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Author's Chapter Notes:
I love some of you! Those who don't sign names and tell me what I'm doing is wrong--there are no words and I've replied to you. I mean to reply to more but I get distracted so easily, but I DO want you to know I read the reviews and appreciate everyone that takes the time.

This fic is now complete. I've finished the writing and over the next week or two I'll post semi-regularly to get it all out to you. I hope you enjoy and remember to tell me about it. then again, if you hate it, you can tell me that too. Just be reasonable about it.
The Scooby gang and additional aging librarian were waiting for them in a huddle of fear in the kitchen.

“Oh God, Buffy. I am so sorry. We should have taken better precautions—” Giles floundered in the dark, not knowing what they could have done to have prevented this horrible event, but feeling sure there should have been some way if they’d but thought upon the problem a little more in urgently. If they’d thought harder on all the possible fronts Angelus could have made an impact.

“It’s not your fault, Giles. We couldn’t have predicted Angelus would track her down and do this. Yeah, we knew it was a possibility, but how could we have known he’d hunt her down in LA and abduct her from her trip? I thought she was safe until she came home.” Tears stuttered on the brim of Buffy’s eyes before she turned and allowed her body to be fully enveloped by the only vampire that she’d known to have a heart. And he loved her. Despite what was going on—despite the thoughts running through her head that this was her fault for interfering in vampire politics and kidnapping Spike in the first place—she felt immensely grateful for that. Like she’d gained something important—and possibly greater than what she’d lost.

“I don’t get it. How’d she get in here anyway?” piped in Xander, ever the voice of confusion.

“Ordinarily I would say that is exactly true. However, this house is owned by Joyce. Therefore, with her dead, the house is rendered vacant. No vampire will need an invitation. I suggest we find somewhere else to stay before dark.” Giles looked off into nothingness thoughtfully and missing the identical masks of horror on Xander and Willow’s faces.

“You mean Angelus could have been in here anytime and we’d all be dead before we could wake up and know he was there?” Xander’s high pitch was most unbecoming and Giles awarded him the predictable grimace.

“It would certainly appear so,” he confirmed, his own reactive shiver rattling his veins.

“Yeah, ‘cept for the wanker being too thick to work that part out before he sent Joyce off to do his dirty work.” Spike squeezed Buffy reassuringly as she shook in his arms, marvelling at how tightly she was holding onto her grief by the absence of a wet shirt sopping up expected tears. She seemed to gather some inner reserve and pulled away to look him deeply in the eyes, concern the uppermost emotion as she asked the one thing he wished she’d not noticed.

“What did she do to you anyway? When I got there you were as all with the statue impersonating while she was preparing to stake you. You can’t tell me that you’re suddenly Suicidal Vamp.” A sudden attack of nerves caused her confidence to slip and Spike could see her growing belief that she wasn’t enough for him shadow her eyes. “Unless you are? Oh God, would you rather be dust than—”

The quickest way to stop that thought derailment was with a kiss, and Spike took great delight in seizing her lips in a hot kiss right in front of her friends, hoping she could feel with his inappropriately bulging jeans that dust was the last thing on his mind when she was in his arms.

Buffy pulled away breathlessly, her body shaking for a whole different reason as she licked her lips and fought against the glaze of lust that had sized him up as sexy vamp needing to be taken now. A sudden scream of irritation shattered the moment and Buffy was jolted back into the real world—the one that had taken away her mother. That and the memory of her previous question.

“Okay, so not wanting of the dusty end. So what gives?” Buffy stepped back, arms crossed and foot tapping as she waited for Spike to admit how he’d been caught out.

He stood stubborn, his jaw ticking as he looked into her determined gaze and then released a great gushing breath of humiliated defeat.

“Right then. She bloody thralled me, all right? She called herself my sister, so Dru is her sire and the barmy bint must have taught her how to do it. Normally I can resist it, but I wasn’t expecting her to try and so I wasn’t ready. Give a bloke some slack, Slayer.” And in what could only be an embarrassed shuffle, Spike spun on his black Doc Martin heel and stomped into the living room. Buffy followed slowly after him to the doorway, watching as he slumped angrily into a sofa chair and flicked on the television.

Buffy turned back to the impromptu group meeting in the kitchen, finding that she had absolutely no clue what to say about all of this. She could have potentially killed everyone she loved last night—simply because she felt like saving an evil vampire from what she saw as unjust treatment. And because he’d stirred something inside of her that she’d been too eager to hold onto rather than let it go. It had cost her a mother and almost her friends. As a slayer, right now she totally sucked.

“So, what’s the plan? We have a plan, right?” Willow looked eagerly around at the saddened faces and gulped her fear down.

“E-essentially, we need to relocate and then decide what to do about J…Buffy’s mother. We have to do something in regard to contacting someone about ensouling Joyce and then things can go relatively back to normal.”

Buffy glared at Giles, the bile rising in her throat. “Relatively? Relative to what exactly? ‘Cause from what I remember, the gallery was kinda open during the day. And can you see her with a nice shiny soul re-hiring? Oh, and can you see the steady supply of blood around here? What do I say to Dad?” The questions were all just bubbling to come out of her mouth, righteous anger taking the place of grief that would weaken her at a time when strength was sorely needed.

“Of course, that was a rather insensitive choice of words. I’m sorry, Buffy. I wasn’t thinking. I can’t hope to even guess how you must be feeling right now.” Giles observed the girl he received daily miracles from and felt like slapping himself for his unreasonable expectations. A situation had presented itself and really they had no way of knowing how to resolve it successfully. Righting Buffy’s world would require a hit and miss method that was going to be immensely emotional for a time, and Giles could feel his sympathy for her increase tenfold. That Spike was around and so strong a presence in her life seemed to actually be an advantage and Giles just felt grateful she had some kind of distraction to get her through the initial trauma of this moment.

Before Buffy could reply, the basement door flew open and cracked against the kitchen wall, Joyce standing triumphant at the top of the stairs with the chains dangling from the cuff at her wrists and cement dust coating her clothes and hair.

“You have no idea the kind of damage pulling bolts out of brickwork can do. Thank God I’m dead and I don’t have to pay for fixing that.” Joyce Summers grinned maliciously around her fangs, eyeing each and every one of them as some kind of meal on legs. Her gaze landed on Xander and she just watched him silently as he squirmed, his fear highly pungent in the air.

“Might want to tone the terror down a notch, Whelp,” came an amused holler from the living room, breaking Xander’s concentration for a doomed second. He turned back to the woman he’d considered a second mother and found her almost snarling and ready to pounce.

Joyce’s body leaned forward, her knees preparing to spring when she loudly said “boo.”

Xander warbled his panic and sprang immediately into action. He snagged an apple and an orange in each hand from the bowl on the kitchen island and pelted them weakly, watching the colourful fruit arc in the air before Joyce caught them easily and laughed.

“You throw like a girl,” she taunted, just as a garlic bulb landed in her hands. Superstition had obviously not been bred out of her yet and she startled, dropping the clove with a terrified yelp.

“Oh yeah,” he called in challenge. “How ‘bout this?” And he threw the wooden bowl like a frisbee, bonking Joyce brutally on the forehead and knocking her backwards off her feet. They all stood back in shock as she screamed and windmilled her arms before tumbling fast down the stairs to the basement floor. She thumped every step hard, Xander and Willow flinching every time they heard her impact with each step. She hit the bottom with a pained moan and before they could blink, Buffy was back down there doing something to restrain her own mother.

“See those lovely big holes you put in the wall?” The Slayer’s voice easily carried up the stairs. “You wanna hope the sunlight doesn’t come in there in the morning or you’ll be one very sorry pile of vamp dust.”

“Oh Buffy,” hissed Joyce in false saccharine concern. “Sweetheart, I didn’t know you cared.”

“Yeah, I totally care. I’ll show you how much I care.” And without seeing any of the basement action, the gathering in the kitchen heard a sickening crunch and the newest vampire houseguest was silent. Buffy stomped back up the stairs a few minutes later, a mission obviously on her mind as she avoided everyone’s eyes. She turned, shut the door and bolted it closed.

“Okay, so about that plan…”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Never in a million years could Spike have guessed he’d be bunked down at the Watcher’s comfy digs with a slayer curled provocatively around his bits. They’d scored the couch and with the aid of a warm blanket, Buffy had positioned him almost fully beneath her and was now blowing warm air on his neck while her hand stroked his heat-seeking missile of a cock. As she got cosier and licked a heavenly line up the side of his neck, Spike used all his strength to tamp down his desire to growl. And then she was at his ear, nibbling at the lobe while her hand ran a mind-boggling expedition up the iron hard slant of his cock. The tips of her fingers brushed erotically over his belly and Spike felt the swell increase to almost painful proportions.

“Are they asleep?” she whispered right before she dived into the shell of his ear with her slippery tongue. There was no holding back the compulsive arch of his hips that slipped his length further up her stroke. His brain was having trouble processing her question, but when he finally did he switched on the vamp radar to find three relaxed heartbeats and two quite disturbing sinus blockages.

Spike felt concerned that Buffy might be repressing the horror of her mother’s new identity, but who was he to tell her that using his body as a distraction was a bad thing? The need to worry completely fled as his hand found the soft swell of her bared breast and he gave it a gentle squeeze, his eager thumb rubbing over the diamond point repetitively in sync with her raspy breath.

“What do you want, baby? Tell your Spike?”

She kissed him, apparently dying to have his lips upon hers while she continued to map out every vein protruding from the smooth surface of his cock. He smiled devilishly against her lips, wanting to give into the impulse to laugh—not in fun but for the pure blissful happiness that washed over him every time he was in contact with such a miracle. He felt playful, besotted and just so unbelievably lucky for a vamp.

And then she wiggled her hips and was straddling him, her unbearably hot centre pressing against him but with a layer of cotton in between. It was torture. It was exhilarating. He could feel her lips separate around his cock, and then she was moving, letting him gouge a sodden path over her cleft while he died a second death from her inferno. The friction from her panties was enormously frustrating and Spike felt his control snapping and snarling in his head to be free, to pound into her like a vampire that meant business.

When his hands reached the silky skin low on her back and pressed onto the slim slip of fabric, he felt ebullient at how easy it was. With an unrepentant snap they were gone and he almost howled at the molten juice that slicked his muscle all the way around and over again. Grasping her hips hard, Spike changed her trajectory and he was finally aiming in the right direction, a deep rumbling roar coming out as a twisted garbled kitty mewl as her hot mouth devoured him whole and he submerged completely into the tight depths of her body.

He could really get used to this risqué fucking in front of her friends. Had to admit the prim and proper image of his little love child had completely misled him. And God, he was beyond grateful for that surprise.

“Spike?” Buffy looked him in the eye before darting a quick glance at her snoozing friends on the floor and sat up on him, her face revealing the ecstasy she felt at this decision as his cock stretched her and nudged further at her womb.

“Yeah, luv?” he gasped before just giving into it all. He was beyond questioning why this was happening—how it could feel so right when he’d been happy with a hundred years of mediocrity.

“Fast or slow?” And to back up the question, Buffy alternated slow glides up his throbbing length with a jarring descent.

He answered with his hands, gripping her hips in a desperate attempt to control his thrusts before she blew his mind. He nudged her loose shirt up her body and while his hands altered the speed of her gyrations, his lips and teeth teased the hell out of her. That desire for happy laughter returned with a vengeance as Buffy shook above him, as her eyes rolled back in her head and he bumped repeatedly against her little circle of nerves. His tongue tickled her nipple while his fingers gave her a splayed bruise on her hips, but by the enormous grin on her face, Spike felt secure in her satisfaction.

Under her shirt he could see the concave turn of her belly, the small spread of pubic hair that brushed against the base of his cock and he felt so much joy that he saw, he felt, he belonged.

He could feel her muscles tightening haphazardly around him, milking him for a reciprocal response, and as Buffy leaned forward and neatly licked his ear, she whispered ‘I love you’ and won it. He spurted hard up inside her, feeling the energy of the explosion all the way to his ears. Spike gripped her hips and slammed her down hard on his cock, over and over as his essence splashed her walls.

He didn’t stop exactly, even when he was spent. Gentle soothing motion kept him inside her as they both calmed, Buffy relearning how to breathe and Spike trying to blink out the haze of red that had burst behind his eyes.

“You won’t need a stake, Buffy. Your pussy is all the fire I need to dust.” His chuckle came to an abrupt halt at the look of horrified fear that stood out on her face.

“Don’t say that,” she hissed, her eyes flashing green and wild.

And just like that the future of Joyce Summers was back in play.





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