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Author's Chapter Notes:
I hope all enjoys. From now on the ride is going to get real bumpy!
5:32 the sickly pale green numbers on her alarm clock shone. Buffy solicitous form roamed over the soft mattress as she sought some sort of peace. Her tumultuous mind and body were unable to grant her any. Since Spike left her last night, with rage in his veins, she has been unable to find solace in any form. Her mind, body and soul cried out for him. Each screamed and demanded that she find her mate.

Only two nights. Two nights, in which their forms and essences curled onto one another during sleep. Two tranquil nights that Buffy’s dreams weren’t plagued with monsters of her past and present. As she lay in the safe cage of his arms and chest, she felt a sense of completion that she had never known before, or believe that she will ever again, without him by her side.

Buffy’s restless form clung to her pillow that was wrapped in Spike’s customary black cotton tee. Once the dryer had completed its job, Buffy pulled the article of clothing from the heated belly of the machine and brought it to her nose. The heavy scent of perfume and soap permeated the fabric, but under the layers of clean, was the heady essence of Spike. Cigarettes, cheap bourbon, and what could be only described as pure male.

The soft, worn cotton of this cheap substitute grazed her cheek as she attempted to seek comfort from the only thing of him that remained. Once he stormed from Giles’ home, as the evening waned on, Buffy felt the substantial sinking feeling that he was not returning.

For an inadequate alternative, she longed for the comfort on her room or more specifically, her bed. The bed that housed their intertwined forms, less than 24 hours before. Once Buffy had returned home from the extensive pow-wow that continued in despite his absence, she found that her mother had stripped her bed from the sheets that held the heady scent of him and their lovemaking.

Like a woman possessed, Buffy stormed the basement in hopes to find the sheets awaiting their fate with the washer. Unfortunately, she was too late. All that she could take comfort in now, was his shirt. “And his socks, but despite how I long for him, I am so not snuggling with his socks!” Buffy snickered to herself. As she chuckled, the sounds merged with sobs that tore from her throat. Her tears started to fall, in earnest, from her slightly swollen eyes.

5:42 the clock gleamed. Ten minutes her mind was occupied with the thoughts of Spike. These ten minutes were a minuscule cross section of her entire evening and the early morning hours, which fueled only thoughts of him. As she rubbed her tear-stained cheek over the worn fabric, her features that catered to her senses, continued to scream for him.

Her eyes demanded to drink in the perfection of his alabaster skin, as the moonlight bath him, as he lay naked in her arms. They craved the cerulean depths that spoke volumes to the emotions that laid deep in his mind and heart.

Her nose demanded the heady scent of his flesh. His pores, which are soaked with the erotic combination of danger, unadulterated male, and passion, in which brought her to her knees with one diminutive inhale of his skin.

Her ears demanded to hear his deep baritone voice that lulled and excited her synchronous. His profound growls heralding his lust, rage and possession, as it echoed from his muscular chest and tantalizing throat.

Her hands demanded to grasp and explore his cool enticing flesh. In turn, her skin demanded his touch to fulfill her lust and provide comfort that he was not present to bestow.

Her mouth demanded to be filled with all of him. Her fangs descended from the confines of her pink gums, as it searched for his throat that he offered as a chalice for her strength and to intensify their blood union.

In addition to her raging body, her soul and heart yearned for their mate. 5:59 In the silence of the predawn hours, time moved as sluggish as cold molasses. The small ticks of the inner mechanisms of the clock signaled each moment that she was without him. Buffy didn’t need the tattoo of the machine to inform her of what she already knew. Each of her heartbeats kept track of the time that they were apart.

Buffy was unaware of where he may have gone. She could still sense that he wasn’t too far, but his exact location, she couldn’t say. With daybreak meeting the horizon soon, she gathered that he had sought shelter from the sun’s deadly rays. Buffy hoped that he was safe and not suffering as she was.

As Hypnos finally placed a tender kiss upon her lids and mind, Buffy was pulled into the darkness of her unconsciousness. As her mind cleared, her final thought was that she hoped that at least in her dreams he would be there.

** ** **

Across the slumbering town of Sunnydale, Spike laid upon the cold marble of a sarcophagus. The same stone that Buffy was perched upon as his greedy hands and mouth sought her flesh.


Spike’s hand started to eagerly roam her body. One hand was in her golden tresses as the other slowly worked under her shapeless sweatshirt in search for her tantalizing flesh. As his mouth traveled down her throat, one of her hands found its way to his bleached locks, as she held his mouth to her heated skin. Her other hand grasped his leather-encased shoulder to keep herself steady. Spike’s vampire visage sprung forward as her pulse called to his demon. When he was ready to slide his fangs into the soft subtle flesh of her throat




Spike pulled his mind from his memories as his thoughts continued. In such a short time, his whole world had changed. In one moment, he was a master vampire, attached to his arm his black princess, his paramour for over a hundred years. They fed and fuck without a care in the world. The only issue in a hundred years was that she became weakened by an angry mod in Prague. To bring her back to her former glory, Spike sought a cure for his ripe wicked plum. He concluded that a trip to the Hellmouth may bring salvation for his failing princess.

As a hurricane clears expanses of land, Drusilla’s premonition and All Hallows Eve, changed his world forever. They stripped away what he was and made who he was today; a being that sought comfort and connection from a tiny warrior that was created solely to banish him and his kind back to hell that spawned their demons.

As Spike’s mind whirled with the thoughts of his now undead life, his heart ached for her. His mate. His Buffy. The claim brought them together, but her beautiful heart and soul drew him in and enveloped him. Injured and disoriented, she offered her body to heal him. Not only her blood but also the comfort of her arms, as his body mended.

Despite her naïveté with relationships and the pleasures of the flesh, she granted him the transcendent gift of her body time and time again. As her heady blood sang in his veins, her sweet womb encased his tepid flesh as they bestowed the ultimate pleasure upon one another.

Even the ensouled Angel could not bring their relationship asunder. Despite her protests that her heart belonged to him and him alone, her body and blood sang his name. It was his touch that she craved. His blood, she hungered for. His cock, that made her scream in ecstasy.

Then last night, while the gypsy tried to comfort her with promises of Angel’s soul being returned, Buffy proclaimed to all, that she wanted Angel safe as a friend and as a warrior, nothing more. In addition to her words, Spike could sense more. He perceived intense and all consuming emotions that transcended all others before that moment.

“Maybe it was lo…..” Spike shook his head to clear these thoughts. His demon roared its response as it interrupted this thought, “How could it be? She loathed you for your deeds. Your own mate despises who, and what you are!” As the rage boiled in his veins, his demon then emerged as it was fueled by these inner thoughts.

In full demon visage, Spike rose from the cold marble as he began to throw and destroy all that his rage could reach. After several moments, he stood in the middle of the tomb as a manic giggle poured from his lips. His unneeded breath ragged, as he tried to control his demon. Slowly, the visage slipped away and Spike was left with only the residue of his destruction.

Spike proceeded to pull his emotionally drained body upon the cold marble again as he sought some comfort that he knew the unyielding stone could not confer. He pulled a small white ream of fabric from the inner pocket of his duster. A shirt. Buffy’s shirt that she had offered in jest, as his usual armor was in the wash. As he brought the fabric to his nose, he inhaled the overwhelming essence of his mate.

His mind revisited the emotions that flowed from her as her gaze beheld his, during her proclamation at the Watcher’s home. They didn’t hold disgust or hatred. These intense and immense feelings were quite the opposite. Maybe these feelings were not the “l” word, but they were something prolific. With that thought, Spike’s mind began to spill questions forward. Four minuscule, but life altering questions that burned his mind, “Could she? Does she? Could I? Do I?”

As Spike felt the prickle of the sun meeting the horizon, he longed for his mate. He desired to be completely nude, both physically and emotionally, as they lay intertwined upon her bed. Now as he laid upon the hardened marble, his flesh felt so cold, the absence of her heat and passion no longer warming his skin. His heart clenched in his chest at the thoughts of his mate longing for him as he craved her.

As her essence that permeated her shirt filled his throat and lungs, his entire body screamed for her. His erection pressed against its denim confines as his fangs descended from his gums. Spike’s eyes flashed golden, and then returned to his once natural state of azure. Despite his demon’s earlier protests, it also craved her. Only self-preservation against the suns deadly rays kept him housed in the tomb.

He was angered with himself for his petty childish antics of walking away last night. In a small recess of Spike’s mind, he did comprehend how one could become disgusted with his actions. Even though his demon has been housed in his body for decades longer than his years as a human, his mind still remembered what one would consider being horrendous acts against mankind.

His demon relished in all of it. As his human side remained safely tucked away in the deep recesses of his mind, his demon attacked the world with fist and fang. Buffy brought forth the long forgotten humanness in Spike. Even though his demon despised this fact, William the man, craved it.

Tonight when Spike stormed away from Buffy, the waves of her hurt filled him to the core. He wanted to go to her, encase her slight form and push the rest of the world away. However, his stubbornness took hold, as it propelled his feet away from his seemingly anguished mate.

With the demon in the forefront, Spike searched for a warm throat to blank his mind, as he swallowed their life-giving essence. As he pillaged the closest store, for a clean change of clothes, the night watchman tried to stop his crime with a gun. In a flash, Spike’s fangs were in his throat, as he gulped down his blood. As he swallowed deep, Buffy’s face and soft voice filled his mind. As he heard the faltering of the man’s heartbeat, he pulled away, to let his unconscious body slump to the floor.

Spike then proceeded to feed upon numerous unintelligent souls of Sunnydale that chose to ignore the blatant signs that flashed warnings that vampires resided here. Each person several pints lighter, but still maintained a heartbeat. Demon or no, Spike’s word was gold.

When his belly was full, but he was in no way sated, he returned to the crypt in which he would call his new home. When the night blossoms again, Spike would seek his mate. His heart has yet to forgive her for the betrayal that it felt, but he knew that she needed to be nourished. He would offer his wrist and nothing more. Spike knew that this would be torture and punishment for both, but he felt that he needed to make his point clear, she had hurt him deeply.

** ** **

Buffy was awoken two hours later by her mother’s loud announcement that she was going to be late for helping her at the gallery, and that she had ten minutes to make herself ‘presentable’. Buffy pulled her disoriented and emotionally drained form from her bed, as she shuffled around her room to locate clothing. Buffy was aiding her mother with a new shipment, so jeans and a sweatshirt were acceptable. She pulled her hair into a sloppy bun, and headed downstairs with minutes to spare.

The day dragged by as she tried to exhaust her muscles to in turn, fatigue her mind. Despite all the heavy lifting, which she had to reduce due to her mother’s watchful eye, her mind continued to hover and be consumed by only one topic, Spike. After six hours of manual labor, Buffy returned home.

As the hot water sluiced over her skin, her thoughts continued to roam. “Where is he? He is ok? Did Angelus or Drusilla get to him? Is he still ‘good’?” All these thoughts plagued her mind. Buffy’s thoughts continued to fully occupy her mind; so much so that she didn’t notice that the water had become icy cold, as her body began to shake from the frigid droplets. As she pulled her shaking form from the shower, her teeth rattled as she wrapped her body in a large cotton towel.

Buffy trudged into her room. 5:45. It was five more hours, until she could stow away from the safety of her home and patrol. More importantly, look for Spike. Food, sleep and a little mindless TV were on the agenda to fill her time. Despite her plans, her stomach protested the small morsels of food, her mind refused to heed its spinning for sleep, and TV was beyond mindless. So much so, that it only held her attention for ten minutes. The rest of the evening, Buffy paced as she waited the time for freedom.

Joyce headed to bed early tonight. Buffy was so grateful for small blessings. At 9:45 p.m., her feet hit the frozen earth as she descended from her window. In full speed, Buffy raced towards the nearest cemetery.

As she stood upon the sacred ground, she cleared her mind and reached out to her mate. As the tendrils slowly crept across the air, they quickly hit a barrier. Buffy’s mind recoiled at the obstruction. She tried again, same effect. Her eyes started to water, as she understood the reason, Spike didn’t want to be found. He was pushing her out.

With a deep intake of breath, she tried to steady herself. As she continued to walk through the tombstones, her blood then began to boil. Her demon roared forward as rage took hold. “Well, if he wants to act like a big child, then fine! Let him!” Buffy huffed as she searched for something to quell this rage. She needed a vamp to kill.

Spike held his form firm in the shadows as he watched his mate’s demon explode forward. He could feel her rage. Directed solely towards him, roll over his skin. His demon purred at the devilishly wicked things that she could do in this state. His fully erected cock pressed against the zipper of his denims as his mind concocted lusty thoughts. Spike thoroughly enjoyed Buffy’s body in any form. However, his demon, took ultimate pleasure when her fangs were in his throat as he was balls deep in her heated quim.

As the night proceeded, Spike remained hidden from her eyes and the claim’s connection. Despite the anger that he felt towards her shame and disgust of him, he still needed to assure her safety, especially with Angelus and Drusilla at large.

At 2:00 a.m., after several uneventful dustings, Buffy dragged her exhausted form home as she sought the comforts of her bed. Throughout the night, she believed that she sensed Spike’s presence. As quickly as his essence was felt, it would disappear. Buffy assumed that it was her mind playing tricks on her senses. As she stood on the roof under her bedroom window, she took one last look into the night. With a soft whisper she spoke, “Goodnight Spike. I miss you.” With hovering tears in her eyes, Buffy disappeared through her bedroom window.

“I miss you too, Buffy.” Spike whispered back as he turned from her home, as his form became swallowed up by the night again.

** ** **

“Watcher! Watcher! Rise and Shine!” Spike growled as his foot shook the mattress that housed sleeping man.

“Wha?” Giles mumbled as his mind was dragged from the realm of sleep.

“Get up or you’ll be taking a permanent slumber!” Spike roared as his foot continued to jostle the bed. With the increase of movement, the headboard tattooed several bangs upon the wall, before Giles groggily sat up. As he blinked quickly to clear the sleep from his mind and brain, Spike spoke again.

“How dare you leave your keep alone?! Are you ready to hang up your tweed and no longer be a Watcher? Is there some retirement home for Watchers, that lose there Slayers, that you’re ready to visit?!" Spike growled as his golden demon eyes bore into Giles seated form.

“Spike? Wha….what are you prattling on about?” Giles murmured as he stifled a yawn. Lightening quick Giles was pinned to his headboard by an enraged Master vampire. The haze that permeated his mind cleared quickly, as Spike’s fists were bunched in his shirt. Spike utilized this brutual grip, to have Giles’ back meet with the wood several unmerciful times.

“Spike! Please explain what is going on!” Giles asked as he looked upon the demon that seethe before him. Spike stilled his violent movements, but still remained within a hairs breath of Giles' form.

“Let me make this simple to you, Buffy is not to patrol alone, ever. With Angelus and Drusilla loose, she will be sure as shite dead! So if this means that your beauty sleep is interrupted then so be it!” Spike snarled. As Giles tried to focus on the vamp before him, his voice shakily left his throat.

“You are certainly right Spike; my foolishness and assumption that since Buffy was now part vamp and Slayer that she would be able to continue her job as usual. I was wrong,” Giles explained. Spike released his fists that clenched Giles’ nightshirt, as he then slowly retracted away from Giles’ bed.

“Spike, may I ask, not that I am placing my duties upon you, but don’t you think that you may be better equipped to patrol with her than I?” Giles asked the still teed off vamp.

Spike’s gaze moved from his briefly, as his demon receded. After several beats, his gaze returned as he responded.

“Don’t you think I know that Watcher? Don’t you think that I want to be always by her side? She’s my mate! That is now my sole purpose in my undead life is to insure that she remains safe and well taken care of. But….” Spike stated as his voice trailed.

“But?” Giles spoke as he urged for Spike to continue. After several beats, he did.

“Look, it’s complicated. Also, last time I checked you don’t have your couch or cigar handy Sigmund, so let’s not go there,” Spike huffed. Mirth filled Giles’ gaze as he responded.

“Spike, you couldn’t be upset that Buffy felt that what you and the other’s had done was utterly and completely wrong, could you?” Giles scoffed.

As the question left his lips, fright spilled across his form as his mind screamed that he just was flippant to a master vampire. The same master vampire, that wouldn’t have any qualms at all about tearing his throat out. A smirk graced Spike’s lips as the smell of fear permeated his nostrils.

“Oh Watcher, don’t get your knickers in a twist. I’m not here to fill my belly. I just wanted to ensure my mate’s safety. I did follow her tonight, unbeknownst to her. When she and I work out our issues, I will patrol by her side. Until then, I need you to stay with her during every patrol. In addition, keep a watchful eye on her during the daylight hours. Just because Captain Forehead and Dru are vamps, doesn’t mean they won’t find a less flammable demon to kill her all the same.” With those instructions, Spike turned and disappeared from Giles’ room. Once the soft click of the front door affirmed his departure, Giles released the breath that he had held since he was awoken.


Giles’ mind filled with thoughts of what just transpired. The fact that he had remained alive after he received a pre-dawn visit by an enraged master vampire was in its self truly amazing. However, even more so, that this said master vampire was deeply and truly hurt by the actions of his Slayer. As Giles pulled his now fully awake form from his bed, he headed downstairs. First to relieve his bowels that he was surprised held during Spike’s visit and to locate a disinvite spell, immediately.

** ** **

As Buffy’s restless form tossed upon the soft mattress, Spike stood in the shadows of her room as he watched in utter rapture. Once he left the Watcher’s flat, he immediately headed towards her home.

That was almost two hours ago. For two hours his eyes drank in her beautiful golden form. As the moonlight kissed her golden flesh, Spike was envious that it wasn’t his lips, or that he wasn't the pale rays. As he stood vigil, Spike could feel the waves of distress that flowed from her sleeping form. Despite her mind hovering in the realm of dreams, Spike feared that her uneasiness announced that Hypnos’ son Phobetor, the holder of nightmares, had a grasp on her mind.

Several times her lids twitched as her face scrunched with discontent. Spike longed to pull her sleeping form into his protective embrace, but again his male pride and his irritated demon forbid him. So his form stood, encased in the shadows as he continued his silent guard.

As his gaze flickered upon the pale numbers of her alarm clock, the miniscule lights announced what he already knew, daylight was upon them. Spike pulled his body from the darkness as he approached her bed. He pulled the sleeve of his duster up, to expose his wrist. As his form hovered at the edge of her mattress, Buffy shifted slightly as she now lied upon her back. Her nipples pebbled under the form-fitted tank top. Again, his erection stood proudly encased in his denims. Behind the glorious spill of her golden tresses, Spike could see his shirt wrapped around her pillow. The scent of salty tears that was infused in the fabric filled his nostrils, as he stood transfixed by her stunning features.

Spike’s demon emerged slightly, so his fangs could descend. With a sharpened edge, he dragged the tooth along the area that once housed his pulse. His blood welled into the scrape. Instantaneously as the scent of his blood filled the room, Spike witnessed her eyes flash open. Immediately, the green hue was consumed with golden. Buffy sat up, as her fangs slid down from her gums.

Before a word could be spoken, Spike sat upon her bed and offered his wrist. Buffy’s mind was still hazy from sleep, but her demon knew exactly what it needed, what it craved. Buffy grasped his presented gift with her petite hands, as her razor-sharp fangs slid into his yielding flesh. Her eyelids fluttered as his heady blood filled her mouth, and traveled down her throat.

Spike hungry gaze bore down as he witnessed her feeding. His cock increased two fold as her lips latched to his wrist. Buffy began to purr as his blood whirled through her veins and his lusty thoughts began to flood her mind. Spike could smell the intoxicating mixture of her pleasure and arousal as they teased his nostrils. His resolve was waning as she continued to feed.

After two heavier pulls, Buffy removed her fangs from his wrist. As her raspy tongue lavished attention to the puckered dual holes, her golden gaze held steady on his face. In her mind she whispered, “Look at me.” Instantly his lids opened as his golden gaze met hers. Buffy pulled slightly back, as she released his wrist. Her tongue snaked out of her mouth to stroke her swollen lips, as the greedy muscle searched for any remnants of his heady blood.

Their stares never faltered. Several heartbeats passed as the room filled with deafening silence. Buffy’s voice then broke the stalemate. “Spike?” her voice quavered as her hand tentatively reached for her mate.

In a whirlwind of motion, and a blur of black, the curtains were sucked out the open window as they announced his sudden departure. As she stared at his exit, a sob tore from her throat as she mourned the scornfulness of her mate.


Chapter End Notes:
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