes and tried to will himself to sleep until Angel’s arrival. Spike thought that the big git would turn up, but wouldn’t let himself really believe it until he saw the vampire again.

Tara touched Buffy’s arm and indicated that they leave Spike to rest for a while. She led Buffy to the kitchen where Rich was already sitting at the table. Tara looked at Rich’s face and the red-rimmed eyes told her that he had been weeping for his friend. She went to him and drew him into a hug. Tara felt his body shudder with the effort of holding back more tears. She kissed his forehead and wondered when it had happened that she was the strong one? It seemed a long time ago that she had been sitting in the departure lounge and had met Spike for the first time. She’d been so shy. Tara smiled to herself. Who would have thought that a few weeks later, she would be pivotal in trying to save Spike’s life? She offered up a silent prayer to the Goddess to help her find the solution.

“He’s a good man. He deserves to live a normal mortal life.”

Tara squeezed Rich even tighter. If she failed, she would never forgive herself. Rich would be devastated and she was certain that she’d lose him as surely as Buffy would lose Spike.

Buffy slid into one of the chairs around the table. “How long to sunset?”

Rich wrapped his arms around Tara’s waist and pulled her onto his lap, kissing her neck as she sat on him. He held his hand out to Buffy and squeezed hers when she gripped it.

“Not long now, Buffy,” he said.

They all jumped when Tara’s laptop announced incoming mail. She’d e-mailed the coven as soon as they had gotten Spike settled when they arrived. This was the first response. They stared at each other. This could be it. The solution to Spike’s problem. Or it could be the coven telling them that they had failed to find a way to help him.

Tara had just stood up when there was a sharp rap at the door. Angel.

“You go and check the e-mail; I’ll get the door,” said Rich.

Buffy also stood. “I’m going back to Spike.”

She couldn’t stand watching Tara read the e-mail and trying to work out what she was reading by her expression. Buffy walked back into the lounge as Rich walked into the hallway and to the door. He opened it and was relieved to see that it was Angel. He had been afraid that the vampire wouldn’t turn up, but here he was, standing there holding a large black bag. Rich held the door wide open and gestured for Angel to come in.

“You have to say the words,” said Angel.

“Huh?”

Angel sighed. Yes, he’d be glad to get back to his own world. At least there he didn’t have to keep on explaining what had to be done. “I can’t come in unless you invite me.”

Rich grinned and slapped his forehead. “God, can’t believe that I didn’t think of that! All the movies I’ve seen has that in them somewhere.” He bowed and dramatically waved an arm. “Angel, please come in.”

Angel smiled back. It was hard not to like Rich and he felt bad about decking him. He took a large stride to cross the threshold and hit what felt like a brick wall. “Crap!” he said. “You don’t live here, do you?”

“What? No, I don’t.” Rich smile got even broader. “Not yet anyway.”

“Can you go and ask Tara to invite me in – it has to be someone who lives here.”

“Okay.”

Rich walked quickly down the hall and moments later Tara appeared.

“Come in, Angel,” said Tara.

Angel walked into the house. He’d lost count of the number of times that he’d been denied access to homes over his couple of centuries of existence, but it still amazed him that a few words could make the impregnable barrier disappear.

He inclined his head. “Thank you, Tara.”

“I’ve just gotten an e-mail from the coven. I’m going through it now; it’s a long one. Spike and Buffy are through there.” Tara pointed to the door to the lounge. “He got burned before we got him back to the car. I hope that you brought the keys to the cuffs. I’m sure that he’d be more comfortable with his coat off and his hands free.”

“He got burnt? That’s another new development. Looks like things are speeding up,” said Angel. “I’ve brought the chains just in case.” He held up the bag in his hand.

Angel didn’t want to think of the shop that he’d stolen the bag from – but in times of strife, he just had to quash the protests of his soul by figuring it was for the greater good.

“Go on through; I’ll be in just as soon as I read it.”

Angel watched her walk briskly away. She reminded him, very much, of Willow. He supposed there must be a Willow here somewhere too. He shook his head. This was weird. He’d always thought that other dimensions were totally different from each other but this one was truly a parallel one. All the players in it seemed more or less the same. He grimaced as he remembered that his counterpart was in jail for assault and wasn’t a nice human being. But then, he hadn’t exactly been a nice human being either. He’d relished causing trouble, and it was his womanising ways that had made him follow Darla that fateful night.

He shuddered as he recalled how he’d laid waste wherever he’d gone as a vampire until the curse of his soul had put an end to it. Angel knew that without the soul he wouldn’t have had the strength or – let’s face it – the inclination to stop the killing. Thank God that it had been firmly anchored to him. He could understand Spike’s fears about hurting the ones closest to him. Angel had killed his family as soon as he had been sired.

He pushed the door open and went in. Spike was sitting on the couch with Buffy next to him. The poor kid looked wrung out. The right side of his face was blistered, the redness of it emphasising the paleness of his other cheek. Angel thought that he looked close to collapse. He couldn’t blame him. Becoming a vampire is a painful thing, even when it’s done in one go. The bite hurts like a bitch, and then after a little oblivion, you’re back. It is a strange and excruciating way to wake up. But here, this poor devil was doing it in stages. Angel found himself regarding Spike with respect as he met his eyes. There was quiet strength in the man’s gaze. Angel didn’t know how Spike hadn’t cracked up mentally.

“Hi,” said Angel, putting the bag on the floor. “Had a bit of trouble with the sun, I see.”

“You could say that,” said Spike wearily. He felt exhausted but couldn’t get comfortable enough to sleep.

Buffy fixed Angel with a hostile stare. She just couldn’t bring herself to be nice to him. Perhaps it was something to do with the fact that the other Buffy was his girlfriend. She didn’t want to give him any ideas. She smiled inwardly. The knee to his balls might have told him something though.

“Did you bring the keys to the cuffs?” Buffy said sharply.

“Yeah.”

Angel dug into the front pocket of his pants and took out the key.

“He still ought to be restrained somehow,” said Angel.

“Look, mate. I just want to sleep. I’m knackered. If I cause any trouble you have permission to beat the shit out of me, okay?” said Spike.

Angel gazed at him. Would his sleeping speed up the changes even more? Angel wasn’t sure, but he went to Spike and unlocked the cuffs. Spike brought his hands to the front and gasped when he saw the state that they were in. He tried to move his fingers but they felt stiff and didn’t respond. Would he ever be able to play the guitar again? He snorted. The loss of his playing wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing to the outside world – he wasn’t that good.

“What?” asked Buffy as she heard Spike’s snort.

He smiled at her so sweetly that she thought her heart would break. His beauty was not dimmed by the blisters on his face.

“Nothing, love,” he said. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. “I love you so much.” His breath tickled her as he whispered in her ear.

Buffy bit her lip. “I won’t cry. I won’t.” “I love you too, baby.”

Angel shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot before he sat on one of the armchairs. He looked around the room to keep his eyes from watching Buffy sticking her tongue down Spike’s throat. Angel licked his lips. Would he get home? Would his Buffy kiss him with such passion?

When Spike finally let go of Buffy, he shrugged off the duster and stretched out on the couch.

“Sorry, pet, but I’m going to go to sleep for a bit, okay?”

Buffy smiled at him. “Course it is. Get some rest.”

She moved from the couch and sat on an armchair. By the time that she was settled, Spike was fast asleep and snoring quietly. She met Angel’s eyes.

“Thank you for coming.”

Angel smiled. “It’s my only chance to get home too. I was always going to turn up. I’m missing my Buffy.”

“Do you know how odd it feels to know that there’s a Buffy out there that is a superhero?”

“I’m pretty sure that Spike thinks that you’re a superhero here,” said Angel. “If he is like the Spike I knew, then he will love you with his whole being.”

“Tell me about vampire Spike,” said Buffy.

She needed to be occupied. If she continually thought of what was happening to Spike, she’d break down for sure.

Angel nodded. He knew exactly why she had asked him to talk. They settled back in their seats as Angel began to tell of the Spike that he knew.

Tbc

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Solutions

Rich sat next to Tara at the kitchen table as she read all of the e-mails that she had gotten from the coven. She’d queried a few things and thankfully, the witches in England had replied immediately despite the time difference. He could hear Angel quietly talking to Buffy. He’d popped his head round the door a while ago, but left when he saw that Spike was fast asleep on the couch and the other two were sitting in chairs talking. Buffy had her feet curled up beside her as she listened to Angel. Rich had stared at the vampire for a moment. It must be hard for him to be so near to someone who looked exactly like his lover. Rich shook his head.

“If I wrote this in a book, no one would believe a word of it.”

Tara had been frantically scribbling notes as she read and finally put her pen down and leaned back in the chair, stretching her aching shoulders. She glanced at Rich.

“Well?” he asked.

She smiled at him. “Well, I’ve got it. I’ve got the details of the ritual that has to be done.”

“Oh, thank God!” Rich leapt from his chair and hugged her tightly, showering her with kisses.

“Hey, don’t get too carried away. Let’s save our celebrations until it’s complete and everything is back to normal.”

Rich held her at arm’s length and looked her in the eye. “What’s wrong? You sound troubled? Don’t you think that it will work?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Rich. It’s not like it’s something that I’ve ever done before.” She ran a hand wearily through her hair. “The timing is crucial. If one little thing goes wrong…” She stared at Rich anxiously.

“Hush, Tee. You’ll do it just fine. Everything will be okay. I’ve got faith in you. You’re amazing.”

Tara allowed herself to bask in the love flowing from Rich for a moment before she smiled and said, “You’re only saying that so I don’t turn you into a frog.”

Rich chuckled. “Damn, you’ve got me sussed out right and proper!” He paused before adding, “Are you ready to go and tell the others?”

Tara took a deep shuddering breath and nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

Rich held out his hand. She took it and together they walked out of the kitchen, along the hallway and into the lounge room.

Buffy and Angel both looked up expectantly. Once again, Tara felt the weight of responsibility on her shoulders. The fate of all of the people in this room depended on her.

“I’ve got all the details,” said Tara quietly.

“That’s great,” said Buffy. “So what do we have to do?” She shifted on the chair until her feet were resting on the floor.

“We need to wake up Spike. He needs to hear this too,” said Tara.

Buffy got up and went to the couch. She had to shake Spike several times before he opened an eye.

“Wh...?” he mumbled.

“Spike, come on, wake up. Tara is going to tell us what to we have to do,” said Buffy, shaking him again.

“Okay, okay,” Spike said as he began to sit up. “No need to bleeding nag.”

“Hey! I’m not nagging!” Buffy complained as she sat on the couch next to him.

Spike smiled at her as he organised his wits. He’d had some really vivid dreams and hoped that the fact that his jeans were uncomfortably tight in the groin area would go unnoticed. A quick glance at Angel told him that the vampire knew that he was aroused. He glared at him, fervently hoping that Angel would say nothing. The dreams had been of drinking blood, of ripping throats and revelling in the warm blood pouring over his chin as he drank deeply. He looked down at his hands after he found himself looking at Buffy’s neck and licking his lips.

“Oh, wow,” he said. “Look.”

He held his hands up and, although they still looked blistered and sore, they were no where near as bad as they had been. He opened and closed his fists with relative ease. They all were heartened by it until Angel spoke.

“Vampire healing. If I’d suffered burns like that without bursting into flames, I would have healed them in no time.”

That sobered them. Spike was another step nearer to total vampirism. Tara sat on the chair vacated by Buffy and Rich perched on its arm, still keeping tight hold of her hand.

“Oh,” said Buffy weakly in response to Angel’s statement.

Spike wasn’t surprised. Given the dreams that he’d had, he knew that things were still progressing. The strange thing was that he was starting to feel excited by the fact and not terrified of it. The power that he’d felt in his dreams had been intoxicating.

“Um…so what’s the plan then, Tee?” asked Spike. “May as well sound willing.”

Tara could see how tense everyone was, staring at her, waiting to hear her news. They all needed to try to stay as calm as possible. If they were too on edge about the ritual – things could go wrong. She hadn’t missed the look Spike had shot at Angel, then she had an idea…

“As you knew from before, you have to drink Angel’s blood. The thing is that you both have to be naked and coated in a specially blended oil –”

“What?” howled Angel and Spike in unison.

Tara surprised them by bursting out laughing. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist it. I’m joking about the oily naked part.”

Her remark had the desired effect of lessening the charged atmosphere that was being generated in the room.

Rich cuffed Tara’s arm gently. “What are you like? Had me worried about all the danglies on show.”

Spike grinned. “That’s only ‘cause mine’ll put yours to shame. Poor Tara won’t be so happy in the bedroom after that.”

Rich picked up a cushion from the chair and threw it at Spike, who laughed and caught it easily.

“That’s a shame – I was quite looking forward to seeing them all oily,” said Buffy, leering suggestively at Spike.

“Okay, I’m not joking now,” said Tara seriously. Time to get to the business in hand.

The others all gave her their undivided attention.

“The actual ritual is simple enough. I have all the ingredients for the spell in my store cupboard. But it’s the timing that is going to be the hardest to achieve. If it’s not done at exactly the right moment, it won’t work at all. Spike will turn completely into a vampire – losing his soul and existing only on his bloodlust. Angel will be trapped here forever.”

Angel leaned forward in his seat. “What is so crucial about the timing? Can’t we just, like, set an alarm clock or something?”

Tara shook her head. “I wish it were so simple.” She looked at Spike. “What are your thoughts on this, Spike?”

“What? Me?” Spike wouldn’t meet her eye.

“Yes,” said Tara. “You’re the one who has most to lose.” She glanced back at Angel. “Sorry, Angel. But you’ll still be you if things don’t work out. Spike won’t be.” She faced Spike again. “So?”

“Um…well…I say we better get this right then, eh?” Spike gave a small smirk. “Good answer, Spike. Well done. Better make sure it doesn’t go to time though, eh?”

“That’s what I thought,” said Tara. “Buffy, can you stay here with Spike? Angel, Rich, come with me, please. I need you to carry something up from the basement.”

A chorus of sures met her request and she quickly led the men from the room. Spike watched her leave and then slumped back in his seat, resting his head on the back of the couch. He closed his eyes. He was just so damn tired. Plus he might have some more of those lovely dreams. He felt Buffy’s hand squeeze his and he opened an eye to see her watching him with concern.

“Are you okay, Spike?” she asked.

“Yeah, pet. Just tired is all.” He let his eye fall shut again.

Buffy stared at him. Something seemed a little off about him, but she had no idea what. She shrugged. She must be getting spooked now that the time for the ritual was close. She looked at the door and wondered what Tara needed the guys to help her with.

Tara led Angel and Rich down some creaky wooden stairs into a dusty, damp and dimly lit basement. She had told Angel to close the door behind him as they had entered. She turned to face them when they were all down the steps.

“So what is it that you need us to carry, Tee?” asked Rich, glancing around the almost completely empty room.

“There’s nothing. I just needed to talk to you out of Spike’s earshot after what he said,” replied Tara.

“What do you mean?” said Angel with a frown. “He said that he wanted to get it right. What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s because he doesn’t mean it. We’re going to have to do this ritual without relying on Spike to help it to go smoothly,” said Tara.

Rich took Tara’s hand in his. “How can you say that? Of course he wants to do it properly.”

Tara shook her head. “The demon inside him is growing stronger all the time. It’s not going to want to be denied. If we’d spoken of the ritual yesterday he’d’ve been much more positive than just saying ‘um…better get it right’.”

Rich stared at her. “He did seem pretty laid back about it.”

“So what do we do?” asked Angel.

Tara fixed Angel with an intense gaze. “It’s all going to ultimately be down to you. I can do the ritual, but you have to put yourself in the position so that Spike will bite you.”

“What?” gasped Angel. “I thought that he just had to drink my blood, not actually bite me!”

“But when he bit Buffy, he didn’t even break the skin,” said Rich, looking first at Tara and then Angel. “So why do you think that he’ll be able to do it to Angel.”

Tara hesitated; she wasn’t looking forward to telling them the next part. Rich took her hand and tugged it.

“Tee, what is it? You’re scaring me.”

“This is where the timing part comes in. The last changes that Spike has to go through are the development of his fangs swiftly followed by the loss of his soul and heartbeat.”

“Are you certain of the order of them?” asked Angel. He ran a hand through his hair. He didn’t like the sound of this very much. It all sounded a bit vague.

“We’re as sure as we can be,” said Tara. “Spike has to drink your blood direct from your neck as soon as his fangs descend.”

“Okay,” said Angel slowly. “Then, what, I just push him off when he has his fill? He is a bit stronger than normal now, you know.”

“Yeah, but you’re stronger, right?” said Rich.

“I am, but if he takes enough blood I’ll end up as weak as a kitten. I have to say that I’m not that taken with this plan,” said Angel dryly.

“If he drinks before the final changes take place, then you have nothing to worry about,” assured Tara. “When he has taken the same amount of blood from you that Drusilla took from him, the magics will come into force, you’ll be sent back to your dimension and Spike will lose the fledgling demon within.”

“What do we do if the timing is out?” asked Rich nervously.

Angel looked at him sharply. “I stake him.”

Rich stepped towards Angel, angrily pointing a finger. “You will not fucking kill my friend!”

“Rich, calm down,” said Tara, putting a restraining hand on his arm.

Angel took a pace backwards to try to defuse the situation. “Rich, the thing is – if the change goes through completely it won’t be your friend anymore. Without a soul, he’ll just be a predator. He’ll kill you all and will enjoy doing it.”

“But, you’re not like that,” protested Rich.

“Believe me, Rich. I was. I couldn’t wait to get home and murder each and every member of my family. We can’t let him get loose if he is truly a vampire. This world shouldn’t have them and you’d soon be over-run as he would want to sire companions,” Angel stated baldly.

Rich’s eyes filled with tears and he swallowed hard. “Shite.”

“So we make sure that we get it right,” said Tara firmly.

Rich took a deep breath. “So what do we need to do? If he’s not going to want to go along with it – how can we make sure that he does?”

Angel glanced at Tara. “We chain him down here, right?”

Tara nodded. “Can you see to fixing the chains somewhere that will hold him?”

“Yes, I will,” replied Angel. “I’ll go and get them.”

He turned around and disappeared up the steps. Tara put her hands on Rich’s shoulders and kissed him soundly before looking deep into his eyes.

“I really need you to be strong, Rich. Until we get Spike secured down here, you have to act normal. If he suspects anything he may try to run.”

Rich put his arms around Tara and drew her to his chest. He buried his face in her neck, savouring the scent of her hair.

“I’ll try, Tee.”

They parted as Angel returned with his holdall.

“We’ll go up. We’ll bring him down here when you’re ready,” said Tara. “Come on, Rich, it’ll soon be over.”

Rich wasn’t sure that he could pull off acting normal, but followed Tara upstairs.

Alone in the basement, Angel looked around to find somewhere to attach the chains. Finally, he settled on wrapping them behind a pillar that supported the floor above.

Spike was still sleeping when Rich and Tara walked into the lounge. Buffy was sitting with his head in her lap, stroking his hair.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

“Yes,” replied Tara, as Rich stood dumbly staring at Spike. “Just putting together the things that we need. How has Spike been?”

“He has never stirred at all. He must be exhausted to sleep as soundly as this.”

“Or quietly turning into a demon…” thought Rich.

Rich jumped as Angel walked up behind him.

“Ready,” said Angel.

“What’s ready?” asked Buffy, unnerved by the way the three of them were staring at Spike.

“It’s time for the ritual to begin,” said Tara. “We’d better wake up Spike.”

“No need,” said Angel striding to the couch and scooping Spike into his arms.

“Oh!” said Buffy as Angel walked away with him.

Tara followed closely behind Angel and Buffy got off the couch and hurried to catch up. Rich stepped in her path.

“I’m not sure that you should be down there, Buffy,” he said.

“Rich, get out of the way. I’m going with Spike.”

Rich put a hand on her arm. “Buffy, from what Tee has told me – it’s not going to be pleasant. Are you sure that you want to see him when he…when he ends up looking like a vampire?”

“I don’t care! I’m not letting him go through this without me,” said Buffy, angrily shrugging off his hand.

She tried to go by him but Rich got hold of her again. “What about Spike, Buffy? Would he want you to see it?”

“Rich,” said Buffy, with tears beginning to fall, “I’ve got to be there – I can’t just wait up here. Please don’t try to stop me from being with him.”

“Oh, Buffy,” said Rich, wrapping his arms around her. “I’m sorry, don’t cry. I’m just afraid of what’s going to happen.”

Buffy hugged him tightly. “We’ll get through it.” She sniffed and as he let her go she took his hand. “Shall we go?”

Rich nodded and, heart in his mouth, he walked down into the dingy basement with Buffy. By the time that they got to the foot of the steps, Angel had secured Spike to the pillar. Spike amazingly seemed to still be asleep. The burns on his face and hands looked to have improved in the short time that he’d been down there. Buffy dropped Rich’s hand and ran towards Spike, only to find Angel in her way.

“God! I’ve just had this with Rich upstairs. Get out of my way. I’m going to him.”

Angel shook his head. “It’s not safe. Be near him but not within the range of those chains.” He glanced at Tara. “I think you’d better warn her about what’s going to happen when sleeping beauty over there wakes up.”

“Buffy, come and sit here with me,” said Tara, patting the wooden box that she was perched on.

Tara had just finished telling Buffy the details of the ritual, when Spike began to stir.

“Okay, I’ve got to do the spell part of this,” said Tara, her voice wavering a little with nerves.

She went to the little container full of the ingredients that she’d already prepared. She held her left hand over it and chanted quietly. She faltered a couple of times until she got full control of her focus, then the words suddenly came easily and the volume of her voice increased.

Buffy and Rich watched in amazement as the powder in the bowl began to give off a radiant pale yellow light. Angel had crouched near to Spike when Tara began the spell, and he kept glancing nervously at him.

Spike’s eyes opened and he stared at Tara and her bowl full of sparkling light.

“What are you doing?” he asked. He got to his feet and scowled at his forward movement was halted by the chains on his ankles and right wrist. “What’s going on?” Spike spotted Buffy sitting in the corner. “Buffy, pet, what’s going on? Last I knew I was having a kip on the couch.”

“Oh, Spike,” sobbed Buffy. She went to stand but Rich’s hand stopped her.

“Wait,” he whispered.

Without missing a beat when Spike spoke, Tara completed the spell and threw a handful of the glowing powder over first Spike and then Angel. She stepped back sharply and held her breath. Was the timing right?”

Spike cried out as the powder hit him, it seared where it touched him. He stared at Buffy. “Buffy, why are you doing this?” His eyes were tortured and pleading.

“It’s to put things, right,” said Buffy, openly weeping, hating to see her lover in pain. “Tara, it’s hurting him.”

Quick as a flash Buffy leapt up, dodged past Rich and ran to Spike. Spike straightened up and smirked.

“Knew that look would get to you.”

He licked his lips and reached out to grab her, momentarily startled as his face shifted and shiny, lethally sharp fangs dropped from his gums. His finger tips brushed her arm. Buffy screamed and tried to backtrack when she saw his demon face. The lumpy brow and nose, those hideous amber eyes and the teeth… Just as Spike leant forward to clutch her, there was an inhuman roar to his right and Angel pushed Buffy out of reach.

Spike growled, baring his teeth. He furiously tugged at his shackled wrist and to everyone’s horror the chain holding him snapped. He grabbed Angel by the throat. Spike tilted his head on one side and smiled.

“I reckon I can have you for starters.”

All Angel’s instincts were screaming at him to pull away, to use the stake that he had in his pocket, to fight back, but he forced himself not to resist.

In a swift movement Spike pulled Angel nearer, pushing his head to one side as he sank his fangs unerringly into Angel’s jugular vein. He was surprised that the blood didn’t rush into his mouth like it had in his dreams and it was cold, but he sucked hungrily.

Rich had run to help Buffy to her feet and now stood staring in shock at the beast that had been his best friend. The slurps and snarls that accompanied Spike’s actions, turned his stomach. He doubled over and threw up. Buffy was clinging to Tara, crying hysterically. Tara allowed herself to think that things had gone well. Thank Goddess that Spike hadn’t got hold of Buffy.

Angel moaned in pain as Spike ruthlessly tore at his throat. He began to feel light-headed and reached his hand into his pocket to get the stake. It had obviously gone completely wrong. He felt a pang in his un-beating heart at the knowledge that he would never see his Buffy again.

As his fingers touched the stake there was a loud bang, a flash of brilliant light, and a sensation of falling before everything went dark.

Buffy, Rich and Tara were blown off their feet by the blast and they landed in a heap, arms and legs entwined, coughing with the dust that was filling the air.

Rich managed to disentangle himself and rested on hands and knees trying to get his breath. He glanced at the girls and could see that they were more or less okay.

“Spike,” he said, gasping for air.

He crawled over to where Spike had been tied. The blast had thrown Spike backwards as far as the chains on his ankles would allow. He was flat on his back, his eyes closed. Blood was coating his chin and Rich’s stomach protested as he realised just whose blood it was. Rich put a hand on Spike’s leg and shook his as hard as he could.

“Spike! Are you okay?”

“Rich, be careful,” called Tara.

Rich looked back over his shoulder and smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he turned back to find himself face to face with Spike. To his shame he let out a bit of a girly squeal as the unpleasant image of Spike savaging Angel’s neck flashed in his mind.

Spike grinned at him. “God, you sound like a right poof.”

“What?”

“What’s got your knickers in such a twist to make you squeak like that?” Spike looked around the dusty basement. “Hang on? Wasn’t I just on the couch?” He looked up. “Did the floor cave in or something?”

“Oh, mate,” Rich managed to mutter. He fell on his friend like a drowning man might grab driftwood. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

Before Spike could reply, he was hit by two more bodies as Buffy and Tara threw their arms around him. Confused, he thought he’d better just copy what they were doing and hugged them back. He tried to kiss Buffy and was hurt when she pulled away. She accurately read his expression and took out some tissues from her pocket to wipe his mouth and chin.

“You’re covered in blood,” she explained.

“I am? But I don’t hurt.”

“It wasn’t yours.”

The penny dropped. “The ritual? You’ve done the ritual and I’m…I’m still me? Still alive?” He put two fingers onto the pulse point in his neck. He sighed with relief that he could feel it beating – a little rapidly maybe – but beating.

He grabbed Buffy and kissed her. “God, it worked. I’m really okay.”

They were disturbed by a loud groaning noise from the opposite corner of the basement. They all looked at each other.

“Angel?” said Spike. “Oh, no! He’s trapped here!”

Tara was distraught. “He can’t be. If it worked for you – he had to be thrown back to his own dimension.”

“It definitely worked, I can feel Spike’s heart beating,” said Buffy, clinging to him.

“If that’s the case, then what the hell is in that corner?” said Rich. “’Cause I want it on record that I’m totally bleeding sick of this parallel lives crap!”

Spike, Buffy, Rich and Tara struggled to their feet and all peered through the dust as a figure rose up from the floor. It coughed. They looked at each other – it sounded human but was it going to be another vampire?

It took a couple of wobbly steps towards them.

Rich’s legs gave way as he saw the features of the figure. “Oh, Christ,” he whispered as he fell to his knees.

Tara knelt beside Rich, supporting him as he trembled uncontrollably. She looked at the figure and wondered why Rich had reacted as badly as he had. It was a man, about the same age as they were, slim, with sandy brown hair. It was too dark to see the colour of his eyes but his cheekbones were prominent. She glanced at Spike to see him staring open mouthed at the man.

“Gosh, he looks like Spike,” thought Tara.

Rich finally managed to get enough air in his lungs to speak. “J – James?”

The man tensed and stared at Rich. “Yeah. Who the fuck are you?”

Tbc

The lyrics in this chapter are from Dream Catch Me by Newton Faulkner.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

All’s Well That Ends Well

Two months later…

Spike took his guitar from the roadie and walked towards the front of the stage. He stared out at the sea of faces before him for a moment, and then put the strap over his shoulder, settled the guitar in position and gave it a strum. He grinned as the crowd cheered loudly.

“Well, Sunnydale,” he said into the microphone, “this is it. The last song of the last concert date of our tour.”

Loud groans replaced the cheers. Spike held his hands up.

“I know, I know. I don’t want it to end either, but we’re due in the studio to work on our next album, and you just know that we’ll be back on the road to promote that.”

He glanced to the left of the stage. His heart leapt as it always did when he saw Buffy. She was standing there watching him and she smiled as their eyes met. God, he loved her so much it was almost a physical pain. Next to her were Rich and Tara, who had their arms around each other. Rich wasn’t quite as tall as Tara but they still made a striking couple. Spike swore that he could see the diamond on her left ring finger glinting, even from where he stood. They were rock solid together and due to marry in just a few weeks. After the experiences of the past few weeks, they saw no reason to wait. Who knew what fate might throw at you next?

Spike’s eyes fell on James. They’d just about gotten over the strangeness of his arrival and James seemed happy to be here. Spike nodded at him and received a wink in reply.

He wondered if Angel had made it home safe but quickly pushed that thought away as an image of Angel kissing Buffy flashed through his mind. He shuddered slightly, it didn’t matter that it wasn’t his own Buffy; it still gave him the creeps. He turned his attention back to his job.

“So,” said Spike, “seeing how this is our hometown, I reckon you deserve to hear something that no one outside of the band has heard yet. This is a new song that I’ve just finished writing. It will be on the album, and I’m hoping it will be the first single taken from it. I hope you like it.”

Spike looked down at his guitar. He noticed that the spotlight he was in had highlighted the faint scars on the back of hands. A reminder – as if he could forget – of the night when it all had finally come to a head.

Two months earlier…

The dust was still swirling around the basement, as all five stared at each other in total bewilderment. Spike struggled to his feet and tried to walk towards the sandy haired man, only to be brought up short by the chains on his ankles.

“James?” said Spike in awe. “Is that really you?”

“Already said that’s my name,” said James, backing up. “The question I want you to answer is – how the hell do you know it?” He glanced around wildly. “And where, exactly, am I?”

Spike looked back at the others, who had stood up and were at his shoulders. He took Buffy’s hand in his. Rich was pale with shock and trembling. Spike could feel his own hands shaking. He turned to face James.

“Well, the quick answer is that you’re in the basement of Tara’s house in Sunnydale, California,” said Spike, gesturing to Tara with his free hand.

“Okay,” said James dubiously. He let his gaze fall on each of them in turn. “I’ve got some more questions.” He held himself rigid as if he expected them to attack him.

“Ask them, then,” said Spike. “’Cause I’ve got a few of my own, too.”

“Right.” James seemed at a bit of a loss as to what to say first. “Firstly, why are you chained to a pillar?” He pointed at Spike. “And why is he looking at me like he’s seen a bleeding ghost?”

A snort of hysterical laughter escaped from Rich. “That’s ‘cause that’s what you sodding are, isn’t it?” he said quietly.

“What? So I’m dead?” sneered James. “Don’t feel dead. In fact, the way my bloody head is throbbing, makes me think that death wouldn’t be such a bad thing.”

“Don’t fucking say that!” snarled Rich, making all of them start.

Tara glanced at Rich with concern. “Why don’t we all go upstairs and we’ll talk in more comfort?”

“Good idea, Tara,” said Buffy.

Tara couldn’t understand why Spike and Rich – especially Rich – were acting as if they knew James. He obviously didn’t know them. She unlocked the shackles on Spike’s ankles and they all filed slowly up the narrow steps. Soon, they were sitting on the chairs in the lounge room holding the mugs of tea or coffee that Tara had made.

James had chosen an armchair a little apart from the others and was looking around the room. The cosy setting made him feel even less at ease. He had absolutely no idea of what had happened to him. The two men kept staring at him with an intensity that he found unnerving. The girls were just looking at him curiously.

There was a moment’s uncomfortable silence before James cleared his throat.

“Will you tell me how you know my name?” he asked.

Rich and Spike exchanged looks. “Don’t take this the wrong way, mate, but before we answer that can you tell us where you were before you came to be in the basement?” said Spike.

He and Buffy were snuggled together in an armchair, allowing Rich and Tara to have the couch to themselves.

James rubbed his right hand over his dirty face, smearing it even more. “I was just walking down the street. Then there was this bright light and I was falling – but how could I be if I was on the sidewalk?” He shook his head at the memory. “Then I woke up down there.” He stood up. “Why am I even sitting here? I don’t owe you any explanation.” James shrugged and smiled wryly. “Okay, maybe I do, for turning up so unexpected like, but – still, I reckon I’ll just be off.”

He walked to the door. Buffy had been trying to think where she might have seen him before. It clicked into place when she saw that smile. She’d seen the photograph just about every day.

She quickly got up and stood between him and the door. “Please don’t go. I really do think that we have to talk. They’re just a bit shocked. They think that you’re James Norman. If you are, then Spike’s your cousin.” She pointed at him. “And Rich was your best friend before you die – er – disappeared.

James stared at the petite blonde. “Look, you’re not wrong about the name, but I’m sorry, I’ve never seen either of them before.”

“Maybe you’ll recognise their names?” insisted Buffy. “Spike’s name is Norman too – well it was Pratt – but that’s a whole other story.”

“Don’t blame him for changing it,” said James with a hint of a smile.

Buffy grinned at him. “Rich’s full name is Richard Bayliss.”

That got James’ attention. He whipped around to look at Rich. “No, it can’t be…it couldn’t…”

“What isn’t?” prompted Tara, feeling Rich tense up beside her.

James shook his head, and waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “No, sorry. My mistake. It’s impossible.”

Rich got to his feet. “Look, mate, trust me when I say that right now just about anything is bloody possible. Just say what you were going to say – no matter how daft it sounds.”

James took a step backwards, his brain added reeling to the throbbing it was already doing. He took a deep breath. So what did it matter if these people thought that he was bonkers? He could be out of the door in seconds and they’d never have to see him again.

“Right. Rich was my best friend when I was little.” He paused when everyone gasped. He looked each in the eye before continuing. “But when I moved out here from England with my parents, we lost touch. Then I heard that he’d died; leukaemia or something. Strange that you have the same name – it’s not that common.

“I’m dead!” squeaked Rich.

James looked at him as if he was crazy and began to back out of the room. These people were strange and he was going to get out of there as quickly as possible.

Spike could tell exactly what James was thinking. “Just let me ask you one thing and then if you want to you can leave. Okay?”

“Don’t worry; I’m going to bleeding leave whatever you say.” Despite his thoughts, James nodded.

“Have you ever seen a vampire?” asked Spike, staring intently at James.

“Shit! What do I say? If I tell them yes, they’ll think I’m insane. No one ever fucking believes me. And I’m not going back to hospital for anybody.” James shook his head rapidly. “’Course not, how could I have? Not sodding real, are they? Can I go now? I need to get home.”

“Why did you ask him that?” whispered Buffy.

“’Cause he can’t be the James that me and Rich knew. I just thought that somehow he must have come from Angel’s dimension,” replied Spike, eyes still on James. “If he’d seen a vampire then that would kind of prove it. It’s okay, James, you can leave. Don’t want your family worrying about you. But if things aren’t as they should be, come back here, okay?”

James hesitated; the intense blue eyes of Spike reminded him of his own. “Um…I don’t have anyone who’d worry about me,” he said without self-pity. It was simply a statement of fact.

“You don’t? What happened to your parents?” asked Spike, curious to know. In this reality, James had died with his parents and Spike’s mom in that car wreck.

James looked down for a moment. “Do I tell the truth or the ‘official’ version?” “They were murdered by a gang on PCP,” he said. “Play safe – ‘official’ version it is.” “I came home and interrupted them. I tried to fight them but they were too strong.” His voice caught and he swallowed hard before looking up and meeting Spike’s stare. “I was lucky to survive myself because one bi…er…stabbed my neck and left me lying in a pool of blood.”

Spike’s eyes widened as he heard James’ explanation of the tragedy of his parents’ deaths. “Don’t you mean that you were bitten? And I bet you have a scar like this on your neck.”

Spike stepped closer to James and tilted his head to show the scars where Dru had sunk her fangs into him. James gasped and reached out to touch the scar before he pulled down the collar of his jacket to show his own.

“Vampires,” said Spike softly. “They were vampires, James. Why didn’t you say? How old were you when this happened?”

James was surprised to find his eyes filled with tears. This guy believed him. Really believed him and had the scars to prove it.

“I was seventeen,” replied James.

No one in the room was surprised at the age. Like Tara had said when this was all starting – the dimension would be similar but not the same. But pivotal things probably happened along the same timeline.

“James, why don’t you sit down again?” suggested Tara.

James blinked rapidly and walked on unsteady legs back to the chair.

“What happened to you afterwards?” asked Buffy.

James hesitated before he began to speak. “Um…well, they all left when they heard the sirens. By then I was pretty much out of it. Then when I was in the hospital, a cop came in and asked me what had happened.” He dropped his gaze to his hands and smiled bitterly. “That’s when I made the mistake of telling them the truth.”

“Oh, James,” said Buffy.

James met her eyes. “Yeah, then I really stuffed up by telling it again, repeatedly. They acted like they believed me just long enough to find out that I had no living relatives and then admitted me to a mental institution as soon as the paperwork was processed.”

He grimaced as he saw the sympathy in their eyes. It was always the bloody same when people found out what had happened. Lots of sympathy and then lots of avoiding him afterwards.

“It wasn’t so bad,” he lied. “Was only for a year.”

Spike looked at him in horror. The poor bastard. “What did you do when you…er…”

“When they let me out?” said James. “I got out on my eighteenth birthday – they couldn’t make me stay after that unless I was formally re-committed. By then I’d learned my lesson and told them what they wanted to hear. I made my way back to Sunnydale and tried to find a place to live. I’ve done okay. I tried to go back to school to graduate but couldn’t earn enough to do it and pay for somewhere to live.”

“What about your parent’s house?” asked Tara quietly.

James laughed softly. “Ah, there’s the rub. Found out that my inheritance had been used to pay for my ‘treatment’. I’d signed the papers – I saw my signature, but I can’t remember when I did it. I reckon it was in the first couple of months that I was in there. They kept me pretty much out of it on drugs.” He rubbed his hands across his face again. “Good of ‘em, eh?”

He lifted his eyes and stared at them. He couldn’t believe that he’d told these strangers the truth. He never told anyone the truth, never opened up. Once bitten – twice shy and all that. He looked at the scar on Spike’s neck and felt an affinity to him.

“So what happened to you?” James asked Spike.

“This is where it gets a bit complicated, mate,” said Spike. “’Cause vampires don’t exist here –”

“I thought you fucking believed me!” James yelled and leapt to his feet, startling them all.

He bolted for the door. James was through it and running down the hall to the front door before anyone had time to react. They heard it slam shut as Rich got to his feet to follow him.

Tara grabbed Rich’s hand. “Let him go,” she said.

“I can’t,” said Rich, his eyes welling up. “I can’t lose him, Tee.”

Tara stood and wrapped her arms around him. “He’s not yours to lose, Rich. He’s not your James.”

“I know.” Rich’s voice broke. “But he looks just like him and –”

“Shh, baby,” soothed Tara. “He’ll come back. He hasn’t anywhere else to go. He doesn’t belong here.”

Spike buried his head in his hands as Tara spoke. His head was spinning with it all. He leant his head against Buffy’s shoulder. “What are we going to do?” he whispered. “Oh, Buffy, will we ever be back to normal?”

“Well, you’re back to normal and that’s what matters to me,” replied Buffy.

She cupped his chin in her hand and brought his face up to meet hers. She pulled him towards her and kissed him. Spike sighed and deepened the kiss, throwing his arms around her and clinging to her.

“God, I love you so much. You know that, don’t you?” he said.

Buffy pulled back far enough to give him a sharp look. “Do you really need to ask me that, you dope?”

Spike grinned and resumed the kissing and for a moment or two nothing but the two of them seemed to exist.

Tara had gotten Rich back on the couch and they were doing pretty much the same thing!

0000000

James didn’t stop running until he was half way to the shabby one-room apartment that he called home.

“Stupid idiot,” he chided himself. “What the hell were you thinking? Have you never learned anything?”

He stomped along the sidewalk, muttering to himself. He rummaged in his jeans pocket and took out his door key. James put it in the lock and turned it. The lock opened but the door didn’t budge.

“What now?”

He pushed at the door, but still it didn’t move. In his frustration he kicked at it.

“Stupid thing!”

James stepped away from it when a light went on inside. There was a sound of a bolt being drawn back and the door was flung open.

“Do you know what freaking time it is?” yelled a short, bald headed man. “What do you want?”

James stood there with his mouth open. He only managed to force words out as the man began to close the door again. James stepped forward and put his foot in the doorway to prevent it from being able to shut completely.

“I – I want to know what you’re doing in my home?” he rasped.

“It’s my place, you retard, lived here for five years. Get out of here before I call the cops.” The man shoved James in the stomach and slammed the door when James staggered back.

James walked out onto the street and sat on the edge of the curb, head hanging low. He was close to tears. The man’s words had stung. He’d suffered a lot of ridicule when he’d first gotten out of the institution – none of his friends had wanted anything to do with him. That was when the last vestiges of the happy-go-lucky boy that he’d been before the death of his parents had finally died, to be replaced by wary caution.

“What do I do now? I don’t understand what’s going on. Have I really lost my mind?” he mumbled. “Shit, I’m even talking to myself now – a sure sign that I’m cracking up.”

Unconsciously he fingered the scar on his neck. Spike. Rich. The two girls whose names he hadn’t been told. Maybe if there were answers to what had happened to him tonight, then they would be able to give them to him. James stood up, brushed the seat of his grubby jeans and walked slowly back to Tara’s small house.

0000000

“James is here,” said Spike, easing Buffy off his lap and walking to the door, arriving at it just as a quiet rap sounded on it.

Spike opened it and smiled at James. “Come on in.”

James nodded briefly and stepped past Spike and into the house.

“We’re all still in the lounge room,” said Spike, and he followed James into the room.

James didn’t look at anyone, just paid serious attention to his shoes as he returned to the chair he’d vacated about an hour earlier.

Buffy, Tara, Spike and Rich all glanced at each other. They couldn’t fail to notice that James was trembling. They all could understand how he felt – his world had literally been changed. Tara squeezed Rich’s hand and stood up.

“I think we’d all do better with a hot drink,” she said. “What would you like, James? Tea or coffee? I might even have some hot chocolate.”

James met her eye for a second. “Um…chocolate, please.” The way his heart was racing, he didn’t think that introducing caffeine would be a good thing right now.

Once they were all holding a mug filled with their choice of drink, Spike began to talk.

“Right, let’s start with properly introducing ourselves. I’m Spike Norman; I’m the lead singer of a band called The Dingoes.”

He pointed at Rich who, despite being warned by Tara whispering in his ear not to stare, was doing just that. He just couldn’t take his eyes from this version of his old best friend.

“That’s Rich Bayliss; he’s the band’s manager. The girls are Buffy Summers…” Spike gave Buffy a squeeze.

“I – I think that there was a Buffy in my year at school,” said James hesitantly. “Hung out with an older guy, if I’m remembering right. Was that you?”

He ducked his head and took a sip of his chocolate as the four of them all looked sharply at each other. “What did I say?”

“You’re remembering right,” said Buffy, realising that he was talking of the other Buffy and Angel but wanting to put him more at ease.

“And last, but by no means least, is Tara Maclay, Rich’s fiancée,” said Spike.

“Well, you all know who I am, and all my bleeding history,” said James. “I thought you believed me. I thought you’d been bitten too.”

He cringed at the whining note in his voice. But he’d been alone for so long, he craved to feel connected to someone – to feel that he could be totally honest with someone.

“I do believe you and I was bitten,” replied Spike, leaning forward in his chair and running his left hand through his hair. The left hand that bore only faint burn marks on it. He had healed as the spell had come into force. “The real test is whether you’ll believe what we tell you from now on.”

By the time that Spike had finished telling James what had happened over the past few weeks, it was almost dawn. Between them, Tara, Rich, Spike and Buffy, told James everything from all angles.

“I’m so sorry, James, that my spell has somehow involved you,” said Tara. “I’ll e-mail the coven right now and see if we can work out a way to get you home.”

James had relaxed more as the night had worn on, and he smiled at Tara. “Do you think that I’ll be upsetting the balance of the parallel universe if I just stayed here? I don’t mean here – with you – I mean here as in this dimension?” He fiddled nervously with his fingers. “It’s just that…um…a place without vampires sounds like a good place to stay. I can find somewhere to live and –”

“No you will not!” said Rich quickly.

James’ face fell. “Oh, okay…um…see what you can do, Tara.”

“No, mate,” said Rich. “I meant that you don’t need to find somewhere to live. I don’t need my apartment anymore – you’re welcome to live there.”

“And where, pray tell, do you think that you are going to live, Rich?” teased Tara with a wink to an embarrassed James.

“Um…here with you,” replied Rich, grabbing her and tickling her until she squealed for mercy. “Don’t tell me that you don’t want me after all.”

Spike coughed loudly as Tara responded with a kiss. “Save it for the bedroom – poor James isn’t used to you two mauling each other all the time!”

“Pot. Kettle. Black!” retorted Rich, throwing a cushion at Spike. “Sound familiar?”

They all laughed and James had to swallow hard to keep his emotions in check – the playful bantering reminding him of how he’d been with his friends before his parents’ death.

“I think that we all really ought to get some sleep,” suggested Buffy.

Tara’s house had only two bedrooms and so she brought down some blankets for James to use on the couch. She sat down next to him. “I’ll have to get the coven to make sure that you staying here won’t upset the natural balance of things, but it doesn’t mean that I don’t want you to stay, okay?”

“Thanks, Tara. I understand. I’d hate to think that my being here would make someone go through what Spike has had to endure.”

“Sleep well, James,” she said, kissing his cheek as she stood.

“Good night, Tara,” he replied.

Two months later…

Spike played the intro to the song he had only just completed. His gaze fell to Buffy once more. He smiled at her before turning back to the microphone and beginning to sing.

“Every time I close my eyes

It’s you and I know now

Who I am…”

The crowded auditorium fell silent as the audience was entranced by Spike’s voice and the lyrics he was singing.

“Dream catch me, yeah.

Dream catch me when I fall

Or I won’t come back at all.

You do so much

That you don’t know

It’s true

And I know now

Who I am.”

Spike remembered that at the end, he’d wanted the change to be completed, but having spoken to Tara about it, he knew that it had been the demon that had wanted it – not him. For the first time in a good while, Spike finally felt that he knew who he was again.

The other band members gathered round when he’d finished the song. Pete and Joey grabbed Spike and raised him up onto their shoulders. The crowd was going wild. Hometowns always had the best vibe but Spike felt as high as a kite. He’d come within a hair’s breath of never completing this tour.

He made his way to his dressing room, rubbing the sweat from his face with the towel a roadie had handed him. Buffy and he would leave for their own home in an hour or so. He just had to sign a couple of autographs for the fans who’d gotten backstage passes. He’d been a little ‘busy’ with Buffy before the gig. Spike opened the door and walked in, sighing with disappointment when he saw that Buffy wasn’t already there.

He sat at the dressing table and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He touched it with his fingers.

“Nice to have you back,” he said as he grinned at himself. “You handsome devil!”

Thank God things were back to normal. He winced as he recalled the furore over the ‘gay’ photographs in the papers – not least the bollocking he got from Rupert and Joyce for, a) not letting them know about returning to the U.S., b) not getting in touch when the photos hit the papers, c) drinking again and…

To Spike’s relief his thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door and Xander asking if he could come in. Spike slicked his slightly curly hair back from his forehead with his fingers and turned towards the door.

“Yeah, come in, Xan.”

“Got a couple of girls here that are anxious to meet you – poor misguided souls,” joked Xander as he ushered in a pair of blushing girls.

“Sod off,” said Spike, without malice. “Okay, so which one of you is Dawn?” asked Spike. “Your dad told me all about you.” He grinned.

“God, I hope not!” said the taller of the girls. “That’d be way too embarrassing.”

“Don’t worry, love. He stopped short of showing me your baby pics.”

Xander leant on a wall and marvelled at how Spike could get the fans feeling so at ease. He was a good guy – one of a kind. Xander opened the door when someone tapped on it. He smiled when he saw that it was James. Rich had a rule that no band member was ever left alone with any fans just in case one was malicious and went to the press with a bunch of lies. Now that James was here, Xander could get back to overseeing packing all the stage equipment away for the last time.

“James! Be a buddy and stay with Spike for a while,” said Xander, ducking out before James could reply.

“Uh…okay,” replied James to Xander’s rapidly disappearing back.

He turned his attention into the room and his heart lurched as his eyes fell on the most gorgeous girl that he’d ever seen. She boldly met his eye and smiled. James was lost. He never had a chance. Spike grinned when he saw how pole-axed James was.

When the girls went home fifteen minutes later, James had Dawn’s cell phone number in his pocket and a tentative date set for the following Saturday.

Spike nudged James as they walked out of the building to where the cars were parked. “Dunno how impressed I am that you pinched what her dad had said was my number one fan.”

James pushed him back. “Come on, there isn’t a girl on the planet that doesn’t know that you only have eyes for Buffy. Dawn’s smart enough not to waste emotion on something that she can’t have.”

“Whereas you…?”

“She can have as many times as she wants!”

Spike put his arm round James. He’d really changed in the past month. The wary look in his eyes had been replaced with a twinkle that more than reminded Spike of the ‘other’ James. They’d all been delighted when the coven had found no reason for him not to stay here.

“Speaking of Buffy,” said Spike. “Where is she?”

“That’s what I came to tell you – she went home a while ago.”

“Is she okay? Not ill or anything?” asked Spike anxiously.

“She’s fine – just said she didn’t want to hang around.”

“Oh, all right. Talk to you tomorrow then, yeah?”

“You bet.”

James walked to his motorbike, slipped on the helmet and leather jacket that he’d left on its seat and roared out of the secured parking lot. Spike climbed wearily into the car that was booked to take him home. He let his eyes close on the short journey and, like the song, all he could see was Buffy. He tugged at the crotch of his jeans as he began to harden at the thought of what he intended to do when he got home.

Spike could hardly get in the house and up the stairs quick enough. He came to a standstill as he stepped in the bedroom. Candles adorned every surface and lying on the silky sheets of their ridiculously large bed was Buffy. A very naked Buffy. His breath caught in his throat.

“Christ,” he whispered.

He walked towards the bed, shedding clothes as he went, making her giggle as he tried to take his jeans off before removing his boots. He managed to stay on his feet and soon was as naked as she was and obviously pleased to see her. Spike crawled up the bed towards her. Buffy placed a foot on his chest.

“Oh, no you don’t,” she said firmly. “Shower first!”

“But –”

“No buts! No Buffy until you’re smelling a little sweeter!”

Spike grumbled as he padded off to the bathroom.

He stared balefully at his reflection. “Bossy bint,” he muttered and then grinned as his eyes flashed yellow.

He could see why the others had backed off – they did look bloody strange. His still heightened senses picked up Buffy saying that she wished he’d hurry up. The eyes, the senses – he could smell Buffy’s arousal from here – the hearing and the strength had all stayed. None of them were sure why. But he could control when he used them and Tara had done a spell to make sure that no remnant of the demon remained. It hadn’t, thankfully. He missed being able to growl though – that had been fun!

“Come on, Spike.”

He heard Buffy’s whisper and it prompted him to get the quickest shower on record. A rather floral smelling Spike walked out of the ensuite, having picked up Buffy’s shower gel by mistake.

This time Buffy’s foot rubbed somewhere totally different and he groaned as he struggled to control himself. God, she always got him so excited. He grabbed the offending foot and proceeded to lick and nibble his way up her body. He laughed out loud as his attentions between her thighs made her climax.

“And that’s just for starters.”

“It better be,” said Buffy, when she could get enough breath to speak.

“Oh, it is,” said Spike, finally reaching her lips, having teased at her nipples on the way. He mashed his mouth on hers and kissed her.

They didn’t emerge from the bedroom for hours…

The End.