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The Demon in Me by Spikeschilde
 
Chapters 1 - 5
 
Chapter 1


Buffy slipped through the shadows of the night as fast as her legs would carry her. Nothing about the night seemed out of place, yet she kept throwing worried glances over her shoulder. What if he was following her? What if someone had seen her escape? She picked up her pace, wincing as her bare, torn up feet thumped heavily against the pavement.

Buffy almost sighed in relief as she neared her Watcher’s apartment. Shooting one last glance over her shoulder, she slipped quickly down the steps and knocked on his door. She took several steps back as she heard Giles making his way to the door before it was opened with a flourish in front of her, as if he had been expecting someone.

His appearance was unkempt, his eyes glassy and tired, as though he hadn’t slept in days and his face held the growth of at least day old stubble. Yet, a light of hope seemed to appear within his eyes as he took in the form of his Slayer, alive before him, albeit in a broken and bruised state.

“Buffy!” Giles almost wept with relief as he went to take a step forward and sweep his Slayer into a hug. She took another hurried step back out of his embrace and held her hands up before her to ward off any more advances.

“I’m so sorry, Giles,” she said as she turned her tears stained face to his. He looked at her in confusion, taking in with no small amount of horror the shackles that still held fast around her raw and bloodied wrists. “I’m so sorry.”

“Buffy? Why don’t you come-” Buffy’s eyes went wide and she shook her head rapidly, cutting him off mid speech.

“Don’t invite me in. I…” She took a deep shuddering breath and dropped her head forward to avoid his disapproving stare. “I think I have been turned.” Giles looked down at the girl in front of him, who he considered to be like his own daughter, in surprise.

“Been turned? Buffy, surely you would know if you had been turned or not. There are signs; acute hunger and the need for human blood, a need for violence and destruction of all that is good around them, just to name a few. If you had been turned, Buffy, I feel sure that you would know it,” he said trying to reassure her. Buffy shook her head sadly and never let her eyes stray from the ground before her.

“Then how do you explain this?” Giles gasped as Buffy raised her head. Whatever he had been expecting when she looked up at him, it was not the sight he was greeted with. Her green eyes were glowing brightly and her ears had extended at the tips into cat like points. She looked like some mystical form of feline and as she opened her mouth slightly he could see the tiny points of her fangs. The rest of her teeth had stayed the same.

She was most definitely no vampire. She had taken on an almost ethereal quality in her transformation. The air around them seemed to be humming with warmth. He could feel the sense of good in the air and knew his Slayer was nothing to be afraid of.

“See. I told you.” Buffy dropped her head dejectedly again and let her features shift back into that of her human face. The shocked look in Giles’ eyes was enough to tell her that he didn’t trust her anymore. She didn’t blame him.

“You’re not a vampire, Buffy,” he said softly, causing her to jolt sharply out of her inner musings and instantly become defensive.

“What do you mean? Of course I’m a vampire.” Giles shook his head slowly.

“No. You’re not. Come inside and we’ll talk,” he said, stepping forward and clasping her hand before she could take another step back. The shackles around her wrists clanked loudly and his attentions were drawn to them once more. They needed to get them off her, give her wrists a chance to heal. First though she needed to get cleaned up. She was covered in dried blood and dirt. Her clothes were ripped and torn, and her feet bloody and bare. “Where have you been?”

Buffy took a shaky breath as she sat down softly on the couch. Her hands fidgeted absentmindedly with the bands of metal around her wrists as her eyes darted around the room.

“I didn’t know what would happened, Giles. I swear if I had known I wouldn’t have done it.” Her eyes were wide and tear filled and Giles felt his heart tighten just that little bit more.

“It’s okay. Just tell me what went wrong. Who did this to you?” he asked softly, sitting down beside her and placing a comforting hand on her knee.

“Angel. Well not Angel—I don’t know.” Giles frowned as he tried to wrap his head around what she was saying.

“Are you saying that Angel…tortured you?” She nodded her head, then stopped and changed her mind and shook it gently.

“Something happened to him. He’s different somehow; he has teamed up with Drusilla again.” She looked down at herself, holding out her shackled wrists slightly. “This is their work. I think they must have realised I wasn’t a vampire when I woke up; either that or they do this to all the new vamps they turn.” Giles took his glasses off and polished them hurriedly.

“Oh, good God! Angel must have somehow reverted back to Angelus.” He turned back to his distraught Slayer. “Why don’t you go upstairs and get cleaned up. I’ll call your mother and the others.” Buffy shook her head emphatically and Giles gave her a confused look as she stopped him from standing.

“I don’t want them to see me like this. They wouldn’t understand; I don’t think I can bear to see what they think of me now. This is all my fault, Giles. I went and turned myself into a monster and let a homicidal maniac loose on the world.” She couldn’t meet his gaze as she spoke to him. She was ashamed of what she had allowed herself to become.

“They have a right to know, Buffy. They are your friends and family and we all care for you. No matter what’s happened, they will still love you. I still love you. You’re like a daughter to me and I will see you through this.” He looked at her with raised eyebrows as he waited for her answer, which came in the form of a small nod of her head.

“Okay. Do you mind if I stay with you, though? I don’t know what I am, or if I am dangerous. I know you at least will have a chance of protecting yourself against me. Mom wouldn’t stand a chance.” Giles smiled and got up from the seat.

“Of course”


***



Twenty minutes later found Buffy freshly washed and sitting in the dark in Giles’ spare bedroom. She was sitting on the floor, staring blankly at the wall as her newly heightened senses picked up every noise coming from the living room downstairs. She heard ever word, every intake of breath, every cry of outrage and every sob as Giles told her mother and friends what had happened. Of how she had been turned into something less than human, but still was Buffy; of how she might be more sensitive from days of torture; of how Angel was not to be trusted under any circumstances. Everyone was down there, even Cordy. Buffy shuddered and pressed herself further into the corner of the wall, the shackles around her wrists clanking.

She stifled a sob as her mind unwillingly replayed the events of the last few days, hanging from a ceiling while being tortured for what she was and what she had failed to become. She heard footsteps on the stairs and could tell by the weight of them that they were male. That left three choices: Xander, Oz, or Giles. The first two were unlikely.

“Buffy?” Bingo! She didn’t reply or bother to move when he opened the door slightly. “Are you going to come down? Your mother’s here. She’d like to see you.” He slipped in quietly and crossed the room to sit on the bed across from her. She sniffled slightly and shook her head.

“No. Just tell her I’m sorry and that I love her, okay? I don’t want to go down, Giles. I’m not sure I trust myself; I don’t want to put them in any danger.” He frowned slightly but nodded his consent, though he didn’t make a move to leave the room.

“How long has it been since you last ate?” His frown grew when she shrugged.

“I don’t know. I can vaguely remember someone trying to feed me when I was almost unconscious. I can’t remember if I dreamt it or if it happened though. I can’t imagine any of the minions going against Angel’s or Dru’s orders.” Giles nodded grimly and stood up from the bed.

“What would you like then? You have to eat; it should help your body start to heal as well.” Buffy gave her Watcher a small smile.

“Anything you have got lying around is fine. I’m not really all that hungry anyway.” He gave her a small nod and walked towards the door, pausing only once to look back at her. “I’m not coming down, Giles.” Nodding again, he walked out of the room and shut the door.

She heard him descend the stairs and relay her message to the group. She heard her mother instantly start to protest. She had to suppress the smile that threatened to come over her face as she listened to them all start to protest. It was times like these that you realised how much you were loved by the people around you.

She shivered again when she heard footsteps on the stairs. Female this time. She caught the slight scent of lavender and knew that it was her mother. Buffy didn’t need super senses to work that one out. Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, she couldn’t even begin to imagine her mother’s reaction. The woman had found out all in one day that vampire existed and her daughter was destined to fight them, that said daughter lost her virginity to one and had been turned into some sort of demon, and that she had also been missing and tortured for days.

With these thoughts running through her mind, she didn’t answer the timid knock on the bedroom door.

“Buffy?” At the sound of her mother’s voice she wanted to fling the door open and fall into her mother’s arms, but the fear of rejection kept her in place. She watched as the door opened slightly and her mother poked her head in. Even in the dark she could clearly see the slight fear on her mother’s face. “Buffy?”

“I’m here, mom.” Joyce’s gaze swung to the corner of the room and the sound of her daughter’s voice. She could only see a vague outline of Buffy in the almost pitch black light, but it was enough for the moment and Giles had said that the bright lights hurt Buffy’s new sensitive eyesight. Joyce stepped fully into the room and stumbled her way across to the corner that held her daughter.

“Oh, Buffy! I was so worried!” Buffy watched warily as her mother shuffled across the room and crouched down before her. She almost burst into tears as Joyce reached out and touched her arm softly, comfortingly. “Are you okay, honey?” That seemed to break her and Buffy launched herself into her mother’s arms and started sobbing in earnest. Joyce sighed in relief and clutched her daughter tightly, not noticing the blood that seeped through Buffy’s clothes and onto her hands.

“I was so scared.” Joyce felt tears begin to fall from her eyes as she stroked her daughter’s hair. She was still Buffy. She was still her little girl.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re safe now.” They held each other for a while longer while each woman calmed themselves down and took comfort from the other’s presence. “Why don’t you come downstairs? Everyone wants to see you. Nobody cares what was done to you, just that you’re safe.” Joyce pulled back and looked into her daughter’s eyes as best she could, brushing Buffy’s hair out of her face in the dark.

Buffy hesitated. She took a deep breath—if she could survive being tortured by Angel, she could brave this. At her mother’s quiet encouragement, Buffy pulled herself to her feet and took her mother’s hand.

She recoiled again sharply, however, as soon as they stepped into the light and she heard her mother’s gasp of horror. Buffy slowly realised that it was only due to the extensive injuries that were visible and the shackles that still bound her wrists. She had multiple cuts all over her where they had bled her, was covered in black and blue bruises, and had an angry looking gash that ran from the middle of her forehead to her temple. The rest was hidden under the overly large t-shirt Giles hand lent her and the rolled up sweat pants.

Joyce looked down at her hands and saw the traces of blood smeared across them.

“Oh, Buffy--.” She took her mother’s hands quickly, hiding the horrific sight of her child’s own blood on her hands. Joyce looked up at her daughter in horror.

“It’s okay, mom. I’m fine. I survived didn’t I?” Tears were running down her face as Buffy turned and led her back down the stairs. She had almost forgotten her friends were waiting for her at the bottom as she tried to console her mother.

It was Willow’s sharp intake of breath and tearful hug that reminded Buffy of the situation. The red head had embraced her gently to avoid the various cuts and abrasions on her. Joyce still stood numb beside her daughter.

“Giles can you help mom? She’s a little upset about how much I’m hurt.” Giles quickly walked over to help the Slayer’s mother and Buffy then turned to the four teenagers who were staring at her in the living room.

“God, what did he do to you, Buff?” Xander asked as he too stepped forward to give her a gentle, yet relieved and tearful hug. She hugged him back firmly before stepping back and out of their reach. Cordy and Oz both stepped up to stand beside their respective partners and she gave them both small smiles.

Buffy suddenly felt like she was on show, standing before them ready to be dissected as they all stared at her with varying forms of emotions playing across their faces. She began to feel claustrophobic and stepped back again.

“You look…awful,” Cordy said as she took in the bruised and bloody state of the Slayer.

“Thanks, Cordy. It’s good to know I can always count on you to put things into perspective for me. I look shocking, I know this. Surprisingly, I still have a reflection.” Buffy noticed the grim looks on her friends’ faces and sighed heavily. “I’m fine guys. I’m alive aren’t I? Nothing too serious—forty percent physical damage and the rest is all the emotional kind.” She gave another small mental sigh of relief as Giles entered the room again and walked over to them.

“Are you alright?” Buffy gave him a meek nod.

“I need some help dressing and binding the wounds on my back, though. You up for it?” Giles frowned slightly and readjusted his glasses.

“I am assuming by that, that you are asking whether I am willing to help you or not?” Buffy gave him a small smile and nodded her head. Giles looked around the room. “Yes, well I suppose we could do it in here.” He led her over to the chair by his desk and sat her down so she was straddling it backwards. “If you could lift the back of your shirt, I’ll be right back.” Buffy glanced quickly at her friends before lifting the shirt over her head, unashamed to be sitting on the chair in nothing other than a sports bra and sweatpants.

The sharp intakes of breath and Xander’s muttered queasy ‘oh God’, was enough to let her know that the damage on her back must look pretty bad.

“Dear lord.” Giles spoke almost fearfully as he re-entered the room with his medical kit. He looked down at the small box and then back at the expanse of her back. There wasn’t going to be enough in the small kit to bind all that needed to be bound. His slayer had been whipped, burned, staked, cut…there was a particularly brutal looking wound on her back which appeared as if she had been run through with some type of broadsword.

Giles approached her hesitantly and placed the medical supplies on the table off to her side.

“Buffy.” He said it so softly that she was forced to turn towards him, where she caught sight of the horrified look on his face. She decided then and there that she wasn’t going to show him the front of her and the area where Angel hand carved his name into her chest. She would tend to that herself.

“It’s okay, Giles. Just looks bad. The bruising and cuts will fade in time.” She turned away from him again, only tensing slightly when he placed a soft hand on her shoulder.

The Ripper in Giles reared his head at the sight of his surrogate daughter’s injuries, and his voice turned sharp and authoritative.

“Willow, could you go get me some warm water and some soft cloth please. Xander, I need you to go to my closest and get a sheet and start tearing it up into strips. Cordy and Oz, go make sure Buffy’s mother is lying down and doesn’t come out of my room until we tell you it’s okay. Can you do that?” The teens were already in motion, and Giles looked back down at the tortured body of his Slayer. Angelus and his bitch would die a slow and painful death if he had any say in the matter.




Chapter 2


Angelus let out a roar of fury and plunged the stake he was holding into the cowering minion’s chest. The rest tried to appear unafraid in the face of their master as they watched the sixth minion of the night turn to dust before them.

“She escaped,” he stated out loud in a sarcastic manner, “and would anybody like to tell me how the little bitch got out?” Spinning around he seized another of his minions by the throat and lifted him in the air so his feet were hovering a good foot above the ground.

The minion Angel was holding let out a gurgling sound of protest from the pressure Angel was exuding upon his neck. Angel watched in a morbid satisfaction as the vampire grappled at his hand, trying to pry his fingers off of his throat before his head was literally torn from his body.

“Sorry? What was that? I can’t quite hear you; you’re going to have to speak up.” Angel spoke in a mockingly sincere voice as the minion struggled in vain in his grasp. “I want her found, and I want her brought back alive. I don’t care how you do it. If she is not back by morning, those who return without her will be dusted.”

Angel squeezed just that much tighter as he said the last word and the remaining minions watched as the vampire Angel had been holding sprinkled to dust before them, knowing full well that by morning that would be them if they returned without the Slayer.

Spike watched from the confines of his wheelchair as Angelus dusted his way through the minions, Drusilla hanging off his side and dancing with glee at each vampire he killed. Spike smirked to himself as he gazed upon them, knowing full well that by morning he would still be without the Slayer.

By now the Slayer would be safely tucked away in the house of one of her mates, safe from any vamps without an invitation. Angelus was distracted enough not to notice Spike slip off into the night without the aid of his wheelchair.


***



Buffy avoided the looks of pity her friends were sending her way as Giles secured the last of her bindings. She felt like she was some kind of ancient Egyptian mummy. Her torso was almost completely bound by the white bed sheet Xander had ripped up. Attempting to move, Buffy found movement difficult in the restricting bindings.

“I think we should talk about Angel,” Buffy said as she sat up, slipping the shirt back on over her head and shooting Giles a quick smile as a way of thanks. “You all need to do a disinvite spell or something on your homes. We should all stay together so I can protect you. I doubt there is much more he can do to me that would slow me down. None of you should leave the house at night without me or go anywhere alone even during the day. There is a sewer entrance outside of the mansion to which they have relocated. They can get almost anywhere during the day, especially the school. There is an entrance in the basement that they are able to access, which means no more Scooby meetings in the library or walking back late. I won’t let him do to you what he did to me. No one goes anywhere alone from now on. No one goes out without crosses, holy water and a stake.” Buffy turned around slowly, and saw the grim determination and understanding on her friends’ faces, her eyes finally settling on her Watcher. “Giles, we need to find out if I can move about in daylight and if I need an invitation into our homes. I need to know what I am.”

“Of course,” he said, even as he moved to his book case. “I suppose it is logical to assume that you are either something related to a vampire, or to the demon used to make the First Slayer. Perhaps both.” He passed books out among the teens as they began scanning the pages.

“They used a demon to make the first Slayer?” Buffy asked as she wrinkled her nose and passed the book Giles had handed her to Xander. Giles nodded absently as he read over the title on the cover of a book before replacing it on his shelf.

“The first Slayer was made through the merging of a girl and an almost extinct demon that had been sent directly from the Powers That Be to help even out the numbers of demons and man living on the earth. The name of the demon itself and the magicks used have been lost over the centuries; however, it is know that demon had many similar characteristics to that of a vampire. Hence the title ‘Vampire Slayer’, despite the fact that you kill demons as well.”

“So, you’re saying that it’s possible that I somehow reverted back into this demon?” Buffy’s eyes went wide as a thought dawned on her. “You mean to tell me that I have been part demon this whole time?” Giles’s brows furrowed as he shook his head.

“No, no. As time went on, each generation of Slayer received less and less of the demon that was used to create the original Slayer until only its essence was being transferred. The girls still received all of their powers just none of the demon side effects that the first Slayer experienced.”

“Oh! Maybe then when Angel tried to turn Buffy, he inadvertently woke up the essence of the demon within the Slayer!” Willow exclaimed with excitement. Giles whipped his glasses off as he carefully lowered himself onto the edge of the sofa.

“Of course! It all makes sense,” he said, sharing a knowledgeable look with the redheaded teen seated beside him. “These demons fed off of the blood of vampires to survive, and their lack of a heart beat or need for breath made them immortal. When Angel tried to turn you, instead of your body dying when he fed you his blood, the essence of the demon within you latched onto it!” He shot a quick look across at his Slayer. “You said he made you his childe?” Buffy nodded slowly, not sure she was following where he was going with this. “To do that he would have fed you almost all of the blood he had originally taken from you. It was most likely enough for your body to undergo the changes necessary for your survival. Your heart would have stopped and your breathing ceased; therefore, he would have assumed you to be dead. In fact, you never died; your body just became comatose while it underwent the changes. For all intents and purposes it would have appeared that you had been made a vampire upon awakening.”

“So, does that mean that Buffy’s immortal?” Joyce asked in an awed voice. This was the sort of stuff you watched on the TV or read in books, and her daughter had been living it for the past two years! She was finding herself forming a headache as she tried to follow everything that was being said.

“I don’t know. I have a book…” Giles got up quickly and walked over to the bookcase, where he pulled down an old book that looked like it hadn’t been opened in centuries. He flipped it open quickly and scanned through the pages until he came across what he was looking for. “It says here the original demon that the Powers sent to inhabit the first Slayer could only be killed by beheading or… ingesting human blood.”

“Is that it? I need to know my weaknesses. Can I…. can I go into the light?” Giles gave his surrogate daughter a soft look at the sound of her quiet question.

“I don’t know.” The room fell into a heavy silence as Buffy could feel each and every one of their eyes on her.

“So, Buffy’s some kind of—super Slayer. Only she needs vamp blood to survive. What happens if she doesn’t get it?” Xander’s question broke the deafening silence. Buffy gave him a small thankful smile.

“I would say that the symptoms would be close to that of a vampire. She would be unable to revert back to her human features and she would progressively weaken and be unable to control her powers until she became almost a living skeleton.” Joyce’s face paled as she pictured a malnourished Buffy in her mind.

“So we need to find her a vampire she can eat.” A series of varying grossed out expressions passed across the faces of the room’s occupants at the statement they had never thought they would ever hear.

“I’m not going to eat a vamp! That is like so gross, who knows where those things have been!”

“Buffy, it could very well be essential to your survival” She scrunched her nose up and looked at her Watcher.

“Giles, you have seen some of those vamps. They look like they haven’t had a bath in weeks. It’s not like I can get clean vamps hand delivered!” The irony of her statement was not lost on her friends as there was a knock on the door. “It’s Spike.”

“Spike?” Buffy nodded and got up to move towards the door slowly. “I thought he was confined to a wheelchair.”

“So did I,” she said as she quickly opened the door. “Spike.”

“Slayer.”




Chapter 3


“What? Not going to invite me in, pet?” He watched as the Slayer gave him a hard look and pointedly let her eyes trail down to his legs.

“You can walk” he gave her a slow smirk and rocked back on his feet slightly for effect.

“Yeah, funny that. I can also do a mean impersonation of Elvis” Spike watched as she ignored his comment and felt the urge to pout that she wasn’t going to return his banter. It was the one thing he like about this girl compared to the other slayers he had fought, she understood and appreciated his wit when fighting. Hell, she even gave as good as she got.

“I won’t let you take me back” He smiled at her wariness, then his eyes fell on her still shackled wrists.

“I’m not here to make you” her dubious look increased.

“You’re not” she stated sceptically with a hint of the old sarcasm he was used to.

“No, Angelus and Dru have no idea that I’m here. Or that I can walk” he slid his thumbs into his belt loops as he spoke, drawing her eyes down to his groin involuntarily. He smirked slightly and rocked forward thrusting his hips out slightly causing her eyes to widen and shoot back up to his face a light shade of pink tinting her cheeks “They do, however, currently have almost every minion they control out hunting you. I tracked your scent here easily enough; I’d say you’ll have at least a dozen or more minions on your doorstep in the next, oh say, 30 minutes?”

Buffy scowled at him as she realised what he was saying was true. She had forgotten that vampires could track scents, and she had spent three days ripening while hanging from a ceiling so she had no doubt that they would find her. “So what are you doing here, Spike?”

“That’s easy. I want to help you bring that bastard down” Buffy couldn’t help the slightly hysterical giggle that burst from her mouth.

“You want to help me kill Angel and Dru?” Spike arched and eyebrow at her before correcting her statement.

“No I want to help you kill Angelus. Dru’s not part of the deal” Buffy sobered quickly glaring darkly at the vampire before her.

“I’ll think the state of my body can attest to the fact that she is” Spike frowned slightly. As much as he hated Dru right now, she was his sire, his dark princess, his ripe wicked plum and with the poof gone she could truly be his without the shadow of Angelus overhanging everything she did, everything they shared.

“I’ll help you kill the Poof and then you let Dru and me skip town. You’ll never see or hear from us every again, I bloody well hope”

“No deal” Spike scowled at her letting a small sharp growl of annoyance burst from his chest. “I won’t kill one notoriously vicious master vampire and then let another two loose on the streets for helping me. Whether you like it or not bleach boy, Dru will be dusted along with Angelus. You can do all you want to stop me but I can assure you, that neither of them will walk away from this”

Spike felt a new appreciation for the Slayer before him, despite the words she was practically spitting at him in anger. She was a hard girl to please and he knew she would never agree to anything that let Dru walk free “Fine, we’ll leave Dru out of the deal altogether. I’ll help you kill Angelus and then I will skip town. All bets on Dru are off, if I manage to leave with her you don’t come hunting after us and if you dust her, I’ll still leave and not come back to reap vengeance”

Buffy watched him hard unable to gage whether he was telling the truth or not but came to the conclusion that it didn’t matter. She would kill both Dru and Angelus and then if he did come back she would kill him two. She nodded slowly and then allowed her hand to pass through the invisible barrier guarding him from her watchers home, “Deal”

Spike smiled and shook it slowly, both knew full well that the other would go to any lengths necessary to obtain their final goals in this mess and Spike once again found himself appreciating the fact that he knew she wouldn’t go into the battle with only half her heart in it. He knew that when it came to fight her to kill Dru, he would be fighting a Slayer at her full potential. That would only make the honour of defeating her more memorable.

“On your word that you don’t touch a single one of my friends and family, come in, Spike” He arched an eyebrow at her slightly and walked in past the threshold of her home. He could see her pals giving her horrified looks as she let him pass into her home and smiled slightly “Take a seat”

Spike looked around the room and made to take the spare seat next to the cheerleader. A sharp growl resounded through out the deadly silent flat and he looked back over his shoulder at her dark look before reassessing the situation and taking a seat farthest from the rest of her friends. “You might want to look into doing some sort of cloaking spell, Slayer. Angel’s minions find you and you’ll lead the soddin’ poof straight to your Watcher’s house. Not to mention the fact that they would find out that I’m inside”

Spike smirked at the scowl she gave him before turning to face her Watcher. “Giles, do you think we could manage that?”

Giles startled slightly and looked up at his charge as she addressed him breaking him out of his thoughts centring on the fact that an evil killer had free access to his home. “What? Oh, yes, of course. Willow?”

The redhead shot up out of her seat quickly and edged her way around the group making sure she stayed well out of the grasps of the bleached menace.

“Mom, can you take notes?” Joyce looked up at her daughter as she handed her a pad and pen and had to admire the way she took control of things. “So how do you want to do this?”

Buffy willed herself to keep her attention solely on his face as he sat sprawled out in one of Giles’ armchairs, his ‘devil-may-care’ attitude and strategically arched eyebrow coupled with her accidental crotch ogling earlier doing nothing towards keeping a flush from staining her cheeks.

“Personally I’ve always like being on top” Buffy felt her face heat up as his gaze travelled down her body suggestively before smirking back up at her.

“You’re a pig, Spike” to her chagrin he chuckled at her before lifting his arms to cross them behind the back of his head comfortably.

“Oink! Oink!” his smirk grew when the scent of her arousal filled the air and he growled softly. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the werewolf tilt his head slightly as he sniffed the air, the raising of his eyebrows the only indication that he had smelt anything at all.

“Fine, we’ll do this my way. I want to know everything that could be expected of Angelus in this situation”

“Well, I can’t rightly say can I? Angelus has never turned a Slayer before, hell I don’t think there has been another Slayer turned in history” Buffy frowned slightly; they didn’t know she wasn’t a vampire? “I can tell you though that he’s got a big old yen to get you back again. Right pissed that you escaped”

“But Buffy’s not a vampire. Why would he-” Buffy groaned at the sudden perk of interest in the vampire’s body language. She could have turned around and bitch-slapped the brunette and her big mouth through till next week.

“Cordy!” the cheerleader turned angry brown eyes to her boyfriend who was glaring at her meaningfully. “Shut up” Here eyes narrowed into tiny little slits as she glared at him.

“What? All I said was Buffy isn’t a vampire, it’s not like the bleached wonder didn’t already know that” She said rolling her eyes and slumping back into her seat.

Buffy shut her eyes and tried to rein in her raging emotions. That just blew that possible advantage out of the water. She opened her eyes again and found glittering blue eyes looking up at her in amusement and barely concealed interest “Actually, pet, I didn’t. Thanks ever so”

“What lengths will he go to? I want examples, I want to know what to expect from him” Spike looked at her long and hard for a moment, indecision clearly read in his eyes. He wanted to prod her for answer’s find out what she was and what she was keeping from him, but finally came to the conclusion that that would get him know where but a dusty finish.

“He won’t come for you directly, he try and get to you through your loved ones. Use them to lure you to him then kill them off. The sod takes the term mental torture to a whole knew level. He’ll try and break you, drive you mad like he drove Drusilla of her rocker. I don’t know whether he plans to keep you or kill you but either way, you’ll be the last on his list. He won’t touch you till his killed, turned, or maimed everyone that you love or hold dear” Buffy felt and icy chill go through her and looked around at the people in the room quickly, her eyes finally coming to rest on the horror filled orbs of her mother. Her resolve hardened.

“Right, that settles it, no one goes anywhere alone, and I mean anywhere. Not the bathroom, not out shopping, not clubbing, not work. Not even in broad daylight. Xander, Cordy, and Oz you guys can all move in with us, and Wills of course. I don’t know if Giles will leave his home, but our house is bigger it will fit everyone. Once we are there we’ll set up a cloaking spell and I’ll see is Giles’ knows any protection wards”

“I have a book on them at the school” Buffy’s head swivelled around as her Watcher and Willow re-entered the room. Buffy nodded.

“The cloaking spell?” Giles nodded quickly in conformation.

“In place as we speak. It is only temporary, should hold till morning. Your scent will still lead them here. However, all of our presences are masked” Buffy nodded once more.

“Good” She glanced at the cloak on the wall quickly and noticed the late hour. “I think we should all stay here for the night. The cloaking spell should keep us off Angel’s radar; we can work out finer details in the morning”

“We need to do something about the shackles” Giles said taking her hand gently in his and examining the rusted metal that bound them.

“Here, give them to me” Spike said getting up from the chair and surprising everyone as he moved forwards to help the Slayer. He slipped his fingers under the bands and felt around so he had a tight grip on them “You pull that way I’ll pull this way, yeah?”

Buffy nodded in understanding and steadied her footing as they both began to pull as hard as they could. Slowly they felt the steel begin to bed under their combined strength till the band that had once been tight around her wrist was bent enough for her to wriggle her hand free. She sighed in relief and instinctively brought her raw wrist to her chest, rubbing it gently to relieve the pain.

“You ready?” he asked indicating to her other wrist. She nodded and took up her stance again as the process was repeated until she was finally free of the shackles.

“Thanks” Spike frowned slight and gave her a tight nod as he moved towards the door.

“I’ll keep you informed” he called over his should as the door swung shut behind him. The group let out a collective sigh of relief and relaxed into their seats. They were all exhausted from days of worrying and countless nights kept up with worrying.

“You guys should get some rest. I’ll stay up and keep watch. I don’t think we will be getting much until this is over” Buffy said as she moved to take a seat in the chair that the bleached vampire had just vacated.

“I’ll sit up with you” Giles offered. Buffy smiled and shook her head softly.

“No. Sleep. You all need it, I’ll be fine up by myself” She could sense his reluctance to let her sit up alone but eventually exhaustion won out and reluctantly they all agreed. Giles went to find them all blankets and they all settled down until eventually the house was quiet and the all the occupants save one was asleep.




Chapter 4


Angelus rolled his eyes impatiently as he let his huge form flop down onto the bed. He didn’t understand how his grandchilde had put up with Drusilla’s constant presence for over a century. Even in her most lucid moments, she was hard to tolerate unless he was pounding her into the mattress.

In the past he had always been able to turn to Darla when Dru’s insane ramblings became too much for him. He would thrust Dru into the waiting arms of her timid poet to handle and crawl into the bed of his sire to romp away the daylight hours. He’d be damned if he’d let Spike look after Dru now though, not when he knew the pain that seeing him claim Dru back as his own would cause.

Another loud moan from the corner of the room broke Angelus’ inner monologue and he turned irritated brown eyes on the huddled form of Drusilla. She had pressed herself as far as she could into the corner of the room, shaking and sobbing and just about driving him out of his mind with irritation.

“Little sister has terrible confusion. Such terrible confusion! She follows the sunshine when she should follow the moon.” Dru flinched violently as her hands flew to claw at her hair and she doubled over to lie along the ground. “Ooh! She is covered in light, covered in it! She is glowing…effulgent! Mummy’s little sister is wrong, all wrong. I can’t abide by it! The pixies are mad at what we have done, my Angel. ‘No tea and cakes tonight. You have been a bad girl….a bad girl’ they tell me.”

Angelus growled violently as he watched Dru rolling around on the floor. Swiftly pulling himself to his feet he walked over to her and picked the sobbing vampire up by her hair and delivered a backhanded slap across her face that sent her flying to the floor.

“I am sick to death of your ramblings, woman! I don’t care about the pixies and the sunshine. I don’t care about anything except getting that insolent childe back and making her scream until she can’t help but beg for mercy!” Dru whimpered from her place against the wall but didn’t say anything else. He didn’t know—didn’t understand—and his unwillingness to listen would be his downfall.


***



“No.” Giles took a deep breath and tried in rein in his frustrations at his adamant Slayer. It was just the two of them in his apartment, while the rest of the Scoobies were at school and Joyce was out making some last minute preparations to ready her home for the arrival of her house guests who would be staying with her for the next week or more.

Giles closed his eyes briefly to refocus and forced himself to take the calm and factual approach to try and make Buffy listen to what he was saying.

“Buffy, I understand your reluctance. However, if you wish to learn anything about the powers you now possess then tests are going to be necessary. To my knowledge, nothing like this has ever occurred in Slayer history. I have nothing to go by, nothing to tell you. Everything that we find out is new.” He could tell by the determined set of her chin that he was getting nowhere with her.

“What, no vamp has ever tried to turn a Slayer before?” His nerves grated at the sarcastic tone of her voice.

“Of course they have! However, this has never been the outcome!” Buffy shot up out of her seat so she was standing toe to toe with him.

“You just said that you don’t know that for sure!” He gritted his teeth tightly and clenched his fists at her stubbornness. What on earth did she think he was going to try and do to her?

“What do you want me to do? Ring the council? Then what? They will send a team out here to either dispose of you as a possible threat or take you back to England to be studied like some bloody experiment!” She deflated slightly under his gaze and he realised this was going to be the only chance he got to convince her. He took a deep breath and continued in a softer tone. “Buffy, I am not going to do anything to purposely endanger you. I merely want to see if you can touch holy objects, or whether you are vulnerable to sunlight. I would never willingly try to hurt you, but we need to know your limits if we are to take Angelus down.”

Giles frowned slightly when he saw a single solitary tear fall from Buffy’s eyes and make its way down her cheek and past the fading bruises. Reaching out hesitantly, he touched her arm and pulled her to him, relieved when she collapsed into his embrace.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was muffled against the tweed of his jacket but he smiled slightly none-the-less.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I know what you’re going through must be difficult, but we’re your friends—your family—and you can trust us not to hurt you.” Buffy nodded meekly against his chest before pulling back.

“I know that. I do. It’s just…” She turned her head away from Giles’ expectant look. “What if I can’t go into the sunlight anymore? What if I can’t leave the house during the day to be with my friends? I’m only 17; I don’t want to spend my life alone in the shadows.”

Buffy let herself be pulled over to the couch and sat down by her Watcher. “That’s why we should do these tests, Buffy. For all we know the sun may have no effect on you…and, if it does we will deal. You’ll never be alone.”

“What happens when I live forever and you guys are all dead?” Giles’ placed a comforting hand on her knee and offered her a small smile.

“We’ll cross that bridge if and when we come to it. Let’s just take things one step at a time.”


***



Xander Harris liked to think that he had seen a lot in the time he had known Buffy as a friend—vampires, werewolves, witches. Hell, most of the things he had been told were hiding in his closet or under the bed were real and living in Sunnydale. None of that, however, could have prepared him for the sight of Buffy standing in Giles’ courtyard that afternoon as he, Cordelia, Willow, and Oz made their way down to the Watcher’s apartment.

Her arms were spread wide as she twirled about in the light. She had a blissfully happy look on her face, one that he had never seen her wear before. That wasn’t what stopped him in his tracks though. He barely even moved an inch as his girlfriend crashed into him from behind.

“God, Xander, why don’t you--” Cordy’s sentence was cut off abruptly as her gaze followed his and landed on Buffy.

“Holy shit!” Xander quickly sent a knowing glance back to the werewolf before returning his focus to his best friend. He vaguely heard Willow gasp behind him and her mutter of ‘oh goodness’.

“Is she?”

“Uh-huh.” Xander turned his eyes on an extremely happy and oddly proud looking Giles as he watched his Slayer laugh and twirl about in the sun. “G-man, you do realize that she is glowing, don’t you? And I do mean in the literal sense.”

Both Slayer and Watcher turned to look at the frozen group standing on the steps. Buffy laughed happily and bounded over to them.

“Guys, check me out. I am officially 100% vitamin D receptive.” Xander gave her a nervous laugh as he made his way down the rest of the steps. The others close on his heels.

“You’re also kind of glowing,” Oz noted as he took his stunned girlfriend’s hand and led her down the rest of the steps.

“Yeah, why exactly is that?” Buffy shrugged at Xander’s question and danced backwards into the light again. “Giles?”

“I can only assume that it has something to do with the demon in her now. I can’t say I have ever seen or heard of anything quite like this. There was no mention in any of the texts of the demon used to create the first slayer glowing in direct light.”

“You gotta admit it’s pretty darn cool though.” Willow tore her eyes away from Buffy to smile at her boyfriend.

“Darn tootin’. She looks like some kind of angel,” Willow said, finally coming out of her daze. “I guess this means school’s a no go?”

“What?” Giles asked, turning towards the young red head “Oh, yes, I suppose you’re right. I hadn’t thought of that. Well, perhaps we should get a move on, we need to make sure we can make it to Buffy’s house before dark, and we still need to perform the disinvite spells.”


***



Spike had to wait once more until Angelus was occupied before he could take his leave. His elder had arisen even more petulant than he had been upon Spike’s return the night before, and he could only assume it had something to do with the wails he had heard the last few hours before sundown, coming from the room Angelus and Dru shared.

The poncy bugger still had no idea how to calm his childe when she was in one of her moods. He never had. Only this time Angelus’ pride prevented him from blowing her off for Spike to deal with, which suited Spike just fine. Let the poof suffer.


***



Spike quickly slipped through the streets of Sunnydale heading first to the Watcher’s house, making sure he kept to the shadows. He could sense Angelus’ minions still out hunting the Slayer. Few had dared to come back empty-handed the night before, and those who did had been dusted as promised.

He chuckled slightly as he let his mind wandered back to the Slayer. What would happen when Angelus found out she wasn’t a vampire and that he had no claim to her as her sire? Spike’s own curiosity had been more than piqued as to what exactly the young blonde was. He had heard no heart beat coming from her the night before, but unfortunately that led him to no answers as to what demon she might be. He knew of only a few species, vampires included, that had no pulse. Unfortunately she fit the description of none of them.

He made a quick scout of the Watcher’s place, and upon finding it empty, he headed off once again in the direction of the Slayer’s home. Spike could smell the lingering mixture of vanilla and spices that told him the Slayer had been there only a few hours earlier, and he found himself unconsciously licking his lips as he made his way out of the apartment complex and towards Revello Drive.


***



Spike made his way around to the back of the Summers’ residence upon his arrival, knocking on the back door. He smiled as he heard all movement inside the house stop as the occupants attempted to identify just who it was. He smirked as he saw the Slayer appear at the back door and open it to him.

“Evenin’, pet.” Buffy arched an eyebrow at him and opened the door further.

“Come in, Spike.” He was about to accept her invitation and take a step through the doorway when suddenly several things happened simultaneously: One of Angelus’ minions jumped out at them from nowhere; Buffy morphed into that which was her demon nature; and Spike felt something carnal snap loose within him as he let out a deep growl.

His own features morphed involuntarily and he stumbled backwards slightly from the sudden sensory overload in the presence of Buffy’s demon. He watched through glazed eyes as she dusted the minion effortlessly and turned to look at him. Both were panting heavily despite their lack of need for the air that entered their lungs. Spike stared at her through hungry amber eyes as he took in the sight of her.

Spike thought that Buffy was beautiful in her transformation, and he felt all sense of control leave him as he slammed her roughly up against the side of the house, his mouth descending upon hers with a ferocious desperation that was born solely from his demon’s need to possess her.

The two were a mass of whimpers and small snarls of pleasure as they seemed to devour one another in desperation, unable to shake the features of their demons in their sudden fervent lust. Buffy’s arms wove their way around Spike’s neck as he pushed her more forcefully into the side of the house and the front of his body melded against hers.

“Sweet merciful Zeus!” The two tore apart from one another to look at the boy standing in the doorway with wide eyes as he took in the scene before him. Their demon features melted away and horror suddenly dawned over them as they pushed away from one another.

Buffy blushed a becoming shade of crimson as her eyes went wide before quickly turning her head away. Spike had a look of stunned confusion on his face.

“Sweet mother of mercy, I did not just walk in on that!” Xander turned around and walked back into the kitchen, leaving both the vampire and the Slayer standing alone on the back porch.

“I’m gonna go…inside,” Buffy said as she made her way towards the door before stopping and turning around quickly. “I, ah, don’t know what just happened, I think maybe we should…?” Spike nodded his head eagerly, not completely meeting her eyes.

“I’m right there with you, pet. Never happened,” Spike replied as he followed her into the house, shaking his head as he tried to decipher what had just come over him.




Chapter 5


“We need to discuss tactics for taking out Angelus,” Giles began, once everyone was seated in the living room of the Summers’ home. Buffy was making a point of studiously avoiding Spike and his gaze, taking the seat furthest away from him as possible and pretending that nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Spike currently seemed to be employing the same strategy as he sat sprawled out in the chair across the other side of the group and absently picked at his flaking nail polish. She could tell though, despite the mask of indifference he wore and by the rigid set of his shoulders that he was just as disturbed by what had occurred as she was.

“Well, your tactics are all going to depend on when the Slayer is ready to take her boyfriend on. He’s got minions out looking for her almost round the clock under the threat of pain of torture and dusting if they return empty handed,” Spike said offhandedly. Giles got a slightly pinched look between his eyebrows as a sudden thought occurred to him.

“That would mean that the number of minions at the mansion would be fairly low at the moment, correct?” Giles asked. Spike’s eyebrows rose as he caught on to what the Watcher was saying.

“Far as I know, probably only ‘bout 5 or 6 left to guard the place.” A small Ripper-like smile appeared on Giles’ face at that shared piece of information.

“Then if we can find some sort of cloaking spell that will mask Buffy’s presence, now would probably be the best time to attack. The rest of us can handle the minions and that will leave Buffy and you to take care of Angelus and Drusilla.”

Buffy felt her concentration being pulled away from the conversation flowing back and forth between the two men as a strange pain shot through her stomach, which made a loud gurgling sound. She frowned slightly and looked down at it. God, what was wrong with her?

A small growl was subconsciously torn from within, inadvertently drawing the attention of everyone in the room over towards her as she looked quizzically down at her belly. The gurgling noise sounded again and she rubbed her hand back and forth over it questioningly.

“Buffy?” Buffy’s head shot up upon being addressed by her mother and her cheeks heated to a light shade of pink as she realised everyone was watching her. “Are you alright?”

“What? Yeah, fine. My stomachs just making these weird noises.” As if on cue, her stomach again gurgled loudly, and her demon features flickered over her face fleetingly.

A loud rumbling growl sounded throughout the room as Spike felt his demon once again reacting to the presence of Buffy’s demon and all eyes turned to him. “Your demon is hungry,” he said by way of explanation for his strange behaviour and all eyes turned back to Buffy once more.

“Hungry? But I just ate like whole bowl of pasta!” She replied in exasperation.

“Your demon needs vampire blood to survive, Buffy,” Giles said, softly reminding her. Her eyes went wide and she started to shake her head.

“Oh, no, there is no WAY I am sinking my fangs into the neck of some random vamp. Do you have any idea where I find those things? Who knows when the last time they washed was.” Buffy pinned her Watcher with a pointed stare. Giles fidgeted under her gaze slightly before he shot a furtive look at Spike who was seated next to him.

The vamp in question shot to his feet quickly as he caught the look the Watcher sent him and the implications of what was going on set in place.

“You are off your bleedin’ rocker if you think I’m going let your Slayer chew on my neck. What the hell type of demon needs vamp blood anyway?” Buffy shot a disgusted look in his direction.

“Please, like I’d feed from you anyway.” She gave an indelicate snort and rolled her eyes. “I know where you’ve been.”

“Oi! I’ll have you know that I am VERY biteable,” Spike retorted in a smug matter-of-fact tone that had Buffy raising her eyebrows sceptically.

“Oh I bet you are. If you’re planning to contract some type of terminal disease,” she bit back, her voice dripping with sarcasm. The heads of the remaining occupants of the room swung back and forth between the two as they listened to them argue.

“I’m a vamp, I can’t get diseases,” he sneered with a smug expression plastered across his face.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t carry them,” Buffy said, morphing into her demon face again as she felt her temper and hunger rise.

The effect was instant. A low growl resonated from within Spike’s chest and he once again slipped into game face involuntarily. Buffy echoed the growl and her eyes flashed purple the split second before she jumped him, her fangs instantly finding their way into his neck.

Spike moaned and stumbled backwards a few paces under the force of her movement, slamming hard up against the wall as his hands instantly flew to her hips to steady her. He moaned loudly at the feel of her tiny fangs buried deep within his neck as she drew bloody hungrily from him.

Giles, Joyce and the Scoobies watched on in a stunned silence as Buffy fed from him. It was quite evident by the undiluted expression of ecstasy on Spike’s face that he was not in the least bit put out. His eyelids were half closed and his eyes glazed over as the amber pigment of his irises bled through to purple.

For Buffy it was like nothing she had ever tasted. Flavour blossomed into her mouth as she pulled harder on the wound, drawing out more of the delicious substance. She ground down against him gently as she let out a small whimper of pleasure and she started to give off a faint glow. It was only the small growl of warning that resonated from Spike, indicating that he was growing weak that had her pulling back.

They was a collective sigh as they parted, and everyone in the room relaxed. Buffy let out another small growl and Spike’s demon features instantly melted away. His expression was heated as his gaze stayed trained on her. She was glowing softly, a white light emanating from her being.

“Remarkable!” The spell that had seem to hang over them was broken by Giles’ small remark, and a smug mask instantly fell over Spike’s features blocking out any hint of expression that had previously been seen on his face.

“Remarkable? More like ew! I can’t believe they just did that in front of me. I am going to be like scarred for life. Have you no consideration for others?” Buffy turned and let out a vicious growl at the brunette before her own demonic features slipped away.

“Wow!” Willow said completely awed by the sight of her best friend and completely ignoring the cheerleader’s comment. “That was like…wow! Except for the whole humping Spike in front of your mother thing, that wasn’t so… but the other? Wow”

“Willow!” Buffy shrieked, absolutely mortified.

“Very cool.” Oz added. Buffy bushed and shut her eyes in embarrassment. “With the changing, not the humping.” She groaned and covered her face as she flushed an unflattering shade of beet red with the borrowed blood.

Giles coughed uncomfortably and removed his glasses from his face as he began to polish them rapidly. “Yes, well…a-am I correct in saying that Spike’s demon has an instant reaction to your own?” Buffy nodded her head meekly. “Remarkable.”

A loud snort came from the couch and Buffy’s head swung to look at her mother.

“Remarkable,” Joyce echoed as she stared at Buffy with a dazed expression on her face and a slightly pink tinting to her cheeks.

“It’s bloody embarrassing, that’s what it is. I knew you couldn’t keep you soddin’ fangs out of me, Slayer.” Spike spoke, as if he had suddenly regained the use of his voice.

Buffy’s embarrassment quickly turned to anger in the face of his taunting tone.

“Oh, like I meant for that to happen. Who knows what I just picked up? This is entirely your fault!” Buffy ran her hand roughly across her mouth as if to rid if from disease.

“Me? I think you’re forgetting who jumped who here,” Spike retorted with an infuriating chuckle. Buffy scowled.

“I wouldn’t have if you didn’t make me go all demon-girl!”

“I didn’t make you do anything, Summers. Admit it, you like jumping the Big Bad,” he stated with a leering smirk planted across his face.

“Please, in you’re dreams maybe,” Buffy replied as she rolled her eyes. There was no way he could know how close to the truth THAT statement was. She’d never live it down.

“More like nightmare,” he muttered under his breath.

“God, do you like ever shut up?” Cordy said as she watched the two in exasperation. “Get over it already!”

“I’m over it. He’s the one who’s all hung up about it,” Buffy said as she crossed her arms over her chest in a defensive gesture.

Giles sat down heavily in his chair pinching the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb. Good lord, what he wouldn’t give for a good scotch right about now. He watched as Joyce got up and left the room. Deciding to follow her, he stood quickly to get away from the bickering children—because that’s what they were, even if one of them was a vampire over a century old.

“Drink?” Joyce asked, pulling a fresh bottle of brandy out of a cupboard as Giles entered the kitchen.

“Please,” he said, not bothering to mask the hint of desperation in his voice. Joyce poured them both a glass and left the bottle sitting open on the counter beside them. They both knocked their drinks back quickly as the fight in the next room escalated to an all time high, before reaching deftly for the bottle again. It was going to be a long night.



 
Chapters 6 - 10
 
Chapter 6


This was beyond the point of ridiculous. Two nights—two fucking nights—and still not even a sighting of his newest childe. Angelus paced the length of his room back and forth, questioning for the first time whether his decision to have his minions track Buffy down had been the smartest decision he could have made. Most of the minions had yet to return, either with his childe or with news of where she could be found.

Those who had returned brought little news, saying only that they were able to follow her scent for a while before it trailed off, leaving them with no indication of her whereabouts. Needless to say they had been dusted for their failure, tied up and left out to burn in the morning sun.

The problem was that his patience was wearing thin, almost to the point of being nonexistent. She was a prize, that one; a rarity that he and he alone had the pleasure of owning. The more she eluded him, the more he found himself wanting her—desiring her above all else.

Dru had become more and more irritating with her insane ramblings. Not even the amount of pleasure that he drew upon from her body could sate him. Every time he closed his eyes, Buffy would dance across his mind and all desire to pound into his insane childe would abate. Instead of using her as an object of his desire she had become merely a much needed, yet unsatisfying release.

Despite the obvious and unwanted presence of a soul in his newest childe, Angelus had never desired a creature more than he did her at this point. Not Dru and not Darla. Nothing he ever felt for them could compare to the want he had for his turned Slayer. Buffy held his ever waking thought; she had become his obsession as Dru had once been, and he planned to break her just as he had broken Drusilla. Just as soon as he had the little bitch back within his grasp.

A loud growl of frustration emanated from his chest, and he stalked over to the door of his room. Throwing it open roughly, he picked up his coat from the back of the chair in passing and swung it on over his shoulders as he made his way out of the mansion.


***



All of the lights were burning brightly at 1630 Revello Drive, yet Angeles couldn’t feel the presence of a single being within the house. Not one heart beat reached his ears and try as he might, he couldn’t feel the presence of his errant childe.

He was absolutely positive that she was inside the house.

Angelus found himself circling the residence slowly as he peered in the windows, looking for any sign of movement coming from within. It was too quiet for a deserted house, especially one which had its lights burning brightly from within. He smirked to himself as he made his way around to the back porch.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he called out in a sing-song voice. Smirking, he walked up onto the back porch, making sure to stand out of the stream of light that was shining through the window of the back door.

It had to be a cloaking spell, he was certain she was within the walls of this house.

Angelus’ hand reached out, and he briefly contemplated opening the door and testing whether his invitation had been revoked. He knew that walking in there by himself, when she most likely had all her buddies with her, could only be inviting trouble when he didn’t know what he would find.

Yet, he needed some sort of confirmation. Lifting his head he sniffed the air for even the slightest trace of her scent.

Angelus stopped abruptly when the scent hit his senses. Not the scent he had being testing for, yet far more disturbing and telling all the same. Furrowing his brows he sniffed again.

A predatory growl resonated deep within his chest. Suspicion stole over his features. There was no mistaking it. Spike’s scent was all over Buffy’s back porch.


***



The Summers’ house was quiet the next morning when Giles awoke. He felt like crap, reminding him of his younger days—wilder days. His voice felt rough from the abuse wrought by his overindulgence of hard liquor; the pressure in his head seemed to be thumping in time with his heart beat and there was a general feeling of queasiness that alerted him to the fact that anything that was to be consumed that morning would be brought back up shortly thereafter. He groaned as he sat up, trying to focus his sleep-bleary eyes on his watch.

“Bloody hell” He moaned groggily before flopping down on the couch again, only wincing slightly at the discomfort it caused his head and lethargic limbs. Nine o’clock was far too early to get up after a night of drinking.

How stupid he had been. Never again would he touch a single drop of that vile liquid. Unless of course, the circumstances leading up to its consumption mirrored those of the night before. Giles groaned again and threw a heavy arm across his closed eyes.

He let his mind wandered absently over the events of the night before, making no further attempt to remove himself from the couch. He had truly never seen anything quite like the reaction his Slayer’s demon had to the blonde vampire. As he had stated many times the night before, it was remarkable.

Giles felt the beginnings of a spark of excitement slowly spring to life in his tired and intoxicated brain as he began to mull over the possible explanations for their mutual behaviour. For a split second he entertained the though of locking them in a room together so he could observe them as they were forced to interact together, before quickly dismissing such an idea.

Sitting himself up, he slowly pushed off the couch and lethargically made his way over to his books. The allure of something new and unknown to discover with the help of his dusty volumes was too strong to resist, despite his hangover.


***



Angelus’ eyes narrowed as he watched the sleeping form of Spike from the doorway to his room. Nothing seemed highly suspicious or off about the vampire before him. In fact he looked the same as he had when he last checked on him three days ago. Yet his senses hadn’t lied, they couldn’t. Spike’s scent had been all over Buffy’s back porch.

Slipping silently into the room, he moved the wheelchair away from the side of the bed until it was just out of the blonde vampire’s reach.

If he was still as crippled as he was before, Spike would be incapable of getting into the chair himself and would be forced to call for help despite his pride. Yet the chair was close enough to the bed that even with slight mobility it was possible for him to reach it. Close enough that in the event of a momentary slip of mind he would move himself effortlessly into the chair without thinking twice about his ‘crippled’ status.

Backing out of the room again, Angelus slipped of silently through the halls of the mansion, seizing a minion roughly as he went.

“You! I have a job for you. I want you to watch Spike over the next few days. Be discreet and don’t let him know you are watching. Any odd occurrences, anything strange at all you let me know. Got it?” The minion nodded hurriedly and let out a small sigh of relief when his master let him drop to the ground. “Good. Don’t let me down”

Without a second thought the minion scurried off down the hall to keep surveillance over the crippled vampire.




Chapter 7


Spike tensed abruptly and then forcibly relaxed as he slowly drifted into a state of consciousness. He could feel eyes practically burning holes into his back. He calmed himself and was about to reach out his senses when he heard the shuffling of feet in the hallway and some small object accidentally being knocked over. He didn’t resist the urge to roll his eyes heavily. The minion desired much in the way of stealth.

Stealth issues aside though, the presence of the minion could only mean one thing: Angelus was having him watched. Somehow the poof had pulled his oversized head out of his arse long enough to be able to learn enough information for him to be suspicious of his ‘crippled’ childe.

Spike’s eyes immediately fell on the symbol of his ‘disability’. His frown grew as he noticed that it had being subtly wheeled away from the bed. It was likely that if he hadn’t woken to the feeling of being watched, he would have moved himself into it without a second thought.

His eyes flicked abruptly to the door again.

“Get in here,” he snarled angrily, almost smirking when he heard the little shriek of surprise coming from his personal stalker. In fact, the smirk was halfway to his lips before he managed to curb the impulse.

Spike watched with some small satisfaction as a bespectacled minion came scampering into his room. He was shaking violently from head to toe and he had a nervous habit of pushing his glasses more firmly onto his face with one finger every few seconds. The fear was literally pouring off of him in waves and Spike felt a thrill of satisfaction go through him that he hadn’t lost all his reputation and intimidation during his short stint in that bloody wheelchair.

“M-master Spike! You’re awake!” Spike arched an eyebrow at the vampire and gave him a mocking glare while reaching for his smokes and lighter from beside the bed.

“You don’t bloody well say” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Spike gave the minion a hard look as he placed a cigarette between his lips quickly and lit up before carelessly throwing both the lighter and his smokes back onto the bedside table.

His relaxed and casual manner did nothing towards calming the nervous minion’s demeanor.

“What’s your name, mate?” Spike asked as he made a great show about hauling himself up so he could lean against the headboard.

“D-Dalton, Master. I served both you and Mistress Drusilla before Angelus returned to the fold.”

“Dalton, ey?” The minion nodded quickly “Well Dalton, why don’t you step inside that door a bit further and tell me why you were watching me?” Dalton’s shivering returned and he looked over his shoulder nervously before taking a hesitant step further into the room and shutting the door behind him. “Well?”

“I was ordered to by Master Angelus. After he returned last night, the first thing he did was come check on you. He found me on his way back from your room and told me that I was to watch you closely for the next couple of days and report back if anything unusual or different occurred.”

Goes out, comes home, checks on ME when he gets home and then discreetly moves the wheelchair? Must have suspicions about me being able to walk again.

How though?


Spike beckoned the small vampire forward until he was within striking distance before lashing out quickly and roughly, pulling the petrified Dalton into an arm lock to prevent him from escaping.

“Listen here. Anything you are about to see stays between you and me alright? I hear a word, or even get the slightest hint of suspicion that you have blabbed to Angelus, and I will make you wish he was the one killing you. Got it?” Dalton nodded his heard rapidly and managed to force out a tight ‘got it’ through his crushed windpipe. “Good.”

Spike threw the minion away from him and calmly rose to his feet. “’Cause I’d hate to have to hurt you,” he stated with mock sincerity before making his way out his window and off into the night.


***



Buffy let out a small growl of annoyance as she opened the back door to admit the bane of her existence. She glared at Spike as he stepped over the threshold with a cocky grin, before slamming the door closed behind him.

“What do you want, Spike?” She asked even as she turned to walk back into the living room and the sea of books and notes Giles had littering almost every surface.

Spike suppressed the chuckle that was threatening to emerge and followed her into the living room, deftly stepping over the piles of books.

“Spike.” The Watcher said by way of greeting before turning his attention back to the books before him. Spike quirked and eyebrow at him silently and moved to stand before the Slayer, completely ignoring the presence of anyone else in the room.

“Slayer, can’t stay long—” he began.

“Thank God,” she muttered rolling her eyes at him. Spike ignored her and kept talking.

“—just thought I’d let you know that Angelus smells a rat.” Buffy’s eyebrows crinkled in confusion even as all activity in the room around her stopped as everyone turned to stare at Spike.

“What do you mean ‘smells a rat’?” Willow asked nervously, placing the book she had been reading on the table and looking to Giles for reassurance. The others all moved in closer so that they could hear what was being said.

“I mean he suspects something,” he said to the group before turning back to the Slayer “I think he’s beginning to suss some things out about me and my ability to walk. He has one of his lackeys watching me.” Buffy’s eyes went wide with rage as she let loose a savage growl and pinned him to the wall by his throat.

“They are watching you and you come HERE!” The astonishment and disbelief was clear in her voice. “Not even you could be that dumb.”

“Hey—” She pulled him a foot away from the wall before slamming him back into it forcefully.

“Are you trying to lead them here? Is it just me or is this beginning to sound more and more like some elaborate ‘Let’s kill Buffy’ plan. Why the hell would you come here if you know you’re being watched?”

Spike pushed her away from him harshly and shrugged his shoulders to resettle his coat around him comfortably. “Do you mind, you crazy bint?! If I wanted to bloody well kill you I wouldn’t have helped you escape!”

Buffy let out an indelicate snort and rolled her eyes at him.

“You helped me escape? Please! I didn’t see you the whole time I was there; no one was around when I escaped! Hence the success.” Spike rolled his eyes at her stupidity.

“Exactly, you bleedin’ moron! Do you really think that Angelus would have just left you hanging there with no one guarding you? Or that you just suddenly had the strength to break free of those reinforced chains?” He asked with such sarcasm that she was taken back for a split second.

Memories of hanging there limply as someone tried to get her to drink some water instantly resurfaced in her mind as she stared at the blond vampire. It had been him.

“It was you. You were the one who was feeding me.” It wasn’t a question. Buffy knew now for certain that it had been Spike.

“Of course it was me. No minion would ever so blatantly defy their master,” Spike scoffed

“Why?” Buffy asked in a measured tone. What possible reason did Spike of all people have to help her? She puts him in a wheelchair and then he saves her life?

“Because I knew you were more than just your average vamp. I didn’t know what you were –and still don’t by the way- but I needed your help; I wanted you strong so you could escape and help me kill that bloody ponce,” he said rolling his eyes heavenward as he spoke of Angel, the irritation and loathing for the vampire clearly evident in his voice.

“I thought you said that Angel was…your sire? Why would you want to kill him?” Xander asked, unsure as to whether he was using the correct term. Spike shot him an irritated look.

“He is” Spike answered, more than ready to get off the topic of his origins as a vampire. Giles perked up at the slip of information.

“He is? I thought Drusilla was your sire. It says in the Watcher’s Diaries that you were turned in London, in 1880, by Drusilla.” Spike sighed heavily as he realised that they weren’t going to let the subject drop until they had all the information they wanted.

“She did. Angelus is my grandsire. He taught me everything I know. Shaped me into what I am today and all that rot.” Giles frowned, confused.

“So why are you so keen on killing him then?” Giles asked as he removed his glasses from his face and started polishing them.

“Because the vampire that came back’s not my sire,” Spike said simply.

“What do you mean? Angel’s been possessed? By some other demon perhaps?” Giles queried, reaching immediately for his books.

“You’re reading to much into this, mate. It’s still Angelus, he’s just off his bleedin rocker. Being stuck with a soul for so longs made his demon a bit…crazed I guess,” Spike replied, in a dismissive tone, hoping that they would drop the bloody subject. “Bottom line is, he’s not the demon he was, never will be and it’s time the bloody ponce was sent to hell.”

“See, now that I agree with!” Xander said enthusiastically. Everyone in the room gave him a questioning look. “What?”

“What’s a sire?” Joyce asked.


***



“Sir? We have the complete translation for you.” The man placed the both the scroll and the translated document on his boss’s desk. Quentin Travers reached for the translation and quickly skimmed over its contents, a small smile appearing on his face.

“Good. I want a team in place immediately, watching for any changes. I want to be informed the minute something happens,” Travers said without taking his eyes off the documents.

“A team has already been put in place, sir. They are watching her as we speak.” Travers nodded.

“Very good,” he replied before dismissing the young council member from his office. Once alone, he picked up the translated version of the prophecy and read it over once more before picking up his phone. “It’s me. I want the holding cell prepared immediately. I should be in contact with you within the next week or so.”


***



Spike knew something was off as soon as he re-entered the mansion through his bedroom window. He scanned the room quickly, noticing his wheelchair was gone and a small pile of dust on the floor beside the bed.

“Spike, my boy, look at you.” Spike spun around quickly and let his gaze fall on the vampire in the shadows. Angelus was sitting in the wheelchair comfortably, his legs propped up on a nearby desk.

“Angelus.”




Chapter 8


“Angelus.”

The brunette rose from the wheelchair slowly and made his way towards his grandchilde with a predatory purpose. Spike had seen that look in his eyes before and he found himself frozen in place as his grandsire approached.

“What I would like to know,” Angelus began, as he started circling his grandchilde, “is how long you have been able to walk exactly? I mean, it sort of explains a lot of the things that have been happening around here lately.”

“Yeah? How so?” Angel ignored Spike’s question as he came to stand before him again and gave him a mockingly friendly smile.

“See I wasn’t sure at first, but then I smelt your scent all over the Slayer’s back porch, and you know as well as I do that you can’t fake someone’s scent. See I think you’ve been able to walk for quite some time now. Helped the Slayer escape, and now you’ve got your foot in the door with her.”

“Maybe I do. What’s it to you?”

“She’s mine, boy.” Spike smirked as he realised that Angel only thought he had been getting it on with the Slayer. Better that than the truth. “She is my childe. You have no right to her without my permission.” It was on the tip of Spike’s tongue to yell at Angelus and tell him that Buffy wasn’t his childe—that she wasn’t even a vampire. For what reason other than to rebel against his pig headed sire he didn’t know, but he held his tongue. He didn’t even know what she was yet. “They’re both mine, Spike. They belong to me and always will, you‘re nothing but an object to pass the time.”

Spike smirked to cover up the deep chord of hurt Angelus’ last statement had caused within him. “One I seem to remember you taking quite a bit of enjoyment out of in the past.”

“I never said you weren’t mine as well.” Spike tried to hold back his flinch as Angelus brought his hand up to run his fingers along the dominating bite mark that still adorned Spike’s neck. He had been young and easily dominated by the elder vampire when it occurred. It had been something that haunted him endlessly over the past century—that by vampire law he belonged to Angelus.

A growl was torn unconsciously from Spike’s throat and he pulled back from his grandsire’s touch. Angelus’ eyes hardened as he pulled his hand back and roughly punched the younger vampire in the face.

“Never forget who you belong to, boy. You are mine, and you always will be.” Spike growled and morphed into game face, his amber eyes glinting at his grandsire’s cold hard brown ones. He twisted his head to the side, abruptly cracking his neck before smirking up at his grandsire.

“Why don’t we look into remedying that then?” Angelus’ own features shifted into that of amusement.

“You mean to challenge my claim over you, Willy?” Spike arched his eyebrow at him in a sarcastic manner. “You won’t win. You never have, what will make this time any different?”

“Because this time I want it.”


***



Buffy stood up abruptly from the sentry position she had taken up on the chair across from the couch. A deep growl emerged from within her as she shifted into her demonic features.

“Buffy?” Her softly glowing eyes shifted to a slowly waking Giles as he sat up on the couch. “What’s wrong? Is there someone out there?” She shook her head.

“No, it’s Spike. I can feel him somehow… he’s in vamp mode. He needs help.” She started quickly for the door grabbing her coat and a stake of the table as she went.

“You can’t mean to go after him. Buffy, it’s Spike!” She barely paused in her stride at his fervent whisper.

“I know.” She replied as she paused at the door giving him a look that told him she would explain everything when she returned. “Stay here and make sure everyone’s safe. Nothing should be able to get in the house while I’m gone. If they do, get everyone into the basement. I won’t be long.”

Giles watched helplessly as his charge opened the door and ran off into the night to help save a vampire, albeit one who was helping them in the fight to bring down Angelus, but a soulless monster all the same.

He tore his glasses from his face as he stared at the closed door and began polishing them rapidly on his nightshirt. Could his life be anymore confusing?


***



Both vampires had removed their jackets and shirts so they stood before each other in only their pants and shoes. Spike took a deep, unnecessary breath as he and Angelus moved back into the centre of the room and started circling one another.

“Are you ready, boy?” Spike smirked and nodded as he bounced lightly on the balls of his feet and waited for his grandsire to throw the first punch as vampire lore demanded.

As soon as he saw Angelus’ fist coming he ducked under it and swung a right upper cut punch into his grandsire’s stomach. Angelus let out an ‘oof’ as the unnecessary air was expelled from his lungs and he doubled over.

“Getting slow in your old age, mate?” Spike asked with a chuckle as he danced back out of the way again. Growling in irritation, Angelus shot Spike a look that promised much pain if Angelus were to win the fight.

“Wouldn’t be fair if I beat the shit out of you without you even getting a punch in.” Spike smirked as Angelus unfolded himself again and dove at the younger vampire.

Angelus easily blocked Spike’s counterattack before swinging at Spike a second time. The blonde vampire dodged it easily, ending up behind his grandsire before sending a heavily booted foot into the back of his knee. “Always wanted to see you on your knees before me.”

Angelus growled, sending an elbow back into Spike’s gut before jumping to his feet, spinning and sending the back of his hand across the blonde’s face. “All you had to do was ask, Willy.”

Spike blocked Angelus’ hitch kick by grabbing his foot and flipping him over. Angelus rolled over onto his back while still on the floor and sent his feet into Spike’s stomach, propelling him backwards.

“Why don’t you just face it? You’re never going to beat—” Punch. Dodge. Kick. Block. Feint. Kick. “me.” Angelus laughed, sending his booted foot into the side of Spike’s ribs harshly. He smiled sinisterly as the smaller vampire was sent flying across the room to land heavily against a dresser.

Angelus casually strolled over to where Spike was sprawled out on the floor, hauling him up and sending a fist into his face followed by smashing a knee into Spike’s gut. ‘Just one good blow to the lower spine should be enough to incapacitate him again,’ Angelus thought. He knew Spike hadn’t had a decent feed in months. It would only take one good blow for him to be crippled again.

Spike winced on impact before letting a mask of indifference fall firmly across his face and using his crouched position to his advantage by kicking the poof’s legs out from underneath him.

“Fat lady ain’t singing yet, Peaches.” He sent a knee into Angelus’ stomach and an elbow back across his face as he stood up again. Dodge. Block. Hit. Dodge. Block. Dodge. Block. Spin. Kick. “Argh!”

Angel let a twisted grin grace his face at the agonised cry that had been torn from Spike’s lips. The vampire instantly buckled under his weight as his legs gave out from underneath him.

“Willy, Willy, Willy. What did I tell you, hmm?”

“I don’t know, but I’m telling you to get away from him.” Both vampires snapped their heads up to look at Buffy standing in the door way.

“Hello, my childe,” Angel replied, instantly dropping Spike and letting him slump to the floor as he stalked towards his errant childe. Desire flared within him with her once more in his presence; she called to him like no other.

“Angelus.” Buffy watched the lust flare up in his eyes as they trailed over her body before finally coming to rest on her face. Despite what she had once believed she would feel when she was in his presence again, mind numbing fear wasn’t on the list. She could feel her rage simmering beneath the surface of her skin, but it was held tightly in check as memories of what he had done to her flashed across her mind.

Angel chuckled as he sauntered closer to her. Buffy shuddered and grit her teeth as her hands instinctively curled themselves into fists. She waited until he came even closer. ‘Just two more steps,’ she told herself.

Buffy let her fists fly as soon as Angelus was within range, the force of her swing sending him flying back to smack harshly against the concrete wall.

“I challenge your claim over Spike.”




Chapter Nine


“I challenge your claim over Spike.”

A wave of shock swept through Buffy even as she uttered the sentence. She what? Claiming Spike? It would bind them together indefinitely. Spike would become part of every aspect of her life unless he challenged her claim like he had done with Angel. What the hell was she thinking?

Buffy tried to school her features to not show the shock she felt at herself. She had said it now, and to back down would let Angelus know she was second guessing herself. She bit back her nervousness and looked straight into his shocked and oddly proud eyes. She could do this.

She glanced across at the stunned vampire that was sitting in a heap on the floor, staring at her through shocked and pain laced eyes. She wasn’t used to seeing Spike broken. He was the cocky self-assured vampire that she could never kill. Now though, he looked almost like a little boy from his slumped position on the floor, back supported against his dresser and his useless legs tucked up under his weight. Yes, she could do this.

A pregnant silence hung over the room as each of its occupants came to terms with what Buffy had said. She meant it—meant every word—and there was a determination in her eyes that said she was going to do everything in her power to make sure she won.

The silence was finally broken as an amused and slightly hysterical chuckle cut through the air like a volley of bullets from a machine gun. Angelus ambled upright from his slumped position against the wall.

He brought his thumb to the corner of his mouth and wiped the small trickle of blood away before sucking it off his finger. His eyes never lost contact with Buffy’s and his amused smile grew as she averted her gaze.

“You challenge my claim over Spike?” Angel’s voice rose from a characteristic sarcastically sincere tone, a hallmark of Angelus’, to a whole new level as he considered the ramifications of Buffy’s statement. “You challenge my claim over Spike?”

Buffy arched an eyebrow at him and tilted her head in a manner so eerily reminiscent of the broken vampire on the floor that Spike cracked a smile.

“Yeah” She stated simply as if it were the only obvious and logical answer.

“Why?” Good question. Why did she want to save Spike from his grandsire so badly? She hadn’t even thought when she ran out the door to help him, she had just grabbed her jacket and run from the house. It was only as she drew closer that she was somehow able to ‘feel’ what was happening. She couldn’t argue that she needed Spike to help defeat Angelus, that wouldn’t go over well.

“I want him,” she said simply, not offering any further explanation. Angelus arched an eyebrow at her.

“You want him?” He growled when Buffy failed to respond. “He’s mine, childe. He belongs to me and always will. Step down,” he ordered, using his sire’s voice on the last command. A slow smirk spread over Buffy’s lips.

“No,” she replied, feeling none of the binding effects Angelus should have had over her.

Angelus’ countenance instantly darkened in the face of her defiance. The fact that she could overcome a command directly issued by her sire only a week after being turned was unheard of. Despite the rage he felt building within him, Angelus couldn’t help the sliver of pride that worked its way in at having produced such a magnificent demon.

He stalked over to her quickly and grasped her around the throat tightly forcing her head to tilt back and lifting her off of the ground.

“I said, stand down, childe. You dare defy me?” Glaring down at him as best she could, she tried to look defiant as she managed to croak out the word ‘no’ again. He growled and tightened his grip at the same moment she swung her fist.

Buffy’s hand contacted with the side of Angelus’ head harshly with a dull thud and brought his demon out as he snapped his head back to look at her sharply with a savage growl, only to be met by her fist once more.

Growling savagely he lowered her slightly and drew his spare arm back and punched her with enough force that had she been human her neck would have snapped.

Breaking his hold she quickly snapped her fist back and aimed for his face. Her punch was blocked with a hand as Angelus brought his knee up harshly to connect with her stomach causing her to double over.

Angelus’ demon was in heaven as he hauled her to her feet again and backhanded her across the face…once….twice…

A fierce growl ripped through the room, stunning its occupants into silence once more as Buffy morphed into game face. She effortlessly broke Angelus’ grip before sending him flying across the room again by the use of a heavily planted foot to his chest.

Like always, the reaction was instantaneous as Spike morphed a split second after Buffy’s own transformation a possessive growl being torn from his lips closely followed by one from Angelus. Buffy quickly whipped around to quickly look at Spike, and felt her stomach drop at the hunger that had suddenly overcome his eyes.

Spike whimpered as Angelus launched himself in Buffy’s direction, catching her by surprise and pinning her to the ground. Angelus’ demon was screaming at him to possess this creature, make her his for eternity. Her demon sung to him, seduced him like a siren and he was helpless to stop his reaction to her.

Buffy’s demon was panicking as Angelus forced her to the ground under his weight. Without thinking, she used all the strength she could muster to throw him off her as she scrambled to her feet. She raced over to Spike and scooped him up off the ground and threw him ungracefully over her shoulder as she ran for the door. She was sure that her heart would have been racing had it still been beating.

Angelus growled savagely and blocked her pathway to the door. Buffy growled back trying to force his demon to submit to hers as Spike’s had done, but Angelus’ demon refused to submit, it wanted to dominate her—possess her—where Spike’s had just wanted her.

Buffy felt a caged panic rapidly rising within her. She was trapped in the room with no accessible way to get them both out. Angelus advanced on her with a predatory look in his eyes.

“Dominate him,” she heard in a demon roughened voice from over her shoulder.

“What?” she asked almost desperately, wanting Spike to explain further.

“Overpower him, drain him into weakness.” Buffy hesitated. Could she do that? “Slayer! You have to do it, now’s not the time to get bloody squeamish.”

Quickly moving to the bed, she dropped Spike onto it as carefully as she could manage. A low possessive growl emerged from his throat as he stared at a slowly progressing Angelus.

Angelus snarled back at him and made to advance upon the vampire. He was stopped by a powerful fist to his face that sent him sprawling backwards. Buffy wasted no time, jumping on him and punching him in rapid succession across the face before finally moving in on his throat. She snarled as she opened her mouth and buried her fangs in his throat.

Angelus let out a howl of pain bucked and hardened beneath her. His sense of survival began to kick in as he growled and snapped savagely at her. His attempt grew weaker and weaker as she continued pulling the blood from his neck.

Angelus’ demon features slipped away as his eyelid fluttered and she finally pulled back.

“Bu…Buffy?” She paused at the whimpered pleading that sounded so much like the Angel she had known, the one she still loved. Closing her eyes and gritting her teeth she forced herself to ignore it and she moved to the bed to scoop her vampire up. He wasn’t her Angel any more. And if he was, would she able to forgive him?

She pushed the thoughts from her head as she made her way to the exit, letting her demon features melt back into her human countenance. She had a vampire to take home and attend to.

Angelus didn’t move from his position on the floor until he could sense neither one of them any more, then gradually a slow sardonic smile began to spread across his face as a small weak chuckle burst from his lips. God she was magnificent! Despite his acute lack of blood he felt a distinct throbbing in his lower regions. He hadn’t though he could have wanted her any more than he already did, but now….

“Daddy?” Angelus let his head fall to the side slowly to take in the sight of his other childe as he used his claim over her to beckon her forward.

“Come give daddy some juice.” The vampiress obediently held out her wrist for her sire. Time to up the stakes. Buffy was his and he would make sure Spike knew it.




Chapter Ten


Giles’ eyes went wide as his Slayer walked in through the front door with a suspiciously Spike-shaped bundle slung over her shoulder.

“Buffy! What in God’s name…?” He trailed off unexpectedly at her hardened look.

“Giles, we have a problem.” He let out an uncharacteristic snort at that statement.

“You mean bigger than the return of Angelus and the plotting of our untimely deaths?” Buffy’s eyebrows snapped together in confusion. Had Giles just made a funny?

Upon seeing her shocked expression, Giles rolled his eyes and let out a deep sigh as he took his glasses off his face and started polishing them rapidly. “Oh, bloody hell! What’s wrong now?”

Buffy shook off the uneasiness at hearing her Watcher make a joke, and turned her focus back to the present. “It’s not just Spike who is affected by my demon, seems Angelus goes all bumpy over me as well.”

“You think you could put me down, Slayer?” Spike’s question went unanswered as Buffy and Giles were swept up in the excitement of this new discovery. He let out a small growl—this was humiliating.

“Good lord! Angelus knows of your current physical status then?” Buffy quirked an eyebrow at that.

“If by physical status you mean ‘he knows I’m not a vampire’? Then yes.” Giles’ eyes went wide as he took in the information, looking more than a little intrigued and excited at the prospect of being able to consult his books and find the answer to the bizarre behaviour of the vampires’ demons in the presence of her own.

“I’d appreciate it if you put me the bloody hell down!” The irritation in Spike’s voice had risen to all new levels as he tried desperately to draw Buffy’s attention back to the fact that he was still slung over her shoulder with his arse in the air.

“And your demon had the same effect that it seemed to have on Spike?” Giles asked her, ignoring the vampire. Buffy nodded.

“Yep, he went all growly and possessive and tried to jump me. On the up side, though, he tried to use his sire voice on me and it didn’t work, so points in the plus column for that.” Giles’ eyebrows drew together and he nodded absently, his mind already wandering over the possibilities.

“Indeed,” he remarked as he replaced his glasses.

“You know what? Fine, just bloody well leave me here. It’s not like I mind having my arse floating about in the Watcher’s face. It is a nice arse after all, even if I do say so myself.” Buffy frowned and turned her head back over her shoulder.

“What the hell are you talking about?”


***



James shivered from his position crouched in a bush outside the Summers’ residence. He was going to kill whoever told him that working for the council would mean the most up-to-date technology and plush hotels. He was positive that whoever they were, they had never spent four hours straight hovering outside a window with little more than a over friendly cat and a pile of possum dung for company.

Almost every light on the first floor of the house was turned on, yet he hadn’t seen a grain of movement aside from the quick entry and exit of a blond headed man earlier that night. The man hadn’t stayed long enough to cause suspicion, and he was obviously welcome in the house from the way he just walked in.

He looked down at the photo he was clutching in his almost blue hands. Buffy Summers, Slayer belonging to the Council of Watchers. He snorted at that, ‘belonging to.’ Those bastards though they bloody well owned everything. Despite all that, however, he hadn’t seen even a glimpse of anyone who might fit that description.

Bringing his hands to his face, he blew the warm air of his breath into them and rubbed them together. California was supposed to be warm. He hated the cold; it was why he had volunteered for the job—to leave England. Now glancing down at the pile of dung to his right, he wondered why he had bothered.

Having come to a decision, James made to get up and leave just as the front door to the home swung open. He stopped dead in his tracks, still halfway between standing and sitting. His thigh muscles quivered with the effort to hold himself still as he waited for the person to exit the home. He was rewarded no more than a few seconds later as a small, blonde, female who looked to be a teenager took of at a jog down the street.

Scrambling around quickly, James made a grab for the photo he had in his pocket—they matched. Whipping out his mobile, he punched in the memorised number and brought the cell phone to his ear.

“She’s just been sighted.” Not waiting for any acknowledgement on the other end, he hung up the phone and replaced it, resigning himself to remain in position for the rest of the night.

As the evening wore on, fatigue eventually overtook James. He fell asleep outside of the Summers’ home and never saw when, a few hours later, the young girl returned with a crippled vampire slung over her shoulder.


***



“He needs blood.” Giles’ eyes rose suspiciously to meet Buffy’s. It was now 7 a.m. and he had spent the remainder of the night up with her, searching through volumes to see if he could find anything more on the effect she seemed to have over vampires, if Spike and Angelus were anything to go by.

“I’m sitting right here you know.” Buffy shot Spike a look before turning back to her Watcher.

“I’m assuming that you’re hinting for me to go get some?” A grin broke out across her face and she fluttered her eyelashes innocently at him “It’s light out. I don’t see why you can’t go get it yourself.”

“Giles! You know what happens when I’m in the sun! How am I meant to explain to the butcher why I look like a firefly?” Giles cringed slightly against the whine in her voice.

“Butcher! You’ve got to be kidding me! I ain’t bloody well drinking that swill.” Both sets of eyes turned on him. “What? You can’t honestly expect me to drink that shit. It will take me months to heal on that stuff.”

“Well what do you propose we do then? We’re not robbing a blood bank,” Giles retorted. Spike’s gaze slid smoothly from the Watcher over to rest on the Slayer. Her eyes instantly widened at the hungry look in his eyes as he eyed her neck.

“Oh, no! I don’t think so, Buster” His eyes slid up to hers; they had a sparkle of mischief in them with which she was beginning to grow familiar.

“Not going to return the favour, love?” Against her will, she felt her knees grow weak as he looked at her through long lashes and curled his tongue up behind his teeth to pull off a look that should be illegal—and probably was in some countries.

“The…favour? I had no control over that!” Buffy only just managed to keep the waver out of her voice. She began to squirm under Spike’s gaze as he kept his eyes pinned on her. “Giles!”

“Just feed him, Buffy!” Her eyes went wide as a huge smirk simultaneously broke out over Spikes face.

“What?” Giles shut his eyes tightly at her rather loud protest. He had gotten no more than a few hours sleep and this was more than he could deal with at that moment. “It’s not like he can kill you, and—dare I say it—Spike’s right, he won’t heal half as quickly on pig’s blood. We need him strong to help fight Angelus. He’s no good to us like this.”

Who was this man and what had he done with her Watcher? Did he even realise what he was telling her to do? He seemed to read her mind as he looked up at her once more.

“Yes, I do know what I am saying. He can’t kill you, so as far as I am concerned it’s perfectly safe.” A deep chuckle resounded throughout the room, which had Buffy’s knees weakening again. Stupid knees.

“You heard the Watcher, pet.” She scowled at Spike, shooting one last helpless look at her Watcher who had returned to looking over his books. Grudgingly she made her way over to Spike.

“He’ll probably make it hurt on purpose,” she muttered, as she moved to take the seat next to him, squeaking loudly when he grabbed her arm and pulled her down into his lap. Spike smirked as she shot another glare at him.

“What was that, pet?” He had heard perfectly well what she had said and he was going to take great pleasure in making sure that it had the complete opposite effect. Turning her around, he arranged her until she was straddling his lap.

“Is this really necessary?” He arched his eyebrow as he looked up at her.

“Easier access.” Buffy swallowed heavily at the not so subtle sexual undertones to that statement. Choosing to ignore it completely, she shifted her hair from the side of her neck where she had been bitten by both the Master and Angelus, and made sure to hold the majority of her weight off of him. Her thighs quivered under the strain, but she refused to give in knowing the minute she settled her weight onto him he would make some lewd remark.

Spike smirked again and pulled the hair back around to cover that side of her neck before uncovering the virgin side of her neck. She arched her perfectly shaped eyebrows at him but said nothing.

Buffy closed her eyes as he leaned in tensing in preparation for the bite. He didn’t bite immediately but instead ghosted his lips over the skin on her neck—barely touching her—caressing her with his lips.

Spike felt her quivering muscles slowly begin to relax as he continued his soft touches and kisses to the skin of her neck until she had rested her full weight on top of him. He resisted the urge to groan at the feel of her pressed up against him and instead swiped his tongue up the length of her neck before nuzzling his face into her as he shifted into game face.

When the bite finally came, Buffy barely felt the pinpricks of his fangs sliding effortlessly into her skin before an overwhelming sense of pleasure like nothing she had felt began to consumer her. Her unnecessary breathing instantly became heavy and ragged as her hands flew to Spike’s biceps to brace herself. He held her there for a moment—his fangs embedded in her skin—before slowly beginning to suck and draw blood from the wound.

Giles looked up from his books as a low, throaty moan resounded throughout the room. His eyes went wide at the sight that greeted him. Spike was doing more than just feeding from Buffy. She was straddling his lap with her head thrown back in ecstasy, and her long hair brushing against Spike’s thighs as she clutched at his upper arms. It was an image of his Slayer he had never wanted to see.

It was the deep moan that did it, though. Clearing his throat, Giles tried to draw their attention back to the present and avert his eyes at the same time. Maybe he should just leave the room. Making his decision quickly, he moved to scoop up his books just as the sound of heavy footfalls could be heard on the stairs and Xander walked back into the room.

“Oh, for the love of—why do I always have to walk in on this stuff?” Xander exclaimed. Throwing his hands up the air, the teen made a hasty retreat, Giles hot on his heels as he too made his way out of the living room.




 
Chapter 11 - 15
 
Chapter Eleven


Joyce heaved a sigh of relief as she awoke. It was Saturday morning and none of her surrogate children had to be at school, Janice was running the gallery, and it was in the a.m. hours which therefore held no threat of vampire attacks.

She had no idea how Buffy had managed for the last two years. A little over a week and she could feel the fatigue pulling at her body from lack of sleep and the stress she held from keeping everything together. Maybe it was time to look into setting up a web server so she could work from home.

As much as her daughter protested about the idea when she had raised it a few nights ago, Joyce was going to have to look into home schooling. Being able to run the gallery from home could have its advantages. Plus it would expand her networks and bring in a pull of new artists.

Joyce rolled over in bed, making a mental check list of things she had to do as she checked the clock on her nightstand: 6:30 a.m. The house was quiet as its occupants slept on. The only one awake at this hour would be her daughter, dutifully keeping watch downstairs while her friends slept.

She knew there was more to it than that though. On her way down to get herself something to drink one night, she had stopped on the stairs to listen to her daughter’s muffled sobs coming from the living room. Joyce was about to go downstairs to console Buffy, but the minute she made a noise on the staircase, the crying had stopped. So, Joyce had let her be and silently made her way back up the stairs without her drink.

Now Buffy had a pet vampire to keep her company, though he had confined himself to the basement most of the time, to keep away from all their human-like behaviour. Joyce chuckled to herself at the thought of Spike; he really was charming in his own way, such a mixture of sensitivity, insecurity and the need to live up to his ‘big bad’ reputation.

She could see the man he held buried beneath his hardened exterior, and she supposed it was the reason he felt the need to lash out at all things human so much. He could still see a bit of William in himself and he didn’t like it. No, that wasn’t right, he didn’t want to like it—he didn’t want to want it to be part of him because it made him ‘weak’ in the eyes of his demon brethren.

Joyce giggled to herself. She was spending way too much time in the company of Giles.


***



Despite her lack of aversion to the sun, Buffy felt the soft hands of sleep calling her as the dawn broke outside. It had become almost like an automatic trigger inside her brain—dawn meant sunlight, sunlight meant no Angelus and no Angelus meant she could drop her guard long enough to get some sleep, even if it was only for an hour or two.

Buffy’s body had been running on adrenaline for the first few days, then on the acute need to know that she was doing everything possible to keep the threat of Angelus away from the ones she loved. As the days wore on and Angelus still hadn’t made a move to attack, she began to feel the effects the lack of sleep was having on her body.

She hadn’t eaten properly in days, neither blood nor the normal human food which her body still held the need for. But even the need to eat took backseat precedence over her body’s need for sleep.

As soon as dawn rolled around her body switched off, almost instantly falling into the deep sleep it craved.

That was how Joyce found her when she made her way down stairs. Joyce had stopped for a moment in the doorway—only slightly perturbed by her daughter’s complete and utter lack of movement, even the soft rise and fall of her chest. The memory of Giles telling that Buffy was virtually indestructible was enough to ease her discontent and her motherly instincts immediately kicked in.

Grabbing the comforter of the back of the couch Giles was sleeping on, Joyce walked over and covered her baby up. Perhaps Willow might be able to help her set up a website later today, she would even pay the redhead a small monthly wage to keep the site running and updated.

Having come to a decision, Joyce made her way into the kitchen to prepare a large breakfast for everyone. While she was in there she heated a mug of blood for her vampire house guest and left it on the top step of the basement stairs for him to collect when he was hungry. They had had a week to panic. Now it was time to pull together. They would accomplish nothing if they weren’t well rested and fed and it was time someone took those matters into hand.


***



‘Run. Don’t stop moving. Just keep going—ignore the pain.’

Her heavy foot falls pounded on the pavement, her breathing and heart beat erratic. Her lungs and legs muscles burned from exhaustion, and each fall of her foot seemed to come heavier than the last.

The long narrow pathway curled its way out before her, around hills and corners so that it was sometimes out of sight.

‘Don’t move off the path—don’t let it catch up to you.’

She rounded the bend and hesitated for a moment as the road split into to separate pathways.

‘Don’t stop moving.’

She gasped for breath and shot a look over her shoulder fleetingly before taking off down the path that curled to the left. The ground shuddered beneath her feet for a moment before becoming calm again. She lowered her head and picked up her pace.

“Excuse me?” Her head shot up at the sound of someone calling her. Her eyes scanned the area and came to rest on a man standing by the edge of the road dressed in a suit, white gloves, and a white mask that covered his eyes. “Miss Summers?”

Against her will her legs stopped running. “Yes?”

“You have to come with me. We’re here to help you.” Buffy’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Help me?” The man before her held out his gloved hand.

“Yes, quickly now, come this way!” Warily she grasped the hand and immediately he began to pull her off the path and towards a clump of bushes.

‘Don’t move off the path.’

Panic gripped her and she dug her heels in trying to pull her hand from the man’s. He looked back at her and seemed to sense what had her panicking.

“Don’t worry, where here to help you. You’ll be safe with us, Miss Summers.” Buffy cast a nervous glance over her shoulder as the ground began to tremor gently again.

“No, let me go. I have to keep running!” His iron grip held tight.

“But you’ve been running for so long, aren’t you tired?”

“No!” She yelled as she wrenched her arm out of his and took off for the path at a sprint, even as the ground quaked beneath her. Panting heavily for air she threw herself back onto the winding track heedless of the shouts of ‘Miss Summers’ coming from behind her.

She could see a black clad figure in the distance. He was just standing patiently by the edge of the path, looking down the road towards her. As she got closer she could see it was Spike and he was waving to her as she drew near.

“Slayer—”

“Not now, Spike! We have to run!” She said as she pushed at him to run with her. The tremors in the ground had died down, but every second she stood still would make them closer to coming back.

“I know, kitten.” Buffy’s gaze shot to his.

“You know?” He nodded and took her into his arms. She looked up at him quizzically as he gently held her to him. “Spike, there’s something after me, I have to keep running.”

He smiled softly down at her. “The cake’s already baked. We just don’t know what the flavour is yet.”

“What? You’re not making sense,” she said as she turned her head to look back over her shoulder. She could already feel the light vibrations running up her legs.

“Sometimes you have to look beneath the mask that’s presented.” Her brows furrowed as she looked back up at him.

“Do you mean the men in the white masks? They were trying to help me?” He didn’t answer her. He just took as step back and held out his hand.

Buffy gasped as the image of Spike shifted and he became a man with honey blonde hair who wore glasses and was dressed in a suit. She realised as she stared at him in shock that this was William.

“Watch out!” She yelled as one of the white masked men came up behind him.

“You have to see past the mask, Buffy.” Buffy’s gazed bounced back to William before turning back on the man. She stared hard at him, willing herself to see behind the mask.

Slowly the image dissolved as she was staring a lightly balding older man. Another one walked up behind him, devoid of both mask and gloves. He held a cup of tea in his one hand and a rotting olive branch in the other.

“The council.” William nodded eagerly.

“Are you entirely sure what your meant to be running from?” She looked back at William, whose image seemed to have mixed with Spike’s. As the ground beneath began to quake again she grabbed his hand.

The smile he gave her was blinding and he pulled her into him as the world around them dissolved until she found herself standing next to Spike in a bedroom.

It was beautiful. The bed was covered with white silk sheets and sprinkled with red rose petals. Lamps were scattered about and had been draped with scarves to give the room a soft warm glow, and the French windows rested open so a soft breeze was blowing the sheer curtains into the room.

Buffy turned to him with a smile. “Did you do all this?”

Spike smirked at her. “This? No, that was all William.”

“It’s beautiful,” she said, returning her gaze to their setting.

“I’m glad you like it. I wanted to do this properly,” he said as he reached over and took her hand again.

Buffy arched an enquiring eyebrow at him. “Do what exactly?”

“Angelus still holds his claim over me, pet. I need you to break it.” She gave him a confused look.

“But I won the fight. I thought that meant that I had claim over you now.”

Spike smiled at her gently. “No, you still have to bite me. There’s a ritual of sorts.” Buffy’s confused look became one of worry.

“Is it very complex?” Spike chuckled deeply.

“No, kitten, you’ll be just fine. Don’t think, just feel. Once you’ve claimed me everything will stop being affected by your demon and I’ll belong to you.” Spike took her hand again and led her over to the bed. She put up no resistance as he lay her down gently.

“Does Giles have to take notes? I’d prefer it if we were alone.” Spike looked over his shoulder at the Watcher who was seated upright in a chair in the very corner of the room.

“He doesn’t know what’s happening yet. Needs to take notes so he can research.”

“Why can’t we just tell him?”

“’Cause you’re not awake.” His lips lowered until they were hovering an inch away from hers. He trailed a line of kisses and small nips along her jaw line and up to her ear. “Wake up, Buffy,” he whispered softly right before he lunged for her neck.


***



Buffy’s eyes flew open as her hand instantly flew to her neck where Spike had bitten her just as she had woken. She had just had a dream—a prophetic dream—and the last time she had dreamt like that she had been killed by the Master.

Her mind instantly wandered back over the messages contained within the dream. There were men in white masks, pretending to help her, but really leading her off the right path. The council was going to have some part in all this mess, and she couldn’t trust them.

“Ow!” Buffy frowned and looked over the edge of the couch to find Cordelia splayed out on the floor, her hand clutching her forehead.

“Cordy? What are you doing on the floor?” The brunette shot her a withering glare.

“Oh don’t play cute with me, ‘what are you doing on the floor?’” Cordy mocked in a put on voice as she got herself up. “See if I ever try and wake you up again. I am, like, so going to have the biggest bruise on my forehead now, because I’m-Miss-Buffy-the-Vampire-Slayer decides to head butt the person who is nice enough to try and wake her up!” Buffy frowned as Cordy walked out of the room still complaining loudly.

Giles. She needed to find her Watcher. And a vampire—if the dream was anything to go by she had to claim him fast, before Angelus recovered and tried to use its pull against them.




Chapter 12


Buffy stood at the top of the stairs which led to the basement and took a deep breath. She knew that the vampire within was asleep because he had yet to acknowledge her presence, so she took the time she had to prepare herself for what she was about to do.

There was a small pit of doubt within her that was screaming to run away and fast—that she was crazy to bind herself to Spike. Bits and pieces of the argument she just had with her Watcher playing on repeat in her head.


“Buffy, I can understand your distress, but this is completely mad! You’ll be bound to him forever! Forever! Do you understand how long that is? A life time will come and go and we will all pass on, but you will still be alive and you will still be bound to him!”

“Angelus’ claim has to be broken. He knows that Spike is working with us. It a weakness we can’t afford.”

“Do you even realise what a claim entails? Have you even thought about the ramifications that may be involved? How do we know that once you have claimed him HE won’t try and use it to control YOU?”

“That’s why I need your help. Please, Giles.”


Her argument had been convincing, yet she couldn’t remember a word of it now that the time had come to act upon her well-researched plan.

“There’s nothing to be nervous about. You’ll hold the power in the claim. If anything, it will reinforce his loyalty in this mess. You can do it,” Buffy whispered to herself quietly as she lowered her weight onto the first step of the staircase. It squeaked loudly and she froze in place, her wide eyes darting to the bed to see if Spike had woken. “He’s still asleep. You can do this.”

She kept repeating the mantra over and over in her head as she descended the rest of the staircase silently and made her way towards the bed.


***



Dru whimpered and moaned as her ‘daddy’ ploughed roughly into her from behind. Usually she enjoyed it when he was rough with her. Usually she enjoyed it when he did anything to her, as long as he was paying her attention—letting her know he cared, even a little bit.

But tonight something in the air was wrong. Something was brewing, and try as she might she couldn’t expel it from the extremities of her mind. She knew it was beginning to irritate her Angel that she wasn’t screaming and sobbing like she normally did, but for once her broken mind couldn’t—wouldn’t—focus on her daddy.

Dru could hear her dollies whispering together from across the room, conspiring together and leaving her out. They were still upset with her and every time she tried to listen to what they were saying they fell silent and refused to talk again until she had moved away.

She let out a deep moan of pleasured pain as Angelus gripped her hair harshly and pulled her head back baring her throat to him. His thrust became harder as his fangs ripped into her neck, not drinking, nor claiming, merely puncturing for the joy that her pain brought him.

Angelus let the wound weep as he pulled back again and watched the rivulets of blood stream down the back of her neck, past her shoulder blades and into the slight indentation made by her spine as it continued down to pool in the small of her back before his powerful thrusts scattered the liquid making it stream down around her sides and drip onto the bed.

Dru whimpered and tried to find pleasure in the act but she couldn’t. Something was about to go terribly wrong, and try as she might she couldn’t switch her mind off.


***



Spike awoke as Buffy neared the bed. Opening one eye he watched her quizzically, trying to discern why she practically had a flashing neon sign posted above her head reading ‘nervous’.

“You alright, pet?” Buffy shuddered at his voice which was still husky from sleep. Licking her lips nervously, she walked towards him and helped him into a sitting position on the miniature cot, so that his back was resting against the wall.

He arched a scarred eyebrow at her as she moved so that she was straddling his legs. He went along with it as she placed one hand on his shoulder and the other at the nape of his neck.

“Feeling a bit peckish, Slayer?” Buffy ignored his question, positive that if she opened her mouth to speak her voice would come out wavering. Instead she focused her attention on finding Angelus’ mark on Spike’s neck.

Spike frowned as he felt her sniffing softly at his neck. What exactly was she doing? An involuntary growl was torn from his lips as she found and swiped her tongue over his grandsire’s mark of domination. She was going to claim him.

Knowing that the bite would be painful and less effective if he didn’t submit, he tilted his head in supplication. Buffy brought her demon to the fore, instantly demanding the presence of Spike’s demon which emerged without a fight.

“Do you know what your doing, pet?” Spike asked as he brought his hands to rest on her hips.

“I think so,” she whispered back nervously.

“You think so?” He asked as his eyebrows shot up.

“I had Giles research it with me,” she said in a soft voice which was muffled against his neck.

“Bloody hell!” Spike let his head fall back against the wall. That would have gone over well with the Watcher. Spending what was left of the afternoon researching books on vampire claims with his Slayer, so that said Slayer could claim William the Bloody thereafter. “Are you sure you read up on the right one? There’s more than one type of claim, you know.”

“Domination?” She asked in the same small voice. “Is that the one I want?” Spike didn’t answer her verbally, but she felt the nod of his head.

God, the last thing he wanted was to be branded with a bite of domination—less so with the slayer as its owner. But he knew that it was the only way to break Angelus’ claim over him. It was either that or mate with the chit. Mating claims made void all other claims over a vampire, but with that there really was no going back, and he wasn’t sure that forever was what he was looking for with the Slayer. At least in those terms—after the domination was completed he would be linked to her forever anyway.

“Bite deep, love. Got to make sure it will scar.” He was surprised when she didn’t go for the bite right away. Instead she employed the tactic he had used on her the night before. Ghosting kisses up and down the column of his neck before her tongue flicked out to swipe at the mark.

His eyes fell closed and his head fell back against the wall as she ground her hips down into his. She had read that bites of domination were often painful, and while vampires usually enjoyed pain, most often employed some method of distraction to keep their mind off of it. So she was going with the only way she knew how—the same way he had distracted her from his bite.

Spike’s grip on Buffy’s hips grew tighter as he helped her control her movements until she had settled into some sort of pattern. His jaw was clenched and his nostrils were flared as he breathed in the heady scent of her arousal as it began to fill the air surrounding them. He groaned at her whisper soft pants and whimpers in his ear; they were making him harder by the second and he could feel the bite of his zipper against the head of his shaft.

He felt her tongue find Angelus’ mark on his neck again and tensed slightly just as she drove her Slayer fangs into his neck. He let out a hoarse cry and bucked his hips up into hers as she ground hers down to keep him from throwing her off of him and the bed. Spike released a sound that seemed stuck between a whimper of pain and pleasure as Buffy kept up her stimulation of the growing bulge in his pants.

Buffy could feel his hand sliding up her back and holding her head in to his neck as he encouraged her to bite deeper. She groaned loudly as his bloody flowed freely down her throat in rivers, before finally shaking her head to tear the holes slightly. She then pulled back from him and swiped her tongue over her mark to close the wounds.

“Blood consumed and being marked, you are mine to have and to own.”


***



Drusilla let out a wail as the familial claim over Spike was ripped from her being and his presence completely lost to her in a void of darkness. She used all her strength to throw her sire off her before she stumbled from the bed to collapse on the floor.

“William! My William!” She sobbed and tore at her hair trying to find some way through her frantic panic to bring the connection back. It had been there for what seemed like forever, her safety net to go to whenever her daddy wasn’t around. Now there was nothing but an empty darkness where her prince had once been.

Her head shot up so that she was staring at the doll on the mantle piece as a cackling laughter reached her ears. “You! You did this! You and that nasty sunshine! Bring him back!” She screamed at the doll, “BRING HIM BACK!”

Her ear piercing screech reverberated throughout the room for a few seconds, then everything fell silent and not even the pixies would speak to her.




Chapter 13


Spike felt the Watcher’s eyes zero in on his neck the instant that he and the Slayer exited the basement, and had to suppress the urge to growl at the frustrated and disapproving look he gave them. It was obvious—if it hadn’t already been before—that the Buffy’s Watcher did not hold the same sentiments concerning this claiming.

Trying to ease some of the tension that was passing back and forth between Slayer and Watcher, Spike stepped away from her side and went to sit beside the werewolf. He liked this kid; his demon seemed to have a calming effect on his own, and he didn’t feel the need to yammer on about everything and anything he could thing of.

Everyone was assembled in the kitchen, sitting on various counter tops, and seemed to be waiting for them so they could start some type of Scooby meeting. He ignored the way the whelp’s eyes bore into his back as he crossed the room to hoist himself up onto the counter top beside the werewolf.

“I see the bleached wonder can walk again,” Xander sneered, turning his head away from the blond menace and completely missing the extra set of holes in his neck. “With Slayer blood pumping—or not pumping—away in his veins, it would make him pretty invincible at the moment, right? I don’t see why we can’t just send him back to the mansion to deal with the evil twins.”

Spike felt the growl rise in his throat at the implied comment he could hear in the boy’s voice suggesting that he was no longer evil. He’d be damned if he got stuck doing their dirty work, and he had never consented to killing Dru. Just because he was helping them defeat Angelus and had allowed himself to be dominated by the Slayer didn’t mean he was willing to don a white hat and jump on their say so. As soon as this fiasco was over, her was grabbing his dark princess and getting the hell out of dodge.

“I’m not doing your Slayer’s bloody dirty work for you, whelp,” Spike replied, sending Xander a glare at which the brunette rolled his eyes. Spike cringed internally—being in the presence of these people did wonders for your evil self-esteem.

“Please, like you have any say in the matter any more. You are totally Buffy’s butt monkey,” Xander retorted, sporting a grin which was just a bit too smug for Spike’s liking. He released a little snarl from his chest as he turned cold eyes on the Slayer.

“S’that what you’ve been telling everyone, pet?” His tone was steely and he smiled to himself as the Slayer instantly began back peddling.

“No! I swear! The only person I told was Giles.” Steel blue eyes turned to a guilty looking Watcher.

“Well then, seems the Watcher might have misinformed you as to what my ‘butt-monkey’ status actually entails. It doesn’t take away my free will, whelp, so I’d watch your mouth. Not always going to have your Slayer bodyguard to protect you.” Giles cleared his throat, trying to diffuse the growing argument.

“Yes, well, I’m afraid we missed out window of opportunity, Xander. Angelus will be expecting us now, whether we plan to attack or not. We’ve also lost the element of surprise we had with Buffy’s unknown status,” he stated as he took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“To be fair, it wasn’t much of an advantage. As soon as I went all demony, he went all growly and tried to jump me,” Buffy said matter-of-factly in her defence. Giles barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes heavenward.

“I do so love how you butcher the English language,” he muttered as he replaced his glasses. Spike snorted in agreement.

“What about Buffy’s dream? Was there anything else useful in that?” Willow asked as she peeked out from behind her computer.

“Dream?” Joyce queried, placing her mug of coffee down and looking quizzically at her daughter.

“Part of the Slayer package, mom. I get prophetic dreams occasionally.” Her mother made an impressed sound.

“Did you happen to see us coming into a load of cash?” She muttered to herself as she took another sip from her rapidly cooling drink.

“Buffy?” Giles prompted, pulling the teen’s attention back onto the dream.

“Yeah? Oh right, the dream. I told you about it right? The only warning it appeared to be giving me was to be wary of the Council. Very heavy ‘not what they seem’ undertones. The rotting olive branch, white masks, and the fact that they kept trying to lead me off the path that I had to follow—which is really kind of symbolic now that I think of it.” Giles frowned and shook his head lightly in confusion.

“Are you sure it was prophetic? I just don’t see why you would be sent dreams to warn you about the people for whom you work. The Council has been on the side of good for as long as it has been established. Even longer, one could assume. What else was in the dream?” Buffy blushed as she remembered the bedroom Spike had taken her to. Some how she knew if she brought that up she wouldn’t be taken seriously.

“Nothing else,” she confirmed.

“Are you sure?” Buffy couldn’t look Giles in the eye, so she settled for nodding her head vigorously and trying to hide the blush that was staining her cheeks.

“I just don’t see what you have to be wary of from the Council,” Giles said adamantly.

“Please Watcher, you can’t honestly tell me you believe the council to be one hundred percent on the up and up. An organisation like that is bound to have corruption within its ranks. Just depends on how far up on the hierarchy the corruption is as to how bad it will be for you.” Giles looked torn between his sense of loyalty and what he knew deep down to be true.

“What cause would they have to attack their own Slayer?” Giles put up feebly. Truth was, he could think of dozens of reasons. He had heard stories—whispered back and forth between students in his days when he was training to be a Watcher—of the council killing off their Slayers when they became old enough to question whether what they were doing was right.

He hadn’t thought anything of it back then, at a time when he knew no vampires personally and had only ever seen their true face in the books he studied within the Council headquarters. But now, after meeting the vampire with a soul on the road to redemption and the vampire without one who was willing to side with the Slayer to work towards a common goal, he was being forced to look further into the pockets of grey he had found in a black and white world.

“I would have thought your Slayer’s new and improved self would have been reason enough,” Spike retorted, giving Giles a condescending look.

Giles sighed heavily and rubbed a hand over his tired face in irritation. He knew he was being irrational, but he still felt that as a Watcher he should at least put up a token protest in the Council’s defence. “We should look into better surveillance. I dare say they will spend sometime watching you before they decide to make any move.”

“Wait, so now I not only have my deranged ex-boyfriend after me, but the Council is trying to kill me as well? Why don’t I just jump off of a cliff and save them the effort?” Spike chuckled loudly and Buffy shrank back slightly under her mother’s icy glare.

“There will be no jumping off of any cliffs. Let’s just think this through,” Joyce said, straightening up. “If they are having someone watch the house, then maybe we should think about dropping the cloaking spell. Angelus knows where you are and they will know something is up with us the second the realise that all the lights are on in the home but they haven’t seen a single person inside.”

Giles coughed slightly in surprise at her logic on the matter. “Yes, well, there is no use in us continuing to hide our presence if he already knows where we are.”

“Yeah, I’d say he has a pretty darn good idea.” Willow’s voice spoke up from the table again. There was a slight tremor in her voice that had everyone looking at her. She gestured towards the window with wide eyes as they turned to find the face of the vampire in question watching them. Both Cordelia and Xander sprung back from the window simultaneously emitting identical shrieks.

The cloaking spell prevented Angelus from actually seeing or hearing anything they did, but he seemed to realise suddenly that he had their attention as a slowly evil smirk formed on his face and he lifted a hand to wave mockingly at them.

“You’ve got to come out some time,” he said, speaking loudly enough for them to hear through the glass, before melting back into the darkness of the night. Buffy’s eyes never left the spot where he had been.

“We have to do something. I’m sick of waiting around.”




Chapter 14


James was roused from his sleep by the sound of branches snapping under the weight of someone’s feet. He bolted up immediately—his hand instinctively going for the tranquiliser gun that lay beside him. As he peered out cautiously into the night, the house, and everything around it, was as void of life as it had been since his arrival in Sunnydale—excepting the brief stint where he had seen the girl flee from the house.

If it would not lead to the fact that his superiors would inevitably find out that he had fallen asleep on the job on more than one occasion, James would have packed up his gear and changed posts by now. He didn’t even know for sure if the girl had returned home.

Dropping his guard again, James relaxed back against a tree—there was no one there.

He jolted violently and a loud shriek of pure terror was torn from his lips when he was unexpectedly grabbed from behind and hefted into the air with ease.

“Now, what do we have here? What dresses in tweed, lurks outside the Slayer’s place and is dumb enough to carry a tranquiliser gun but not a stake in Sunnydale?” James let out an unmanly whimper as he struggled to free himself from the iron grasp as his heart rate almost tripled in speed “I’m guessing that you, my friend, work for the Council. Am I right?”

Throwing caution, protocol and everything but his sheer need for survival into the wind, James nodded frantically as his arms flailed about, trying to find purchase on something—anything—to help support his weight.

“Hmm, and why do you happen to be lurking around dear old Buff’s home?” Once again, James thought of nothing but his immediate sense for survival from what he was now more than certain was a vampire that had him clutched around the back of the neck as he dangled him a foot above the ground.

“P-prophecy…I was sent to w-watch the Slayer.” It took a moment for James to register that he had been dropped. As soon as he came to his senses though, he was scrambling around to face his attacker as he threw his spare arm out to reach for the tranquiliser gun.

“Ah, ah, ah!” Angelus teased, seeing what James was after and planting a heavy foot into the man’s chest, forcing him back so he was sprawled out on the ground before him. A thrill of pleasure and satisfaction raced through Angelus as he watched all colour and anything but pure unadulterated terror bleed from the man’s features as his bladder let go simultaneously in reaction to seeing Angelus in game face.

James felt the effects of horror wash through him, paralysing him with fear as he realised he was looking into the face of a vampire for the first time and not just the pictures the council had been showing him in books for years. This was the real thing. That he could recognise this creature as Angelus “The Scourge of Europe” offered him no comfort. All sense of pride at correctly identifying who the vampire was fled as the muscles holding his bladder released and he wet himself.

“Prophecy? What do you know about it?” James started to shake his head but stopped quickly as a booted foot pressed down harder on his chest.

“I don’t know anything! I swear!” James sobbed, unashamed of the fat tears rolling down his face

Angelus paused to consider him for a moment. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

A harsh kick to the head had the human slumping unconscious before Angelus picked him up, slung him over his shoulder, and walked off into the night.


***



“I can still hear you. Still talking, still singing, telling me I’ve been a bad girl. I’ve done everything you asked of me, why must you keep screaming?”

Drusilla stared at the doll that was mocking her from her place on the mantel piece. When had Miss Edith decided to stop talking to her? All she did now was mock her and laugh and scorn her for what she did to the sunshine. It was daddy’s fault—ever since he had come home Miss Edith had been unusually quiet. It was his fault that she was mocking Dru, his fault that they had made that little ball of sunshine and his fault that it took her William away.

“Stop it! Stop laughing at me!” Dru threatened as she rose to her feet. The doll only seemed to laugh harder. “I shall poke out your eyes!”

Letting out a small growl of anger, the vampiress flew across the room with all the inhuman grace of the predator she was as snatched up the doll. She marched back over to the bed with the doll before lifting up one of the pillows and jamming Miss Edith under it, trying to smother out the sound.

She let out a whimper of frustration as the taunting could still be heard and instead attempted to push the doll under the bed.

“Please, stop!” Dru tried the trunk at the end of the bed, the bottom drawer of the dresser in the room, and the closet buried under a pile of clothes until the frustration of it finally hit her and she picked the doll up and swung.

Bits of porcelain shattered and flew across the room as she smashed the doll’s head against the wall finally bringing the whispers to an end. Miss Edith was dropped from her hands as Dru backed away from the broken doll timidly.

‘Dru?’ Drusilla’s head whipped around to stare at the doll on the mantel piece as she heard the whisper. Miss Sally was smiling at her with her big hazel eyes free of the contempt Miss Edith’s had held.

“Miss Sally?” She felt the smile and mental nod the doll projected to her.

‘Find him, Drusilla darling. Go find our William and bring him home. Promise him what he has long desired and he will be ours again.’ A small smile broke the strained features of Drusilla’s face.

“Yes, I’ll bring our Willy back to mummy.”


***



Dru could feel the pulse of magic from the cloaking spell as she approached the Slayer’s house. It was strong and it pushed heavily on the fringes of her mind, but Dru knew her Spike was inside. Miss Sally had told her that she would find her boy there and she had listened knowing what was revealed to be true.

Dru walked until she could fell the vibrations of the magic against her skin before holding a hand up in front of her as thought it were resting atop of the invisible barrier of the spell. Closing her eyes, Dru began to hum softly, channelling her mind to see past the spell. She gave a small growl as she felt the spell give way against the probing of her mind like the popping of a balloon allowing her to see once more inside the house.

Her William was sitting in the kitchen with the Slayer, drinking out of a mug and smirking at the small blonde. Her eyes were transfixed on the new set of scars on her boy’s neck. They seemed to call to her—burning her in a more painful way than she could have ever imagined.

It was all the Slayer’s fault. The nasty girl had ruined her happy home first by stealing her daddy’s attention then by stealing her prince. Everything that had gone wrong was her fault, had she not been turned then Miss Edith would still be talking to her and everything would be as it should. Why? Why had her daddy turned the sunshine into the moon?

Closing her eyes, Dru focused on the thought of her childe. When she could feel the slight tingling of his presence on the back of her neck, she sent out a call to him as his sire—the only link remaining between them. If there was one way she knew was sure to get Angelus’ attention, it was to pay attention to Spike. She needed her boy back home—her safety net.


***



Inside, Spike’s back went rigid as he felt the call of his sire. He turned slowly and peered out the window of the back door and into the night.

“What is it?” Buffy asked, not having sensed anything out of the ordinary. It was the only drawback of the spell; while it completely cloaked their presences from those outside, it also masked the presence of anyone outside of its barriers until they were almost flush against the side of the house.

“Drusilla,” Spike said absently as he got up from his seat and made his way to the back door. “She’s calling me.”

Buffy got up quickly and joined Spike by the back door. Drusilla was calling him. Did that mean he would leave? That he would call the whole truce off and run off with his beloved sire again? After all, she was the reason he wanted to kill Angelus.

Buffy tried unsuccessfully to stifle the wave of jealousy within which came roaring to the forefront. Spike was hers now, what right did that bitch have to come and try to take him away again? She had treated him like shit despite the way he had cared for her and loved her for the past century. She didn’t deserve him.

Buffy refused to listen to the little niggling voice in the back of her head that questioned why she was getting so worked up over the thought of Spike leaving. He was hers, simple as that.

Drusilla smiled brilliantly at him as the door was opened. “Spike.”

“Dru,” Spike answered in a guarded voice “What are you doing here?”

“Mummy has come to bring her boy home. You’ve been bad, playing with the nasty Slayer and leaving poor princess all by herself.” Buffy gritted her teeth, practically turning green with jealousy as Dru fluttered her eyelashes at Spike and sent him coy looks. How dare she!

“Not by yourself. You had Angelus, pet. You never paid any attention to me, and I’m surprised you even noticed I was gone.” Spike wasn’t stupid. The only reason she was here was because Angelus wasn’t paying her enough attention. Wasn’t that how it always went? Peaches started to lose interest, so Dru used Spike in an effort to make her sire notice again, and once she had her daddy’s attention, she forgot about Spike to jump back into her sire’s bed. Spike snorted internally.

Sad part was that usually Spike would soak up the attention despite knowing that she was using him. ‘I loved her. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t mine most of the time, the titbits I got were enough,’ Spike thought sarcastically in a self deprecating tone. No wonder Angelus made such fun of him—for the majority of it he had been a wanker where Dru was concerned.

“The sunshine ripped you from me, and Miss Edith refused to play without the presence of our boy. My sweet William, how it must have hurt to be torn from your family so? Mummy’s come to make it better.” Spike frowned. He felt no desire what-so-ever to take his sire up on what she was so clearly offering. He shot a small glance over his shoulder at the small blonde just behind him—nope, definitely no desire to leave with his sire.

Dru could tell she was getting nowhere; her William was blinded by the sunlight. Determined not to lose this battle, Dru sidled up the steps towards Spike to wrap herself around the lean body of her childe.

“Mummy misses her boy and daddy has been so horribly nasty. Won’t you come home and look after me, my Spike?” He didn’t have a chance to reject her offer as a savage growl was ripped from behind him and Buffy flew past him and towards the vampiress.

Spike saw Dru’s eyes light up as she saw the blonde charging at her in blind jealousy and rage. A second too late he yelled a warning, and he could do nothing but watch helplessly as Dru’s claw like fingernails struck.




Chapter 15


Spike sat alone on the small cot that was situated in the corner of the Slayer’s basement. He listened to the house slowly coming to life several floors above his head. Red and the cheerleader could be heard getting out of bed on the second floor as could dog boy a few doors down. The whelp, surprisingly enough, could be heard getting into the shower and Joyce was just entering the kitchen. The Slayer was in the living room as she recounted the details of Dru’s little visit to her Watcher.

Slowly Spike let his head fall back against the wall behind him. Dru’s visit. It had certainly opened his eyes to say the least. His life had changed so vastly in the last week and Dru’s visit had been the icing on the cake.

He hadn’t even hesitated in his cry to warn the Slayer. Blind panic had gripped him, and in that moment he had been sure he was about to witness the Slayer’s throat being ripped out as he had with countless other victims in the past.

Buffy had seen the claws and dodged them effortlessly as she took the vampiress to the ground. Yet Spike was shaken from what he had seen occur.

Spike was barely even aware of the cry or warning that had been unconsciously torn from his lips as he made his way towards the two women. Instinct was telling him to get Dru away from Buffy….so Dru couldn’t hurt her.

Not once had it entered his mind to protect his sire—his Ripe Wicked Plum—from Buffy’s attack. Time had stopped and his body had screamed ‘Buffy!’ and in that moment he knew himself to be a doomed man. He was falling for the little blonde spitfire. He was falling in love with the Slayer—with Buffy.

He groaned and began to repeatedly bash his head back against the stone wall of the basement. He heard her soft giggle as she wished her friends a good morning as they left for the day before heading up to bed and his body reacted to her as it always had: his muscles tightened in response and something began to coil in the pit of his stomach as he felt himself start to harden against the zipper of his jeans. Only this time, he recognised it for what it was. Not anticipation for the fight to come, but the anticipation of the desire she could light within him at the sound of her voice.

He let out a frustrate growl. He was so screwed.

Spike heard the rustle and the light thud as Buffy’s clothes hit the floor, closely followed by the sound of a drawer being opened and shut as she most likely pulled out her sleepwear. His mind conjured up the images against his will. The soft material of the overly large t-shirt he knew she wore to bed as she slipped it over her arms and head and let the material caress her skin as it fell around her body.

He heard the light footsteps as she padded her way across to her bed and lifted up the sleep-softened sheets, slipping beneath them and moulding them around her body. Oh, to be a sheet.

“Oh, to be a wanker,” he said out loud in a sarcastic tone as he shook his head and tried to clear the images he had evoked. One look at his groin and he knew he wasn’t going to get any sleep until he had taken care of the barge pole sized erection that was straining painfully against the rough material of his jeans.

“You’re a pathetic git, mate,” he said to himself even as he unzipped his jeans and took his swollen member into his hands.

The images came effortlessly as he caressed himself. He pictured her as he had first seen her dancing at the Bronze, as she had felt when she had jumped him in front of her mates, as she had looked and felt as she ground into him as he had fed off her and again when her fangs had been buried deep within his neck as she marked him, the jealous look she had in her eyes as she flew at his sire and finally how she had looked after dusting one of Angel’s minions when he had first seen her demon.

He let out a whimpering growl as his hand picked up speed and the last image stuck within him. His demon visage slipped through unconsciously as he let out little growls of pleasure. He felt the tightness as his balls clenched just moments before his climax hit and he shot his load as her name left his lips in a whispered cry.

He was panting unnecessarily as he slowly brought himself down from the high. He glanced down at his soiled shirt and jeans.

“Fuck,” he whispered as his eyes scanned the room for something with which to clean himself up. They landed on the washing machine and he made a quick decision. Getting up, he toed his boots off before slipping off both his jeans and t-shirt.

He cleaned himself up with the black material before striding over and throwing them into the machine and hitting the start button.

“Pathetic.”


***



Buffy lay staring at the ceiling as she allowed scenes from the night before play through her head. The images of Dru coiling herself around Spike and batting her lashes at him in a coy manner still made her want to rip the bitch apart limb by limb. Spike was hers.

She frowned as she rolled onto her side and let her gaze drift out the window, unsure whether it was the domination claim she had over him talking or herself. She turned the idea over in her head as she held her arm out into the sunlight that was streaming through the curtains and onto the bed.

She smiled as she watched the faint glow appear on her skin.

Nothing that she had researched on claims had said anything about them inducing possessive and protective emotions. At least not with domination claims; those feelings were connected to mating rituals.

She let out a soft groan as an intense feeling of pleasure washed over her suddenly at the thought. Her hand unconsciously moved under the covers to hover over her stomach as she let the feeling coil itself around her body. It never even occurred to her that the pleasure wasn’t her own.

Thoughts of Spike surfaced as she pictured him sleeping in the cot two levels below her. Would he sleep naked? She wondered as another wave swept over her, pulsing against her skin and making her break out in goose bumps. Oh, definitely. She could picture the sculpted look of his back and leans hips, the sheet barely covering his muscled butt as he slept.

She felt the moisture pool in the panties she had slipped on before climbing into bed. What would he do if she went down there? A slight whimper was torn from her lips as the vibrations against her skin became more intense. The hand that had moved to cover her stomach now dropped lower and brushed against her clit through her panties before pushing down and rubbing it.

Almost immediately the sensations around her grew. It felt like someone was stretching a rubber band within her somewhere and was just waiting for it to snap. She pushed down harder, desperately wanting the sensations to stop and keep going all at once.

The memories of how they had kissed that first night after he had seen her demon rose until she could almost taste him again, and feel his fingertips as they dug into her hips as his knee roughly parted her legs as he slammed her against the side of the house. She growled.

Her panting hitched as the vibrations around her skin broke out into heated prickles just moments before she flew over the edge. Her back warped away from the mattress and her mouth opened in a silent scream as the sensations ripped through her body.

The vibrations left her skin as she began to calm until all that was left was a slight tingle around her thighs. She lay panting unnecessarily at the ceiling as she tried to calm herself down. A slow smiled spread its way across her lips. It was definitely all her.

Her entire body was emitting a soft glow and her panties were drenched. She could smell the heavy perfume of her arousal hanging in the air and she let out a soft whimper of contentment. Her body felt heavy and sated as she let out a soft giggle.





 
Chapters 16 - 20
 
Chapter 16


James’ scream of agony echoed throughout the mansion as the sharp blade that was lodged in the soft skin under his fingernail was pushed in further. He was sweating profusely, and the tears that were running down his cheeks went unchecked as he sobbed for Angelus to stop.

“Tell me, James. All this pain can stop if you’ll just tell me what the prophecy said.” Angelus spoke in a calm tone as he stroked the man’s face, cleaning the sweat and blood away.

“I don’t—AHHH!” Angelus smirked as wiggled the blade gently. His demon loved every minute of the man’s agony. Angelus knew James had no more information, as the man had broken within minutes of entering the mansion, but the opportunity to torture him was too good to pass up.

“Want to try that one more time?” Angelus said with a laughing tone in his voice.

“I DON’T KNOW! OH GOD, PLEASE! AHHHH!” Angelus laughed over the screaming as he continued to wiggle the blade.

“Fuck! I love that sound!” He yelled over the man’s screaming. “I could come from that sound alone.” His more faithful minions watched from the sidelines as their master tortured the mortal.

“PLEASE! I was sent here to watcher the Slayer! Nothing—AHH! Please! That’s all! I swear!” The scream that pierced the air as Angelus ripped the blade out again was bloodcurdling and the minions surrounding him shuddered, some with fear, others in awed respect at their master’s talent.

Angelus chuckled and leaned over the man. “You know what, James my boy? I believe you. I believe that you know absolutely NOTHING about what the Council has planned for my Slayer.” James sobbed in relief as Angelus moved out of his line of vision and away from the stone slab he was stretched out across.

It was short lived however, when the vampire appeared once more holding a pouch. He sprinkled some of the contents into his hands and showed it to the watcher.

“Do you know what this is?” Angelus asked in an overly sincere and kind tone. James’ eyes went wide. “It’s gunpowder. They didn’t even have this around when I last tortured someone. So guess what? You get to be my guinea pig. Tell me when it hurts.”

Angel sprinkled a trail of the black powder across the man’s bare chest and belly and smirked as he lit a match and set it on fire.


***



Drusilla took little pleasure in the screams that filled the air as she sauntered back into the mansion. Everything was wrong, twisted backwards. She watched from the shadows as her daddy painted pretty colours across the mortal’s chest with the exploding dust. If he wouldn’t pay her any attention, then she would make him notice.

She would find herself a new puppy with which to make him jealous, one that he wouldn’t dare ignore—one that he couldn’t. He would be arriving soon. She could almost taste the magicks in the air. Her daddy wouldn’t dare ignore her then.


***



“I don’t think Buffy should be the only one who gets to stay home. I mean, with the threat of Angelus we’re all put ourselves at risk coming to school everyday,” Xander said as he entered the library after a mind-numbing hour of chemistry.

“I think the fact that she glows was the deciding factor when they ruled school out,” Oz said as he sat down and pulled a giggling Willow into his lap.

“Well I for one would be more worried about the fact that Mrs. Summers is leaving Spike and Buffy alone all day at home. Do you have any idea what they could be doing? I have to sleep in that bed.” Cordelia’s comment was met with blank stares. “Oh come on. You can’t tell me you haven’t seen the way those two look at each other. Not to mention the WAY wigging suck fest they had going on in front of us a few nights back—.”

Giles cleared his throat loudly as he walked up behind the gossiping teens.

“G-man, so what’s the what? Find anything on why the Council wants in on our little group?” Xander pushed himself away from the table and the all too disturbing conversation eager for a change of subject.

“Yes, well, please don’ refer to me like that ever again.” Giles brought a very large book out and set it on the table. “It occurred to me today that the only reason the Council might have for the sudden interest in Buffy, besides them gaining the news of her physical changes, would be because of a prophecy.”

“This wouldn’t happen to be the same book as the one you found that dandy little prophecy about Buffy’s death in last year would it?” Xander asked warily. The older man’s silence was enough of an answer and an air of tension passed over the group as they realised what they were dealing with.

“It took me hours to go through, but eventually I came across this. I’ve done a quick translation as best as I could but I’ll have to look into it in far more depth back at the house.”

Willow picked up the notepad that had the rough translation on it.



Born of evil, yet of the light
Shantari shall arise once more
Power unmatched and untamed
Fatal in its magnitude, unless
Bound by mind and heart
Power shared, and swiftly tamed
Controlled by none,
Yet wielded though love.


Giles watched as Willow read it aloud, her brows furrowing in confusion.

“Huh?” When she finished, Willow looked up at Giles for an explanation.

“I’ll see your ‘huh’ and raise you a ‘what the?’” Xander said as he came around to stand behind Willow so he could have a look at it for himself.

“I would have overlooked it completely if it hadn’t been for the use of the word Shantari in second line.” Giles leaned over and pointed it out to the small group of teens. “Remember how I told you the name of the demon and that the magicks used to create the first slayer had been lost over time? What I had forgotten was that this name was later acquired as a term used when referring to the First Slayer and the demon used to create her. So when the prophecy says that ‘Shantari shall arise once more’ it is actually referring to the demon used to create the First Slayer—.”

“Which means it’s talking about Buffy!” Willow interrupted as she caught on to what Giles was saying. “Born of evil, yet of the light. Angelus is evil and he was the one to turn her, but Buffy is still good. Shantari shall arise once more refers to the first Slayer demon being awoken in Buffy once more.” Willow finished and looked at Giles for reassurance; she gave him a bright smile at his small nod.

“Exactly,” Giles said giving her a proud look.

“So what does the rest mean?” Oz queried as his hand rose unconsciously to run down the back of his girlfriend’s hair.

“I’m still working on it.” Giles glanced at the clock on the wall and noted the time. It was 4:00 p.m. “We should get going, it’s not wise to be out too close to dusk.”


***



“Travers here.” Quentin Travers said clearly as he picked up the phone.

“Sir? It seems we have a slight problem in Sunnydale.” Travers frowned as he put the papers he had been working on aside. Instead he picked up a translated copy of the prophecy.

“Oh?”

“It seems the vampire Angel has lost his soul and reverted back into the form of Angelus. He got one of our men, sir.” Quentin’s fingers ran over the first line of the prophecy. Born of evil... Angelus perhaps? His relationship with the Slayer would allow him the proximity needed for the accomplishment.

“And Miss Summers?” He inquired, trying to keep his voice neutral.

“No progress has been made. She has been sighted only once and nothing seemed ‘off’ about her, sir. All our surveillance shows nothing out of the ordinary occurring at any of the given locations.” Travers folded the file in front of him closed and placed it back in the top drawer of his desk.

“Keep watching. There has to be something you’re missing.”





Chapter 17


“Did it work?” Buffy asked eagerly as she greeted her friends at the door, quickly ushering them in and closing it behind her before any prying eyes could see any further into the house.

“Time will tell. If Quentin is having us watched for some purpose, then you can be sure that we will know within the next twenty-four hours. The man’s like a bull in a china shop, no subtly what-so-ever.” Giles shook his head disdainfully as he walked directly into the living room, placing the tome that held the prophecy in the middle of the table.

“And if it did work?” Willow queried as she took up position on one of the couches, perching precariously on the edge in a move reminiscent of her emotional state. She felt like she had been running on high alert ever since Buffy had first gone missing. Down time was few and far between and even her sleep was fitful at best.

Angelus gave her the willies. He had been one of them, part of their group and he knew what made them tick, yet what did they know about him but what they had learned in the history books? His behaviour didn’t match anything that she had read in her hunt to find out everything about him that she could, which only led her to the disturbing conclusion that he wasn’t playing with the full deck yet.

She shut her eyes as the memory of Buffy’s battered and bruised body when she had first returned to them danced across her mind’s eye. She didn’t want to see the full deck. He had to be stopped before then.

“Then it will be as we discussed last night. Anything they transmit will show the same footage on a continuous loop of us going about our everyday lives. If we had had more time to refine the spell we might have been able to adjust the images—unfortunately they’ll catch on after while that they are merely repeating themselves but hopefully it will buy as a little more time” Giles said in a grave tone as he removed his glasses from his face and began polishing them.

“Do we know what the Council want, yet?” Buffy asked just as Spike entered the room. His hair was still sleep tousled and his feet were bare as he made his way over to the spare seat with a mug of warm blood that Joyce had bought for him.

Buffy watched as he easily folded himself into it with a supernatural grace and found herself having to fight back the blush that was threatening to stain her cheeks pink as thoughts of how she had touched herself before going to sleep that morning surfaced in her mind. In that moment she was glad that she no longer had a heart beat to betray her sudden burst of excitement.

Unfortunately she could do nothing to stop the scent of her arousal permeating the air. She watched as Spike paused, his cup stoping midway to his mouth as he turned his head slightly and sniffed the air. Buffy’s blush came roaring back full force as she looked away from his questioning gaze cursing his heightened sense of smell which was able to so easily detect her arousal.

She shut her eyes tightly as a knowing smirk spread over his lips and she forced herself to listen to what her Watcher was saying.

“I can only assume that their interests stem from this,” he said, passing the translated prophecy towards her. “I haven’t yet been able to discern what it is they intend to do. The first two lines speak of the birth of the demon used to create the First Slayer again from that of evil, which is essentially what has occurred when Angelus tried to turn you; however, I have been less successful in determining what the rest means.” Buffy looked over the notes with a frown, wondering why it was that they always had to talk in riddles.

“Give me a look,” Spike said as he placed his mug on the table and reached across for the note pad. Giles gave him a peculiar look but passed it across to him.

“Let’s see what you make of it, dead boy,” Xander said with a sneer as he watched the vampire scan the prophecy.


Born of evil, yet of the light
Shantari shall arise once more
Power unmatched and untamed
Fatal in its magnitude, unless
Bound by mind and heart
Power shared, and swiftly tamed
Controlled by none,
Yet wielded through love.


“It looks like it’s talking about what to expect from the Slayer. It says Shantari will arise once more and then the next line says Power unmatched and untamed, so I guess you could take it as Shantari—which I’m guessin’ is you—” he said glancing up at the Slayer quickly before looking back down at the notes, “her power in this new form will be unmatched and uncontrollable. Then the two next lines: Fatal in its magnitude, unless bound by mind and heartcould mean that unless a binding ritual or some such rot is done, the extent of the power could prove to be fatal—to the Slayer, I’m thinking. Power shared, and swiftly tamed might refer to when the binding ritual is done and the power is shared between the Slayer and the other being, which stabilises it. Controlled by none, yet wielded through love meaning the Slayer doesn’t control the power by herself, but has access to it together with the one to whom she is bound.”

The group looked suitably stunned by the time Spike had finished his deduction. He smirked as he passed the pad back to the Watcher, who looked as though he had just been slapped across the face.

“That was quite remarkable.” Spike shot him a smug look and leaned back into his seat, propping his legs up on the coffee table in front of him.

“Spent over a century living with an insane psychic, mate. You learn to speak in riddles.” Giles shook himself and began scribbling down notes. Buffy let out a small growl at the mention of Spike’s sire, which Spike ignored. “Is that the entire prophecy?”

“It’s as much as I have translated. You don’t happen to be able to read ancient Amharic by any chance?” Spike chuckled at the Watcher’s hopeful look.

“Not a lick,” he said, reclaiming his mug.

“So I’m going to have to do some sort of binding ritual with someone so I don’t die from the extent of my new powers?” Buffy asked slowly, scrunching her nose in confusion. “What new powers? I’m just stronger and faster.”

“And you glow,” Oz said in his usual monotone

“And you have this strange thrall thing over vampires,” Cordy added in a bored voice as she flipped her hair over her shoulders.

“Plus you look really cool when you go all ‘grr.’” Buffy smiled at Willow’s comment.

“Truth is, we haven’t any idea what your new powers entail. If you would perhaps consent to some tests—” Giles started, the allure of being able to study Buffy too much for even him to be able to resist. He cut himself off however, at the look she gave him and turned back to his notes. “Unfortunately, I have come across no reference as to with whom this binding ritual is to occur, but if what Spike has deciphered is correct, then we may not have much time. You have been turned—for lack of a better term—for a little over a week now.”

“Well, how will we know?” Xander asked, suddenly serious at the prospect that his friend might once again be in a life threatening situation.

“I will have to finish the prophecy before we can be sure of anything. Nothing is set in stone at this point,” Giles said tiredly as his eyes scanned over each member of the group assembled.

“So, what do we do until then?” Willow asked quietly.

“There’s nothing you can do at this point Willow, not until I have finished translating the prophecy.”

Buffy worried her bottom lip as she shot a quick look at her Watcher.

“I’m going to head out and do a quick patrol.” She saw the objection rising on her Watcher’s lips and rushed to intercept it, but it was the vampire who voiced his objections first.

“Not so sure that’s such a good idea, pet. Especially if you’ve got Angelus gunning for you—and you’re not exactly on Dru’s good side at the moment either.” Buffy shot him a dark look.

“She deserved everything she got. She got away didn’t she?” Spike stifled his chuckle at her obvious jealousy over his sire. Maybe the chit felt something for him after all.

“No needed to get your knickers in a bunch. I never said she didn’t. Only with Angelus and Drusilla after you, going out isn’t exactly the smartest move.” Buffy glared at him and shot up out of her seat to stand over him.

“So I’m just meant to sit here? Tucked up inside my safe little house with my friends and family while they are out there killing innocents and biding their time? This situation isn’t just going to go away. Sooner or later a confrontation is inevitable.”

“Spike’s right.” Buffy’s eyes went wide and she spun around to pin her glare on her Watcher. “Not only that, but there is also the Council to think about. We don’t know what they have planned with you yet.”

“Exactly!” Buffy said, gesturing wildly. “If I’m out there not only can I kill off some of Angel minions but I can beat up Willy the snitch and see what he knows. I might be able to find out a little something about what the Council is up to, or if they’re in town yet.” She could tell that she wasn’t getting anywhere with him. “Giles, I can’t just keep sitting here, waiting for you to translate some prophecy that is going to tell me I’m gonna die again while I could be out there saving lives. I’m not helpless, and I’m sick of sitting around here waiting for things to happen. It’s not my style.”

Giles stared at her for a long moment before finally heaving a deep breath and nodding his consent. “Very well, I trust that you won’t do anything rash.”

Buffy smiled, shaking her head vigorously. “Check, nothing rash.”

“You’re gonna give up? Just like that?” Spike yelled. Giles sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Yes, Spike. I am.” Spike turned his glare on the Slayer and Buffy gave him a smug smirk.

“I’m coming with you,” he growled out, getting up from the couch and stalking out of the room to get his jacket and shoes.

“What? I don’t need a babysitter you know,” she said, trailing after him as he stomped down the stairs to the basement.

“It’s not about you needing a sitter, Slayer. It’s about keeping you alive,” he replied, without looking back at her.

Buffy bristled at the implication in his comment. “What, you think I can’t handle myself?”

“No,” he said, fighting hard for control. She could be bloody well infuriating when she wanted to, “but I think you have a weak spot when it comes to Angel.”

Her eyes went wide with disbelief and barely controlled anger. Angel had been her everything—the fairytale, her lover and protector—but everything she had suffered under Angelus’ hand had been done wearing Angel’s face while he mocked her with fake works of love and sympathy.

It didn’t matter what she had ever been told about Angelus and Angel being two completely different vampires because of the soul that inhabited Angel’s body. She knew the truth. Angelus was a part of Angel, and Angel was a part of the animal that had so brutally tortured her. The man who had gotten off on her shrieks of pain, and screamed and laughed right along with her as he begged her to beg him to stop.

Spike had heard it happen. He had been wheelchair bound in the same house, unable—unwilling?—to do anything to stop what was happening. Could he really believe that she was still able to love Angel on some level? That she still held a weak spot for him in the hopes that his soul might be restored and they could forget that Angelus ever happened?

Angel and Angelus had become the same person in her mind. The soul was just the chain that bound the dog to the kennel, forcing him to feel guilt for his crimes. Angelus had opened her eyes, and she felt she was truly seeing Angel for the first time.

“A weak spot! You honestly believe after everything he has done to me that I could still have a weak spot for that sadistic bastard? That I still might care for him?” she practically spat at him, her anger was seething at the thought that he might believe that.

Spike’s eyebrows furrowed slightly at her misinterpretation of what he was trying to say.

“No, I honestly believe that it’s because of all he’s done to you that you have a weak spot concerning him. You don’t think clearly when it comes to Angelus, and it is something he can—and will—use to his advantage. It has nothing to do with you being physically weak or still loving the Poof— it’s all about your mental strength. The bastard’s a master at mental torture, and if you let this affect you personally you’ll end up dead!” Spike was being blunt and he knew it. But she had an annoying habit of immediately becoming defensive and missing the point when the conversation was turned in her direction and he wasn’t going to let her twist what he was trying to say.

“This is personal and nothing anyone can do will change that,” she remarked quietly, as if the fight had suddenly drained out of her as she struggled to hold back the tears that were stubbornly welling in her eyes. Spike’s eyes softened and he took a step towards her, running a comforting hand down the outside of her arm.

“I know that, pet. That’s why I’m coming with you, gotta make sure nothing happens to you.” She dropped her eyes to the ground and nodded quickly. He bent down quickly and finished lacing his boots and grabbed his coat from the small cot. “Ready to go, luv?” She nodded again and together they made their way out of the basement.

The living room was strangely quiet as they made their way through the house. A quick look at her friends told Buffy all she needed to know—they had heard everything that had gone on in the basement and were trying hard to pretend they hadn’t. A small smile tugged at her lips as she shook her head gently and followed Spike out the door.




Chapter 18



“Sir? She’s been spotted leaving the house.” Quentin Travers immediately sat up in his seat, his full attention on the scratchy voice coming through the long distance call from America.

“And?” he prompted, barely containing the excitement in his voice.

“It looks like she’s headed out on patrol. A blond haired man is accompanying her. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, sir.” The small pit of excitement that had flared somewhere in his stomach at the news dimmed slightly.

“Tail her. Don’t let her know you are following her. The second she does something out of the ordinary—and I mean the very second she does—I want her captured and taken to our safe house.”

“And what of the man, sir?” Travers hesitated for only a second.

“Kill him. The last thing we need is Rupert Giles on our blood trail because we leave one for him to follow,” He replied, doing nothing to conceal his contempt for the current Slayer’s Watcher.

“Consider it done.” A small sadistic smile curved its way over Travers’ mouth. Finally, they were getting somewhere.


***



The Watcher disconnected from his call with the head of the Watcher’s Council and turned towards his men.

“Spread out and tail her. If you see anything out of the ordinary, then Travers wants her contained and taken to the safe house. She’s not just a little girl, she’s the Slayer, so be prepared for her to fight till the end. Shoot only to incapacitate, not to kill. However, the man with her can be taken out.” The five men surrounding him nodded before melting into their surroundings and following the Slayer’s trail.


***



A shot cut through the night effortlessly, and a dull thud could be heard as the bullet embedded itself in its target. A hitched breath and a small cry of pain sounded as the Slayer stumbled slightly and hit the ground.

“BUFFY!” She lifted her head and shot a quick look back over her shoulder, in the direction from which the shot had come.

“I’m fine,” she managed to ground out through gritted teeth as she fought to keep the tears that were threatening to spill down her face at bay. “Help me up. We can’t go back to the house until we’ve lost them.”

“Where’d they get you?” Spike said as he reached a hand out and pulled her to her feet.

“Just the leg, I’ll be fine. We have to keep going.” Blood was oozing sluggishly from the wound on her calf near the outside of her leg and only about four inches below the joint of her knee.

“You sure you can walk?” The response he received was a quick nod of her head and a shove in the back to get him moving.

“We don’t have time. Quickly!” Spike looked at her unconvinced but he moved away from her side where she was subconsciously leaning her weight on him to support herself. The moment his support was gone and her full weight was placed on her leg, she cried out and began to overbalance.

“’Fine’, she says. You can’t even bloody well walk!” Without waiting for her response, he bent down and scooped her up into his arms. “Where to?”

She didn’t even try to fight him as she squeezed her eyes shut to try and keep from wailing like a child at the pain that was radiating from her leg. “The school, head for the library.”


***



“Does it usually take this long?”

“What?” Giles asked in a mildly annoyed tone at being interrupted. His demeanour softened and turned some what apologetic when his eyes fell on Buffy’s mother. “Oh, well yes. Translating a prophecy can sometimes take days. A lot of these ancient languages have hundreds of different symbols and characters, most of which have multiple meanings that make things highly difficult when translating texts. Ancient Amharic can be particularly difficult when—.”

“No,” she interrupted, cutting across him with no hint of embarrassment. She wasn’t even looking at him. Instead her gaze was trained on the window behind his head. “Buffy and Spike. They’ve been gone for hours. I was asking whether it usually took this long to patrol.”

Giles slipped his glasses off his face and turned to look out the window. It was still dark out, but some hours had definitely passed while he had emersed himself into translating the prophecy. A faint dirty yellow glow could be seen poking out of the horizon in the distance that signalled the approaching morning as it began to burn away the darkness of the night.

A quick glance at the clock told him that the sun would indeed be up in just a little over an hour.

“I know Buffy thought I was oblivious to all her sneaking out,” Joyce continued, her gaze finally coming to rest on the Watcher, “but I would hear her some nights—leaving and returning at all hours of the morning. But she was never gone for more than two, sometimes three hours at most. They’ve been gone almost all night.”

Giles felt his own worries ignited along with the feeling of guilt that he had been so immersed in his books that he hadn’t noticed the hour, or his Slayer’s continued absence. He schooled his features, however, to look unconcerned as he moved to reassure Joyce.

“I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about, Joyce. Buffy is extremely capable—she’s the best Slayer I have seen—it’s likely that they just got as carried away with time as I have and are on their way home this minute.” He tried to offer her a smile but it fell flat, just as his words had. He could tell she wasn’t buying a word he was saying.

“Maybe,” she said in a noncommittal voice as her gaze moved back to the window and the ever increasing glow on the horizon.


***



“Ouch! Oh god that hurts!” Spike winced as he laid the Slayer out on the table in the centre of the library.

“Sorry, pet. Got to put you down while I call the Watcher.” Buffy nodded stiffly as she clenched her jaw against the pain, knowing that if she broke down now she wouldn’t be able to stop, and they were in no way out of the woods yet. “Where’s the phone, love?”

“Office.” Spike nodded and quickly walked into the office. Finding the phone easily enough he quickly rattled through the draws looking for an address book, something—anything—that might list the Slayer’s number.

“Fuck,” he swore when he came up empty handed. “Slayer, what’s your home number?” he asked as he stuck his head back out through the office door. Shit, she was unconscious. “Bloody hell, will you cut me some slack?” he growled to himself.

Walking back over to the phone again he picked it up, hesitating only for a moment before he hit redial. He waited impatiently as it redialled the previously called number and began ringing.

“Hello?” Hope flared somewhere within him at the sound of a female voice.

“Joyce?” he asked with anticipation. If this was the wrong number then he was screwed.

“Yes? Spike, is that you?” He shut his eyes and sent a silent thank you to whoever was listening.

“Yeah, it’s me. Is the Watcher there, love?” He heard some shuffling and some mumbled talking before the Watcher was put on the phone.

“Spike?” The blond vampire almost chuckled at the mixture of anxiousness and perplexity in the Brit’s voice.

“Listen, mate, we’re at the school. Sun’s up and things got a little hairy last night with a few of your Council buddies. Slayer got shot in the leg.”

“Good lord, is she alright?” It was proof Spike was spending too much time around the Slayer and her chums when he could picture Giles removing his glasses and polishing them with absolute clarity. He frowned and shook himself out of the disturbing thought as he heard the Watcher’s voice again. “Spike?”

“She’ll be fine. Leg’s a bit sore at the moment I’d wager, but she’ll be right in no time—bleedings already slowing.”

“What do you intend to do then?”

Spike furrowed his eyebrows and glanced back out the door at the still unconscious Slayer. She’d still be out of it for a while.

“We’ll probably hold up here for a bit and give her a chance to heal and then make our way back through the sewers a bit later on today. We won’t be safe here for too long.”

“What happened?” The question was asked by a concerned parent rather than the trained Watcher he knew the man to be and he knew that getting into details now over the phone wasn’t the best idea.

“We’ll fill you in when we get home, yeah? See if you can’t do something about putting up a few more wards on the house, something that will keep the Council out. We tried to lead them away from there but they’re bound to have someone watching it by now. It’d be best if the Slayer and I could be able to disappear altogether for a time when we arrive through the sewer entrance outside the house, figuratively speaking of course.” Spike waited silently to see if Giles had picked up the hint.

“I’ll see what we can do.” Giles’ tone was thoughtful, but Spike was confident he had understood the message. As long as they weren’t seen entering the house then the occupants inside should be safe for the moment.

No goodbyes were said as the two men disconnected the call without another word being spoken between them.

Spike wasted no more time snooping as he picked up the extensive first aid kit he had come across in the desk’s bottom drawer and walked back out to the Slayer’s unconscious form.

As gently as he could, Spike rolled Buffy’s prone body over before pushing up the leg of her pants, so that he could get to the wound. He set the medical kit on the table and took out a pair of tweezers. They were the kind that you usually used to get small slivers of wood out of fingers—the kind of splinters she probably got hundreds of from her stakes. He winced, they would have to do.

Checking once more to make sure she was still out for the count, he bent over her leg to inspect the small wound before moving the tweezers in as gently as possible. Buffy groaned loudly as the tweezers bumped the end of the bullet, but she did not wake up. Slowly, Spike managed to grab hold of the end of the foreign object and little by little started to ease it out. He wriggled it back and forth as gently as possible, and it began to work its way out of the tight sheath it had created for itself in the fleshy tissue and muscle of her leg.

Once it was free, he quickly dropped the bloodstained piece of metal on the table and pulled out an extra piece of gauze as the wound began to bleed again. Spike held the bandage firmly to Buffy’s leg with one hand as the other searched through the contents of the small box for something with which to tape it down.

“Just lick it.” His surprised face shot up to meet her own conscious face.

“What?” Another small groan left her lips as he jostled her leg slightly. “Sorry.”

“Lick it. Your salvia seals wounds, right? So lick it.” Spike looked down at the piece of gauze he was holding to her leg, already soaked through with her thick blood. The smell of it was perfuming the air heavily, a fact that he had been able to ignore up until now. For a moment everything else fell away and all he could see was her wound, bleeding freely through tunnel vision.

God, did he want to lick it. He was hungry—not having finished his mug of pig swill before they left to patrol—but she had already lost so much blood. The last thing she needed was for him to lose control at the taste of it and take even more of the precious substance than she could afford to lose at that moment.

“Will you just lick the damn wound! We don’t have much time and the longer you wait the more blood I’m losing.” Spike stared at her for a long moment before finally caving in with a tight nod. He bent down and gently slipped his free hand under her leg to steadily it as he removed the soiled gauze from the wound. He let his nose trail above it for a moment, drawing in her scent before quickly darting his tongue out and running it slowly over the wound, staunching the flow of blood and sealing it off.

Buffy let out a low moan as the throbbing pain in her leg became a pleasant tingling of awareness. She felt his tongue run over the wound once more before a soft kiss was placed on the smooth skin behind her knee.

“Spike?”

“Better?” He asked, straightening up again and fighting to put away his demon that had surged forward at the first hint of her blood against his tongue.

She blushed lightly and sat herself up on the table. “Much better, go us and our Slayer and Vampire healing powers!” she said, offering him a small smile. They were both silent for a moment and she took the time to test her leg.

“No need to rush, pet. Told the Watcher that we’d be on our way once I’d patched you up and that Slayer healing had a chance to work.” Buffy nodded as she gently placed some of her weight onto her leg.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore. Just a slight tugging feeling,” she remarked as she turned to clean up their mess.

“It’ll hurt more later on if you don’t rest it now though,” Spike replied as he leaned his weight against the table and watched Buffy as she put things away. Buffy shrugged off his concern.

“I’ll be fine. The important thing now is we get out of here so we can talk to Giles about what’s going on. Did he say anything more about the prophecy?” she queried, limping back into the office with the medical kit under her arm. “Spike?” she prompted when she got no response from him.

The Slayer frowned as he didn’t answer her once more and stuck her head back out the door to see what he was up to. Fear lanced through her at the sight with which she was greeted.

“Buffy, so glad you could join us.”




Chapter 19
A/N: Taken liberties with the events that happened before Buffy’s calling as a Slayer and assignment to the Hellmouth



Buffy took a cautious step forward. Her eyes were wide with disbelief and fixed on the man before her. She felt paralysed, unable to comprehend his presence or the malevolent smile which twisted his usually kind face.

“What…” Her mouth continued to work even as no more sound left her lips. The man gave her a mockingly saccharine smile at her apparent speechlessness and pointedly let his eyes trail across to Spike, who hung a foot in the air unable to move due to the magic that bound his body before sliding his gaze back to her.

Buffy let her gaze flit back to the vampire quickly taking in his captive state before shock won out again and dragged her gaze back to the man before her.

“What? No hug, sweetheart? I’m disappointed,” he stated, his overly sincere tone belying the smirk that twisted his lips “I thought you’d be glad to see me again, Buffy.”

Buffy felt the sting of tears rise unbidden to her eyes and she blinked furiously to push them back. This couldn’t be happening—not now, not ever! “Come now, you’re a big girl now and big girls don’t cry.”

She clenched her teeth and tried to take deep calming breaths through her nose as she fought to control the swell of emotion that was threatening to overwhelm her and leave her utterly useless before him.

Buffy tried to get her vocal chords working, but they refused to issue a sound. Instead her mouth opened and shut uselessly as she looked at his strange twisted expression of smugness and resentment.

“All I ask is that you come quietly. Do that, then neither your vampire here nor any of your friends or mother get it. Understand?” Buffy’s eyes shot to Spike’s once more and she could see him trying to tell her to say no through the use of his overly expressive eyes.

“Buffy?” The tone with which he said her name made it a warning as he magically tightened his hold on the vampire. “I could dust him with no more than a mere thought. Do we have a deal?”

“Yes,” she finally managed to get out, her voice no more than a whisper and her eyes never leaving Spike’s.

“Yes what, darling?” Buffy turned her gaze back to the man before her.

“Yes, daddy,” she managed to get out before a flick of her father’s wrist sent her into unconsciousness.


***



Spike watched helplessly as the Slayer let her father magically knock her out before his two little minions in the background shuffled forward and began to bind her wrists together behind her back and tie a black blindfold around her eyes.

The spell that the great hulking pillock before him had used still bound him tightly, coiling ever tighter the more he tried to struggle against it. What had the Slayer called him before she was knocked out? Daddy?

He reached out his senses as best as he could and sniffed in the air around him. The magic he could scent in the air was strong. It was masking most of the other scents around him. But he could pick up two things: the scent of the wankers from the Council that had been hunting them last night, and the familial scent of the Slayer that he could smell whenever he was around Joyce.

He felt his stomach clench in revulsion. This man was her father.

Spike’s eyes trailed up to meet those of the man that could claim partial responsibility for the life of the best Slayer he had ever come across. They were staring straight back at him, glinting in amusement and the kind of wild excitement that could only be found in the eyes of those who weren’t completely there upstairs.

He watched as the Slayer’s father’s eyes flashed black just seconds before he was sent careening back into the wall behind him. Five wooden stakes appearing in midair in front of him before they too came hurtling in his direction. He couldn’t help the cry of pain that was torn from his lips as this hands and feet were pierced by the wood, effectively nailing him to the wall seconds before the fifth stake embedded itself into the centre his chest only just missing his heart.

“Stakes soaked in holy water. Ingenious, really. They’ll slowly burn away at any skin that touches them without actually killing you. I’m told it’s painful.” He gave a small chuckle as he turned away briefly and motioned for the two Council men to pick up his daughter. “I think I can say with little doubt that you’ll be begging to be dusted by the time the afternoon sun reaches through that window.”

Spike’s eyes flicked to the two semicircular windows on the other side of the room.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” he said as he shot Spike one last smile and left the room.


***



“They should have been back by now,” Joyce said as she paced restlessly in front of the door, only stopping to check out the window occasionally.

“I know,” Giles said simply. The rest of the Scoobies had gathered in the living room and were waiting the return of their best friend and the bleached menace that had been living with them for the last couple of days.

“Why aren’t they back yet? It’s been HOURS!” She continued to rant throwing her hands in the air and flopping down onto the couch “Something’s happened. I can feel it.”

“Didn’t you say Buffy was hurt? They are probably just waiting around at the school until nightfall so it’s easier for them to get home without Spike going up in flames,” Willow said quietly from her position on the arm of Oz’s chair. Although she had suggested it, she didn’t believe a word she was saying.

“I did block up the sewer access under the school,” Oz added trying to back up his girlfriend. She turned and gave him a grateful smile.

“They could’ve just unblocked it. I mean it would be kind of stupid to stay in one place when you have the big, gun-happy, not to mention HUMAN Council men after you. The first place I would look would be the school,” Cordelia bluntly stated.

“So not helping, Cordy.”

“Oh shut up, Harris. You know I’m right.” Xander had opened his mouth to send back a retort when Giles cut him off.

“That’s enough, both of you.” Giles effectively stopped any impending bickering with the harsh tone of his voice. “Unfortunately, Cordelia does have a point. However, as I was led to believe while talking to Spike, they had little choice when Buffy was injured last night.”

“So they could be still there? Right now? Needing our help?” Joyce questioned, getting ready to stand.

“Well, yes. But it is also quite possible that they’re on their way here as we speak.” Joyce frowned and studied the man beside her.

“So we split up then. Two teams. Cordy, Willow and Mrs. Summers stay here and wait to see if they show up and Oz, me and the G-man head over to the school,” Xander ordered, stepping into the commanding position with an ease that came from the residual army training left over from the previous Halloween.

“I’m coming with you,” Joyce said, standing just as the others had.

“Joyce, Xander is—dare I say it—right.” Giles ignored the surprised then smug look that came over the boy’s face with that declaration. “You need to stay here in case Buffy and Spike get back. If something has happened, we’ll call you immediately but otherwise you’ll be safest here. Buffy would never forgive any of us if something happened to you.”

She looked as if she was going to hesitate for a moment before finally conceding with a heavy sigh and a quick nod. Giles smiled and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder before quickly gathering the weapons needed and moving towards the door with the two boys.

“Take my Jeep. With the way your car handles, you won’t arrive until tomorrow,” Joyce said with the same sarcastic tone in her voice that was so often heard in that of his Slayer’s. Giles let out an involuntary chuckle and grabbed Joyce’s keys before quickly marching out the door.


***



The pounding that was echoing throughout her head seemed to grow louder as her eyes fluttered open. Buffy groaned and tried to move her arms but noted with no small amount of bitterness that they had been bound behind her back.

She let out an unconscious growl as she twisted at the bindings on her wrists in a vain attempt to free herself. The ropes prickled and bit into her wrists, rubbing them raw as she tried to loosen the knots. She let out a frustrated sigh as they refused to budge. She wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all. Like she didn’t have enough on her plate without her father kidnapping her, tying her up, and putting her in…

For the first time she took note of her surroundings. She was in a steel box—a cage. Five of the six sides were pure steel, unmalleable and unescapable. The sixth wall had heavy iron bars running vertically across it so that she could see out into the room before her.

The room wasn’t overly large, but it looked like no place she had ever seen in Sunnydale—not that that meant much. She had no idea where she was, but she got the impression that she wasn’t just being held in your average hotel or motel room, though it had the same distinctly comfortable yet impersonal air to it that they often had.

The carpet looked soft and plush and was a bland creamy colour that seemed to match the light taupe colour of the walls. Buffy couldn’t see any windows in the room but judging by the pattern of the light hitting the floor, she could safely assume that they were on the wall behind her.

The room was plain, almost completely void of furniture if you didn’t count the cot made up in the corner of the room, the mini-fridge and microwave beside it, and her steel box. She strained to see if there was anyone else other than herself nearby, but nothing came into her line of vision.

What bothered Buffy most of all about her surroundings was the perfect circle that seemed to be burnt into the carpet of the floor in the very centre of the room. It had to be at least two meters in diameter and it had five candles placed around its boundaries in even intervals. It reminded her of the books she had read in the library about rituals and sacrifices. She had though the information in the dusty tomes to be of little use to her at the time, but now images of her father serving her up to some hell-raising demon were swimming before her mind unbidden.

She was about to renew her attempts to get out of her ropes again when the door on the far side of the room swung open, admitting her father once more.

“Just as a promised you,” he said as he stared at her coldly, stepping back to allow the figure behind him entry.

“Excellent,” Travers replied as he stared down at Buffy with a gleam in his eyes, one she found unnerving to say the least. He didn’t look as angry or particularly disgusted as she thought he might. Instead the look in his eyes was positively hungry—as though he were a starved man just served his first meal in months.

She felt her gut clench in fear and suddenly wondered whether she had been all that smart allowing her father to take her just to save her friends. She should have fought him. She should have tried to help Spike and then made a run for it. But even as she let those thoughts filter through her mind she knew she could have never left the others to be harmed while she saved her own skin.

She just wasn’t sure whether Council’s intentions were to study or destroy.




Chapter 20


“Oh, good God!” Giles felt the pangs of uneasiness that had been slowly building in the pit of his stomach explode into a fully fledged fear—a fear that he hadn’t felt since the night he had received the news of Buffy’s disappearance some weeks back.

The sight of the vampire before him nailed to the wall with large wooden stakes was sickening. He was barely conscious—the loss of blood making Spike appear gaunt and causing his complexion to take on a greyish hue as his blood dribbled sluggishly down the cream-coloured walls of the library.

With scarcely a thought to any possible lingering danger, Giles thrust the crossbow he had been holding into Xander’s surprised hands and quickly strode forward.

“Spike? Can you hear me?” Giles asked in a voice a little louder than the tone of his normal speech. A small groan sounded from the vampire and he blinked his eyes open slowly before letting his head drop forward again.

“I’m nailed to the wall, Watcher, not bloody deaf.” Despite the remark—or perhaps because of it—Giles grinned. He reached up and took a firm hold of the stake imbedded in the palm of Spike’s right hand. Distract him Giles thought to himself as he cast a wary glance at the vampire before turning his gaze back to the hand that was curled around the stake. You need to take his mind off the pain.

“I’m assuming they took Buffy. Was it Angelus?”

“Angelus? No, not Angelus. Smelt like some lackey of the—BLOODY HELL!” As soon as Giles had gotten Spike talking, he had secured his grip on the stake and pulled. It had slid out of his hand with a sliding wet squelch, causing the vamp in question to roar in pain and shift into his demon’s guise unconsciously.

“Fuck!” He moaned. His demon was emitting a slow continuous growl as it forced itself to push past the almost crippling pain. “Bloody hell, this gives me a whole new respect for the bloody Romans. Those tossers knew what they were about, going around crucifying people. It’s God-damned painful.” Giles tossed the blood soaked stake aside and moved to grab ahold of the next one.

The two teens standing behind the Watcher winced as the second stake was torn out and Spike emitted a pained groan and slumped forward onto the Watcher.

“Xander? Some help, perhaps?” Xander’s eyes went wide at suddenly being addressed.

“Help? You want me to…?” he trailed off gesturing erratically to the two stakes still driven through the arch of Spike’s feet. Xander felt his stomach roll in protest at the sight, but he couldn’t help but watch in morbid fascination as the vampire slowly moved his hand up to the stake still imbedded in his chest to pull it from its sheath within his body.

“Oh for—just hold him up while I see to his feet.” Xander snapped out of his fugue state and moved to support the vampire’s dead weight while Giles knelt down to tend to the painful task of pulling the stakes out as painlessly as possible.

Giles and Xander worked as quickly as possible as they freed him from the wall and carried him between them so that he was stretched out on the table as Buffy had been only a few hours before.

“He’ll need blood,” Giles said absently as he looked over the now unconscious vampire’s wounds. “Oz, call Joyce and ask her and the girls to make a quick trip to the butcher. Tell her to stock up on as much as they can and to pick up a few bottles of bourbon while she’s at it.”

Oz slipped silently away with a nod of affirmation.

“Watch over him while I see to cleaning up this mess. Make sure he doesn’t move more than necessary.” Xander nodded, glad that he hadn’t been allocated the job of cleaning the mess of blood spread across the library walls like some macabre painting of death.

Xander shuddered and turned away from the sickening sight and let his gaze fall on the vampire. If that was the state they had left Spike in then he couldn’t bring himself to think about the possible state of his friend. It there was one thing he knew about Spike—had known even before this sordid ordeal had started—was that he didn’t go down easily, and neither did Buffy.

Spike’s brows furrowed slightly in his state of unconsciousness and his lips move silently and Xander recognised it for what it was—her name. It made him wonder what exactly was going on between those two.

Twice now he had had the displeasure of walking in on them while they were in the middle of some serious kissage. He knew Buffy well enough to know when she liked someone in that way. She got this furtive look in her eyes as she glanced from beneath her lashes; her eyes seem to get this extra twinkle in them when the object of her affection walked into the room before she would blush becomingly. She would also start fidgeting unconsciously: playing with her hair, touching the tips of her fingers to her lips gently, adjusting her sleeves, twirling a stake if there was one nearby. Xander knew this because for months after they had first met, he would look for those signs every time he walked into the room and every time he was disappointed. Even now when he was with Cordy he still found himself glancing over at Buffy, hoping that she would be looking back with that look in her eyes that said she felt something other than friendship towards him—the way she looked at Spike these days.

Xander didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to admit it to himself or accept the facts that were displayed in front of him like some massive billboard complete with flashing neon lights. But as much as he liked to deny it, he knew deep down that it was true. Again she had chosen the vampire rather than him.

Xander didn’t like to admit it, partly ‘cause he had Cordy now—beautiful, feisty, wild Cordelia—but it still stung to think that Buffy would rather shack up with the undead that be with him. Living, breathing, human Xander Harris that wasn’t at least a century older than she, but still wasn’t good enough.

He let out a heavy sigh as Oz walked back into the room. The two teens communicated silently with a look in the others direction before Oz took the other seat beside the wounded vampire. Now they would wait.



***




The guards had changed post not even 15 minutes ago and already Buffy could tell that this one was her surest way to freedom.

He couldn’t look at her. He had come in, lay down on the cot in the corner of the room and studiously avoided any eye contact with anything even remotely in her direction.

She didn’t know how she knew—perhaps it was some fancy empathy power that was part of her new demon package—but she could tell that this one cared. Not about her—no, in no way did he harbour any care for her welfare, rather he cared that what they were doing was wrong. He cared about the guilt he felt at being part of the team holding her. He cared about clearing his own conscience. He didn’t like what the others were doing and she could use that to her advantage.

Only he refused to acknowledge her, let alone even face her. Ignore the problem long enough and it goes away. She let out and internal snort. Well, not me, Mister, she thought.

Her attention was snapped away from studying the man—though she made no outward signs of having been distracted—as she heard the approach of Travers and her father outside of the door to the room she was being held in.

Her eyes narrowed on the man. If he was her weakest link then she was going to have to make use of him and soon. Whatever her father and the head of the Watchers Council had planned, she was running out of time.

Even as the thought ran through her head the door to the room swung open and her father stepped in with and inanely insincere smile plastered across his face.



***





“So we have no idea where Buffy is, who took her, whether she is okay, or what they want?” Xander was the first to speak, running both hands through his hair in a frustrated gesture. “Oh and let’s not forget mister I-lost-my-soul-so-now-I-want-to-eat-you-all who is trying to turn us all into pin cushions.”

Giles sighed. Sometimes it was hard to remember he was working with teenagers, who though still in school had proved themselves more than capable on more than one account. And, of course, sometimes it wasn’t.

“I understand where you’re coming from, Xander. Things look hopeless but we must remember that they are not. What we need to do is take a step back and consolidate what we know and try and piece together where everything fits. We’ll have a better chance at being useful in getting Buffy back if we know exactly what we are heading into.”

“And how exactly do you propose we do that, Rupert?” Joyce said as she ascended the basement stairs and made her way into the kitchen.

“How is he?” Willow asked, looking over the older woman’s shoulder and in the direction of where Xander and Giles had placed Spike, who had still yet to regain consciousness.

“I couldn’t say. I have no idea how quickly vampires heal, but it doesn’t look good.” Joyce replied as she slumped wearily onto one of stools by the kitchen counter.

“He should be fine in a day or two as long as we make sure he gets blood regularly. If he was still feeding from humans he could be healed within a few hours, but as that is no longer an option it will take longer.” Giles’ reply was punctuated by the removal of his glasses from his face in a familiar gesture as he moved to polish them on a handkerchief he seemed to have pulled from nowhere.

“Well we can count out saving Buffy until Spike joins the land of the conscious at least. He’s the only one who knows who took her—not to mention the only one who would stand half a chance at getting her back and remain alive,” Cordelia said from her position next to her boyfriend. For once no one had anything to say to her comment.

The room was unnaturally silent as they all slipped into their own thoughts. Cordelia wasn’t wrong in what she said. They could do nothing in regards to saving Buffy until Spike woke up again. They had all discussed it earlier, and given that Spike had said it wasn’t Angelus who had taken Buffy, that left the Watchers Council.

“Let us focus our efforts on the prophecy then. If we can decipher any more of it and find out exactly what the Council may want then it may at least give us some indication of what they plan to do with Buffy,” Giles said, pushing himself away from the counter and striding out of the room in search of his books. There was barely a murmur of protest from the teens, who followed in his wake.



***





Travers raised his tea to his lips thoughtfully and took a small sip of the hot liquid as he stared at the man in front of him.

“You know as well as I do, Hank, that the ritual must be performed by the end of the week. How do you hope to control her enough but then to make her go through with it? I don’t have time for her childish outbursts and penchant for disregarding orders. If anything goes wrong to prevent this ritual from being completed it will be your head that’s on the line.”

A slow smile spread across Hank’s face.

“Don’t worry. Have I ever let you down before?” Travers merely cocked and eyebrow at the question. “Besides, I whipped a little something up that will leave Buffy completely at out disposal by the end of the week. We’ve been lacing the food she has been given with a little drug that will ensure that she will follow any orders we give her.”

Travers returned Hank’s sinister like grin, reassured once more that his friend wasn’t about to let him down. If Hank said he’d have his daughter under control, then he would trust that when the time came he would have her under control.

“Very good,” he said before giving the man a small friendly smile. “I trust you completely, Hank, you have always come through for me. But we can never be too careful and this is far too important for me to have something as trivial as the Slayer’s free will mess it up. This is my destiny. The path that has lain before me since the moment of birth.”

“And come Friday evening, all your years of waiting will finally be at an end.” A small chuckle burst from the Council leader’s lips.

“Yes, it finally will.”


 
Chapters 21 - 24
 
Chapter 21


“Wait, here’s something.” The scoobies had been searching for hours and Willow’s eyes were heavy with the words on the page blurring as her eyes watered against the wide yawn that spilt her face. “It says something about a binding ceremony. Used for centuries. Contains blood rites and chanting and both parties present to do an incantation…Oh here we go, the ritual is used as a means of connecting two beings in mind and soul, like the prophecy said.”

Giles stretched his hand out across the table for the book and Willow happily handed it to him, eager to let her eyes rest on something other than the tiny print of the tomes.

“Well done,” Giles said as his eyes skimmed over the text at such a rapid speed that that a less practiced man would have had more than enough trouble keeping up.

Willow yawned and looked around. She was the only one left still awake. Xander and Cordy were both stretched out on the floor, their heads buried in the respective books fast asleep. Oz had fallen asleep in the chair next to her, half way through a book that she was certain was more about tribal mating rituals that any binding ceremonies and even Joyce had nodded off, delicately snoring from her spot on the couch next to Giles.

They seemed to come awake through some unspoken agreement though, the moment Giles’ exclamation left his lips.

“Oh, dear lord!” The others stirred and sat up rubbing their still sleep deprived eyes.

“I really hate it when he says that,” Xander noted, discreetly trying to wipe away the small puddle of drool that had dribbled from his mouth onto the book his head had been resting on.

“This is indeed the ritual we have been looking for,” Giles said slowly, his eyes never leaving the book in front of him.

“Well that’s good news, isn’t it?” Joyce asked cautiously.

Xander’s “there’s a but, am I right G-man?” caused a flicker of annoyance to pass across the Watcher’s face, but he did not call the boy on it.

“It turns out that the ritual required to bind the two beings together—.” Giles began before being cut off by an impatient huff from Joyce.

“Will you just spit it out already?” Joyce snapped. She was sitting on the edge of her seat with worry and the Watcher’s affinity for making things overly dramatic and drawn out wasn’t helping her nerves in the least.

“It’s a hand fasting ritual.” Two shocked gasps from Willow and Joyce reverberated throughout the room amongst the sea of blank faces.

“What? What’s a hand fasting ritual?” Xander questioned, with no small measure of panic.

“The equivalent of marriage, only it’s done through magic. And there is no divorce. It binds two souls together even after one or both has passed on,” Willow explained quietly.

“Yes, that is the basics behind a hand fasting ritual. However, the effects can be far more profound than any simple merging of the mind and soul. Each case is different so it can be difficult to document. However, if this is to occur, Buffy would be irrevocably branded on the inside of her left wrist—marking her as a married woman to all who knew what it meant—and she would be forever bound to that person. And likely able to experience their feelings and emotions.” The room was silent at the end of his announcement.

“And you think that if it is the Council that has her, that is what they plan to do?”

“I couldn’t say. If this ritual is indeed the reason that they have come after her and they don’t just plan on terminating her as a possible threat, then it is likely that they are planning to use her for some greater purpose,” Giles’ voice was solemn as he placed the book on the table.

“So in other word you are telling me that these filthy bastards are either planning on killing my baby or prostituting her out in some way to benefit their ‘mission’?” Giles didn’t answer, though he suspected that an answer hadn’t been expected and that the question had been rhetorical, with Joyce just venting her frustration. “My little girl is only seventeen years old! That’s far too young to get married!”

“Actually Joyce, the marriage is inevitable and needed to help stabilize her powers. Whether done through the council or through us, Buffy will have to undertake in a hand fasting ceremony in the near future. The most we can do to help is make sure that it involves someone with whom she is comfortable rather than some Council lackey.” Giles’ calm tone belied the inner turmoil he was experiencing. Despite her initial outburst, Joyce was taking the news fairly well.

“Oh, and who exactly do you propose she binds herself to for eternity? You do realize that it is going to have to be someone in this house, since we are the only ones who know just what she is and can still be trusted.” A beat of silence rang throughout the room as the occupants contemplated what Joyce’s words meant for them all. Joyce was right; it would have to be someone in the room. Who else was there that Buffy would feel even remotely comfortable binding herself to for eternity?

“We, ah…I guess if we somehow managed to, um… restore Angel’s soul? I mean, surely Buffy wouldn’t object to marrying Angel?” Willow offered timidly after a lengthy pause.

Cordy let out an indelicate snort. “Yeah, right! Were you like not around when Buffy first came back or when she was yelling at Spike last night loud enough for the whole world to hear? The last thing she is going to want is to bind herself to some mental homicidal manic who tortured her for three days straight.”

“Not only that, but it would be foolish to give someone like Angel that much power, especially if he ever lost his soul again,” Giles said quietly.

“I was just saying, I mean it’s not like we have a lot of options here, do we? Xander, Giles, and Oz are the only three that fit the mould,” Willow retorted, with more than a little defensiveness in her voice.

“Actually, we’re not,” was Xander’s reply. He hated himself for even thinking it, let alone bringing it up. A shared look with Oz told him the wolf had been thinking the same thing.

He looked around the expectant faces of his friends and family and took a deep breath “There’s still Spike.”




***



Spike shifted and slowly became aware of his surroundings. It was day time and the sun was high in the sky. He’d likely been unconscious for more than a few hours.

Buffy.

His body protested violently as he moved to sit up, the screaming pain that had previously gone unnoticed now making itself more than apparent. He let out a small groan and blinked his eyes open slowly, adjusting to his surroundings.

He’d obviously been fed blood. He was going to need a lot more though, and soon, if he was going to be able to stand long enough to get Buffy back.

“I don’t trust you.” Spike’s head whipped around, and his eyes landed on the Watcher, surprised that he hadn’t noticed his presence until he had spoken. “I don’t trust that you had nothing to do with orchestrating all of this—all of what’s been done to Buffy—but right now you are all we have to go on in so far as at getting her back, perhaps even saving her life. So I’m going to trust your sense of survival. You’re weak, and I have no problems believing it would take little effort and skill on my part to ram this stake through your chest.”

Spike quirked an inquiring eyebrow at the piece of wood in Giles’ hands, wondering what had brought on this change in the Watcher’s disposition towards him. He could hardly believe this to be the same man that he had a clear memory of coming to his rescue only a few hours earlier.

Despite that however, he found himself nodding his head slowly.

“I want to know who took Buffy this afternoon,” Giles asked with a flinty note in his voice that had the vampire looking on him with a new kind of respect.

“Was the soddin’ Slayer’s father, and he had a few of the Wankers Council lackeys with him. I didn’t hear him coming till it was too late and he’d hit me with some kind of spell that had me suspended in the air and unable to move.” Spike saw the question forming on the Watcher’s lips before he had even finished speaking and went on to answer it. “The Slayer was in your office at the time. She came out, he sent her a few threats to make her go quietly, knocked her out magically and went all stake happy on me.”

“You’re telling me that she didn’t even put up a fight? Buffy didn’t even put up a fight?” Giles’ tone was disbelieving enough to put Spike even more on the defensive than even the accusations Giles had made earlier.

“S’right. He told her that if she came quietly, none of you would be hurt. Pulled the ‘daddy’ routine on her and she did just that—went quietly.” Spike reached for his cigarettes and agitatedly pulled one out before lighting it up and letting the soothing effect of nicotine work through his body.

“And Hank was the one that took her?” Giles’ question was posed in an equally agitated voice coloured with disbelief. “Joyce’s ex-husband is not only a bloody warlock but is also working for the Council now?”

“S’right.” Spike saw the Watcher’s disbelieving look, and his temper flared. “If you don’t bloody well believe me then that’s your problem. I told you what happened, and if you really think I would go so far as to bloody well cook up a scheme that includes getting myself nailed to the freakin’ wall, then you’re out of your bloody gourd.”

They both stared at each other as they sized up what was being said and how far the other was willing to go to prove their point. So far everything the vampire had said and done had proven to be trustworthy, but he was a definite black area when it came to slayers. Giles was not willing to risk Buffy’s life just because Spike had thus far proven to be up front with information.

“Are you able to track her to where she is being held?” Giles question was not a declaration of trust or even proof that he was backing down. Spike’s heightened senses could be a much needed asset, and as long as he was useful, he would avoid meeting a dusty ending on the sharp end of a stake.

“I should be able to track her scent. If not the mark of domination she gave me,” Spike gave Giles’ smug look a pointed sneer, “should allow me to feel her enough to track her to wherever she is being held.”

“Good, we need to get her back before nightfall this Friday. That gives you two days—or nights rather—to locate her. The rest of our time needs to be spent deciding just how we are going to get her out.” The vampire quirked and eyebrow in the Watcher’s direction.

“This Friday night’s a full moon. Guess that means you found whatever ritual needs to be done to keep her dainty slayer brains from decorating the living room walls?” Giles gave Spike a disgusted look, and the vampire winced internally at his own callous remark. The last thing he needed at the moment though was the Watcher knowing Spike was having naughty thoughts about the girl Giles considered to be like his own daughter. Spike had the feeling the he was only just out of the staking zone as it was.

“The ritual is none of your concern. The only capacity in which you will be needed is making sure that the Council doesn’t get to us before the ritual is completed.” Spike felt his demon snarl at the thought of Buffy being bound to someone else in any form, but he bit back his retort and nodded placidly.

Giles nodded tightly and stood up, walking stiffly to the stairs.

Just before the Watcher slipped through the door, Spike asked, “And what of Angelus? He’s not just going to disappear while you have it out with the Council. That’s why I agreed to join your merry band of do-gooders in the first place, you know.”

“We have bigger problems than Angelus and his pointless teasing. Once the Council is no longer a threat to Buffy in the capacity that they are at the moment, then we will look to disposing of Angelus and your sire.” Giles’ response was punctuated by him shutting the door firmly behind him, leaving Spike no opportunity to reply. Surprisingly though, Spike had nothing to say.




Chapter 22


The eerie silence that filled the car was almost deafening it was so palpable. As time wore on, Xander began to wish that he had never opened his mouth about Buffy and Spike beginning to feel something for one another. Giles' reaction had certainly been less than desirable.

In fact the more Xander thought about it, the more he began to realise how stupid the suggestion was. Giving a souled Angel that kind of power was one thing; if he ever lost his soul again it would practically be suicide for the rest of them. While he had been playing for the good side as of late, Spike had made it more than clear that his priorities still lay with his insane sire, despite what feelings were developing between him and Buffy. So, even contemplating giving a currently soulless demon—a soulless Spike—that kind of power was absolutely out of the question.

The adamant refusal that Spike be the one that Buffy should be bound to had left them with little else from which to choose. They had discussed the ritual in great detail together and while a normal hand fasting ritual took no more than the words of the ritual to be spoken while the subjects' hands were bound together symbolically, this one was infinitely more adult rated.

Joyce had been horrified as the details of what exactly was involved were described to her. They all had been a bit shocked at some point, but overall, the took it well. Willow's innocence was the most affected. It was one thing to suspect something, but it only ever became truth when it was voiced.

The selection of acceptable partner choices was whiddled from three down to two and then almost immediately from two down to one. Down to him to be more specific. Giles was simply out of the question and with Oz being a werewolf they couldn't be sure of the side effects it might have on either of them. Xander was disgusted with himself for the nearly crippling bolt of joy and excitement that ran through him initially. Now all he felt was sick.

The reactions as everyone had realised that he was the only real choice they had was varied. Joyce had looked upset but reassured somewhat by the fact that it would be someone her daughter was close to and knew well. Giles looked grim, Willow was shocked beyond the capabilities of speech, Oz wore his usual stoic mask and Cordy…Cordy had burst into tears in a moment so out of character that he hadn't known what to do. The sick feeling he had felt in his gut intensified with her reaction.

Now, with Spike driving, Giles in the front passenger’s seat, and Xander and Cordelia sitting in the back, they were all acutely aware of the uncomfortably tense silence as they waited for some reaction from Spike, telling them whether they were close to Buffy or if he could pick up her scent. Xander glanced across the back seat to his girlfriend who had insisted on coming along, and felt a rush of emotions flood him. He was going to lose her…


***



Buffy blinked groggily as she rolled herself over to look out into the room that had been her only source of entertainment for what felt like days. There was something wrong with her—that much she could decipher. Her limbs felt tired and heavy like she was moving through syrup and her head held a fogginess to it that she couldn't seem to push past no matter how much she tried. Yes there was definitely something wrong…she just didn't know what it was.

Here gaze moved slowly to look at the bed in the corner of the room to see the young Watcher staring at her with sad brown eyes. He hadn't been able to even bring himself to set his gaze upon her the day before; now he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away.

Buffy turned her gaze away from him as he averted his eyes and they sluggishly came to focus on the centre of the room.

Someone had roped a dead lamb to the centre of the ceiling so it hung down into the middle of the room. A trail of its blood measuring roughly two meters wide stained the carpet to make a dark maroon circle. The smell the dried blood gave off was thick and pungent and even when Buffy forced herself not to go through the mechanics of breathing—something she really no longer needed to do—the smell still seemed to assault her senses.

This can’t be of the good, she though as her heavy eyelids drifted shut again.


***



“Did you say the ritual required the blood of a lamb?” Spike asked, suddenly pulling the car to a stop outside an apartment complex.

Giles gave him a peculiar look. “Yes, the sacrifice of an innocent animal is made to mark a ring of blood around the floor of the sacred place chosen for the ritual to be carried out. It is believed—.”

Spike rolled his eyes and cut Giles’ babbling short. “A simple ‘yes’ would have done it, mate,” he nodded towards the building they had parked in front of. “I can’t feel or sense her nearby but a shit load of sheep's blood has been spilled in there recently.” he paused for a moment, cocking his head to the side inquiringly. “Also seems our mate Angelus is close by as well.”

The two teens in the back seat tensed to alertness.

“We’ll come back in the daylight hours to further investigate then,” Giles replied, peering calmly into the shadows “Take us home.”

Spike nodded and swung the car around as he drove off again.


***



Angelus watched the proceedings from the shadows.

Originally, he had been intrigued by the overwhelming smell of animal blood coming from one of the apartments. The only time you smelt that much blood was around butchers and ritual sacrifices. Considering he was currently residing in Sunnydale, he was going to go with the latter. The question was who was attempting the mojo, and what ritual were they trying to carry out?

His mild interest had practically skyrocketed the moment he had sensed the approaching presence of his grandchilde and the car load of white hatters.

Angelus watched they pulled up and the proceeded to sit there for a few minutes as they obviously discussed their options. He cursed his bad fortune at his distance from the car. He was close enough to hear the murmur of their voices, but too far to make out what they were saying. But in this instance, their presence at all was enough to let him know that this was something important enough to warrant their leaving the safety of their house at night.

Since he had lost his soul, they never went anywhere alone, and they never left the house after dark unless absolutely necessary. It was quite the evil ego boost that they took such precautions because of him.

The only thing that stumped him in this scenario was the lack of the Slayer’s presence. She wasn’t one to sit back and let the others do her work for her, yet she was most definitely not part of the group that was out on the little reconnaissance mission.

Angelus watched as the car did a u-turn before driving off into the night again. They had most likely sensed his presence, he mused silently. His interest was more than piqued, and his curious nature refused to let him drop it. He gave one last look at the building committing its location to memory before setting off in the direction the car had driven. A direction he knew well. He was going to pay a little visit to Revello Drive.


***



A knock sounded at the door. “Sir?”

“You may enter.” Travers and Hank looked up from their papers as the door to the study opened and a young field agent walked in to stand stiffly before them. “What is it?”

“The Slayer’s friends, sir, and Rupert Giles were just sighted outside the block of apartments. They had the vampire with them.” Travers frowned and looked down at the papers before him.

“Seems they caught on quicker than expected,” he half muttered to himself.

“I told you that the sacrifice would only attract attention when done before the actual ritual itself.” Travers shot Hank a dark look at the patronising tone that rang through his voice. “You know I’m right. The vampire could probably smell all that blood a mile off, and if they have any insight to the hand fasting at all, then they’ll know that we’re here.”

Travers ignored him.

“How long were they here?” he asked instead. The young man startled slightly at being addressed again.

“Not longer that a few moments. A minute, maybe two at most, before they drove off again. No one exited the car,” he answered in what he hoped was a strong voice. The Head Watcher nodded again before dismissing the man.

“You’re absolutely sure that this ritual can be completed on the night before and after the full moon?” Travers queried the Slayer’s father once he was sure the boy was gone.

A twisted grin spread over Hank’s face. “Positive. In fact, many believe that it is better for the ritual to be carried out on the night before rather than on the actual night of the full moon.”

“Good, good then. And you are sure the drugs you are feeding her are taking effect?” He couldn’t help but feel nervous now that everything he had dreamt of for so long was almost at hand. He didn’t have time for slip ups and visits from the Slayer’s sidekicks. The ritual needed to be completed before they came barging in to save her or all else could be shot to hell.

“Better than I could have hoped for,” Hank replied doing little to mask the eager excitement from his voice.

“Tomorrow then,” Travers made his mind up and turned to face his desk where a tray with two glasses and a bottle of scotch sat untouched. “As soon as night falls.”

Hank smiled as he accepted his glass and nodded. He raised it in a small salute before taking a hearty swig. “Tomorrow at nightfall.”


***



Giles wasn’t surprised to hear the knock on the door later that night. Other than Spike—who was presumably sitting on his cot down in the basement—he was the only one awake. He had been sitting up for hours pouring over anything he could find in books and everything Willow had found on the internet about the apartments they had been to earlier that night.

So far he had come across very little that could come of any use and he had felt his mind begin to drift to their other current problem of Angelus and his lack of soul.

Giles had no doubt whatsoever that terminating Angelus was their only option after what he had done to Buffy. He had absolutely no problems entertaining the thought of Angelus meeting a dusty end, and had, in fact, been expecting Angelus to be lurking around the exterior of the house after Spike had sensed him nearby when they had been out and about earlier that evening.

No, what bothered him was the notion that Angelus may somehow be involved in what the Council planned to do with Buffy. They were in no doubt that the Council was holding her, and presumably still had her alive. What he didn’t get was why Angelus had been lurking around. It had to be too much of a coincidence that he was felt at the one place they suspected Buffy was being held.

Picking up the crossbow on his way to the door, he opened it carefully to keep his weapon concealed from view.

“Angelus, how terribly predictable,” Giles remarked as the dark features of the vampire he had once considered an almost friend came into view. Now there was nothing he desired more than to see him meet a dusty ending.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in, Rupes?” his smile was a mocking leer that held his sarcastic laugh in the corners of his mouth.

“No, actually I’m not. And if you are here to make taunting idle threats then do you think we might be able to arrange a time when I have less important matters than you to worry about, because I am more than a little busy?” Angelus released a sneering snarl.

In a move that was done more for Buffy’s sake than any act of defiance, Giles rolled his eyes.

“Oh yes, I’m scared. Now if you’ll excuse me?” Angelus let out a howl of fury at the brush off and made to lunge forward, forgetting about the barrier that now barred him from a house to which he had previously had an all access pass. How dare Giles act so blasé in his presence? These people were meant to fear him above all else, not taunt him.

Giles reacted instinctively to the potential threat raising the concealed crossbow and firing a bolt before the vampire had time to react.

He watched with a calm indifference as it sailed through the short distance between them and imbedded itself firmly into the vampire’s chest with a dull ‘thud’.

Angelus let out a shocked squeak as he looked down at where the wooden bolt protruded from his heart.

“No!” he managed to gasp out before his body started the rapid decay into dust for an anticlimactic finish, until nothing more was left than the neat pile of his ashes left on the door step.

Giles shut the door softly, replaced the crossbow from where he had retrieved it, and returned to where he had been sitting.

“I was hoping he would do something like that.”




Chapter 23


“We need some sort of diversion to buy us some time to get in relatively unnoticed,” Oz stated as they all looked at the blueprints Willow had managed to acquire from the internet that were now splayed out across the Joyce’s dining room table. “If we enter through this entrance, we could back my van practically right up to the door. That would allow Spike to be able to get in without worrying about any sunlight.”

“What type of diversion is going to work? Anything that we do would be a dead giveaway, as they know each of us—including Spike, who we need to help locate Buffy once we’re inside,” Xander frowned and worried his bottom lip pensively. “I guess I could rig an explosive up somewhere outside of the building and set it on a timer.”

Joyce’s eyes went incredibly wide. “Y-you know how to do that?”

“Long story. The short version is we all got turned into our costumes last Halloween. I dressed up as a soldier so I turned into a soldier. When the spell wore off the knowledge kind of stayed,” he explained quickly.

“Oh,” Joyce nodded her head absently. What else was she meant to say to that? Her daughter’s life was far too complicated. To think that all of this time, Joyce thought Buffy had been a trouble maker. Joyce didn’t know how Buffy was able to keep up with her slaying duties and still be able to find time to sleep and study—not that she truly believed her daughter did much of the latter.

“I’m afraid that any kind of diversion like that will be seen for what it is. We need something more subtle, something that won’t be immediately connected with us,” Giles said, ignoring the slight digression the conversation had taken.

“What about an insane, bloodthirsty, enraged and vengeful vampire?” All head turned to look at Spike who, unlike the others, wasn’t crowded around the map, but splayed out on the couch behind them all.

“So you’re volunteering then?” Xander sneered.

“No, I was referring to Drusilla. You’d know what I mean, right Watcher?” The bitter tone in his voice came through cold and flinty but the challenge was undeniable as he nodded in Giles’ direction.

All heads swivelled to stare at the Watcher in question.

“Indeed,” was Giles’ only response.

“What does he mean?” Willow asked curiously.

“Seems we had another little visit from Angelus last night and Rupes here decided that he would play judge, jury and executioner and dust him. That about it, mate?” The glare Giles tossed Spike’s way would have seriously frightened a lesser man. After over a century of murder, mayhem and violence, a simple glare did little to rattle Spike’s nerves.

“You dusted him?” The redhead asked incredulously. “But we hadn’t decided if that was what we were going to do! What gave you the right to end his life like that?”

“That’s what I want to know, Red,” Spike added with a smirk as he watched the normally quiet and nervous redhead slowly start to boil with anger.

“I did what I believed was the right thing to do. I am a Watcher and in this instance I believe my judgment to be the better call. He was a hazard to our attempts at getting Buffy back, to our lives, and to the countless innocents we have already allowed him to murder since he became soulless,” Giles shot back angrily with more than a little authority in his voice.

Spike’s smug smile dropped as he watched Willow back down again and rolled his eyes. Did all these people cower away the moment a little authority was asserted?

“If that’s true then why are you still here?” Xander shot in Spike’s direction. “Would have thought you’d be off crawling on your knees at your insane ho-bag sire’s feet.”

“This became more than just about Angelus a long time ago, mate, and you know it,” Spike’s retort was spoken in a calm and level voice that did more to get his point across that if he had yelled at them angrily.

“Enough!” Joyce’s interjection was enough to silence them. “I have no idea how any of you get any work done the way you bicker with each other! Can we get back to the task at hand please? You know, saving Buffy?” They all looked away guiltily under her reprimanding gaze. “Spike, you were saying?”

“What? Oh, right. Well, I’m assuming that Dru doesn’t know that it was the Watcher here who offed her ‘daddy dearest’ yet. So, why not tweak the story a little and send her straight into the nest thinking that it was the Council? That will keep them busy for hours,” he couldn’t help the small chuckle as he finished that thought. He could remember vividly what it had been like a few years ago when they had felt the death of Darla through their family ties; what mayhem she had caused then. It had gone on for days. Of course, in the end they had been chased out of the city by an angry mob that had almost seen the death of his sire.

What Drusilla felt for Angelus was infinitely stronger; Spike sincerely doubted that anyone in that building would be left alive. Though he doubted she would make it out either…and the idea of that happening didn’t bother him the way he thought it should.

“Well yes, that would certainly work,” Giles agreed reluctantly.

“Yeah, and it would also be signing the death warrants of every man and woman in that place,” Cordy spoke up for the first time. “Let’s face it, I don’t want that over my head and I doubt Buffy would either.”

“So what do we do then?”


***



“That’s it then?” Xander asked as he sunk back into his seat as the last details of the plan were ironed out.

“That’s it. I can’t think of anything else that might be a problem as long as you and Willow have no obstacles then we should be fine,” Giles said as he tossed the pen with which he had been writing onto the table and let his head fall against that back of his seat.

He removed his glasses and ran over-worked fingers over his eyes to help ease their tiredness that was making his eyesight blur. This whole plan hinged on Willow and Xander being able to get their jobs done so that the personnel Hank and Travers had would be adequately distracted when they went in.

“We should do it tonight. The longer we wait, the more likely we are to run into problems, and we won’t have enough time to fix them and get the ritual done as well,” Joyce’s remarks broke the silence that had settled over the group.

“T-tonight?” Willow’s nerves made her voice shake, causing her to stutter. She wasn’t used to being the key player. She didn’t like knowing that their success all depended on her—that whether Buffy knew it or not, she was counting on Willow to get her out.

Joyce nodded her head eagerly. “The sooner we get her away from them the more smoothly things should run. We have to allow time for error.”

Willow nodded her head nervously in understanding. “O-oh, okay then.”

Giles sat upright, and again began polishing his glasses on the edge of his shirt. “Joyce is right, this can only work once. If we mess it up we won’t have another chance at getting Buffy out again before the ritual has begun,” his voice was solemn but firm with determination. “That leaves us with a little over four hours to prepare anything that we will need. Does anyone have any questions?”

The room was silent as each of the occupants looked around at each other, waiting for someone to speak up with a reason why this was a bad idea. No one raised their voice to answer though. The plan that had taken nearly all day to devise would be carried out.

“Alright then, Joyce. You’re up first…”




Chapter 24


Joyce was anxious. She sat waiting in the food court at the mall for Spike to show up again, knowing that while she was the one that had pushed for them to go ahead and carry out the plan that night, she herself felt nowhere near ready.

Her fingers drummed incessantly against the sticky counter top of the table at which she was sitting. The untouched plate of food that she had bought for lunch had been pushed into the centre of the table to slowly turn cold. This is for Buffy. You can do it for your baby girl.

She tried to ignore the way her stomach rolled in nerves, the way her hands grew cold and clammy and her eyes couldn’t settle on one object for too long. Stop it. You are a grown woman and have done nothing wrong. Spike is the one stealing the phone.

Joyce suppressed the small nervous and slightly hysterical giggle that threatened to bubble from her lips and wiped her hands over her face in an effort to calm herself before her eyes once more went back to surveying her surroundings.

The flash of white-blonde hair caught her eye in the distance as the crowd parted and she felt warm prickles break out over her skin.

Swallowing deeply, Joyce watched as Spike strode confidently towards her, his posture casual and relaxed as if this were the sort of thing he did on a daily basis. That’s probably because he practically does. He’s been doing stuff like this for over a century. Whatever the reason, he didn’t look like someone who had just stolen a phone.

For a brief almost fleeting moment she had the wonderful though that maybe he hadn’t done it and that they would have to make do with using one of their own phones, despite the fact that they knew the Council had them bugged and would be on to their whole set up faster than ants on a cupcake. That thought was quickly discarded as Spike smiled and sat down opposite her.

“’lo Joyce.” She managed a nervous smile but couldn’t bring herself to open her mouth. He smiled gently at her. “Relax ducks, it’s all fine. Nothing went wrong and the lass probably won’t realise her phone’s gone until she gets home anyway.”

Joyce watched uncomfortably as he casually picked up the fork and began eating her untouched lunch. She was itching to get out of the store and away from the crime to which she felt she was an accomplice.

“I can’t see why we can’t just use a payphone,” she finally blurted out as her nerves finally got the better of her, knowing the answer to that already. The call needed to be made from the general area and any of the phones and surrounding payphones were being monitored by the Council.

Spike smiled at her and pushed himself up from the table, leaving the now empty plate and fork to remain on the table. Joyce sighed at his understanding look and stood up, picking up her bag as she went.

“For Buffy,” she said softly to herself as she tried to walk out of the food court without looking too guilty as they passed mall security.

“For Buffy,” Spike agreed.




***




Xander sat crouched in the bushes, ten feet away from the apartment complex that held Buffy, waiting for the hands on his watch to tick over to the hour. Ten more minutes to go. Ten minutes until their plan was put into action. Fifteen minutes until Joyce made the call to the local authorities.

Xander reached up and fingered the pendant that sat around his neck. It was simple enough—a rune carved into a small rock that had been smoothed and shaped so it was a flat, circular disc. It had been secured around his neck by a thin leather strap.

A small nick had been made on his index finger and his blood rubbed into the carving while Giles had muttered some ancient words of another language under his breath. For a few seconds afterwards, it had glowed brilliantly before fading once again and leaving the pendant warm.

So long as it stayed warm and wasn’t removed from his neck, he would be protected against being detected by any security measures the building would have and from the prying eyes of neighbours that might report him to the local police.

He looked down at his watch again. Seven minutes to go. Picking up the canisters of fuel from beside him, he crept out from the bushes slowly.

A quick locator spell had been performed over a map of the complex to ascertain whether Buffy was indeed in there and exactly where she was being held, as well as to see what parts of the building weren’t being used. This section of the building was deserted and therefore their target spot for the decoy that would get them into the building while remaining free of human casualties.

Xander crept up to the side of the building and peered in one of the lower windows. “All clear,” he muttered to himself as he drew back his elbow and sent it careening into the glass. He cursed silently when it impacted but didn’t shatter.

He paused and waited to see if anyone had heard the thump before drawing his arm back and hitting it again. He startled at the amount of noise it made as it shattered and he stopped again as he waited to see if anyone inside had noticed.

He checked his watch again. Five minutes till the hour.

Taking a deep breath he punched out the rest of the shards of glass that had remained stuck in the frame. Reaching down beside him, he picked up one of the fuel canisters and let it drop inside before pulling himself in as well.

The room he had entered was small and clearly a bedroom though it showed no signs of being lived in. Xander let out a sign of relief and quickly crossed to shut the door before running a small amount of the fuel down its wood and onto the carpet in front of it.

Looking around quickly he spied the bed cover and pulled it off spreading it across the floor and dousing it with the petrol. He did the same with the sheets on the bed, leaving one to hang out the window slightly before he emptied the rest of the canister into the room and climbed out the window again.

The second canister was sitting on the ground where he had left it and he made quick work of drenching the outside of the building with its contents.

One minute to go.

He walked back over to the bushes and pulled out the flame thrower he had stolen only a few hours before from the only army base they had in Sunnydale. He donned the pack and took a deep breath before glancing down at his watch one last time.

Six o’clock, half an hour till sunset.

Taking aim at the fuel drenched building, Xander pulled the trigger and let out a burst of flames.

The fuel ignited immediately with a whoosh that had him stumbling backwards to shield his eyes. He stayed long enough to make sure that it was well lit before quickly taking off down the street at a run after dumping the flame thrower in a previously agreed upon location.

The others, minus Joyce and Willow, were waiting in Joyce’s jeep just a few blocks down the street and Xander closed his eyes in relief as he saw them and gave them the signal that his job had been done. The vehicle pulled out from the curb a few minutes later and drove off in the direction from which he had come, as he set off back for the house on Revello drive.



***




Joyce looked at her watch. She was seated in Giles car a block away from where Buffy was being kept. It was five minutes past six, and Joyce pulled out the stolen mobile phone.

Dialling the emergency number she held the phone to her ear.

“Hello? I need help! I have to report a fire!” she said in a panicked voice that wasn’t entirely faked. “An apartment complex is on fire on the corner of…”



***




Willow sat in front of her computer in the Summers’ living room. The clock which has previously been hanging on the wall had been removed and was presently sitting on the table directly next to her lap top as she nervously waited for her time to come.

Five minutes past six o’clock. Joyce had made the phone call.

Willow chewed her lip nervously as she glanced at her computer. It would take Sunnydale’s finest roughly ten minutes to get to the fire. That left her six minutes until she set off the alarm inside the building.

Of all the people they knew who were inside, it was Travers and Hank that they had to be most wary of. They couldn’t be made aware that anything was amiss until the last minute. If they were to put the fire out magically before the authorities arrived, all hope of rescuing Buffy could be ruined. So Willow sat and waited for the clock to show the time to be eleven minutes past six.

Already, the others would be preparing to enter through the back where the fading sun was in no danger of dusting Spike and their easiest point of entry lay. For once, Willow wished she was there with them instead of sitting alone in a house waiting to set off an alarm that would create bedlam within the complex. It was unnaturally quiet except for the steady ticking of the clock that lay on the desk before her.

Xander will be here soon, she thought as she glanced to the centre of the room where the furniture had been cleared and a circle had been marked out with the blood of a lamb. Xander would be coming home to get married to Buffy. If they can get her out a small part of her mind spoke.

She glanced at the clock again. It was eleven minutes past six. Showtime.

Willow put her hands to the keyboard of her computer and began typing in the commands that would set off the alarms inside the apartment complex.

Her task finished, she sat back in her seat and put her hands over her face just as the front door opened and Xander stepped in. They looked at one another and nodded.

“Everything running smoothly?” he asked in a dull, worried voice.

She nodded.

“Everything is right on time.”



***




Buffy lay sedately on her cot as the door to her cage was opened and she was dragged out from inside. She felt so weak—weak and cold. Her flesh felt like it was covered in goose bumps and her eyelids felt too heavy to even bother opening, so she let whoever had her carry her to wherever she was going.

Her tongue ran across her teeth as she swallowed and she was vaguely surprised to find she was in her demon visage as her tongue was nicked on one of her small fangs. Her own blood pooled in her mouth and she groaned as her stomach protested in hunger.

The trip was short and she soon found herself being lowered onto the ground.

“She looks unwell.” Buffy vaguely heard someone say from above her head. The voice sounded familiar and she fought to open her eyes to see who it was.

“It is just a side effect of what I have been feeding her,” another voice answered. Her father. “Better that she is in this state where she is unable to escape than fighting us every step of the way.”

Her body shuddered in protest as everything suddenly came rushing back to her. Her father and Travers. What they were going to do. NO! her mind shouted, even as her body could find no more strength than to utter a small groan.

“Very well,” Travers spoke before there was a short pause in which nobody spoke, and then “do you smell something burning?”

There was another small pause in which he presumably sniffed the air. “The kitchen staff has probably burnt dinner again,” Hank replied in an off-handed voice. “Go ahead and enter the circle with her. Nobody else needs to be present for this besides the three of us.”

Buffy wanted to cry out in protest about what was about to happen, yet she was powerless to stop it. Why am I so weak? What have they done to me? Tears of fear and frustration welled under her closed eyelids and slid down her face.

She heard her father chuckle till his voice was just above her right ear. “Are you ready to become Mrs. Buffy Travers, daughter?”

Oh god, please help me! she screamed mentally, as she tried once more to open her eyes or move her body from the prone position she was stretched out in along the floor. She managed to crack her eyes open enough to glare at him. Her father chuckled at her and walked around to the other side of the circle.

Oh please! Anything! As if answering her prayers, an alarm suddenly went off in the building and the sprinklers in the ceiling began to let out streams of icy cold water.

Her body jerked in surprised at the temperature change and she listened to her father and Travers complaining and questioning each other angrily.

“What the fuck is going on?” Hank yelled as the water broke out. He could hear the sound of sirens in the distance over the wailing of the alarm. “It’s the fire alarm!”

Travers swore under his breath as he looked across the circle at the prone figure of the girl that would be the catalyst for his growth into the power for which he had been destined. A power he wasn’t about to let slip from his grasp.

He was so close.

“Keep going,” he ground out as he levelled his hard gaze on Buffy’s figure. “It will be put out, get on with it!”

For a second, Hank looked as if he were about to refuse, instead he turned back so he was facing the circle and opened his arms as he began to chant.

Inside Buffy wanted to die. With no strength left within her to defend herself, there was no possible hope of getting out of this situation. She heard the melodic sounds of her father’s voice as he chanted out the ritual and she felt the first pulse of magic wash over her.


 
Chapters 25 - 27
 
Chapter 25


Spike growled loudly, shoving his way through the panicking humans that cluttered the hall. He could feel Buffy. Her presence was all around him, teasing him with its closeness yet eluding him when he tried to reach out for her. He couldn’t make out whether she was conscious or hurt and his demon raged beneath his skin to be let out and help its subconsciously chosen mate.

The entire upper floor stunk of magicks. The air was thick with it and without even extending his senses, Spike could tell that the Council had bumped up their schedule and the ritual had begun a night early.

The thought of Buffy being bound to anyone was enough to make Spike’s demon howl with fury, but the idea that she might be bound to someone within the Council ranks so that her power could be abused and used as nothing more than a weapon for their use…

He let the faint sounds of chanting and the thick stench of magicks guide him down the corridor as he concentrated on picking up some trace of her presence. The presence of the Watcher and her friends behind him went practically unnoticed as Spike finally came to stand in front of the door that he knew would lead him to her.

He reached down and tested the door handle—locked. So much for the element of surprise, he thought as he drew back his leg and kicked the door in, tearing it right off its hinges in the process.

His eyes immediately sought the familiarity of her form, looking for reassurance, for solid proof that she was alright. When they landed on her he felt for a moment like the floor had dropped out from beneath him, a jolt of unpleasant tingles pulsed once in his stomach, leaving him with a nauseated feeling as he gazed at her.

Buffy looked dead. Her skin that had once held a golden brown tan was so white that it almost looked blue, and her lips were void of any of their natural rose colour and instead they appeared as translucent as her skin. Her hair was limp, her eyes closed and her skin looked as if it had been stretched across her bones. She looked starved and weak as she lay motionless, completely helpless to what was going on around her.

Spike swallowed heavily and for a split second was frozen in place, unable to help her. Waves of fear threatened to bubble over and fully incapacitate him, but soon he was moving across the room in a blur to get to her.

His demon burst onto his face with a snarl that was equal parts enraged at what he saw and happy at finally being given control.

Without thinking, Spike threw himself at the bastard that could claim parental status over the Slayer, moving quickly to avoid being caught off guard and restrained as he had been when Hank had first taken Buffy.

Hank pulled himself out of the haze of his trance a moment too late to stop the fist aimed at his head from connecting with its target. The blow was brutal, a loud crack emanating through the air as the warlock fell to the ground with a dislocated jaw bone.

Hank moaned in pain as his hand came up to cup his face. His eyes were wide and held a fear in them he had never felt before as he looked up at a demon that he had left for dead and now was defenceless against—unable to chant, unable to whisper an incantation that would see him through this alive.

“You deserve a lot worse that what you’re going to get. But fortunately for you mate, I’m running on a schedule.” A booted foot was slammed down across Hank’s face hard enough to knock him out but not kill him.

Spike’s demon howled miserably from within, wanting to finish the job, but Spike turned away. As much as he wanted to drain the bastard dry, Buffy needed him and Spike wasn’t certain that she had as much time as it would take for him to finish the job properly.

Spike’s eyes fell on Travers as he turned to face the circle once more. The man was on his hands and knees halfway across the circle when he realised he was being watched. A sudden realisation burst into the fore of Spike’s mind upon seeing him and with it an almost overwhelming feeling of sickness as he took in the state of the man.

Sweat was beading across his forehead and dribbling down the side of his face with the exertion that was forced on his body as he became a conduit for the magicks being wielded. He was clad only in black silk pyjama bottoms and intricate designs had been painted in a thin strip down the centre of his chest. There was no random Council lackey to be bound to his Slayer. It was the head honcho himself.

A small snarl curled at Spike’s lips as he began making his way towards Travers.

“You sick bastard!” His voice was low and dangerous. Travers barely flinched though as he returned the vampires glare with his own steely gaze.

Travers slowly pushed himself to his feet within the circle so he could stare directly back at the vampire in a manner that had helped gain him the position as Head of the Watchers’ Council. If there was one thing Quentin knew he was good at it was intimidation.

“I, ah, wouldn’t be doing that if I were you.” The Watcher spoke up as Spike moved to take a step inside the circle. Quentin’s voice was only slightly out of breath as he continued to combat the magicks that were pulsing through his system. There was no way he could even entertain the thought of taking the vampire in a fight in this state and he knew it, not to mention he didn’t have a stake anywhere on his person.

Spike paused and raised a sarcastic eyebrow at him. “Oh?”

“The ritual has begun and there is nothing you can do to stop it. One step inside this circle and you could risk killing us both,” Travers answered motioning to the inert form of the Slayer at his side.

Spike stopped abruptly at the edge of the circle just as he had been about to take a step in and let his eyes flick to the Slayer. “You’re bluffing.”

Quentin let a slow smirk slide onto his features. “Are you prepared to find out?”

Spike looked unsure. His instincts told him it was a bluff, but Buffy’s life hung in the balance so he remained hesitant.

“Yes, wouldn’t want to hurt your precious Slayer now would you? Hank told me all about you. William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers… willingly siding with the Slayer? Somehow that reality doesn’t fit the image I had of you.” Spike shrugged and remained unaffected by the goad as he took up a casual stance despite his tense state.

“Sorry to disappoint,” he said offhandedly in response.

“I never said I was disappointed.” A tense silence settled over them following that statement. Spike’s eyes strayed to the Slayer once more wondering whether it was his imagination or whether she seemed to be getting bluer.

“So, how do you intend to finish your ritual, now? You seem to be one man down,” Spike noted, tossing his head in the direction of Hank’s unconscious form, aware that his time was rapidly running out.

Travers looked over Spike’s shoulder casually and shrugged. “He has played his part. The rest of the ritual can be done without his input. His chanting would have only emphasised the passing of magicks during the…act.” Travers grinned at him.

Spike snarled and went to take a step forward before looking down once more at the ring of dried blood marking the carpet.

“Wouldn’t want to do anything rash now would you, William?” Travers provoked as he walked casually across to the slayer and knelt down beside her as he ran his knuckles down the side of her face. “She really is very beautiful. If not a bit strong willed though, perhaps I can break her of the habit. After all, we will have all of eternity.”

Spike growled again and looked between Travers and the ring of dried blood. He could feel the magicks crackling in the air all around him. The Watcher’s heart was rapidly increasing in pace and his breathing was becoming laboured. His eyes drifted to Buffy’s motionless form once more and Spike made his decision.

“You know what, mate? I think you’re full of shit,” Spike retorted as he deliberately picked up one foot and stepped into the circle. Nothing happened.


***



“No!” Giles got as far as mouthing the word as he burst into the room in time to see Spike step into the circle. To his great shock, however—which was quickly followed by a rapid sinking feeling—nothing happened. Neither Quentin nor Buffy—as far as he could discern—were harmed in any way.

His stomach sunk even lower when he took note of the fact that Quentin’s upper body had been tattooed in an intricate design which would allow him to be the conduit for the magicks being wielded—markings that would allow him to override Buffy’s consent so that he might bind himself to her without opposition.

Giles watched, unable to bring himself to care as he witnessed Spike beat the man senseless. The Watcher turned to the two teens that had arrived behind him.

“Tie Buffy’s father up,” he said, pointing to the man passed out on the floor a few feet away.

“If you think for one second that I would allow something like you—” Giles watched on as Spike paused mid speech to send two closed fist punches across Quentin’s face in rapid succession, “—to lay even one hand on Buffy, you are sorely mistaken.”

Giles tried to stop himself from thinking about the significance of the fact that Spike had been able to enter the ritual circle without causing harm to those already within, as he watched Spike throw Travers out of the circle and head first into the wall on the opposite side of the room.

Spike was by the Slayer’s side within seconds and it was in that moment the Giles realised with some measure of clarity that despite what he wanted, and what they had planned, a decision regarding his Slayer’s binding had been made.


***



Spike gently scooped Buffy up into his arms, wincing slightly as her head flopped lifelessly into the crook of his arm. She felt so cold, even against his own cool skin, which was only room temperature at best.

He narrowed his eyes affectionately on her as he pushed her limp hair out of her face gently. “Come on, kitten. Show me those pretty eyes of yours.”

He frowned when he got no response from her. His eyes searched her face looking for any sign that she had heard what he said but found none. Slowly bringing his wrist up to his mouth morphed into his demon’s guise and bit down so that his blood blossomed and began to flow freely from the wound.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he whispered softly as he lowered his bleeding wrist to her mouth. “Show me you’ll be alright.”

He waited a beat. Two beats.

Then he felt the sluggish swipe of her tongue against his skin as she parted her lips to allow the blood entry into her mouth. Relieved, Spike released the breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding, as she slowly started to drink from the wound.

“There’s my good girl,” he whispered more to himself than anyone else, as his free hand soothingly stroked her hair from her face.

He almost moaned out loud when he felt the sharp sting of her fangs entering his wrist, quickly followed by the pleasure that always came with a bite that was becoming more and more familiar. The shock of it cause him to let out a soft rumbling purr as he turned his gaze back towards hers to find her eyes open and staring at him intently.

“Hey there,” he said softly. She held his gaze for a moment longer before moaning as she shut her eyes, the borrowed blood beginning to slowly bring her body ‘back to life’.

A weak little hand came up to hold his wrist to her mouth and Spike broke out in a smile knowing that it was a sign—at least for him—that she would be able to make a full recovery.

“Spike,” she said softly as she let go.

“Shh, kitten,” he said as he ran the pad of his thumb down the curve of her cheek and across her lips, swiping up the small crimson stain she’d left.

“Don’t ‘shh’ me,” she said with a hint of her usual spunk making its way back in her voice. Spike grinned down at her.

“Why, is there another way you would prefer me to shut you up?” he asked with a playful leer.

“Maybe,” she replied as she drew his head down to her own.




Chapter 26


Spike’s lips lowered to meet Buffy’s without resistance. They touched hesitantly at first, nudging as if to test, before his firm cool lips finally settled over hers.

The kiss stayed gentle and chaste in a slow slanting of lips across the others’ mouth. But it held a promise that was echoed in their eyes as they drew back from one another.

Buffy’s eyes fell shut as Spike lifted his hand slowly to run it down the side of her face again, sweeping her hair back and behind her ear with a soft smile.

“I’m okay,” Buffy mumbled, as if to herself. Her eyes drifted open and locked with the blue of the vampire’s holding her securely in his arms as she looked up at him with shimmering eyes. “You came for me.”

Her smile was watery and Spike returned it with one of his own. “I came.”

Looking up, Spike noted the fact that the Watcher had both older men tied up and gagged before he looked back down at the Slayer in his arms.

“I’m sorry.” Spike looked down at her with a frown at the quietly spoken apology.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for, pet.”

Buffy shook her head gently, squeezing her eyes shut again at the pain that lanced through her with that small movement. “I should’ve…but he was…and I didn’t…I just couldn’t…”

“It’s okay, I understand. But you’ve got nothing to be sorry for. You did what you thought was best to ensure the safety of those that you care about. Never apologize for that,” he said, smiling when she nodded gently. “Time to get you home, pet.”

He hoisted her up into his arms as gently as possible—one arm under the bend in her knees and the other under her back as her head came to rest on his shoulder. He stood slowly, careful of the bundle in his arms, before stepping out of the ritual circle with her.

Everyone in the room watched as it glowed faintly for a moment before disappearing completely.


***



The living room was silent as its three occupants sat lost in their own thoughts. If the plan was a success, Buffy would soon be safely back in their midst. Only once she was returned, someone would need to inform her of the fact that she was then going to be married off to Xander Harris—and Joyce knew that someone would have to be her.

Joyce sighed. Xander was their only option after all, yet looking at him absently stuff corn chips down his throat, she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe there was a better option. Because you have so many of those. Don’t be stupid, Joyce

At least with Xander, Joyce knew that her daughter held some affection for him—and he for her in return—even if it was only the kind one felt for a friend. Given the chance, it could blossom into love one day… hopefully.

Countless scenarios had been playing out in her mind of her daughter being bound to some brainless lackey that the Council controlled. Where she was locked up and used only as a power source for their needs. No, she thought as she shook her head softly, better that she is married to Xander than the Council.

Still, even with these thoughts running through her head, Joyce couldn’t help but feel dissatisfied with the idea of her only daughter being married to Xander. The boy was certainly nice enough—if not a little close minded, bigoted and lacking in table manners—but Buffy held a fire that he couldn’t even begin to match.

Match. That was what was bothering her. Xander was most certainly not Buffy’s match.

He was not her equal in any sense of the word. Where she was brave, he was cowardly. Where she held warmth of fire and passion, he was lukewarm at best. She was a supernatural creature that would live forever, Xander was most certainly not.

Joyce highly doubted that the prophecy had been written about Buffy and Xander. It just didn’t fit, and the more she thought about it the less sense it made.

Joyce could imagine their life together in a few years’ time. Xander—belly-up on the couch like some beached whale—overweight from lack of exercise and too much junk food, and drinking at one o’clock in the afternoon—with a beautiful wife who looked as young as the day he married her.

Rationally, Joyce knew that it probably wouldn’t end up like that between them—not with Xander’s parents being alcoholics—but, she glanced over at him, where he was on his second packet of chips from her cupboard and barely stopping to breathe as he practically inhaled them. She could no more help the wrinkling of her nose at the sight than she could stop a sneeze.

If she could have any say in it, Xander would remain nothing more than a close friend. But the ritual needed to be completed if her daughter was to live, and Xander appeared to be the only viable candidate. Therefore, he would be married to Buffy—and likely before sunrise that morning.

Joyce was pulled from her thoughts at the sound of a car pulling up in the driveway, and she felt a burst of nervous butterflies in her stomach. Joyce watched as Xander and Willow perked up at the sound and she got up as they all quickly made their way over to the door.


***



A horrified gasp rang through out the night as the door was opened in front of them. Joyce stood temporarily paralysed to the spot at the sight of her daughter’s less than stellar condition.

“Let me through, Joyce, I need to get the Slayer up to her bedroom.” Joyce stepped back immediately at the softly spoken request from the vampire. Spike wasted no time in stepping over the threshold and disappearing up the stairs with Buffy in his arms.

Joyce turned back to watch as Giles made his way through the door with a still-unconscious Travers slung over his shoulder.

“Wha—?” Joyce began, only to stop as Giles’ entrance was immediately followed by that of Oz and Cordelia, dragging in the form of her ex-husband. “Oh my God! Are they dead?”

“Unfortunately, no.” Buffy’s mother turned confused eyes toward the Watcher in question.

“Unfortunately?” she squeaked out.

“Oh thank GOD!” Cordelia interrupted as she dropped Hank’s legs the minute she stepped inside the door. “Do any of you realise how heavy that guy is? I’m going to get man muscles in my arms if I carry him any longer!”

The small group watched as she flounced out of the room to dramatically flop down on the couch.

“I’ll explain in a minute,” Giles supplied, when all except Oz looked back at him for answers, “but first we need to tie these two up in the basement before they come to.”


***



Spike let the voices coming from the others downstairs fade into the background as he made his way up the stairs, kicking open the door to Buffy’s room. It was the first time he had entered it and as he looked around at the things with which she surrounded herself, he decided that it told him absolutely nothing about the girl that he held in his arms.

The room was the room of Buffy Summers the girl, not the Slayer. This was the room of the face she presented to everyone—a normal 17-year-old girl on the cusp of becoming a woman. There were hints of the child she had been in the few toys that were still randomly dispersed throughout the room, posters of her favourite bands stuck up on the wall, and a large double bed with virginal white sheets still stretched out across the mattress. But it was as if time had stood still once she had been called.

If Spike looked closely though, he could see hints of the Slayer he knew her to be. The multitudes of crosses hanging from her dressing table, the small bottle on her nightstand that he knew didn’t contain plain water, but rather holy water meant to be used against his kind, the tee shirt thrown into the corner of the room that was stained with traces of her blood. Those items belonged to the Slayer.

Crossing the room quickly, Spike laid Buffy out on the bed trying not to jostle her any more than necessary, and slowly peeled off his duster that he had wrapped around her small frame to try and bring some warmth back into her overly cold skin.

“There you go, sweetheart.” She made a small murmuring sound in response as he brushed a light kiss over her forehead.

“Stay,” she mumbled softly. He smiled and ran his hand down the side of her cheek.

“I’ll be right back, kitten. I need to go get some blood.” He hovered over her for a minute longer as he watched her fall back into the limbo between consciousness and oblivion.

Sighing, Spike took a step back and turned to see Joyce standing in the doorway to the Slayer’s room. Her hand was covering her mouth in shock as she gazed at her little girl stretched out on the bed and looking to all the world as if she were dead.

“Joyce?” Spike called softly, trying not to startle her out of the dazed state into which she seemed to have fallen. She didn’t respond to him, unable to tear her eyes away from her daughter’s body and the clothing that usually fit her curves snugly now hanging loosely around her body.

“Joyce?” This time she turned to look at him with horror in her eyes as he laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “It looks a lot worse than it is. I’ll have her right as rain in no time.”

“She…she looks…” She didn’t seem to be able to finish the thought that she was forming as her eyes were pulled back to her daughter. Spike frowned and gave her shoulder a light squeeze.

“Why don’t you sit with her while I nick down to the kitchen and pick up some blood packets, yeah? She floats in and out, but once I get some blood into her she’ll be more alert.” The woman nodded and moved further into the room.

Spike hesitated in the doorway for a moment, unwilling to leave either of the women alone before logic won out and he turned and made his way out the door.

He could hear the hushed tones of the witch and the cheerleader talking in the lounge as he made his way down the stairs and the sound of Giles talking to the other two in the basement as they dealt with the wankers who were responsible for his Slayer’s state.

Spike let out a small growl as he thought about visiting them later. But not now. The Slayer needs you. Despite the circumstances, that thought sent a rush of pleasure through him and brought a reluctant half smile to his lips.

He ground to a halt as he entered the kitchen, finding Xander sitting on the bench rather than down stairs like the others. Spike eyed him warily, his demon snapping and raging within him to deal with the thing that was stopping him from taking the Slayer as his own. The urge to challenge him over his rights was strong but he was well versed when it came to suppressing such urges. If being with Drusilla for over a century had taught him anything, it was control.

Briefly, thoughts of his sire danced across his mind as he wondered where she was now that her daddy was finally dust. Angelus had been everything she lived for; he influenced everything she did and Spike couldn’t imagine Dru being able to live in a world where Angelus no longer existed. In his mind, the most plausible theory was that she had dusted herself after she had felt him disappear; but, Spike knew it not to be true for he still felt the deep-seated connection he held with her through the childe/sire bond.

“How is she?” Spike was pulled from his musings as the whelp addressed him and once more he had to fight down the urge to slip into his demon’s visage. He didn’t know what he had been expecting from the boy, but he hadn’t been expecting the subdued tone that rang through clearly.

“She’ll be fine as soon as I get some blood into her,” he replied tightly as he made his way over to the fridge, his ‘big bad’ persona in full swing.

He watched out of the corner of his eye as the boy just nodded solemnly, looking down at the hands that rested in his lap. “So, how do you feel knowing it’s you?” he asked finally.

Spike frowned and turned to look at him. “It’s me?”

“Yeah, what with being able to step into the circle and all.” The boy wasn’t making sense—of that much Spike was sure—but he had the feeling that he needed to hear what was being said.

“I tried to tell Giles originally that you guys felt something for one another, but he turned into Mr. Denial Man and told me to shut up. Guess he can’t ignore this, though.”

“Ignore what, exactly?” Spike asked as he absentmindedly closed the fridge.

Xander looked up at him and frowned. “You don’t know?”

“Would I ask if I bloody well did?” Xander grew silent suddenly and couldn’t meet the vampire’s eyes. “Whelp?”

“The prophecy. It’s talking about you. You’re the one that is supposed to be bound to Buffy. Not me”




Chapter 27


Spike paused outside the Slayer’s room and took a deep breath to calm his suddenly frazzled nerves. Unexpectedly, what had seemed impossible only a few minutes ago was becoming reality—he was the one that was getting married to the Slayer.

It was what he wanted. It was what the demon wanted. He just didn’t know if it was what Buffy wanted. The possibility of rejection loomed, and Spike didn’t know if his heart—still the heart of a poet and romantic—could withstand being rejected once again.

If anything, the Slayer was one who liked to have as much control as possible over the events which occurred in her life because of the fact that she had no control over those related to her calling. Being told that she had to marry someone was enough to make her balk on its own. Add him into the mix…

The conversation with Xander was replaying in his head as he tried to force himself to come to terms with what the boy had told him.


“You’re sure?” Spike couldn’t help but ask again, the tone of disbelief more than evident in his voice as he stared at the whelp suspiciously.

“I got it from Book Man himself,” Xander promised. “Apparently you being able to enter the circle without killing Buffy or Travers is significant somehow in Giles-speak, I didn’t really catch the particulars.”

“So he wasn’t bluffing,” Spike seemed to speak to himself.

“Who? Giles?” Xander asked suddenly lost on who they were talking about.

“Never mind,” Spike said after a beat. Swiping the packets of blood off the bench he let his usual cocky mask slip effortlessly over his features. “I have a Slayer to feed,” he said as he turned and swept out of the room just as the basement door opened and Giles stepped through.

“Was that Spike?” the blonde heard his fellow Brit ask even as he made his way up the stairs, his feet carrying him quickly away from the kitchen.


Spike shut his eyes against the fact that he had run away from the Watcher and the questions that he knew he would have to face eventually. He needed time. He had to process what he had just heard and prepare himself for the rejection that was more than likely to occur when the Slayer found out she had to get married.

Knocking lightly on her bedroom door, he was surprised when he opened it to find the Slayer’s eyes open and alert. Joyce was sitting on the edge of the bed and gave her daughter’s hand a small squeeze as Spike walked in before getting up and moving out of the room.

Spike watched her leave, only turning to the girl before him once the door had closed and Joyce was no longer left in sight.

“Hey,” he said softly as he came to take up the position her mother had just vacated.

“Hey,” she said softly in return. He couldn’t bring himself to meet her eyes as he placed two of the blood bags on her bedside table as he drained the third quickly.

“Here,” he said, holding his wrist out to her.

Buffy looked for a moment as if she were about to say something, a question already poised on her lips, but she swallowed the impulse. Grasping the proffered wrist in her cold hands she lowered it to her mouth, her lips skimming over the vacant pulse point gently before her tongue swept out and followed its path.

Spike fought the urge to let his eyes roll up into the back of his head as he let out a breathy moan. She was being overly sensual by letting her lips run across his skin in the barest of caresses and he had to wonder what she was up to.

Finally settling her mouth over the place she wanted, she slipped into her demon features.

Spike felt her change run through him and he opened his eyes to look at her when the expected bite didn’t come. The moment her eyes locked with his, she bit down on his wrist letting the rich blood spill into her mouth and slide down her throat.

A hoarse groan was pulled from his throat at the sensation and his eyes slammed shut in pleasure.

Buffy never let her eyes leave his face as she watched the myriad of emotions settle over it. Knowing that she could bring him such pleasure with nothing but her bite made her feel feminine and powerful and she relished the feel of it.

Spike blindly reached for another blood bag and tore into it as Buffy continued to drink from him. Little whimpers emanated from his throat that he couldn’t control, nothing beat the feel of her teeth lodged deep within him, drawing life from his death.

He let her drink for as long as possible, draining the final blood bag much the same as he had the second until he felt that she had consumed as much as he could give her without growing weak himself.

He let out a soft growl, warning her to pull back and was amazed when she did so reverently, swiping her tongue over her mark before leaving a soft kiss on top of it.

He opened his eyes to gaze at her through a haze of lust and love as she pulled herself into a sitting position. The blue slowly fading from her skin as his blood went to work on her body, bringing her back to life before him as it lent her the strength she needed to recover.

“Better?” He asked in an embarrassingly breathy voice as he fought to reign in his rampant desire for her and the erection that was straining painfully against the material of his jeans.

“Did you know?” she asked, simply ignoring his question completely.

Buffy smiled softly when he tilted his head at her in a silent request to elaborate.

“Did you know about the…hand fasting? With Xander?”

Spike swallowed as he looked away from her frank expression. To tell her or not to tell her? Did he want her to reject him now or later? Did he even believe what the whelp had told him?

“Yes,” he said finally as be brought his eyes up to hers again. “The ritual—if you don’t do it you could die, pet.”

Buffy began to worry her bottom lip between her teeth as she looked down at his hand, which was resting on the doona covering her legs.

“If I had a choice—,” she began, slowly bringing her eyes up to meet his again, “if I had a choice it would have been you.”

Spike’s eyes widened in shock at her confession, before narrowing affectionately on her “Buffy—”

“I know how you feel about Dru, and that you don’t see me in that way, but I still would’ve wanted it to be you.” His mouth curved up in a small smile as he brushed her hair out of her face.

In that moment she reminded him very much of the 17-year-old girl she was underneath it all. Her innocent confession was touching and he found it lending him the courage to reassure her that it was what he wanted as well.

“Dru’s not part of my life anymore, kitten,” he said as he leaned down to press his lips gently to hers. “I would have wanted it to be me, too.”

And with any luck, he thought as she responded to his kiss, her lips meeting his in rushed desperation to feel as much of him as she could,what the whelp said will be true and it will be me.


***



“Joyce, do you have a moment?” Joyce nodded and let herself be led into the dining room away from the rest of the occupants in house.

“What is it?” she asked as she pulled out a chair and sat down at the table.

“It’s about the ritual. I’m afraid Xander can’t be the one to take part in it.” Her eyes went wide as she took in what Giles was saying before they narrowed on him suspiciously.

“I hope you’re not insinuating what I think you are. Apart from Xander, Mr. Giles, you are the only other option we have on our list.”

If she hadn’t been so serious, the way Giles recoiled from her would have almost been comical.

“Good god, woman! No!” he said as he practically tore his glasses off his face in his rush to polish them, dropping them in the process. “To even think such a thing is unspeakable! Buffy is like a daughter to me, to even consider her in that manner—”

“As long as we understand each other.” Giles’ eyes snapped to Joyce’s, and he felt a shiver pass down his spine at the dangerous look she held in her eyes. It spoke of a world of pain and he couldn’t help but feel slightly afraid of her.

“Yes, quite.” An uncomfortable silence seemed to settle between them for a moment as neither spoke a word, unable to move on from what had just been said.

“So, the ritual?” Joyce finally prompted.

“Yes, well as I was saying…If you remember back to our research we did on the ritual, you’ll remember the part stating that no being may enter the circle after the ritual has been started as the it disrupts the flow of magicks and almost always is fatal to the pair being bound.”

Joyce nodded. “Yes, go on.”

“There is an exception to that rule.” He paused and took a deep breath before pulling out the chair beside her so he could sit and bring himself down to her level. “Magick can do a lot of things, both dangerous and wonderful. It can build worlds, fabricate entire memories, form flesh for that which has none, coerce people into believing things or doing things that the wouldn’t otherwise even dream of doing, but the one thing it can fabricate or force is love. True love—the kind that is real, and deep and goes beyond just the surface attraction that most feel.”

He paused to check if she was following, and at her quick nod, he continued.

“When we got to Buffy—or when Spike got there, rather—Hank and Travers had already started the ritual. Travers planned to bind your daughter to himself, and the strip of markings that are drawn on his chest are symbols that hold the power to override certain magicks of the ritual so that Buffy need not have any input for it to be completed.”

“That son of a bitch! I ought to rip his head off and shove it—” She went to push herself away from the table so she could storm down into her basement, but the soft hand on her forearm stayed her movements and she returned herself to her seat to finish listening to what Giles had to say, silently vowing that she would rip the Council head a new one after Giles had explained.

He gave her an empathetic smile as she begrudgingly motioned for him to continue.

“Regardless of that fact, none of us should have been able to enter the ritual circle that had been marked out onto the floor without potentially killing both Buffy and Travers. Spike did though, and that indicates that not only does he feel more than just a simple… affection for your daughter, but she reciprocates those feelings too.” Giles sighed as he placed his glasses on the table and ran his hands over his face tiredly. “Joyce, I cannot in good conscience bind Buffy and Xander together when there is a chance that she will find greater happiness in someone else’s arms—despite the fact that he is a vampire.”

“Oh thank God,” Joyce sighed as she slumped back into her seat and closed her eyes. “Xander’s a good boy but he just isn’t right for Buffy.”

Giles gave her a smile and rested an understanding hand on her shoulder. “I know. And as much as I will vehemently deny this if you breathe a word of it to anyone—Spike is a good match for her. She is more than just a human with super powers now, she is immortal and needs someone who won’t leave her to live out the rest of her days alone after we have all passed on.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Joyce said with a relieved smile.

“Someone will, of course, need to inform them both. Let us hope that they won’t prove stubborn on this point,” Giles remarked, as he stood up from the table once more.

Joyce followed suit, letting out an unladylike snort at his comment. “Buffy not stubborn? Oh look, I think a pig just flew past our window!”

 
Chapters 28
 
Chapter 28


The first thing that Quentin Travers became aware of was the sticky feeling of blood and sweat as it rolled down the side of his face only to dry half way and leave his skin feeling tight.

He was hot—uncomfortably so—despite the room he was in being quite cool. His body was slick with perspiration and the pressure beneath his skin seemed to pulsate in time with his heartbeat as his body thrummed back into awareness.

Despite the pain in his body, however, it was the realisation to which he came that made his stomach drop with a cold pit of dread.

Travers held no false hopes that the magick his body had been fighting to handle before his impromptu voyage into the land of unconsciousness had left his body. He could feel the energy crackling beneath the layers of his skin, pulsing and growing in its urgent need to find an outlet.

Regardless of his beliefs regarding one William the Bloody, Travers held no misconceptions that the vampire could have known the implications resulting in his actions when he forced Travers to exit the ritual circle. However, the result was no less effective. Without the aide of an outlet to release the magicks trapped within him, Travers knew he was little more than a dead man on borrowed time.

He knew damn well that any hope he had of completing the ritual was gone, and for a grown man—one whom was well into the acceptable age of retirement—he pondered for a moment the absurdity of how the sudden urge to throw a tantrum can overwhelm you at the most obscure times.

He had just come to the unavoidable truth that without help he would likely die in a few hours, yet at that moment he felt like doing nothing more that throwing himself onto the ground and kicking and screaming like a child about the unfairness of it all.

Travers had been planning this for what seemed like his whole adult life after he was accepted into the ranks as a Watcher. Years and years had been spent researching only to come to the realisation that his time would likely come and go before the events foretold in the prophecy could even be put in motion.

To have the dream swept out beneath him after only a few short days of hope that it would be him and it would be completed was beyond cruel in his book.

Who the hell did these people think they were? Did they even read the rest of the prophecy? Did they even know what this girl would bring about? What it would mean for the Council and therefore the greater good of the world? Or did they know and just not care?

He felt the sudden pulse of the magicks still trapped within him strengthen at the same moment a wave of fury washed over him. The effect left him gasping for breath as he slumped back against the post he was tied to like some ritual sacrifice.

He let his eyes move sluggishly across to the man trussed up opposite him.

Hank Summers looked dead—skin flushed white, eyes closed and almost any movement barely nonexistent. If Travers looked closely, though, he could see the steady rise and fall of the man’s chest that told him that though alive, he was still out cold.

Deep purple and blue shading had begun to spread across Hank’s jaw, tinged in areas with a mustard yellow hue. Travers could only imagine what his own face looked like if that was what one punch had accomplished. The vampire had taken great pleasure in hitting him repeatedly before the grand finish that had left him unconscious and sentenced him to a painful death.

Try as he might, Travers couldn’t wrap his head around why the vampire was there at all, why he had aligned himself with the Slayer in the first place. The lack of repercussions from his entrance into the circle told him enough of why he would be interested in preserving her life now, but he could not bring himself to believe that any such feelings had developed before their abnormal truce.

While it was documented that vampires and slayers had worked together in the past, it was usually due to the slayer’s descent into darkness, not the vampire’s ascent into the light.

William the Bloody was certainly an anomaly. One that would have to be studied by someone that was not Travers and not destined to die from the strain that magicks could put on the body if left unchecked too long.
Travers momentarily contemplated trying to escape and finding the first helpless woman he came across and using her body as a means of saving himself. The idea was quickly dismissed. While he had no qualms about the plan itself, he had no doubt that he was currently tied to a post in the Slayer’s basement and therefore knew it would be impossible to even think of making it out of his bindings, let alone the house.

A mirthless chuckle was torn from his lips as he felt another pulse from the trapped magicks echo through his body. How quickly tides could change.

“I see that you are managing to keep your spirits up despite the situation you have landed yourself in.” Travers looked up at the sudden appearance of Rupert Giles standing at the bottom of the basement stairs.

There was little inflection in his voice which would suggest what he was thinking one way or another. Giles’ face was a blank canvas. No expression marked his features, and it was difficult for Travers to know one way or another how the end was going to play out.

“Mr. Giles, so nice to see that your manners are still at the same standard as the were when we last met,” he spat out in a sarcastic voice, feeling the need to get the first word in and prove he wasn’t afraid of one of his own employees.

“Excuse me if I could care less regarding your comfort during your…stay here. Did you expect anything more after what you attempted to do to my Slayer?”

So it would be anger that won out in the end, Travers mused as he blinked away the sweat that had beaded on his forehead and begun to run down into his face and into his eyes, blurring his vision for a moment.

“Your Slayer?” Travers scoffed. “She is the property of the Council, and as Head of the Council it is my prerogative to do with her what I will. I saw an opening which I could use as means of increasing the Council’s power, and I took it. You, Rupert, and your little gang of teenagers having interfered with such a project will be subject to the appropriate punishment—”

“Oh shut up, you pompous wanker.” Irritation flashed over Giles’ features as he ripped his glasses off his face. “I can assure you that once this is over you will no longer be in charge of the Council and therefore your threats as to me or any of Buffy’s friends receiving punishment are idle at best. What you attempted to do was done with no more drive than the desire to expand your own power.”

The steely gaze Travers turned on him did little to shake Giles as he stood firm.

“You may be partly right, as such power was alluring in itself but the prophesized effects her transformation will have on everything you know will be far greater than my rise to power.” Quentin paused for a moment to let that piece of information sink in, knowing that he had just revealed something of which the other man had no knowledge. “It’s not too late to right the mistake though. All that needs to be done to complete the ritual is for you to untie me—.”

The force of the blow snapped his head to the side with such violence that the side of his face seemed to go numb for a minute. Travers coughed as he tried to recover, not surprised to see his blood decorating the floor. He was more than certain it had loosened a few teeth.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t even think of completing that sentence,” Giles’ said coldly as he stepped back from the head Watcher once more.

Despite the pain exploding through the side of his face, Travers managed a chuckle.

“What are you going to do, Rupert? Bind her to one of your children and hope it all works out for the best? Or maybe yourself? You know as well as I do that if the ritual isn’t completed by tonight she won’t last…and if she does she will be the cause of our downfall.”

Giles chose to ignore that with which Travers was trying to bait him. “If you must know, it is neither of the options you just presented. Spike will be the one with whom she completes the ritual.”

“SPIKE! You are binding the Slayer to William the Bloody? The slayer of slayers? Are you insane, man?”

“No more than you, I can assure you.” Travers felt the magicks pulsing and crackling within him as they fought their way through his system to find an outlet. He knew he had to calm himself, less that bring an end to him all together. He gasped for breath as the magick began to expand, rising to stick in his throat, which was growing tighter by the second.

“Oh God,” he managed to gasp out as his body was wracked with contractions as it attempted to overcome the tightening chest pain. “I’m dying, you fool! This is murder if you let me die!” he gasped out through gritted teeth to an apathetic Giles.

“No, it would be suicide. You did this all yourself, Travers. I do believe that the magicks caught in your body are causing you to have some form of heart attack,” Giles said as he calmly drew out his handkerchief and began the familiar routine of polishing his glasses.

Tears streamed down Travers’ face as another squeezing pain gripped his chest. “I wasn’t the one who stepped out of the circle! You are willingly binding your slayer to the vampire responsible for my death and the death of thousands before and after me. Do something!”

“I am.” A look of horror washed over Travers’ face at the amused note he could hear in the other Watcher’s voice. “I’m doing several things actually. I’m cleaning my glasses, and I’m also trying to remember if I finished all the brandy in the decanter upstairs—,” he paused and held his glasses up to the light to check for any dirt on the lenses before placing them back onto his face. “I’m contemplating what could have possessed you to ever think you could come after my slayer and get away with it. But above all, I’m doing my job. I’m watching.”

His smile was cold and unforgiving and it was in that moment that Travers realised that he was going to die and Giles would do nothing but stand there and watch.


***



Xander watched from the door way as Cordelia chatted animatedly with Willow on the couch. A week ago Willow and Cordy had avoided each other like the plague. Now, after spending a week together in forced company, the girls seemed to have formed a bond that had brought them closer together, possibly even made them friends.

“Cordy?” The smile she was wearing when she looked at him made his breath hitch and for the first time since Giles had informed him that it would be Spike to whom Buffy would be bound, Xander felt the feeling of inadequacy leave him.

It didn’t matter if he wasn’t ‘special’ anymore. When Cordy smiled at him like that, he felt just as special—if not more so—than any guy who was prophesized could feel.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?” She gave Willow a shy look that was uncharacteristic to her normal behaviour and nodded as she got up off the couch and walked towards him.

Xander took her by the hand and pulled her out onto the back decking with him.

“Cordy,” he breathed again as he pulled her to him and hugged her fiercely. He buried his nose in her hair and in inhaled the scent of her perfume and shampoo.

She seemed shocked at first as her arms hesitantly wound themselves around his shoulders until she too was gripping him with just as much force.

“It’s not me,” he said finally

“What?” she asked as she pulled back so she could look him in the face.

“It’s not me who has to do the ritual,” he said with a small smile on his face as he waited expectantly for her response.

“Oh,” she uttered in a shocked voice.

“Oh?” he repeated in confused question. His brows furrowing as he looked at her to try and decipher what she was saying.

“Yeah. Oh,” she repeated with more determination.

“I thought you’d be happy,” he let go of her completely as he stepped back.

“Well I got over you, I guess.” Her arms crossed over her chest haughtily as she affected an uninterested pose he had seen her do thousands of times before with other guys. Now she was doing it with him.

“You got over me?” he could hear the hurt in his own voice and prayed to god she hadn’t noticed it too.

“Uh-huh,” she supplied flippantly, bruising his ego and self esteem even further.

Suddenly unsure what to do with his hands, he slipped them into the pockets of his jeans. “Oh.”

“What? Did you think I was going to waste my time pining over someone who was getting married?” she asked, her own voice cracking slightly on the last word. But he was too far gone in his own feelings to hear it.

He swallowed heavily and shook his head. “I guess not.”

“Because that would be stupid.”

“I guess so.” He looked away from her and to the kitchen door, his only means of escape from the conversation that had gone seriously wrong. “I guess I’ll go back inside then.”

“What are you dumb or something?” she yelled at him, causing him to spin around to face her again. “You’re just going to walk away and leave me standing here?”

He felt like a deer caught in headlights under the wrath of Cordelia and unsure which answer she wanted “Yes? No? Well, what else am I meant to do?”

“I don’t know! Tell me I’m wrong and that I shouldn’t have gotten over you!” He looked at her like she had grown a second head, unable to keep up or comprehend when the hell he was meant to be doing.

“Yeah, well what good would that have done? You’re over me,” he stated as his own anger started to take hold.

“Damn straight I am!” she yelled back at him in an indignant voice.

He rolled his eyes and threw his hand in the air “Well fine!”

“Fine!” She screamed back, not to be out done.

“Okay then,” he said as he went to turn away again. Cordelia let out a screech of frustration as she stomped after him, grabbed him by the shoulder, and swung him around to face her again.

“Damn you Xander Harris,” she muttered, moments before her lips crashed down over his. They both struggled for the dominance neither would willingly relinquish as they pushed themselves up against the side of the house.

“So you’re not over me?” he asked breathlessly as he pulled back.

“Oh, I so am,” she answered before lowering her mouth to his again.


***



Buffy let out a soft moan as she felt Spike’s hand slip under the material of her shirt to rest on the warmed skin at the small of her back. She felt flushed all over, tingly in all the right places. His hands roaming across the bare expanse of her skin underneath her clothing raising goose bumps along her flesh as she recalled the day she had lay in her bed and touched herself while he was only a few floors below.

A shaky moan left her lips as Spike’s tongue darted out to trace the exposed line of her collarbone following it before continuing up the curve of her throat. Shivering in pleasure, Buffy felt him give a soft possessive growl against the skin of her neck before nipping at it lightly.

“Want to make you mine so much, kitten,” he whispered against her skin before their lips crashed together once more, bruising and biting in their desperation to consume.

“Spike,” her whimpered plea shot straight through him as she set her hands to wander down his chest to slip under the black cotton of his tee shirt.

“Can’t though, don’t want to do anything that might bollocks up the ritual,” he noted as he nipped at her bottom lip before latching onto it with his teeth and sucking it back into his mouth so they could engage in another hurried kiss that had her yearning for more.

“Don’t talk about that,” she mumbled against his lips as she dragged her fingernails across the cool hard skin of his chest. Her lips travelled over his once more, as her hands searched out the feel of his body against hers. He growled in approvement at the act as his hands moved up to tangle in her hair.

Joyce froze in the doorway to the room before quickly shutting the door quietly so as not to disturb the two on the bed. Her little girl was all grown up—she’d known it before, but….her little girl was all grown up. She couldn’t deny it any longer, there was simply nothing that screamed ‘innocent exploration and experimentation’ in that kiss…her little girl was all grown up. Well, at least we know now that they’re not going to have a problem with being married.

Joyce took a deep breath before lifting her hand to knock on the door. She lowered it again before she could make contact with the wood. Maybe I should come back later—no, best to stop it now before they get carried away. You can do this.

Lifting her hand once more, she rapped sharply on the wood trying to ignore the scurried movements she could hear behind the door.

“Buffy?” she asked as she poked her head in. Spike and Buffy were practically on opposite sides of the room with him leaning against her dresser while she sat up in bed. “Can I talk to you both?”


***



Giles glanced down at the prophecy laid out before him. There was more to it, more to be decoded. More that could possibly be of some relevance which needed to be addressed before the ritual went ahead that night. At least that was what he believed based upon what Travers had hinted before he had died of a magical overload to his body.

He looked down at his watch—it was 5 a.m. He had roughly twelve hours to decipher and translate the prophecy before the ritual was to begin.

He didn’t want to admit it. He was a proud man and he didn’t like asking for help regardless of the circumstances. In this case he didn’t know which was worse; the fact that he would need the help or the fact that it was Spike who he would have to ask.

Sighing, Giles made his way into the kitchen to brew himself a much needed pot of coffee that would help keep him awake for the next twelve hours.

He would wait until Joyce had returned from breaking the news to both Buffy and Spike and prayed to God that Buffy would take it okay. The last thing he wanted was to bind his slayer—his daughter—to a vampire. But he needed this reassurance that it what she preferred.

Giles winced as he heard a shriek come from upstairs promptly followed by a thump. Didn’t take it so well then, he thought as he moved to the fridge to pull out the milk for his coffee. The giggling he heard next caused him to stop in his tracks and listen. Yes, what he was hearing was most definitely giggling and it was coming from his Slayer.

“She took it well.” He turned to a smiling Joyce in the doorway and couldn’t help the smile that found its way onto his face.

“So it seems.”













 
Chapters 29
 
Chapter 29



“I can’t believe I am doing this.” At the redhead’s statement, Cordy looked up from the candle she was lining up. Willow’s nose was wrinkled in distaste as she measured the distance between the candles she had placed down and aligned with Cordy’s, which were standing opposite hers.

“What, setting up the room for the ritual?” the brunette asked as she stood up once more and walked across the room to retrieve another two white pillar candles.

“No…well, yes,” Willow sighed and Cordy gave her a confused look. “But it’s more than that! I’m helping to set up a room for my best friend so that she can do the do the wild thing in it with a vampire. It’s kinda wiggy.”

Oz smiled affectionately at his girlfriend as he leaned over to brush a kiss across her forehead, running his hand absently down the back of her hair. She was forever say things that made him fall in love with her all over again. He gave her a soft smile as she turned her green eyes on him before he left to get another bundle of apple tree twigs.

A ring of twigs had been placed around the outer edge of the circle of blood, the circle they created was meant to symbolise the never ending devotion between the two being bound. Outside of that was a ring of ten white pillar candles that had been spaced evenly to help symbolise purity and loyalty within the bond.

The extra additions to the circle weren’t necessary to the ritual, but they would help with the flow of magicks and took away from the look of the ring of dried blood on the floor. It had taken the group next to no time to decide that if Buffy was going to do the nasty, the least they all felt they could do was make the room look nicer. And it did; it reminded Willow of something you’d expect to find in some enchanted fairytale.

“I am right there with you,” Xander said as he sprinkled rose petals—both red and white—around the circle. “Not that it bothers me,” he amended quickly at the glare that was shot in his direction from his girlfriend. “It just bothers me. Am I meant to be saying something while I throw these thingies around?”

Willow shook her head as she stood and picked up the other bowl of rose petals. “Nope, just scatter them.”

“What, the fact that she is having sex with a vampire bothers you? Or that you’re setting the room up for it?” Cordelia was standing with a hand on her hip, eyebrows raised questioningly at her boyfriend, waiting for his response.

“Both,” Xander supplied, blatantly ignoring her irritated look.

“I don’t see what the bid deal is, she has no choice. If she doesn’t she’ll die. Way I figure, it’s better if we make the room all pretty and nice smelling to get rid of the icky blood look it had going on before.”

“It’s the principle of the thing though, Cordy. We’re preparing the room for our best friend to have sex in it. Sure, we know she has to do it and that they’d probably end up going at it like bunnies eventually…” Cordy snorted and looked in the direction from which they could all hear giggles emanating. “At least then they could prepare the room for themselves! It’s on the same wig scale as setting the room up for your sister to have sex in, or your parents!”

The last comment prompted a chorus of ‘ews!’ from around the room.

“Ew, gross! You’re scarring me. As far as I’m concerned, my parents don’t have sex! Ever! All I can say is I’m glad we won’t be here for the big event tonight. Talk about uncomfortable…and gross. I have no desire to ever see that much of Buffy!” Cordy said as she stepped back to admire her work. “We should burn some incense, it kinda smells in here, don’t you think?”

“Why don’t you set up some Barry White while you’re at it?” Xander’s comment earned him a hard thump across the back of his head, and a glare from both of the females in the room. “I’m joking!”

Xander looked across at Oz for help. “So not going there,” the shorter man said as a small smirk of amusement crossed his stoic features.

“Are you four almost done?” Giles asked as he entered the room.

“Everything is good to go G-man.” Giles shot Xander a withering glare but did not comment on the nickname.



***




Buffy lifted her gaze to Spike as he entered the room, and despite everything offered him a shy smile. Spike smiled back at her. It was one of the things he was beginning to absolutely love about her, how she could get right in your face and kick some vampire’s arse without flinching but at other times be so completely feminine. It was enchanting. She was enchanting.

“So, I guess we should do this then?” Buffy asked, tearing her eyes away from Spike to look up at her surrogate father. He gave her a small smile.

“Whenever you’re both ready,” Giles said softly.

She looked back to Spike who held his hand out to her.

“Ready, love?” She answered him by stepping forward and grasping his hand. Together they both stepped over into the circle that the others had spent so much time setting up.

Buffy found herself almost frozen under Spike’s intense gaze, amazed that she could provoke such a look from a man. He looked both hungry and affectionate at the same time. Like this was more to him than just fulfilling a duty.

The thought did more than just warm her as she took her spot, kneeling across from him. She could only hope that he could read the emotions in her eyes as clearly and know that it likewise was no longer about fulfilling a duty for her either.

“Adustum,” Giles muttered beneath his breath, and watched as the candles around the circle burst to life. Looking up, he motioned for the two within the circle to hold hands.

“Beings of fire, incite love and passion in your own all-consuming ardour,” Giles began as he started to pour sand in intricate patterns around the circle. “We call upon you in the guise of Eros, kindler of desire, bringer of love, join us here and witness this bonding.”

He put the sand down and took up the rose water that had been bought for the occasion, sprinkling it on the glyphs that he had mapped out around the circle as he said each point.

“Here before your view, tie closely these bonds: Heart to thee, soul to thee, body to thee, forever and always, now as together make one.” The glyphs he had laid out glowed as he sprinkled them with the rose water before they disappeared altogether.

Having completed the appropriate incantation for the ritual, Giles looked up at Buffy and Spike. He felt like an intruder under the looks they were casting in the other’s direction—it was a private moment between them, one he felt uncomfortable witnessing. He picked up his bag quickly and walked over to the front door, knowing they would not notice him leave but casting one last look back at them before he walked out.

Buffy and Spike could both feel the magicks crackling through their bodies. It crawled over them like the flames of a fire, igniting the skin and bringing it to life. As expected, neither noticed Giles quietly slip out of the room before leaving the house all together.

Spike reached out his hand, running it down the side of Buffy’s face before drawing her across to him and into his lap. A heady gasp was torn from her throat the moment their skin touched, setting ablaze something deep within her. The energy that sparked between them was tangible.

He pulled her towards him, her legs falling either side of his own. Her head was arched back exposing her throat to him and her eyes shut as she let the echoes of his touch flow through her body.

Neither seemed to notice how the other’s eyes were glowing.

He lifted his hand and pushed back the golden strands of her hair as he leaned down to let his lips trail the length of her throat in a gentle caress. Her smell was intoxicating—like vanilla and the air just after it rained. He had never smelled anything quite like it, and felt sure he never would again.

Leaning forward slowly, he brushed his lips across the taut skin of her neck, his lips following up the line of her throat. Her head rolled to the side as she groaned, her eyes opening and pulling back to focus on his.

Words seemed beyond them, as they communicated through a series of growls and moans. She nipped at the pad of the thumb that swiped across the length of her lower lip before pulling him into her for a bruising kiss.

“It would have been you,” she finally said pulling back from him. “Even if they had brought Angel’s soul back somehow, it still would have been you.” She didn’t let her eyes stray from his as she spoke making sure he couldn’t misinterpret what she was trying to say.

“Mentioning the Poof isn’t the greatest turn on,” he replied, giving her a sly smirk.

“I just needed you to know that, before we—.” Her eyes were drawn back to his lips as she trailed off.

“I know.” Spike’s hands found their way to her hips, pulling her closer to him so that her centre was pressing against the hardness in his jeans. Her head flew back as she gasped at the contact, her hands flying to his shoulders to steady herself.

She let out a low moan as she ground herself down onto him again. His hands started to trail their way up her sides, easily slipping under the shirt she wore to cup her lace-covered breasts. In seconds, both her shirt and bra were gone, leaving her bare to his gaze with only the light from the candles casting her body in a warm glow.

His fingers trailed a thin path down between the valley of her breasts, his lips following in their wake. His tongue flicked out to circle the taut nipple of her right breast.

“So beautiful,” he murmured against her skin as he drew a rosy nipple into his mouth. Her hands found their way to the back of his head, her fingernails raking their way through his short hair.

Spike slowly began to push her back until she was stretched out beneath him, her body cradling his—her soft flesh pressing against the material of his shirt. Buffy quickly drew the garment up and over his head, desperate for the feeling of his bare skin pressed unhindered against her own.

Her moan was ragged as he lowered himself against her. She could feel his arousal nudging at her centre through his jeans as her hands ran up the length of his back.

His free hand dropped to her thigh which was tightening around his waist as his lips switched to the neglected breast. Spike smirked against her skin as Buffy’s leg immediately relaxed and fell open to his touch.

He bunched the thin material of her skirt in his hand and began to drag it upwards, his hand darting under it to run along the seam of her panties, dipping down to the sensitive spot between her legs and causing her to jolt under the unexpected pleasure from his touch.

She dragged his head up to her own again as his fingers brushed against her core through the material of her panties. Spike pressed his forehead against her own, their breaths mingling in the air around them as she swooped up to claim his mouth.

She pushed her core up into his questing fingers at they brushed over her once more. He let loose an animal like growl as Buffy’s lips dropped from his to his throat.

“Christ,” he ground out as her hands wound the waistband of his jeans. His head fell to her shoulder as her teeth nibbled over the mark she hand left on his throat, biting it lightly and gently pulling on the skin.

Buffy’s fingers popped the top button of Spike’s jeans, the metallic sound of a zipper being lowered following shortly thereafter. He knew this would be a short coupling—a frantic need to be joined with the other rather than a session of drawn out lovemaking, though just as rewarding. Their skin seemed to crackle to life whenever they touched, drawing them closer to that pivotal moment with very little encouragement.

His jeans were gone the next moment as his questing fingers found their way under the material of her underpants. He groaned loudly at the feel of her wetness. His finger slid across her slick folds effortlessly before delving in quickly.

“Spike,” she breathed out as her fingers trailed their way down his chest, her touch leaving burning tracks he could feel long after her fingers had passed. He kissed her throat fervently as she took him into her hand.

Buffy ran her thumb over the top of him collecting the small beads of pre-cum that had gathered there, before circling it around the head of his shaft. Her panties were torn away as he pushed himself into her hands.

“Need you, Spike,” she murmured as she moved him to position the head of his shaft at the entrance of her folds.

“Sodding hell,” he ground out at the feel of her wetness against his tip. She moved him up and down coating him in her fluids before opening her eyes and looking up at him.

The moment her eyes locked with his, he pushed forward and into her depths with an effortless ease guided by the slickness of her inner walls.

“Oh, God!” Her walls were already fluttering around him, gripping him tightly and refusing to let him go.

“Fuck, Buffy!” he muttered into her skin. The magicks inside them began to shift, covering them in waves as it grew.

Experimentally he pulled out of her wet tunnel, groaning at the loss of sensation of her being around him, before pushing himself back in. Her legs immediately came up to band around his waist pulling him further into her.

“Oh God, Spike!” Buffy’s hands found his hair once more as she turned her cheek into his. Her breath brushing over his ear with each harsh pant. “Stop…no, don’t stop…never—oh God!” She mumbled incoherently, unable to move past anything but the feelings he was evoking so masterfully inside her, aided along by the magicks of their union.

Her breathing, though unneeded, refused to abate, instead growing into labouring pants as she kissed the side of his cheek desperately and squeezed her eyes shut. She was almost there—she could almost feel the first flutterings of her orgasm approaching.

“Buffy,” he whispered, completely overwhelmed by the feelings inside him. “Buffy. Buffy. Buffy.”

She was growing tighter around him with each thrust. He was almost there. Closing his eyes, Spike sent a silent prayer to the Powers That Be or whoever was listening that she would follow him over. He wouldn’t be able hold back, not this time at least.

Morphing into his demon visage he stared down at her passion filled expression. “Buffy.”

She looked up at him in his demon features and nodded, her head falling to the side as her hands pulled his head down to her neck. Spike let out a growl and sunk his teeth passionately into the buttery skin of her throat. Her muscles clenched around him automatically as Buffy threw her head back and screamed her release.

His own orgasm was triggered seconds later as Spike shot himself into the depths of her womb. The magick within them swelled to an almost unbearable pitch as he with drew his fangs from her throat.

“Mine,” he growled out as he looked down at her. Buffy morphed into her demon features and latched onto his neck taking three long pulls of his rich blood.

“Yours,” she returned with as much passion. The magicks within them exploded suddenly as the final word was spoken, completing the ritual. An almost blindingly white explosion of light was triggered, illuminating the entire room and spilling out through the curtains covering the window and onto the street before settling over them.

Both were unconscious when the light subsided, Buffy’s being emitting a soft white glow that seemed to encase Spike and hold him to her side—a physical manifestation of both the claim and bonding that had just taken place.

 
Chapters 30
 
Chapter 30


Buffy let out a sleep filled sigh as she hovered in the state between sleep and wakefulness. Trying to block out the coming day she rolled over, snuggling herself deeper into the arms that held her. She inhaled deeply, letting the thick scent that hung in the air fill her nostrils as she felt soft lips swoop down to press a kiss against the side of her neck, coaxing her gently into waking.

The lips nibbled gently on her neck where the mark that claimed her as a vampire’s mate stood proudly against the pale complexion of her skin, before moving to skim across her jaw line. She smiled as they came to hover over her own for a moment before placing a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth.

“Mornin’, kitten.”

She smiled at the soft voice rumbling in her ear, sleepily blinking her eyes open, sighing in contentment as the first thing they fixed on were Spike’s clear blue eyes, sparkling with amusement. She smiled at him and rolled them over so she was lying atop of him.

“Morning,” she said as she leaned down to give him a soft welcoming kiss, as her hand gently strayed down his side. Spike growled deeply in encouragement as his hand snaked itself around Buffy’s waist and held her closer to him. She took his erection in her hands and gently ran her thumb over its tip.

Both of them gasped at the feeling. “God! I can feel you in every cell of my body,” she moaned as she closed her eyes and repeated the action. “Can you feel it? The change?”

“Christ!” he nodded as he bucked his hips up into her warm hand.

“It’s like you are almost a part of me, but not. You feel differently than I do, but you’re still there, connected deep inside,” she murmured.

Spike’s eyes snapped open and he grinned at her. “I’d like to feel myself deep inside you as well.”

Buffy smiled mischievously against him and pressed a kiss to his chest, taking the small nub of his nipple between her teeth and lightly biting down.

“You mean, like this?” she asked as she positioned him at her entrance and slowly lowered herself onto his shaft. Both let out a moan of completion at the connection.

“Fuck, kitten, just like that,” he agreed. “You feel amazing,” he groaned as his erection was fully encased within her moist depths.

“You too,” she replied as she rocked her hips forward so she could lean down to lower her mouth to his own. A shaky moan was torn from Buffy’s lips at the movement as Spike shifted inside her. Abandoning her task she slowly rose above him, letting him slide out from within her only to push down again and force a groan from her lover’s lips.

One of his hands gripped at her thigh as the other aided the movement of her hips. A kittenish mewl sounded from her as he hit a point within her that sent a bolt of pleasure racing up her spine. “Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!”

“You alright, pet?”

Buffy nodded frantically as she rose and fell above him again. A strangled moan was torn from his lips. She reached for the hand that loosely held her thigh and dragged it up her body to cup her breast, squeezing down and manipulating it into squeezing her breast firmly.

Spike looked up at her through hooded eyes as she rode him fiercely, desperate to draw all the pleasure she could from her lover’s body. She looked beautiful like this—she looked beautiful always—but this… her sex-rumbled hair falling all around her shoulders, passion filled eyes boring into him, her skin golden and glowing.

Spike pushed him self up into a sitting position, one arm tightly banding around Buffy’s waist as she never broke her stride. “Christ, woman, what you do to me.”

Buffy’s legs were clamped tightly around his hips as he laved her chest with kisses, nipping at her and soothing it over with his tongue.

“Bite me.” She threaded her fingers into his hair and pulled his head back so she could look down at him. He nodded and she kissed him roughly as he morphed into his demon’s face.

Reaching his hand up into the back of her hair he yanked her head to the side exposing the beautiful length of her throat and the mark he had left on her the night before. His demon howled with pleasure at the sight of it, so proudly worn on her neck. Pulling back, he sunk his fangs into the wound again.

Her orgasm hit hard the minute she felt his teeth enter her neck. Her inner muscles clamped down around him and she clutched his head to her neck.

“Mine,” he said again as he pulled back from her, running his tongue lovingly over the wound.

“Oh God! Yours!” she wept as she buried her fangs into the flesh of his throat. Spike roared loudly as he spilled himself into her depths and collapsed back against the floor as she flopped on top of him.

“Oh for the love of—,” Xander’s voice had their heads snapping towards the front door, where the entire Scooby gang plus Joyce was standing, looking at them slack jawed.

Joyce’s hand was firmly planted over Xander’s mouth. “I guess we’ll, um…we’ll come back later.”

Buffy whimpered and buried her head in Spike’s shoulder as the group shuffled out of the house again.

“Tell me that didn’t just happen. Tell me my mother didn’t just walk in on me having hot monkey sex,” she said hopefully, as she looked up at him with pleading eyes.

“Well in all fairness, that is what she left you here to do,” he retorted, with an amused smirk on his face.

Buffy glared at him. “So not helping, Spike!”

He chuckled and rolled her over again, lifting his hand and gently brushing her hair out of her face.

“What’s this?” she asked, grabbing his wrist. “I’ve never seen this before.”

He frowned. “That’s because it’s never been there before. You’ve got one too,” he noted, picking up her left wrist and lightly running his fingers over it. A shiver ran down her spine and she softly shut her eyes.

“Do you think it’s from the claim?” she asked in a breathy voice as he leaned over her to run his tongue across it.

“No, it might be from the hand fasting though, it looks like it’s in some sort of script.”

Buffy turned her head to look at his, nodding her agreement. “Yours too,” she traced its line with her fingers. “It’s pretty.”

“We should ask the Watcher when he gets back.”

Buffy groaned and covered her face with her hands. “Excuse me while I go die of embarrassment.”


***



Drusilla hadn’t moved from her place in days. Not since her daddy had been ripped from her world. She had felt it the moment he crumpled to dust and with him a little piece of her had died as well. She was so lost. No daddy, nothing to live for, yet she knew she couldn’t leave this world just yet. Though she did not know why, she knew it to be true.

She was truly alone now, no daddy, no grandmum, no Spike, and now the continued absence of her newest puppy—the one who had magick in his veins. Her happy family was gone and she had been left alone to pick up the pieces that were left of her broken mind.

Dru sighed and ran her sharp nail down the body of the young teen she had tied naked to the bed, causing blood to bloom from the shallow cut before she lapped it up again. She was meant to eat the girl, but she couldn’t bring herself to do more than play with her and lap at the blood from where it was drawn.

“Why? Why haven’t you spoken to me?” she whimpered to no one, ignoring the fearful looks the young girl was sending her. She had given up pleading and crying days ago, the woman who held her captive was clearly insane. “Why won’t you tell me what to do? I’ve been so good…such a good girl.”

The vision was unexpected. Dru had been without them for so many days that their intensity had been somewhat forgotten in that time. She gasped as she threw herself back onto the bed, her hands immediately going to her hair as she moaned and shook from the images which assaulted her. The result, however, left her with a wistful smile on her face. Things would be well again, she just had to take the right steps towards it.

She turned towards the young brunette with a wicked smile on her face. “It’s okay, dumpling,” she said in a perky manner as she stroked the girls face. “All will be well again. You’ll see, we’ll have such fun you and I.” Dru immediately sunk her fingers into the girl’s quim.

The teen bucked and tried not to find pleasure in the act, but after days of continued stimulation—albeit in the form of pain—the change in touch was welcomed. Dru watched her as she shut her eyes, her head falling to the side in pleasure even as her eyes scrunched tight trying to deny it. Morphing into her demon’s face Dru crawled up over the girl and sunk her fangs into her neck, smiling when she felt the girl climax around her fingers.

She pulled back when the girl was just hovering on the brink of death and scored a line across her own chest with a sharp fingernail. Dru pulled the girl’s head towards it, letting her drink the blood that would make her a creature of the night.

“A new family,” Dru whispered as she let the girl continue to drink.


***



Spike smirked as he pulled Buffy down into his lap and watched the shock cross the faces of her friends as they attempted to avert their eyes. After getting an eyeful that morning upon arriving home from spending the night at the Watcher’s house, it seemed they didn’t know where to look.

“You all going to sit down?” Spike asked, looking around at them all as they all sat down mechanically at his command.

“Spike, will you stop it!” Buffy hissed, hitting him gently and sliding off his lap to sit tucked up into his side. “Giles, we wanted to ask you if you knew anything about these?”

Buffy fought the blush that was making its way across her face, as she leant over to show her Watcher the tattoo she now wore on the inside of her wrist.

“Ah, o-of course, it is part of the ritual, the equivalent of a wedding ring you might say. Likewise the patterns are unique to the couple. May I see?” he asked, looking up at Spike. The vampire leant forward and showed him his wrist as well. “I could translate this for you.”

“Would you?” Buffy asked hopefully.

Giles smiled and nodded at her, taking a quick note of the symbols used. “While we are all here, we need to talk about Hank. We can’t very well leave him tied up in the basement forever,” Giles noted as he looked up again.

Buffy placed a calming hand on Spike’s thigh as he let out a rumbling growl. “Bastard deserves to die for what he did to his own daughter!”

“Be that as it may, I sincerely doubt you would be the one to kill him,” Giles said with a pointed look at Buffy, “and none of us are about to commit murder.”

Joyce snorted. “You might not be willing, but I ought to flay him alive.”

“Mom!” Buffy was shocked at her mother’s words, but Spike gave her an admiring smile.

“We could strip him of his magic,” Willow offered. “It would be painful though, and I think Giles would have to be the one to do it, but I read in a book that stripping someone of their magick is a permanent thing. He’d never be able to use magick again”

“Perfect,” Buffy said as her hand played absently with Spike’s. “Painful and full of revenge; let’s see how he likes being utterly defenceless.”

“I will need a day two prepare, and I need to make a call to someone who might be able to be of some use,” Giles said, removing his glasses. “What do you plan on doing with him afterwards?”

“Send him home.”

 
Epilogue
 
Epilogue



The house on Revello Drive and its occupants seemed to deflate with the rapid approach of night. The adrenaline that they had been running on for days seemed to have suddenly run short and the claws of fatigue had begun to sink in and pull on them. Almost everyone had crawled their way into bed for some much needed rest, leaving only Giles, Joyce, Spike and Buffy among those awake.

Together they performed the required spell on Hank to permanently strip him of any ability to use magick.

The sight was horrific to say the least. Hank cursed at them and screamed pathetically as they forcibly ripped the magicks from within him. His eyes turned pure black as he used the last vestiges of his strength to try and hold on to the magicks and conjure a spell to block the one that was trying to rid him of his powers. His attempt was pitiful to the point where he abandoned that tactic to crawl his way across the floor to his ex-wife to beg that she do something to help him.

Joyce’s response was a swift, forceful fist to the face causing the man to fall back in shock and her to yelp in pain as she shook out her hand. Spike, Buffy and Giles looked at her with identical stunned expressions that were not without some measure of pride.

“What, you think I can’t throw a punch too? Please, not all Buffy’s spark is because she is the Slayer,” Joyce said, grinning at their shocked faces. Spike just smirked at her in appreciation.

Hank lain withering on the floor for the next hour and a half as he recovered from the effects of having his magicks ripped from within him. They waited patiently until he gained some measure of self before they unceremoniously picked him up and threw him out the front door with orders not to show his face around them again and to make sure he kept up the child support payments each month. With that they had slammed the door in his face and on another chapter of their lives that none of them was willing to revisit any time in the near or distant future.

The rest of the day was spent completing little tasks, such as cleaning up the remains of the ritual that had taken place in the living room. Both the glyphs and the ring of dried blood had disappeared along with the blinding flash of light that had occurred on the completion of the ritual, so little more needed to be done than tidying up the petals, candles and apple tree twigs that still remained.

Spike and Buffy had stayed close to one another with their hands brushing as they worked, resulting in them sharing secretive smiles at the contact. The pull to touch one another proved too strong to resist, and they continued to work each other into a frenzy as they went about cleaning the room. If anyone had noticed the game they were playing, nothing was said. Instead, the others chose to work quietly and ignore the growing sexual tension within the room.

“So, how’s it going?” Buffy asked finally as she let herself drop ungracefully into the chair across that of her Watcher’s. He had been working on translating the brandings on the inside of Spike’s and her own wrist for what seemed like hours.

“I believe I have translated the scripture.” Giles passed the notepad he had been working on across the table to her. Buffy took it and looked down at his workings.



Together as one

One heart, one mind



Buffy looked up at him again.

“The top one is what is branded on the inside of Spike’s wrist, and the bottom one is what yours reads,” Giles explained.

He watched her with a fatherly affection as a warm smile full of happiness spread across her face and her fingers dropped to gently trace the words on her wrist. “Thank you.”

Giles gave her a small smile as he leaned back in his seat and looked up at her over the top of his glasses before he removed them from his face altogether. “Think nothing of it. How are you feeling?”

Buffy gave him the bright smile that only she could as she let the notepad rest back against the table. “Honestly? Considering everything that’s happened, I’m okay. Better than okay, even.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” His eyes were kind as he studied her, his hand absently cleaning the lens of his glasses.

“I was pretty out of it for a while there… I don’t ever want to be that helpless again.” Her gaze dropped to the notepad before her and her fingers began to absently trace over the writing on it as she spoke.

“No one likes to be helpless, Buffy, and I dare say that the circumstances with which you were dealing—especially Hank’s involvement—were outside what one might expect as a Slayer. You were attacked by those who were meant to support you and you did well to come through as you have.”

Buffy merely nodded, not lifting her gaze from the notepad. “Hmm,” she murmured in agreement as something on the page caught her eye. There was a large bit of text written at the top of the page which had been half heartedly crossed out before Giles had begun the translation on Spike’s and her own brandings. “What’s this?”

Buffy picked up the notepad and looked at it before handing it back to him.

Giles took the notepad from her and looked at the chunk of text to which she was referring. “Oh, this? I had thought it to be part of the original prophecy foretelling your hand fasting to Spike. However, after translating it, I found that it belongs to another.”

Buffy frowned in confusion. “How come?”

“It speaks of the birth of a child, but vampires are infertile. Therefore the text is irrelevant to either of you since you are now mated.”

“Oh.” A moment of silence seemed to pass between them as they each became lost in their own thoughts. “Do you think this is the end of it?”

Giles looked at her for a moment before answering. “For now. I believe Drusilla is still out there somewhere doing heavens knows what. By all rights I should be sending you after her—she is a danger to both us and to the general public—but I feel for the moment, Buffy, that you have been through enough. We will no doubt see more of her in the future, and when that time comes I trust that you will do your best to stake her, but for now Buffy? Yes, this is the end of it.”

Buffy looked up at him again with a bright smile. “So, I was thinking pizza for dinner? I don’t know about you but I feel like I haven’t eaten in a week!”

Giles smiled laughingly at his Slayer as they both got up from the table, all talk of prophecies, children and Drusilla behind them as they made their way into the kitchen.

“Sounds divine.”


***




A heart which once was black,
No longer is forced to seek love amid death;
A union wrought between sun and moon,
Creates balance between the worlds;
A legacy gifted to the race of mankind,
Shall bring an end to those born to watch;
An era of corruption and treachery will fall;
A child destined to lead will rise;
As a family they will be,
Together a bridge between worlds.



***




The End




AN:
The End! *does happy dance* This has been so much fun to write, and I am sad to see it come to an end, but I think that it has run its course as far as plot goes. I realise that I have left some things unanswered (the prophecy at the end, Drusilla and her new childe), but I think that carrying this fic on any further would have only been dragging it out. Plus, leaving it open allows room for a possible sequel should my muse prove willing in the future (although there are currently no plans to write one).

I’d like to say a HUGE thank you to my beta Andrea for her amazing work beta’ing this fic and making it readable, lol! And also to everyone who has reviewed this story! Your feedback has been fantastic and it inspired me to keep writing even when chapters proved difficult to write. Thank you!

~Spikeschilde