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She relayed her story on the walk back.

Chelsea, lovely woman, had offered to drive Grams home, and Buffy too, but she wasn't headed that way.

She gave Grams a hug and kiss goodbye, with stern admonishments not to do anything for the remainder of the day. A quick call to the local pizzeria in town took care of dinner, for Grams liked making food at home, but also loved her takeout every once in a while.

Buffy felt bad for leaving after the fiasco in the antique shop. Grams was tough, and now that she was sure her granddaughter was okay- And Buffy was sure SHE was alright -the lady seemed completely recovered. But it still wasn't easy to accept Chelsea's offer to drive Grams home without joining them in the car.

If it weren't for the stupid Gem, Buffy would have stayed home, and ignored the desire to be at Spike's side. But her being there might actually prove to be dangerous for Grams, though Buffy loathed to think that way.

She had no clue what or who had caused the earthquake and nothing felt safe to her anymore.

In light of duty, slight paranoia, and the discovery of one powerful bejeweled fashion accessory, she had decided to return to Spike's place, walking with Rex and him at her sides as she retold her tale of the day. From the earthquake, to finding the Gem on a shot of luck, to Grams forcing her to go to the doctor.

Upon entering the familiar and overly warm house, Princess approached with her tail swishing. She nuzzled Buffy's leg in friendly hello, and so got herself picked up and carried into the kitchen. Buffy set the feline down on the table beside Dylan's laptop, absently greeting everyone as Rex and Spike followed her in.

She pulled her hands away after scratching behind Princess' ears, and the kitty caught sight of the bracelet on Buffy's wrist. She swatted at the dangling Gem like a toy; the room stilled immediately after. Every voice quieted, and there were several quick gasps that made Buffy's heart skip a beat- these guys never gasped.

Stevo came closer as Buffy straightened. Rolling up her sweater sleeves, she offered him her wrist at almost the same moment his big hand smoothly wrapped around it. Bronze eyes stared hard at the little stone as if trying to figure out some unseen code. His fingers released her to reach for the bracelet's clasp. "May I?" he questioned.

"Sure."

Adeptly, he undid the chain, and an imaginary weight fell from her shoulders. It was a relief something so powerful was no longer on her person. The thing had been hanging there like it really was only a bracelet.

She knew better, and so did the guys.

Spike watched from the corner as Buffy rubbed her shoulders and then lowered her hands to the wrist now devoid of anything but goose bumps. Stevo walked over to Dylan, and in the hush of the room, Spike moved around them as the bracelet was compared to the picture on the island countertop.

He was at her side by the time questions started flinging about. Rex took the brunt of them, with Buffy filling in some gaps here and there. She rested in Spike's arms once he slipped behind her and propped both their weights against the closest wall.

His brain started to wander between the ensuing debates. Blake and Ace began arguing whether the earthquake could have been Flora's doing, if that so-called witch Drusilla had mentioned might be involved, right along with how effective was the Gem in actuality. Spike's replies and add-ins slowly depleted into silence.

His mind began vividly remembering moments from earlier, all of them unpleasant.

First, arriving in town to witness a crowd of people gathering in front of a destroyed antique store. He'd known something dangerous had happened, and Buffy was nowhere to be seen. That should have been a calming realization at the time, but it wasn't considering she hadn't been home when he'd checked.

Second, catching and following her scent until it had disappeared in the middle of town square. That too, was not something he'd like to relive.

Third, finding Rex's trail, and racing down its twisting path until finally winding up at the closest thing this town had to a hospital. The fear which had hit Spike at that moment was not something he would be forgetting anytime soon. Until the instant he'd gotten inside, it had felt as if he had a pulse again and it was racing.

He'd found Buffy ready and waiting for him, thank the Gods, as if she knew how scared he'd be, like she guessed how he would be feeling.

He definitely had to get a cell phone.

"Spike?"

His thoughts scattered at the sound of her voice. "Yeah, love?"

"I don't mind you holding me, but you're kinda crushing my ribs."

"Jesus," he jerked back, his arms going with him. Belatedly he noticed how her voice had been strained when she'd talked. "I'm sorry."

She turned around, blocking out the loud conversation behind them. Her eyes said she knew what was wrong. "It's okay..." Her mouth did a half conscious lip-rise on one side which he found too cute at the moment, and so ignored it. "You're still a bit wigged, aren't you?" she asked.

That gentle, understanding face riled something close to agitation. He would never be able to pinpoint the exact moment, but suddenly, fear returned as if in a hurry to invest itself in his blood. "Bein a bit more dramatic might get you closer to what I'm feelin, pidge." Spike used his fingertips to move a long strand of blonde behind her ear and let out a sigh. "M'a wreck, Buffy. Yeh, it's calm on the surface but..." He shook his head, looking down with a tight shrug before raising his blue eyes once again. "Somethin tried to hurt you again. I can't have that."

"We don't know what happened," she blurted. "It- It might've been a freak accident-"

"No."

"-caused by the Gem. If it's so powerful and all, there's no way to tell-"

"Exactly. There's no way," Spike argued. He didn't pay notice to the quieting of other voices. His harsh one was the only sound left to be heard. "You were almost bloody BURIED, and everyone in this room knows the Gem's the reason why. That, an some soddin powerful magicks." His nostrils flared between words. "There was no freak accident, Buffy. Someone who wanted to hurt you, tried." He refrained for saying "again."

It was amazing how moods could sometimes change as swiftly as the wind. In light of reality, calm was often an issue and difficult to keep. Her anger rose high. Because she was worried and scared. Because she didn't like him yelling at her. Because she knew he was right.

And because he hadn't once mentioned the increase in danger she knew there was for him now. "Well, we have the Gem. And if it was Flora- who hasn't shown her face in weeks -that caused the earthquake, I'm sure we'll be hearing from her sooner or later." Her voice was harsher than normal, and it made him look at her strangely. Buffy pushed on. "If she doesn't want it and this witch your psychic ex warned us about DOES, then we'll probably be meeting her instead. Either way, now that we have that STUPID bracelet, no one is 'safe,' Spike." She quickly slapped a hand over her loud heartbeat. "Including me. But I am WAY more worried about your stupid ass than my own."

Fingers wrapped around her chin in a steel grip, and his face got so close so fast she didn't have a chance to blink. "That kind of thinkin," he said in a voice dangerously low, "will get you hurt."

"Well someone has to worry about you," she declared. Her fear hid well behind wrath.

"I can take care of myself. You can't." he growled.

That was it. Anger reached a boiling point. "Oh screw you, Spike!" Buffy spun out of his grip and strode away. Ace lunged to the side before she could plow through him to get to the doorway, nearly knocking Rex over as he did.

Spike was right behind her, stomping from the kitchen and into the living room on a snarl. He found her grumbling about "stupid vampire" or some such. He didn't bother to try and make out her exact words. "You're gonna continue to be bloody impossible until you actually get killed, aren't you?!"

The look she fired him when he shouted would have made a lesser man cower; Spike was no man.

"You don't have any damn consideration for yourself. What if YOU got hurt, Spike? Or staked?! Have you even thought about that for a freaking SECOND?!"

Her yells were that of an animal's mourning cry. She was warning of sadness soon to come, but he wouldn't listen; it only made the screech louder. "I've been through all of this bullshit before. I can handle it. I'm worried about you-"

"I don't CARE if you've done this before or not!"

"-because you're HUMAN. Do you know how easy it is for you to get killed?! I don't want you taken from me! Does that register?!"

His entire face was like granite, his eyes spoke of nothing but immovable concern. She wanted to run to him and slap him at once. "Do you know what would happen if YOU were taken from ME, Spike?!" she cried, her words cracking at the last. A hard swallow before continuing was mandatory; she felt her eyes begin to burn. "Do you have any idea what that would do to me?"

Unshed tears shimmering over hazel, and Spike suddenly looked startled. Fragility had never been so clear. Buffy didn't know she was wielding a hammer.

"I can't-" She choked, her eyes breaking contact and looking at anything but him. "I can't lose you," she confessed to the ground. "A-And you don't seem to care if I do 'cause you're too fucking worried about losing me."

When she finally looked at his face again there was new understanding, accompanied by a sort of awful hope. Something about his hanging jaw made her want to hit him. The idiot didn't think about himself, she had to do it. She had to walk around with worry on her back all the time while he did the same for her, and they were fighting about it.

Irony could go throw itself in a river for all Buffy cared. She was scared for herself, sure, but more than ever for HIM. Her fears were always locked up and tightly tied, concealed, but if you prodded them they came forth with a vengeance. He just didn't-

Abruptly, a fire blazed in Spike's eyes. Someone had flipped a switch. She didn't hear anything except for the air moving as he rushed her, but it shook with a quiet scream that sounded like a decree.

He picked her up, lifting her quickly protesting form in his arms and reaching the stairs in three strides. His grip tightened until it hurt to move her arms, and kicking was as pointless as decaf coffee in the morning. All it did was get her toes stubbed against things.

She sounded like an angry tigress, grumbling and cursing the whole way up the steps and down the hall. They passed through the threshold to his room and Spike kicked the door shut.

Buffy's breathing was heavy and uneven after he tossed her on the bed like a sack of flour. She glared at him in the dark while her heart thumped erratically beneath her bones, and blood rushed like a hot stream in her veins. Her fingers clawed the bedspread, nails digging in.

She watched his shadowy frame lock the door, then he was striding forward again. There was intent in his stance and step; she saw a shift, and recognized the sound of his demon expression evolving from that of a human's. Buffy skidded backwards on the bed until she hit the mahogany headboard. Fear had no place here, and never would. However, wariness could be welcomed in at moments.

He went for her shoes first, tearing them off expertly quick. Then, he grabbed her ankles, yanking her forward to spread her lengthwise along the sheets before crawling on top of her. His leather duster surrounded her body until Buffy could only make out the vague outline of his shoulders and head. His amber-yellow eyes fairly glowed in the dark.

It was a rush. Shivers started to make her skin feel raw. Spike sensed it, she heard the low rumbling that came from his chest as it ran through her like a shot. A predatory sound, a dangerous thing to ignore or contest. Suddenly, Buffy became aware of how very much she did not want to do either. She wanted something else, even after screaming at him five seconds ago without a reconciling. She wanted him.

She wanted it all. With his hands braced on either sides of her face, his fangs sharp and near, Buffy's breathing did not calm or even out, her heart did not relax. Everything seemed to tighten, readying like a spring. Her legs stiffened. Her breastbone couldn't possibly be strong enough to contain the beating inside.

Without thought, her hands moved and she began unbuttoning her jeans, then tugging the zipper down. Spike released another sound, another growl, that was both encouraging and impatient. He didn't touch her until she began sliding the pants off her hips, then he took over, yanking the denim down and off her legs. She sighed when he passed an open, calloused hand over her knee and up to her waist, a rumbling seeping from his chest again as he fingered the hem of her sweater.

Buffy realized what he wanted. She quickly removed her pullover, and then the tank top beneath. She lay there for him, vulnerable and breathing fast. The sound of his voice almost made her jump. The darkness surrounded them like thick fog, and she could just barely see the movements of Spike's lips as he spoke. "You won't lose me," he vowed. "I'll make sure of it."

Buffy took down a hard swallow after his face lifted away. She gasped at the tiny yet sudden contact of his fingertips on her ribs, and the sound was enough to break the spell of stillness over her vampire.

His wide hands rushed over her skin, squeezing her hips and memorizing the curves and indents, touching with greed that made her feel blatantly and utterly wanted. They left to divest Spike of his coat, which only moved as far away as the edge of the bed. Then his mouth, his fangs and tongue, were at her throat.

Her body arched into him, Buffy's broken voice surrounding his thoughts, music in the dark. He could see her clearly, felt the blood in his dead veins surge and his nerves shaking. There was no question as to where this was leading.

He moved away after nipping at her throat in dedication. The T-shirt came next, thrown off in a blur. The loss of Spike's touch only lasted in order for him to remove his belt. Buffy didn't realize when her hands moved to the zipper and button on his Levis, only felt the clawing of his fingers on her body as he rushed to pull off the lace wrapped about her hips, dragging it down to bunch at her ankles. The bra didn't last long either; she heard a rip as he undid the clasp and stole the garment from her skin.

Her waist was in his hands again, arching up as if magnetized to him. He squeezed and gripped and caressed like he was molding a clay figure, tearing sounds from her that she'd never made for anyone else. He bowed over again, reaching her neck.

Buffy made a sound of surprise when he sank a fang into her, then another. Swift, like a shock in winter, he bit and at the first pull of her blood, she jerked. Heat spread like wildfire, and as if the sting had never existed, she was melting just as quick.

Her body writhed. She twisted in the sheets. Buffy released Spike from the confines of his jeans, stroking his cock fast and rough. He bit harder. Drank deeper.

Blood dribbled down, staining the pillow beneath her. Spike growled at the loss but did not move his mouth. His hips came forward to separate her thighs, then he was teasing her, rubbing her with his cock. The wet heat was a lovely torment.

His hands were harsh. One wrapped itself in her hair, keeping her throat nice and high, and the other strangled one of her wrists. Her free arm clung to him, her fingers clenching his skin, nails scoring a smooth shoulder blade. Buffy said his name on a whisper, though it rang with demand. His cock slid into her and she arched, her body throwing itself against his; their moans decorated the air like a chorus.

Suddenly her ears could hear nothing but her own blood rushing. Then snarling erupted at her punctured throat as he started moving, rough and forceful, practically pushing her form into the headboard. The hand in her hair, tangling it and pulling, was also protecting.

She wrapped around him like a glove, first her pussy and then her legs. Scratching at his back and whimpering in his ear, Spike was lost. He had a goal, and he was being run through with ecstasy and more lust than he'd ever thought to feel. It only made him hungrier.

His bite was a pain she would never forget. Buffy was sure of this, but she was in too much pleasure to care or even notice very much at the moment. She could barely think. Then something harsh and guttural was spoken by her ear, it sounded like words.

No. One word.

"Mine."

The demand and promise in that word. It made her shiver, her clit was rubbing against him every time his cock entered her again and again, and that one word made her lose it. "Spike!" She dragged out his name. Cumming and nearly giving herself whiplash as she arched and offered up as much neck as he wanted. He could bite her everywhere if he pleased, she didn't care. Spike surrounded her, and Buffy gladly came apart for him.

He didn't pull his fangs out as she started to breathe again. He'd stopped drinking, but he took another deep pull of blood on an urge, dragging out a gasp from her with it.

In that same rough, growling tone as before, Buffy heard the word again, but this time it sounded suspiciously like a question. "Mine?"

Spike hadn't let go, his cock still stroked inside her and stretched her body slowly, as much as he liked. He hadn't lost focus as she had. And suddenly, she remembered.

Frowning, her eyes gazed at nothingness in the dark; she wouldn't make him ask a third time.

"Yours."

Another strong, deep pull accompanied some sort of sigh, like a sound of relief, and Buffy was arching yet again as he drank. She felt his fangs leave, then his tongue licking her throat as he nibbled gently, as his hips kept rolling against her. Spike released her wrist and Buffy was slightly shocked to feel it had gone numb.

Her fingers moved to trail through his hair and she brought his bloody mouth down to her own. She kissed him deeply, ignoring the coppery flavor on her lips. He ate at her like he had her throat, but his fangs did not pierce, did not hurt, only tickled.

Buffy felt desperation in him increase again with every deeper plunge of his body into hers. She shuddered, thoughts beginning a quick spiral. The breath she had just regained started to shake, faster this time the wave came sneaking up, brilliantly hot. Her voice rang in the air like a breaking wind chime.

Spike didn't finish with her. When she was again gasping in respite, he gripped the nape of her sweaty neck and hauled her mouth to his throat, and ordered, "Bite."

She couldn't refuse or ignore that type of voice. Not from him. More importantly, she didn't want to.

The second her pearly whites bit his flesh, Spike's head began to spin. As she tore into his skin with a hesitant squeak that opposed the strength of her jaws, his fingers kneaded her spine, where one hand rose her body up. She took a pull of blood. He heard her gagging slightly, then swallowing the next moment.

Strong woman. It was why he loved her. She whispered to him, "Mine." There was no question, no doubt, and no indecision. She simply said it, proclaimed his body hers. Spike returned the knowledge of it all, his heart sewn up and delivered. "Yours."

The feral acceptance rang in her ears, over Buffy's heart. His body loved her, and on instinct she lunged forward again to take some more blood, for him. And like she'd thought, he roared at the feeling of her teeth hurting him again, accepting him again. She swallowed and thought of the rush as she felt him hugging her close to too tightly, heard the growl at her ear, rather than the blood going down her throat.

It wasn't enough to make her sick, just enough to make him scream.

His breath was rushing now on her marked skin. Her arms twitched tiredly as she released a sigh, leaving a bloody kiss on the soft place between his shoulder and his neck. Their bodies settled into one another like they settled into the sheets, completely, without thought. In the dark his demon visage receded, showing only blue eyes and blunt teeth once again.

He licked his lips clean of blood, then hers, and her throat came last. Buffy tentatively touched the wound with a curious hand after he pulled back, and she started to shake.

Spike must have seen, for he grabbed her unsteady fingers and frowned down at her. Buffy didn't know how she was sure he was doing so without light. "Are you okay?" he asked anxiously.

He jolted when she kissed him again, full out yanking on his head and plastering her closed lips to his. Then she pulled back after maybe two seconds, and the expression she wore had Spike smiling in return.

"I'm fan-freaking-tastic."

There was more kissage. Their mouths met again and again, and they rolled over entwined, pressing a leather duster into sheets that were quickly getting tangled all over again.

They loved each other. The claim latched onto that as readily as it did the fibers of both soul and demon. Living and unbeating heart alike, the connection grew fast to as near tangible a tether as it could possibly get. Their bodies linked, their blood wound together, and threads of magick laced it all tightly with ancient scribbles and words and magick, and the love already provided.

Like living vines, the claim travelled through them, spreading and spiraling until Buffy and Spike both trembled.

Together. They never stopped moving together.

***

Quite a while later, Rex was sighing gratefully as he stood in the kitchen. "Finally, they've stopped."

Dylan looked at the thunderbird who stood near the fridge, absently rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't know whether to feel bad for you with that sort of hearing, or be jealous."

"You're a pervert," Ace remarked.

Dylan sent him a startled look. "I didn't mean THAT." He turned around again and asked Rex in a slightly disbelieving tone. "Are they actually that loud?"

"Ha!" Blake said, his aquamarine eyes suddenly filled with wisdom. "Pity the man, Dylan. Pity him."

"I never pity him," Dylan deadpanned.

"They're like fuckin rabbits up there, it's awful."

Stevo chuckled from the corner. "Such a complementary way to put it. Will you tell Spike that after they come back down here? Or maybe Buffy?"

"Do I look suicidal?"

"Rex, c'mon," Ace said, "I think Spike would know you were joking. Give the guy a little credit."

"He isn't, though," Blake replied in support to Rex's claims. "Believe me, those two release pheromones into the air more often than two horny teenagers. Even if they hated each other, I still think they'd both wanna fuck the other to death."

A loud thud came from upstairs.

"And that," Rex complained, pointing at the ceiling, "is the beginning of round three."

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