Buffy walked softly through the graveyard, the silent vampire beside her. The breeze ruffled the loose waves of her hair. She held a stake in her hands, running her fingers over the polished surface absently. Spike held himself tight with tension and barely suppressed desire as he cast sidelong glances at the blonde Slayer and the suggestive way she was caressing the wood in her grasp.
“Bloody hell.” Spike cursed as he nearly ran into yet another low headstone. Buffy looked over at the dark clad figure and couldn’t help but giggle at the silent words he spat out. Buffy’s eyes were drawn to his lips. She could remember the feel of the cool, soft lips against her skin, drawing her life-force from her body.
‘Why can’t I quit thinking about him?’ Buffy asked herself. She was unable to tare her gaze from him, her body growing hot a the memories still fresh in her mind. ‘Ok so he’s not so evil anymore, and mom even like’s him. Sure he is hot, with the bad boy image and the high cheek bones and the way he smiles. . .’ She stood staring after the raging vampire, unable to move as a wave of want moved through her veins.
Spike noticed that Buffy was no longer beside him. He stopped short and looked back at the Slayer, a questioning look in his blue eyes. Spike’s lips curved into a smirk as the soft breeze carried her sent to him. Buffy blushed in horror at having been caught and looked down at her shoes.
“Uh, why don’t you get your stuff, I will give Giles a quick call and meet you back here.” Without waiting for an answer Buffy turned and all but ran in her haste to escape. Spike smirk turned into a genuine smile.
Spike walked the short distance to his crypt and opened the heavy door. He made is way to the lower level and grabbed the leather duffel at the bottom of the stairs. Clothing, cigarettes, and books were unceremoniously stuffed in the bag as Spike made his way systematically through the room. He stopped before a large sheet covering one wall. With a sigh he pulled back the sheet to reveal Buffy. Pictures, clothing, drawings, stakes, even a mannequin sat as a shrine to the Slayer. Nausea welled up inside him as Spike looked at the items he had stolen from the girl.
‘What in the bloody hell was I thinking?’ Spike demanded of himself in disgust. ‘The chit welcomes me into her home, lets me drink her blood, and I stole from her?’ Spike pulled the photographs down first, throwing them into a large metal can and lighting them on fire with his lighter. He turned back to remove the drawings, unable to destroy them, he placed them in a large chest, one by one. He stared for a moment at the drawing of Buffy sleeping, remembering when he had sat out her window watching her in slumber. The air in the room grew thick, pulling Spike from his thoughts. He looked up into the shadows.
‘Who’s there.’ Spike called out, forgetting for a moment that he couldn’t speak.
“A happy memory, pretty Spike,” A voice drifted through the crypt answering his silent question. A woman glided from the shadows, a long black dress draped over her willowy frame. “Look who's come to make everything right again.” Drusilla held the doll in her hands to her ear, listening closely. Spike look on in amazement at his dark princess.
“Miss Edith says my puppy is on a leash. Tin soldiers put funny little knick-knacks in your brain. She set the doll on the table beside Spike, gripping her head in her hands. “Can’t bite, can’t hurt, can’t kill.” She jerked her head with each *can’t*, miming the migraines that hit Spike. “I’m here to make it all better my, William. Make us a family again.”
Spike watched hungrily as the dark vampress slowly swayed towards him..
“What has that naughty lady done to my Spike?” Dru ran a pale hand down his cheek in a soft caress. He leaned into her touch, his eyes partially closing in ecstasy at his sire’s attention.
“No more pretty songs from my black birdie.” Spike instinctively wrapped his arm around her as Dru leaned against him. He took in a hissing breath as she ran a sharp crimson colored finger nail down his cheek, leaving a thin line of blood behind. She ran her cool tongue over the welling blood, her eyes lighting up with pleasure.
“Like sweets my sweet Spike.” Dru cooed in his ear. “It snaps and crackles on my tongue. Let me have her.” Dru’s whispered words pulled him from her thrall. Spike stepped back in shock, his eyes flitting to the partially disassembled shrine. Buffy would be back any moment. Dru’s eyes narrowed in distaste.
“I knew ... before you did. I knew you loved the Slayer. The pixies in my head whispered it to me. She surrounds you, filling your little brain with nasty ideas.” Dru moved towards the shrine, running a hand over the mannequin. “So lost, my Spike. Even I can’t help you now.” Drusilla turned, her face in the vampire mask as she attacked him. Spike stepped to the side, Dru falling past him. He picked up a large candle stick and hit her hard on the back of her head. Spike looked down on his princess with a mix of regret and loathing.
‘What is with these bloody women.’ Spike removed the last of the pictures from the shrine and stripped the mannequin, dashing the offending object into a corner, breaking it into pieces. ‘What am I going to do with her.’ Spike stared at Drusilla for a long moment before moving her into a more comfortable position on her back. Spike grabbed a pen and a crumpled piece of paper.
The words, ‘Leave town, never come back’, were written in dark scrawling print. Spike placed the note in the doll’s arms and put Miss Edith on Dru’s chest.
Spike heard Buffy call out his name. Stuffing the last of her stolen wardrobe into the bottom of his bag, Spike gave the unconscious Dru one last glare before ascending the stairs. Buffy walked towards him, a determined note in her voice.
“Giles said that there was a massacre at the train station. Eight people were killed. He suspects vamps. I’m to head over and check it out. Wanna come.” Buffy’s eyes filled with hope as she waited for Spike to answer. With a quick nod Spike covered the hole to the basement. Buffy looked around the room, an uneasy feeling in her gut. Spike grabbed his bag and ushered the Slayer from the crypt.
“Is something wrong?” Buffy’s arm tingled where Spike’s hand gripped it to propel her through the cemetery. He shock his head in the negative and dropped his hand from her arm. Buffy sighed in disappointment at the loss of touch before leading the way from the cemetery.
***
Buffy and Spike moved slowly down the aisle of the train. Blood was splattered everywhere, the white tape outlines of the bodies a sharp contrast to the deep red of the upholstery. Buffy looked to her right and noticed a smaller outline on one of the seats. She choked in horror as she realized that it was the outline of a baby, probably less than a year old. Tears welled up in her eyes as the horror and regret raised up inside her. She fell to her knees, her unwavering gaze staring at the place the child had taken its last breath, sobs wracking her tiny body.
Spike wrapped his arms around the sobbing Slayer. She clung to him as if her life depended on it, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly. Spike ran soft kisses over her cheeks, tasting the salt from her tears. His lips moved lightly over her face before catching hers in a soft kiss. They both pulled back in shock, Buffy stared at him, her eyes shining with tears. Spike stared back at Buffy, his eyes filled with emotion, before he lowered his head to hers again and capturing her lips in a soft caress.