Blood of the Sire by BuffyMeetsSpike

Disclaimer: All the characters belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy.
 
Goes off-canon after As You Were. Reviews are most welcome. 

 
****************************
 
Spike was in the process of getting drunk.
 
He sat at the counter at Willy’s bar, talking with no one, working his way through his second bottle of whiskey, seething and indulging in a little self pity by turns. She dumped me, he thought. She let that wanker ex of hers trash everything I bloody own, and then gives me “I’m sorry, William”. Merciless bitch. But even as he cursed Buffy’s existence, he ached with the pain of losing her. Their relationship had been completely fucked up, beginning to end, but she was still under his skin. ‘Tell me you love me.’ Yeah, right. I could tell you I was Queen Victoria for all the good it did. He downed another shot and refilled his glass.
 
“Well, if it isn’t the Slayer’s little pet,” came a voice from behind him. “What’s the matter? She find a new vamp to do her bidding?” Spike turned to see four large vampires, all affecting Hell’s Angels garb and carrying various chains and pipes.
 
“Bugger off, then, there’s a good lad,” Spike said, turning his back on them in contempt, but reaching his hand inside his coat for a stake at the same time.
 
“Watch your mouth, you little traitor freak,” said the leader, grabbing Spike by the shoulder and yanking him around. When he did he lasted about two seconds before falling to dust. Spike’s stake had moved so fast that the leader barely got his sentence out before disintegrating.
 
“Fucking bastard!” snarled one of the other vampires. “You’re going to fucking pay for that!”
 
“Hey! Take it outside!” said Willy, but he was ignored by the raging demons in front of the bar.
 
“Yeah, sure. Whatever you say, mate.” Spike kicked the nearest vamp in the gut before leaping off the barstool, squaring off against the others. They rushed him with the pipes and chains, but even after an insane quantity of whiskey, Spike was fast. He ducked them with fluid grace, dusting one and decking the other. The vamp he had kicked came up behind him and was flipped over Spike’s shoulder, landing on the fourth member of their gang. Spike dusted one of them while they were still disentangling themselves, but before he could dust the other, he felt a blow to the back of his head. Cursing, he spun to see a random demon who had joined the fray.
 
The fight went on, with some patrons slipping out the door and others joining in. Spike vamped and roared, whirling, kicking and staking. All of his frustration at the situation with Buffy poured out into his fists and fangs. Finally, with a resounding crack, Spike snapped the neck of the last remaining demon, leaving the bar empty except for him, Willy, three demon corpses, and a few piles of dust. He shook off his gameface and sat back down, reaching for the Jack Daniels once more.
 
“Who’s gonna pay to clean up all this mess?” Willy asked in as irritated tone as he dared affect with a pissed off vampire in front of him.
 
“Put it on my bloody tab,” Spike growled, knocking back another shot.
 
“Your tab is starting to get a bit long, my friend,” Willy observed, drying barware from as far away as possible.
 
Spike reached into his coat pocket and fished out a handful of random bills. He tossed them on the counter. “Take that as a down payment. Now bugger off and let me drink in peace.” He returned to his drinking and brooding, taking no further notice of the bartender.
 
Willy picked up the money and moved down to the cash register to count it. It came to $97, which barely made a dent in Spike’s tab, given that it was approaching $300. Given the vampire’s recent rate of consumption, the tab would be into four digits by the end of the month. More troublesome to the bartender was the loss of business. Lately, between Spike dusting half the patrons and scaring off many of the rest, his business was losing money at a rapid rate. And after seeing Spike in action, Willy lacked the courage to kick him out or refuse to serve him. He had heard that Spike was incapable of killing humans these days, but he didn’t really feel like putting that rumor to the test. There were times when he considered hiring someone to take Spike out, but that seemed like a bad prospect as well. Willy lived on the goodwill of his customers. If word got out that he was having demons killed, even a demon everyone was pissed at like Spike, he would be opening himself up for a world of trouble.
 
After another hour of awkward silence, punctuated only by the clinking of glassware and then the sound of the broom as Willy swept up vampire dust, Spike finished his second bottle of JD and stood up. He wobbled a little, but then straightened up and said, “Look, I’ll haul the refuse out to the alley for you, okay?” He kicked one of the corpses as he spoke.
 
“I’d appreciate it,” Willy said. Spike dragged the corpses out the back door one at a time, heaving the first two into the dumpster. When he got to the third one, he found it very heavy and awkward. Finally he muttered, “Fuck it,” and left it on the ground next to the dumpster. Bloody well good enough, he decided. He staggered off toward his crypt, stopping en route for blood, cigarettes, and more whiskey.
 
In the now quiet bar, Willy cleaned up, and wondered what could be done to solve his current problem.
 
*****************************
 
The bar opened at noon the next day as usual. The usual scavenger demons had taken care of the body and other than one chair which was beyond repair the bar was as it had ever been. Willy served the first few stragglers that came in – mostly humanoid demons who blended easily into the underbelly of Sunnydale. Willy was rather grateful that the troublemaking vampire was unlikely to be plaguing his existence at this hour. It would be nice to make a few dollars before Spike showed up and trashed the place again.
 
At some point the door opened to admit a tall figure in a hooded sweatshirt. The hood was pulled forward so far that the face was completely obscured. The reason for this became evident when the figure pulled the hood off to reveal a bluish-green face, veined and somewhat scaly, with red eyes staring out of an angry brow. He strode over to the bar with determination, causing Willy to back up slightly. “What’ll it be?” Willy asked in his usual noncommittal tone.
 
In response the demon reached over the bar and grabbed Willy by the collar. “I want to know who killed my brother and dumped his corpse in a dumpster, that’s what it will be,” he said in an oily hiss. The other three patrons, seeing trouble coming, downed their drinks and left in a hurry.
 
“Your brother?” Willy gasped in alarm.
 
“He came in here last night. Never came home. Went looking for him this morning and found him stuffed in the dumpster back of this fucking pit. Now I want to know who put him there,” demanded the demon.
 
“It was a vampire,” Willy stammered. “Goes by Spike. He comes in here sometimes and gets hammered. A bunch of other vampires tried to jump him last night. Your brother joined in the brawl and Spike took them all out.”
 
The demon looked incredulous. “You mean to tell me one vampire took out my brother and a bunch of other vamps? Tell me another.”
 
“It’s true!” said Willy in a frightened squeak. “He’s an incredible fighter. Kills his own kind. Hangs out with the Slayer, even. I’ve seen him take out guys that outweigh him by a hundred pounds. He’s an Aurelian and a complete bastard by all accounts.”
 
The demon released the bartender contemptuously and considered the matter. “Where’s his lair?”
 
“Not sure. But you go in there and you’re just asking for trouble. He and the Slayer have some sort of understanding. If he doesn’t take you out, she will.”
 
After a few more minutes of thought, the demon said, “Where does he like to hunt?”
 
Willy shook his head. “He doesn’t. Word is he got experimented on by some government operation that was working around here a few years back. He can’t feed on humans. Part of why he started killing his own.”
 
“Where does he buy his blood? Does he get it here?” the demon wondered.
 
Willy shook his head. “Once in a while, but mostly he uses the butcher on Grove Street, same as all the rest of the vamps who bag it for one reason or another.”
 
The demon nodded. He threw three twenty dollar bills on the bar. “I appreciate the information.”
 
Willy slowly took the money, swallowed and said, “I hope you get the bastard. He causes nothing but trouble around here.” Willy knew he was taking a risk – if word got out that he was betraying his customers to their enemies, he was toast.
 
“Don’t worry. He will pay dearly,” the demon growled resolutely. He pulled his hood back up and stalked out the alley door, leaving the bartender to breathe a sigh of relief behind him.
 
*************************
 
Jerry Zwolak had been a butcher for his entire life, having grown up in his father’s butcher shop in San Francisco. When he moved to Sunnydale to open his own store, he initially had the usual cuts of beef, pork, and various other meats. But he gradually noticed that a lot of his patrons ordered blood. Lots of blood. One night he saw one of his patrons open a container right outside the door and chug it, and was absolutely disgusted. After some discrete poking around, he learned the true nature of many of Sunnydale’s residents. A weaker man would have closed up shop and fled. But Jerry decided to quietly alter his stock instead. He started stocking more blood, and more varieties. He befriended one shy vampire, who happened to be rather large and intimidating looking, and convinced him to pass on a message to the other vamps in town. His butcher shop would stay open late, he would gladly serve any and all demonic customers. In return, he wanted to be left alone. Word spread that Jerry was off limits for dinner, and business boomed. This status quo had existed for a long time, and although the occasional newcomer thought about making a snack of the butcher, the other vamps around usually put the miscreant in his place.
 
It was nine o’clock, and business was a little slow, as was usual for this hour. There tended to be a lot of vamps right after sundown, and then a lot right around eleven for the ones who went hunting and had no luck. Jerry was reading a novel and snacking on potato chips when the demon walked in. “Can I help you?” he asked. He wasn’t completely sure what type of demon this was – he had never had a customer of that particular bluish-green hue before.
 
“Do you have a customer who goes by Spike? British vamp, blond hair?” asked the demon, fixing the bartender with his terrible red eyes.
 
“Yeah, he comes in here,” Jerry said with a shrug. “Why, are you looking for him?”
 
The demon reached across the counter in a lightning fast movement and pulled the butcher close. “Bastard killed my brother. Now you’re going to do me a favor.”
 
The butcher gulped, but stood his ground. “Hey, me and the demons in this town have an understanding. I provide the blood, they withhold the violence.”
 
“I don’t give a tin shit,” growled the demon. “Now are you going to help me, or are your guts going to be hanging up on a hook?”
 
“W…what do you want me to do?” the butcher stuttered.
 
The demon fished in his pocket with his free hand. “This is a poison. Only works on vamps. I want you to put it in his blood the next time he comes in.”
 
“Yeah, and when people figure out I’m poisoning my customers, how long do you think I’m gonna last?”
 
“This stuff is extremely rare. He won’t taste it. It will take long enough to affect him that he won’t be able to pinpoint the source. Won’t kill him right away either. The bastard will suffer slowly and painfully.” He pulled the butcher close again. “I will also throw in five thousand bucks, two thousand now, the rest when I know the bastard is dying. Do we have a deal?”
 
The butcher wavered for a moment under the glare of those red eyes. Then he decided that one vamp was not worth dying over. “Deal,” he grunted.
 
The demon released him and handed over the small vial of fluid. He then handed him an envelope with money inside it and a phone number on the outside. “Call me when you’ve done it.” With that the demon turned and walked out the door, leaving the butcher to calm his racing heart and straighten his collar.
 
Outside, the Trok’fav demon stalked toward the apartment he had shared with his late brother. Truthfully, he had found his brother to be a useless waste, and had only been putting him up temporarily. However, Trok’fav tradition demanded the Blood Price be paid. If a relative was killed, the eldest living family member who was able was bound to hunt the killer until the killer was dead. The call of the Blood Price was very strong, and he could not fight it. At least he would be able to ease the sorrow of his kin when they heard the manner of the killer’s death. Watais root was a nasty, drawn out way to go. It was fitting that his brother’s killer, a traitor to his own kind, should meet his end this way.
 
******************************
 
Spike stalked through Restfield, smoking and cursing. He had not seen the Slayer for five days now. In the beginning, he had resolved that he was not going to be the one to break. Let the bitch come find me. She’ll see. She’ll miss me. Her little Scoobies don’t know her the way I do. He was not going to beg, and he was not going to be the one to seek her out.
 
Although now, five days later, he was crawling out of his skin. He missed her. He wanted to fight her, shag her, and throw himself at her feet all at the same time. He could kill a dozen demons, and had on at least one evening, but still he felt restless and disconnected. He finished one cigarette and lit another as he stalked toward the butcher’s. Damn it. I should find someone. Anyone – just someone to shag to get the taste of her out of my mouth. Maybe I’ll find someone to bring to the Whelp’s wedding. Rub the bitch’s nose in it. Then she’ll see what she’s missing. Deep in his heart, he knew it wouldn’t work out the way he wanted. Remember that incident with the chains and Drusilla? Snarling to himself, he pushed that memory back into the ‘repressed’ drawer and shut it firmly. Things were different now. He was under her skin. He knew it. He just needed her to know it.
 
Spike reached the butcher’s shop and sauntered in. “Evening. Can I get three pints of your best pig?” he said, fishing for money.
 
The butcher swallowed and said, “Sure. I’ve got some in the back if you can wait a minute.”
 
“Sure,” Spike muttered, patting his other pocket in search of the rest of his cash.
 
The butcher went in the back room and got out three pints of blood. He hesitated a moment, then pulled out the small vial that the demon had given him. He poured the contents in to the top container, covered it, and shook it a little to mix it up. Returning to the other room, he struggled to hide his nervousness as he said, “That’ll $13.50.”
 
Spike noticed the slight nervousness in the butcher’s voice. “You know there’s no need to fear me, mate. I don’t eat human. If I could, I wouldn’t be here.”
 
“Oh, I’m not afraid of you. Some new vamps were in earlier who don’t know the town rules. They were told off by one of the regulars, but it was dicey there for a moment.” Jerry took the money and rang up the sale.
 
“Just let me know if I need to dust anyone. Been in a shitty mood anyway lately. Might as well get in some random violence.” Spike pocketed his change and picked up the bag of blood.
 
“I appreciate the offer, but I think it’s all good. Have a good night,” Jerry said.
 
“Cheers, mate,” Spike replied, heading out.
 
Jerry breathed a sigh of relief. He felt a bit of a twinge at his conscience. Spike seemed a decent enough sort for a vampire. But if it came down to him or the vampire, he figured one less vampire in Sunnydale wouldn’t register on anyone’s radar. He picked up the phone to dial the demon’s number to let him know that the deed was done.
 
************************
 
“Do we have to wear those hideous dresses?” Dawn whined. The Summers girls were on their way home from the final fitting of the green monstrosities that Anya had picked out for her bridesmaids to wear.
 
“I think it’s a law or something,” Buffy replied. “I think that if someone tried to make an attractive bridesmaid’s gown some apocalypse would occur or something.”
 
“Well, you can handle that, right?” Dawn said hopefully. Buffy shot her a frown, and Dawn sighed. “Ok. I promise not to whine about the dresses any further. I’ll just wait until the wedding is over and change my name and move away in case anyone sees the pictures.”
 
“Sounds like a plan,” Buffy said in a distracted voice. It had been a week since she had told Spike that she had to break it off. She was relieved to no longer have to make excuses, explain absences, and otherwise hide their illicit affair. At the same time, she couldn’t help but wonder about him. Did he leave town? Was he plotting some scheme to get them back together? To have heard nothing from him at all in a week seemed ominous. Spike had never been one to give up easy. The look on his face as she apologized and left had been one of hurt and bewilderment, and she didn’t quite understand why. Their relationship had been wrong. If she was honest, she had been abusive at worst, and bitchy at best. Surely he could see that they were both hurting each other and that this couldn’t continue. Maybe he finally took me at my word and left, she thought. She would understand that. But what she didn’t understand was why that thought vaguely bothered her. How would she feel if she never saw him again? She had no good answer for that question.
 
“Earth to Buffy? I asked you a question?” Dawn said, breaking into Buffy’s woolgathering.
 
“Sorry, my train of thought jumped the track,” she apologized. “What did you ask?”
 
“Is Spike coming to the wedding?”
 
Buffy sighed. “I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to him since Riley blew up his crypt. I guess he was invited, so who knows?”
 
“I thought you guys were, like, friends or something,” Dawn said. “I mean, you’re always patrolling with him and all that.”
 
Buffy hesitated, then said, “Spike and I had a bit of a falling out. I think it would be better if we just gave him some space for a while.”
 
“He didn’t do something… bad, did he?” Dawn wondered. She couldn’t fathom what Spike and Buffy had fought about. They were always trading verbal digs, but still working together to kill things. The only thing she could imagine was if Spike had somehow gone back to killing or something.
 
“Not really. Something stupid, but not bad,” Buffy said. “It’s complicated.”
 
“Jeez, you guys say that so often I swear you’re a recording,” Dawn grumbled. “I’m pretty smart. Explain it to me.”
 
“When I figure out how to explain it to myself, I’ll pass it on, alright?” Buffy’s voice took on a distinct edge of irritation. Dawn recognized that she was going to get no further with her sister and dropped the subject, finishing the walk home in awkward silence.
 
***********************
 
Spike woke up hungry. This wasn’t an unusual occurrence; in fact it was usually hunger that woke him most days. But this evening he felt like he hadn’t eaten in a week. He had finished his three pints from the butcher in half the usual time and had gone back the next day for more. Based on his usual rate of consumption, he should have had enough for a couple days, but he had found himself unable to stop drinking. The hunger had finally been slaked, but here he was starving again, not eight hours later. Not only was he hungry, but he felt tired, like he hadn’t slept. Makes no bloody sense. I feasted last night, and slept like a rock. Can vamps get the flu or something? Puzzled, he left to go to the butcher shop again.
 
“Back again?” Jerry asked as he entered. “Do you have friends visiting or something?”
 
“Just extra hungry I guess,” Spike said, shrugging. He ordered six pints this time, and the butcher had to go in the back room to get enough to fill the order. While he waited, Spike rubbed his face, feeling achy and bone-tired. The butcher noticed this when he came back. As he rung up the sale he thought that the vampire looked even more pale than usual, and definitely peaked about the eyes.
 
“You feeling alright, bud?” he asked as he handed over the blood and the change.
 
“Yeah. Guess I need to lay off the booze or something,” Spike muttered. He left, and the butcher called the demon to make another report.
 
***********************
 
This is getting bloody ridiculous. Spike was sitting in his armchair, feeling completely like shit. Several days had gone by in a similar vein. He was starving all the time. Enough blood had gone down his throat to fill a bathtub, and yet here he sat, exhausted and weak. It was getting harder to even make it to the butcher’s shop; the effort of walking there and back left him feeling like he had fought a dozen Fyral demons for four hours. Something’s not right. What the hell is wrong with me?
 
With a massive effort, he got up and staggered over to the fridge. He took out his last container of blood with shaking hands and made his way back to the armchair to drink it. Truth be told, Spike was frightened. He had begun to realize that in his current state he was a sitting duck for any demon or vampire that decided to come by and challenge him. Maybe it’s time to pay the Slayer a visit, you think, William? See if she and her mates can help? He knew that Buffy’s nature wouldn’t allow him to suffer unaided.
 
But then he remembered the humiliation of crawling to her doorstep after the Initiative had gotten a hold of him. And that had been before he had given her his heart and his body, only to be summarily dismissed when she was finished with him. Male pride bubbled up in him and he resolved to figure this out on his own. I’ll be damned if I’m going to be the first one to go crawling back to her. I’ll bloody dust before I let her and the Scoobies turn me into the whipping boy again. But even as the thought crossed his mind, he wondered if he was going to be eating those words.

Disclaimer: Not my characters or dialog. Just borrowing.

Thanks so much for the encouragement so far!


******************
 
“What a disaster!” Dawn cried, flopping on the couch.
 
“For once, we are complete, total, and utter agreement,” Buffy replied, flopping next to her. They had just gotten back from the Wedding from Hell. Or, Buffy supposed, the Almost Wedding from Hell. The fights between Anya’s demon guests and Xander’s habitually drunken family were not entirely unexpected. Buffy would have been surprised if the whole affair had gone off without some weirdness. But she was completely stunned by Xander. You think you know someone, she mused. It was hard to see goofy, friendly, steadfast Xander as someone who would leave their bride at the altar. Anya’s crushed face was imprinted on her mind. Seems like the Scoobies are 0 for 3 on relationships these days.
 
“Can I please, please, burn this dress now?” Dawn asked, yanking Buffy out of her reverie.
 
“We can have a joint bonfire, as soon as I get the strength to move,” Buffy said, leaning her head against the back of the couch.
 
After a few more minutes of exhausted silence Dawn said, “Wonder where Spike was. He would have been nice to have around about the time the demon fight broke out.”
 
Buffy shrugged. “No idea.” She realized with surprise that she had in some small way hoped he would be there. She hadn’t seen any sign of him in a couple of weeks, and it bothered her for some reason she couldn’t quite fathom. We broke up. It’s over. Why should I care where he is?
 
“Do you think he left town or something?” Dawn asked. “Why would he just leave without saying goodbye?”
 
“I don’t know, Dawn,” Buffy sighed.
 
“What did you two fight about? It had to be something pretty big for him to just disappear like this,” Dawn persisted.
 
“I don’t want to discuss it,” Buffy said. “It was a… a private matter. Between me and Spike.”
 
Dawn frowned in irritation. “What does that mean? You didn’t let Riley hurt him again or anything did you?”
 
“No, nothing like that,” Buffy replied. “I just… it’s complicated, and it’s not really your business, alright?”
 
“Whatever,” Dawn snapped. She abruptly hauled herself off the couch and stomped upstairs to change. Slamming her door, she yanked the ugly green dress off and kicked it into the corner. She missed Spike. He had been her rock all summer, had treated her like a grownup, and always had good stories to tell her. Since Buffy came back she had seen him less and less, and now he was gone and nobody seemed to care, and her bitch of a sister was no help whatsoever. Maybe I’ll go by his crypt tomorrow, she thought as she pulled on a t-shirt. Just because Buffy’s decided to cut him out doesn’t mean I have to. Resolved, she turned on some music and flopped on her bed to read.
 
*********************
 
The next morning Dawn was up reasonably early, for a Sunday. Willow had come home after helping clean up the disastrous wedding and had joined Buffy in vegetating in front of some stupid movie. Dawn hadn’t wanted to speak to either of them. When Dawn had gone downstairs for a snack, Willow had been in the living room making excuses for Xander. He had come from such a terrible home environment; he had been deceived by the demon, and so on and so on. Dawn had wanted to smack her. He broke Anya’s heart in front of all her friends. There is no excuse for that! Buffy had been barely listening as she sat mulling over what had happened, and exactly why she had missed Spike being there. Dawn took Buffy’s noncommittal responses as agreement with Willow, and it utterly pissed her off. Now she came downstairs the next day to see her sister having coffee and flipping idly through the newspaper, and it irritated her anew.
 
“Morning,” Buffy said.
 
“Yeah, it is,” Dawn muttered. She grabbed some cereal and got a bowl down with a bang.
 
“Get up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?” Buffy asked. She couldn’t for the life of her figure out what Dawn was grouchy about. Maybe she’s still upset about the whole wedding fiasco, Buffy mused.
 
“Whatever,” Dawn said. Buffy gave up and went back to her paper, shaking her head. After she finished Dawn said, “I’m going to the library.”
 
Buffy raised her eyebrows. “Voluntarily? Who are you and what have you done with Dawn?”
 
“Ha, ha,” Dawn replied sarcastically. “I’ve got a history report coming up, and like you are always saying, I need to keep my grades up or we’ll be in trouble.”
 
“Fine. Be home by lunchtime, okay?”
 
“Yeah,” Dawn said, grabbing her backpack. She slammed the door on the way out, making Buffy wonder again what she was so angry about. Buffy shook her head and started washing the dishes. I really should spend more time with her, she thought guiltily. Then she thought about the effort that would entail and she sighed. She had been on an upward course. Stop the unhealthy relationship, spend more time with Willow and Dawn, celebrate her friends’ wedding – it felt like some sort of return to normal. Now with the wedding up in smoke, and Dawn pissed at her for no reason she could fathom, she found herself sinking again. The last time she and Spike slept together popped unbidden into her mind. ‘I always want you’, he said. Why was breaking up with him a good idea again? Oh yeah, because I was using him shamelessly. She sighed and dried her hands, then made her way upstairs to gather some laundry. She supposed she should have made Dawn do some chores before she vanished – it was high time she pulled her weight around the house. Buffy highly doubted that Dawn was actually at the library, but she was finding it hard to care today.Fine. I’ll spend my day off doing housework, she grumbled inwardly as she went about her task.
 
Dawn made her way straight across town to Restfield cemetery. She hoped Spike was still awake, or at least that he wouldn’t growl at her too much for waking him up. She pushed the door to his crypt open slowly and called, “Spike? Are you home?” Spike was sitting in his armchair in front of the TV, dozing. Dawn walked closer and repeated, “Spike? Hello?” Is it my imagination, or does he look skinnier than usual?
 
Spike woke with a start and struggled to sit up. “NIbblet. What brings you here?”
 
“Where were you? We missed you at the wedding,” she said in an accusatory tone.
 
“Bollocks. That was yesterday, wasn’t it?” Spike had struggled to the butcher’s the night before the wedding, using every ounce of his strength. He had had to down two pints right outside the door just to make it back home. He had slept on and off for nearly a whole day, drinking more every time he woke, but he still felt exhausted and weak.
 
“Yeah, it was yesterday. You missed all the excitement,” Dawn said. She perched on the edge of a coffin and looked curiously at Spike. “Are you feeling okay? You look really beat.”
 
“I am at that,” Spike admitted. “But tell me, did they go riding off into the sunset and all that rot?”
 
“No. Xander left Anya at the altar and a huge demon fight broke out,” Dawn said.
 
Spike raised an eyebrow in astonishment. “You’re serious? Harris did that?”
 
“Yeah. Anya was totally heartbroken. It was a complete disaster.”
 
Spike shook his head slowly. “Fucking git, pardon my French. Can’t believe he would ditch Demon Girl like that. She deserves better than that half wit.”
 
Dawn looked down at her feet for a moment as they dangled off the end of the coffin. “Spike, why don’t you come around anymore?”
 
Spike leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “It’s complicated, Bit,” he said in a tired voice.
 
“God, you all say that!” Dawn cried in frustration.
 
“Well maybe because it’s true,” he said, still with his eyes closed. “Your sister’s been through a ton of shit these past few months. She doesn’t know what the hell she wants.”
 
“I don’t care what she wants,” Dawn said. “But I want my friend back. I miss you, Spike.” Spike didn’t answer. “Spike?” Dawn said louder.
 
Spike jerked awake again and sat up painfully. “Sorry, Nibblet.”
 
“Jesus, you really do look like hell,” she said. “Can vamps get sick?”
 
“Starting to wonder that myself,” Spike muttered. He hated to admit his weakness, but out of desperation he found himself asking, “Could I ask you a favor?”
 
“Depends,” Dawn said. “Will you let me come and visit you?”
 
At least until your sister finds out and stakes my sorry ass. Aloud he said, “Of course. But not at night. Don’t want you getting snacked on by any nasties.”
 
“Then what’s the favor?” Dawn asked.
 
He dug into his pocket and fished out some money. “Go to the butcher’s on Grove Street and get me six pints of blood, will you? I felt like such complete shit last night that I didn’t get out to get more, and I’m out.”
 
Dawn hopped off the coffin and took the money. “Anything else you need while I’m out?”
 
“Nothing a fifteen year old could buy legally,” he said with a smirk.
 
“I’ll be back soon,” Dawn promised and she scuttled out the door.
 
Spike lay back and closed his eyes again. He never, ever remembered feeling this bad. He had gone hungry for a week on a boat once, and only the fear of being caught had kept him from eating the whole crew mid-ocean. He had been ravenous then as now, but he hadn’t felt so weak and tired. Could this be a spell or something? But who has it in for me? He didn’t currently owe anyone money, Red was still on the wagon last he checked, Glinda wasn’t the type to curse a vampire for no reason, and Harris and Anya were busy with their little soap opera. He had no explanation for his misery, and it scared him shitless.
 
Dawn returned to find Spike asleep again, and she went over to shake his shoulder. “Spike? Wake up! Feeding time!” His arm felt thinner, his usual muscles smaller and wasted somehow. “Spike!” she cried, getting worried.
 
“No need to shout, Bit,” he grumbled as he sat up. “Thanks for the delivery.” He struggled to open one of the containers, succeeded after a few moments of fumbling, then shakily brought it to his lips. He drank it down and reached for another. Dawn watched, wide eyed, as three containers of blood disappeared down his throat in about two minutes.
 
“Wow, you really are hungry,” Dawn said. “Should we be asking the others to help figure out what’s wrong with you?”
 
“No,” Spike snarled. “Don’t want their bloody help. They treat me like shit unless they need something from me and I’m bloody well sick of it. I’ll figure it out on my own.”
 
“How? You seem like you’re barely able to stay awake!” Dawn observed.
 
“Be fine in a day or two,” Spike insisted, making an effort to sit up and look less pathetic. “Just leave them out of this. Don’t need them poking around making things worse.”
 
“Okay, okay,” Dawn said. She looked down at her watch. “I have to get back. Bitchy the Vampire Slayer wants me home for lunch.”
 
“Don’t be ragging on your sister. She’s got enough on her plate,” Spike admonished. He wondered why he kept defending the stubborn bint, but truth was he couldn’t help it. Still love her, God help me. Fucking ponce you are, William.
 
“Can I stop by tomorrow?” Dawn asked hopefully.
 
“Door’s always open for you, NIbblet,” Spike said with affection. “But if I find you around here at night you’re going to wish some nasty got you after I get through. You hear me?”
 
“I hear you. Thanks, Spike,” Dawn said. She shouldered her bag and left with a wave. Spike returned the gesture, then let his arm fall to the side. The visit with Dawn had completely wiped him out, and he fell back asleep almost immediately.
 
***********************
 
Dawn started making a habit of stopping by Spike’s for a few words on the way home from school. Buffy was usually working, and Willow was usually oblivious, so at first no one seemed to notice that at least an hour of Dawn’s day was spent with Spike. For the first few days she chatted with him about this and that, and he tried valiantly to keep up his end of the conversation. But after a few days she started hitting the butcher’s shop for him on the way over. He kept her supplied with cash, and she brought him six or eight pints a day. He drained them, sometimes before she left, but he still seemed weaker and weaker every time. She grew worried, and begged him to let her tell the others, but he vehemently refused to grant her permission. “If your sister wants to see me she can bloody well come to me,” he snarled. “I’m done being their scapegoat and punching bag.”
 
After a week or so, a day came when Spike couldn’t quite sit up without assistance. Dawn struggled to help him, and he accepted her aid reluctantly. “Spike, please, there’s got to be something we can do for you!” Dawn had said, frantic and desperate. “Maybe you need human blood or something.”
 
“Can’t ask you to get me that, Nibblet,” Spike said, speaking with an effort.
 
“But you look like you’re going to die!” she sobbed.
 
“Already dead, remember?” Spike said, trying to elicit a smile. “Can’t kill me.”
 
“Right now a girl scout could take you out!” Dawn insisted.
 
“Good thing you’re not one of them then,” Spike responded. “Bit, can you… can I lean on you? I just want to go lie down on my bed over there.” His ‘bed’ was currently a few blankets on top of a sarcophagus, but it was close enough.
 
“Here,” Dawn said, bending down to help him up. He draped his arm around her shoulder and she struggled to help him lurch over to his makeshift bed. He pulled himself up awkwardly and slowly, and it clearly took the last of his strength to manage it. “Thanks,” he said. “Think I’ll get some more kip, if that’s okay.”
 
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Dawn promised. She carefully shut the door on the way out and made her way home in a deeply troubled state of mind.
 
When she got home Willow was in the kitchen. “Hey Dawnie,” she greeted her. Looking up from her laptop she said, “Are you okay? You seem upset.”
 
Dawn wanted to tell someone about Spike, but his forceful refusal of all help rang in her ears. “Just had a long day at school,” she lied.
 
Willow noticed the clock for once. “Did you get detention or something? Why are you home so late?”
 
Dawn thought quickly. “A bunch of people were messing around in biology class and the teacher kept all of us after school. Totally unfair.”
 
“Yeah, I used to hate that sort of thing,” Willow sympathized.
 
“Anything to eat around here?” Dawn asked, looking in the fridge to change the subject.
 
“Not a lot,” Willow admitted. “Want to order a pizza?”
 
“Sounds good,” Dawn agreed. She wondered if she was doing the right thing by keeping her whereabouts from the others. On the one hand, she didn’t want to break Spike’s trust. On the other hand, he was looking bad. Really bad. I’ll give him a few more days. Maybe if I can get something extra for him it’ll start him feeling better. She rummaged around for the pizza delivery menu, using all her energy to look normal.
 
****************
 
By the time Saturday rolled around, Dawn was starting to have permanent knots in her stomach from worrying about Spike and his predicament. She had had an after school activity that she couldn’t miss on Thursday, and hadn’t gotten a chance to visit Spike. When she stopped by on Friday with a huge bag of blood, she had been horrified at how thin he had become. He had barely been able to struggle into a sitting position, and had drunk all six pints in rapid succession with only a slight improvement. Dawn’s plan for today was to find him some human blood, one way or another.
 
Dawn was picking her way through a bowl of cereal when Buffy came downstairs. “Hey Dawn, how are things this morning?” Buffy asked. The teen didn’t seem her usual energetic self, and Buffy added, “Are you feeling okay? You look kinda tired.”
 
“I’m okay,” Dawn said, still toying with her cereal.
 
Buffy didn’t buy it, but got herself some coffee first. She sat down across from Dawn and said, “What’s on your mind?”
 
Should I tell her? Dawn thought about it, but couldn’t figure out how to tell Buffy that she’d been visiting Spike every day. After a pause she said, “Do you ever think about Spike?”
 
Buffy was a little taken aback. “Sometimes,” she said noncommittally.
 
“It’s just that…you haven’t seen him in weeks. How do you know he’s okay?” Maybe if I can get her worried about him she’ll go check on him on her own.
 
“He’s over 120 years old, Dawn. I think he can take care of himself,” Buffy said. “Besides, if he wanted to see me he would have.”
 
Suddenly a realization popped into Dawn’s head that widened her eyes. “You were seeing him, weren’t you?” Dawn said accusingly.
 
Buffy jumped a bit. “Wh… why would you say that?” she answered, trying to dodge the subject.
 
“For God’s sake, would you just be honest with me for once!” Dawn exploded. “I’m not two years old, okay?”
 
Buffy frowned into her coffee. Addressing her remarks to the cup she said, “We were sort of… together, in a way. For a while.”
 
Dawn’s mouth dropped open. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
 
“Because everyone would freak and I didn’t want to deal, alright?” Buffy snapped. “It was hard enough dealing with being alive and all the work crap and the home crap and I didn’t need Scoobies weighing in on my…” She stopped herself before she blurted out sex life.
 
“On your what?” Dawn demanded.
 
“I’m not divulging details to you,” Buffy said. “None of it matters anyway. It wasn’t a healthy relationship and I ended it. If Spike actually took the hint and left town, then I’m not really in a position to stop him.”
 
“But what if he didn’t leave town!” Dawn said. “What if he’s hurt or something?”
 
Buffy got up and faced her sister. “Let me say this one more time. I. Don’t. Want. To. Talk. About. It. Got it?” She turned and stormed out, nearly colliding with Willow on the way. Willow ‘s eyebrows were raised, indicating to Buffy that she had caught the end of the conversation. “Really don’t want to talk about it with you either. Whatever it was is over.” She sidestepped around Willow and went upstairs, barricading herself in the bathroom for a shower.
 
“Did I hear what I thought I heard?” Willow asked Dawn. “Buffy and Spike?”
 
“I guess,” Dawn said, giving up on breakfast and dumping her half eaten cereal into the disposer. “She’s being oh so communicative about it.” Dawn grabbed her backpack. “Tell her I’m going shopping with Janice,” Dawn said, and she was out the door before Willow could say anything, the door slamming firmly behind her.
 
*****************************
 
Spike was awake, sort of. He had been drifting in and out of a troubled sleep for most of the day, but now the hunger was waking him up. If he had been at full strength he felt that he would be vamping and attacking anyone who came near. As it was he found that it took an amazing amount of effort just to bring his gameface forward. I’m dying, he admitted to himself with quiet finality. The thought chilled him. It wasn’t like he hadn’t died before, but that had been relatively quick. There had been pain, and fear, but he had sunk into blackness before either of the two had gotten much of a hold. He had woken up bewildered and terrified in his coffin, clawing his way to freedom, but Drusilla had been there waiting for him, welcoming him into the night. This experience made his first death seem like a walk in the park. This drifting in and out, never knowing if he was going to wake up again, was deeply unsettling. The hunger was agonizing – worse than being a fledge again. But the worst part of all was the steady ebbing of his strength and abilities. It was as if someone had opened up a stopcock and was draining his essence away a drop at a time. His senses were dulling, he could hardly move his limbs, and he found himself forgetting what day it was. It terrified him like nothing ever had, and each moment he wondered, how much longer? When will this kill me? But on the heels of this thought came another, even more horrifying: What if this doesn’tkill me? His eyes snapped wide open and he literally shook with the idea. What if this went on, and on, and never stopped? What if he couldn’t die, but lived forever slowly dropping away to a pile of bones? Oh fuck. Not that. Jesus Christ not that. His insides turned completely to ice and he shivered uncontrollably.
 
**********************************
 
Dawn had gone to find her friend Janice, but not for shopping purposes. They were walking together toward the seedier side of town, staying close together and keeping a wary eye around them. “And you say this place will sell us booze?” Janice was saying.
 
“That’s what I heard. They’ll sell anything to anyone. But the place is way creepy, so I guess not a lot of kids want to go down there.” Dawn felt a twinge of guilt at deceiving her friend. But she knew that Willy’s sold human blood. She also knew that there was no way in hell she was going to that area alone. Besides, she rationalized; Janice had gotten her in trouble a bunch of times. She definitely owed Dawn a few.
 
They arrived outside of Willy’s bar and Dawn said, “You wait here. If any police come by, or anyone creepy comes by, come in and tell me.”
 
“You want to go in there alone?” Janice asked, wide eyed.
 
“I’ll be fine. Come running if you hear me scream, and I’ll do the same for you.” Fortunately, Janice was not necessarily the brightest bulb in the chandelier, so this didn’t seem to be an odd plan to her. Dawn took a deep breath and peeked in the door of the bar. When her eyes adjusted to the dim interior, she saw to her relief that it was empty except for the bartender.
 
“What do you want here?” Willy snapped. “This isn’t a place for a kid your age.”
 
She moved over to the bar and said, “Look, I’m trying to buy some human blood for a vampire friend of mine. Can I get it here or not?”
 
Willy’s eyes got wide. “You have a friend who is a vampire? And they haven’t eaten you yet?”
 
“No, duh, that’s why I consider him a friend.” She pulled out a wad of cash. “I need four pints of it.”
 
Willy shook his head, but decided that money was definitely appealing, given his business problems of late. “Fine. But I don’t want to see you in here again. You’re taking an awful risk given my clientele, and I don’t want your blood on my floor or my conscience.” Willy pulled four hospital bags of blood from a fridge, which Dawn stuffed in her backpack under a sweatshirt. “That’ll be $50.” Dawn sighed, and handed over all but $5 of her stash. So much for that new sweater, she thought. “Now get out of here,” Willy said sternly, and Dawn scuttled out the door.
 
“Did you get it?” Janice asked.
 
“No,” Dawn replied, affecting a disgusted air. “The guy was a real creep, so I just got out of there. I guess we’ll have to just get fake ID’s like everyone else.”
 
“Let’s get out of here,” Janice said. “This neighborhood gives me the creeps. There are some real freaks driving around here.” The girls walked with all speed back toward the center of the town, and were relieved when they reached the main shopping district. “Do you want to come back to my house for a while? My mom won’t be home for another hour or so,” Janice offered.
 
“Actually, my sister is being more of a bitch than usual lately, so I sort of have to go home. I swear she’s stricter than my mom was,” Dawn lied.
 
“That sucks. Anyhow, call me later if the warden lets you out,” Janice said. They parted, with Janice heading toward home and Dawn making a beeline for Spike’s crypt.
 
“Hey, Spike, it’s me,” she said as she entered the darkened tomb. “Um, did you run out of candles?”
 
“Hello, Nibblet,” Spike said in a scratchy sounding voice. “There’s more over by the window. I just couldn’t quite get out of bed today to light them.” Spike was laying where she had last seen him, on his makeshift bed, looking frail and exhausted.
 
Dawn spied Spike’s lighter on a table and used it to light some of the candles, which went a long way toward dispelling the gloom. When she saw what he looked like though, she almost wished she had kept it dark. Fighting back her horror she said, “I brought you something special.”
 
“What’s that?”
 
“I got you human blood. Maybe it will work better than the animal blood,” Dawn said triumphantly.
 
Spike narrowed his eyes at her. “And where, pray tell, did you get human blood?”
 
“I um… I went to Willy’s,” she said in small voice.
 
“You stupid bint!” Spike snarled. He struggled to sit up, but eventually collapsed back exhausted. Still fixing a stern stare at her he added, “You could have ended up some demon’s midday snack. Buffy would come here and dust me, then resurrect me and dust me again for good measure if she thought I was putting you in danger to help me.”
 
“Look, I went with a friend, and nothing happened, alright?” Dawn said defensively. “Now are you going to shut up and drink this, or is all that effort going to waste?” She pulled out the bags of blood and moved to his side.
 
Spike’s hand grabbed her wrist, but with what felt like a fraction of his usual strength. “If you ever, ever even think about going there again I will drain your stupid neck myself. Are we clear?”
 
“Yeah, whatever,” Dawn said. “Here, sit up and drink this.” Spike found he couldn’t sit up, so Dawn tucked her backpack under his head to prop him up enough to drink. He vamped with an effort, startling Dawn a bit who unconsciously stepped back. He eventually managed to get his fangs through the thick plastic and drank, slowly savoring the rare treat. He repeated the operation with the other three bags, struggling to rip into each one. He handed the last empty bag to Dawn and his demon face receded, leaving his human face, still looking like a famine victim. Dawn helped him lie back down, looking for any sign that the treatment had helped. “Any improvement?”
 
“Hard to tell,” Spike said. His voice sounded a hair stronger, but he still seemed drained and inert. “Let me rest for a while, give it a chance to work. You can come see me tomorrow, but you stay the hell out of Willy’s, you hear me?”
 
“Fine. Waste away to nothing you stubborn vampire,” Dawn said, zipping up her backpack as she did. She found herself fighting tears at the hopelessness of the situation.
 
“Nibblet,” Spike said in a soft voice. Dawn turned back to look at Spike’s earnest blue eyes. “Thanks for your help. I just don’t want you to get hurt, yeah?”
 
“Okay,” Dawn said. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” She waved and left, and Spike closed his eyes. It’s not making a damn bit of difference, William. You’re still righteously and completely fucked. He too found himself fighting tears of despair as he lay there in the cold tomb, waiting for fate to decide what to do with him.
 
******************
 
Dawn came home to find her sister sitting in the living room, television on, but with an irritated expression on her face. Willow didn’t seem to be home, and Dawn hoped that the irritation was directed at the witch, not at her. Her hopes were dashed when Buffy asked, “Where have you been?” as Dawn tried to pass the living room nonchalantly on her way upstairs.
 
“Didn’t Willow tell you? I was shopping with Janice,” Dawn said.
 
“Hmm. Then why did Janice’s mom call here, wondering where she was, and having no knowledge of this supposed shopping trip?” Buffy asked, standing up to face her sister with her arms folded.
 
“I don’t know why her mom didn’t know,” Dawn said, trying to hide her nervousness. Do I tell her? He needs help so bad.
 
“Okay, I’m going to ask you one more time. Where. Were. You?” Buffy said. The edge in her voice was enough to crack Dawn’s resolve.
 
“I’ve been…visiting Spike,” Dawn spit out.
 
“To do what?” Buffy yelled, exasperated by this lying, sneaky teen she was saddled with.
 
“Buffy, he’s sick!” Dawn wailed. Buffy’s jaw dropped in astonishment as her sister burst into tears and a flood of words came forth. “I went to ask him about you and him and he was all tired and thin, and I tried to get him some blood but he just keeps getting thinner and thinner. It’s like he’s starving, and he looks horrible, and I’m afraid he’s going to die!”
 
“How long as this been going on?” Buffy asked.
 
“About two weeks,” Dawn replied, sniffling. “He didn’t want me to tell you, but he just looks so bad…”
 
Buffy regarded her sister suspiciously. She really, really didn’t want to get back into it with Spike. She half wondered if Spike was faking it or using Dawn as a go between. Or maybe Dawn was trying to manipulate them back together. “Dawn, is this for real? Or are you playing a trick of some kind?”
 
Dawn shoved her away and screamed, “Fine! Don’t believe me. But maybe if you could stop being a heartless bitch for five minutes you could just stop by his crypt and at least say goodbye to him before he turns to dust and yet another person disappears from my life!” Dawn stomped upstairs and slammed her bedroom door with resounding force.
 
Buffy was stunned. Either Dawn had taken her dramatics to a whole new level or there really was something wrong. Buffy bit her lip, pondering the situation, then went upstairs to stand outside Dawn’s closed door. “Dawn?”
 
“What?” came the sullen, muffled reply.
 
“I’ll… I’ll go and see him, ok?”
 
“Do what you want. You always do anyway,” Dawn cried bitterly from behind the door. Buffy swallowed, feeling more than a little hurt. But true to her word, she turned and left the house, heading for Spike’s.
 
********************
 
All the way to Restfield Buffy wrestled with what to say to him. How bad off could he be? And what could be wrong with him? Vampires don’t get sick! Arriving in front of the crypt, she took a deep breath and slowly pushed the door open. “Hello?” Buffy said, poking her head into the crypt. “Spike?”
 
“Who’s there?” Spike’s voice was a sepulchral whisper.
 
That question alone alarmed Buffy. Usually he could sense her coming before she even got to the door. She entered the crypt and let her eyes adjust to the gloom. “It’s me, Buffy. Where are…?” She stopped, the words dying in her mouth as she saw Spike. The change from when she had seen him last was astonishing. He was lying on the sarcophagus where they had last had sex. His face was sunken, the skin stretched impossibly tight over his cheekbones, making their normally sharp contours look like blades. His skin was gray and his lips cracked and desert dry. Moving closer Buffy realized she could see every single rib under his t-shirt, and his stomach was a hollow pit. He was almost literally a skeleton covered by skin. “Dear God, Spike, what did you do to yourself?” she breathed.
 
Spike’s eyes opened with an effort. The usually clear blue irises seemed somewhat clouded, and rimmed in red. “Slayer,” he gasped. “Come to put me out of my misery?”
 
Without thinking Buffy raised her hand to stroke his hair. She had to struggle not to retch with horror as a tuft of white curls came off in her hand. “Spike, what happened? Who did this to you?”
 
“Dunno, pet,” he whispered. “I eat, but nothing helps. Bit got me some human from Willy’s. Didn’t do anything.”
 
Buffy added ‘strangle sister for going to a demon bar’ to her mental to do list, then said, “When did this start?”
 
Spike closed his eyes to think. “A few days after soldier boy left, I think. Memory’s getting a bit fuzzy.”
 
“This isn’t some trick to get us back together, is it?” she asked suspiciously.
 
“Yeah, I’m real attractive at present,” he growled with as much irritation as he could muster. “Just look at the line of females outside the door.”
 
Buffy had to admit that the idea of Spike starving himself for her sake was far-fetched. He was one for loud, grand gestures, not quiet wasting away. Besides, she wouldn’t have found out if Dawn hadn’t told her. “Why didn’t you ask for help sooner?” she wondered.
 
“Figured there was no point,” he said in a soft, broken voice. “Figured you’d be glad to see the last of me without having to do the job yourself. Problem is, don’t know how long this job is going to take.”
 
Buffy flushed with shame. He would rather suffer than have to risk being rejected by her yet again. Pity welled up in her as she looked at the horrible state of his formerly beautiful body. He looked like he could barely hold his clothes up. She imagined that if he stood up that everything would just drop right off of him and he would shatter into a pile of bones. Quietly she asked, “What do you want me to do?”
 
Spike wrenched his eyes open again and forced them to focus on hers. “Kill me,” he begged. “Either find some way to stop this, or just kill me. If I have to go out, let me go out by your hand, not by wasting away an inch at a time like this. Please.”
 
Buffy’s heart broke at the desperate edge to his voice. He really meant it. He wanted to die, rather than to waste away like this. Without dropping her gaze for a moment she reached into her pocket and pulled out a stake. A single tear ran down Spike’s face and he said, “Love you, Buffy. Please remember that when I’m gone. I’ll always love you.”
 
Buffy raised her hand, but her arm started to shake. She tried to steel herself to drive the stake into his chest, as she had done with so many vampires. She had barely hesitated when she had stabbed Angel through the heart and sent him to hell. But faced with Spike’s tears and the pathetic ruin of his body she faltered. Finally she gave up and dropped her arm. “I… I can’t,” she said. “I can’t do it.”
 
“Slayer, please,” he whispered. “I can’t bear this any longer. Please.”
 
Buffy threw the stake away and moved closer to him, gently taking his hand. “I’m going to help you Spike. We’ll find out what’s going on. But don’t ask me to kill you. I just… can’t.” She let go of his hand and backed away toward the door. “I’ll be back after dark. Just… just hang on until then.” Then she turned and bolted out the door, nauseated, while Spike lapsed once more into the darkness. 

TBC

Disclaimer: I don't make any money from this - it's just for fun.

Thanks for all the encouragement reviewers! 


***************************
Chapter 3 – Helpless
***************************
 
Buffy walked home as quickly as she could, shaking her head continuously. What could have done that to him? Although she would never admit it to him or anyone else, she had always loved his body. Even when they were enemies, those lithe muscles and striking features had given her a bit of a rush in a look-at-the-hot-guy sort of way. After that night in the abandoned house it was even worse, since she not only knew each sculpted muscle like the back of her hand, but she knew exactly how he could make her scream in ecstasy with those muscles. To see him lying there, helpless and completely wasted away was beyond horrifying. She fought back tears of pity and shame at the memory of his eyes, begging her for death, loving her despite everything that had happened. I can’t believe he wouldn’t ask for help. When he got that chip he came to us for help. Why would he let himself suffer now? The answer came to her immediately on a wave of guilt: You treated him like a sex toy and broke his heart, that’s why. She started trying to run down her usual litany of denial: he was evil, the relationship was bad for both of them, she needed to stand on her own and face life, and so on. But the image of his emaciated frame kept intruding on her attempts at denial and forced her to face the truth – she had been horrible to him, to the point that he would rather suffer pain and death than allow his pride to be wounded by coming to her for help.
 
By the time she reached her house a plan had formed in her mind, and she flew into the house intent on making it happen. “Buffy?” Willow called from the kitchen as Buffy made her way past the witch to the basement door. When Buffy didn’t answer, Willow followed her downstairs. “Hey, where were you? Dawn’s really upset about something and she won’t talk to me.” Buffy was rummaging through some of the boxes stored in the basement until she came up with a collapsible cot. She started setting it up with slightly shaking hands. “Buff? Want to tell me why you’re in frantic mode?”
 
Without stopping, Buffy said, “Spike’s sick. He’s… it’s like he’s starving to death, even though he’s been eating. He looks awful. He can hardly move.”
 
“Oookayyy,” Willow said. “So is that why Dawn’s upset?”
 
“Yeah,” Buffy replied. She finished putting the frame together and started rolling out the mattress and hunting for the spare bedding. “She’s been bringing him blood behind my back for two weeks.”
 
Willow started to say that it couldn’t be possible. Then she realized guiltily that she hadn’t really been paying attention to exactly when Dawn came home from school, so it was definitely possible. As she watched Buffy still getting the bed all set up, she asked, “Okay, but why the high-speed bed making?”
 
“I’m bringing Spike here,” Buffy stated flatly. “He’s a sitting duck in his crypt, and we need to figure out what’s wrong with him.”
 
“But I thought you said that… whatever it was… was over between you two,” Willow said, confused.
 
“It is,” Buffy replied, finally finishing and facing Willow. “But he’s one of our allies. I can’t… I can’t just leave him there to die without trying to help him. It… it wouldn’t be right.” She could think of no better explanation at the moment for why it was such an imperative that she help Spike.
 
“But Buffy, you want to bring a starving vampire into your house? Does that seem like a good idea?” Willow asked nervously.
 
“Willow, when you see him, it will be pretty freaking obvious that he can’t hurt anyone,” Buffy said, her voice wavering a bit. “Besides, it is actually my house, and I think I can say who stays here.” She turned and went upstairs, leaving Willow blinking in her wake.
 
Buffy went upstairs and knocked on Dawn’s door. “Who is it?”
 
“It’s me, Dawnie,” Buffy said. “I just wanted you to know that as soon as the sun goes down I’m going to bring Spike here.”
 
A quick patter of footsteps and the door flung open, revealing Dawn’s tearstained face. “Do you mean that?”
 
“Yeah,” Buffy said. “You… you were right to tell me. He needs help, whether he wants to ask for it or not. I promise you – I’ll help him.”
 
Dawn hesitated for a moment, then flung herself into her sister’s arms. “I’ve been so worried about him, and I didn’t want you to be mad…” she sobbed.
 
“Shh, it’s okay,” Buffy said, soothing the hysterical teen. “It’s going to be alright. Everything’s going to be alright.” I hope, she added silently.
 
*************************
 
“Tell me again why we’re doing this?” Xander said as he drove Buffy to Restfield that evening.
 
“For the last time, Xander, something is really wrong with him. He needs our help.” Buffy had called Xander earlier that day and explained that she needed help getting Spike to her house. The conversation had been an endless repetition of ‘he’s a vampire’ and ‘he needs help’ with no particular resolution. Finally Buffy had said, “Look, all I am asking is a ride. A favor. For a friend. Can you do that for me, or not?” Xander had relented reluctantly and had picked her up shortly after nightfall.
 
Now that they had arrived, Buffy dashed out of the car almost as soon as it stopped. Shaking his head disapprovingly, Xander followed in her wake as she made her way to the crypt. “Spike?” she called as she opened the door. Hearing no response, she called louder, “Spike?”
 
A slight moan answered her. The candles were nearly burnt out, and the tomb was darker than usual, but she could just make out the faint figure lying on the coffin. His eyes half opened as she reached his side. “You came back,” he whispered in a barely audible tone.
 
“I told you I would,” she said. “You’re coming to my house. No arguments.”
 
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Spike replied. It looked like it was taking all of his effort to speak.
 
“Holy Moses,” Xander said as he finally got close enough to see Spike. “What the hell happened?”
 
“That’s what we need to find out,” Buffy said. She gently worked her arms behind Spike’s shoulders and knees and lifted him. Although the Slayer strength helped, she hardly needed it. If he weighs a hundred pounds I’d be surprised, she thought, her heart breaking for him. “Hold on best you can, Spike,” she said quietly. Spike tried to wrap his arms around her neck, but couldn’t quite manage it.
 
“What can I do?” Xander asked.
 
“Grab his coat from the chair there,” Buffy said, nodding at the duster lying draped across a beat up kitchen chair. “Then get the door.” Xander did as he was told, saying nothing for once as Buffy carried Spike effortlessly toward the car. Xander opened the back door and Buffy settled Spike in gently, trying not to knock him into the door frame. She ran around the other side of the car and climbed in beside Spike, holding his hand for reassurance as they made their way back to Revello Drive. Spike managed to half squeeze her hand before closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the seat. Xander tried once to ask a question but his tentative “Buffy, what..?” was silenced by Buffy interrupting to say, “Not now, Xander. Just drive.” Buffy was holding herself together, barely, but the more she looked at Spike the more she struggled not to burst into tears. All his bones. My God I can see every one of his bones. Her brain fixated on that horrible fact until she bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. Keep it together, she told herself.
 
When they reached the house Buffy got out and went around the car to Spike’s side. “Almost there, Spike,” she said softly, but Spike didn’t respond. She hoisted him again, moving carefully so as not to jostle him more than strictly necessary. She waved off Xander’s offer of help and made her way swiftly to the door. Xander held the door for her as she threaded her way through. “Spike!” Dawn said, leaping up from her perch on the couch and running to the door. When she saw him in Buffy’s arms, looking ten times worse in the bright lights of their hallway she froze and covered her mouth, fighting the rising nausea. Even Willow let out an astonished “Oh my God!” at the sight of him.
 
“Get the basement door someone,” Buffy said, adjusting her grip on the unconscious vampire. Dawn hurried to comply, and Buffy carefully made her way down the stairs with her burden. She laid him on the cot and covered him up, but he didn’t stir at all. Don’t you dare die on me you stupid vampire. She chewed her lip while she mulled over the situation, then went back upstairs to join the others.
 
“He really does look terrible,” Willow said as Buffy entered the kitchen. The others were hovering uncertainly, unclear on what they should do to help.
 
“What can we do for him?” Dawn asked, twisting her fingers nervously.
 
“We need to get into research mode,” Buffy said. “We’re looking for spells or poisons that work on vampires. He said it started soon after Riley left, so that’s a few weeks now. That means it’s slow acting and…”
 
“Buffy, are you sure this is worth the time?” Xander asked quietly. “I mean, look at him. I don’t know if he’ll last the night.”
 
Buffy wrapped her arms around herself and turned away, fighting for control. “I’m going to give him some of my blood tonight. When Angel was poisoned, that was the cure. Maybe that’s the case here as well.”
 
“Hello? Bad idea coming full speed!” Xander exploded. “Did you suddenly forget how Angel’s cure almost killed you last time?”
 
“I’ll give it to him in a cup. You don’t need to worry about me,” Buffy said, turning back to face him. “I know what I’m doing.”
 
“But why are you doing it?” Willow asked. “I mean, Angel was the love of your life. It sort of made sense then. You’re going to risk yourself for Spike?”
 
“This isn’t up for discussion,” Buffy said, grabbing a knife and a coffee mug.
 
Xander grabbed her arm. “Buffy, stop. This is crazy.”
 
Buffy looked up at him with steely, determined eyes. “Get your hand off me and get out of my way.”
 
Xander held his hands up and stepped back. “Fine. Whatever. You’re the Slayer,” he said in a frustrated tone.
 
“Exactly,” she said. She made her way toward the stairs, but when Dawn started following her she said, “Dawn, can you please wait here? I’ll call if I need you, okay?” Dawn started to protest, but the look on Buffy’s face stopped her. Buffy was concerned for Spike and his needs, and Dawn realized that Buffy needed to deal with this her own way. Dawn locked eyes with her sister and nodded her understanding.
 
Buffy closed the basement door behind her and made her way down to Spike’s side. She knelt on the floor next to him and with a swift movement slashed the meaty part of her forearm. Grimacing a bit from the sting she held her arm over the cup, watching it fill with the red fluid. Spike’s nostrils twitched a bit as the coppery smell wafted through the air. When the cup was full Buffy grabbed a towel from a laundry basket and wrapped it around her arm, tucking it in to make a makeshift bandage. She slid her good arm under Spike and held him up while she brought the cup to his lips. “Spike, wake up. You’ve got to drink this.”
 
Spike’s eyes half opened. “Where…?” he asked, sounding utterly confused.
 
“You’re safe, but you need to drink,” Buffy repeated. She touched the liquid to his lips and he started to drink, slowly.
 
After a few sips his eyes opened wider. “Buffy? What is this, love?” he whispered.
 
Buffy rolled her eyes in complete exasperation. “Look, drink now, interrogate later, alright?” Spike obeyed, being too exhausted to do anything else. Buffy held the cup patiently until the last drops had passed his lips. She laid him back down carefully when he was finished and asked, “You with me?”
 
Spike nodded faintly. “That was your blood,” he said. “Why?”
 
Buffy found she couldn’t quite meet his eyes, so she pretended to tend to her own wounded arm. “When Angel was poisoned once, the cure was Slayer blood. Just thought it was worth a try.”
 
“Where are we, pet?”
 
“My house. I put you in the basement because it’s easier to block the sun here.”
 
Spike reached out a shaky hand and touched her arm. “I’ll ask again. Why?”
 
Buffy addressed her remarks to her own lap. “Because I couldn’t just leave you there defenseless. It just… wouldn’t be right.”
 
Spike closed his eyes. As he had suspected, it was pity and her inherent White Hat nature, not any feeling for him, personally. At least none that she would admit. “Thanks, Slayer,” he said finally, his disappointment hidden by the overall weakness of his voice.
 
“Does the blood seem to be helping?” she asked. He was speaking and moving a little, but he still looked completely wasted.
 
“Hard to tell,” he replied. “Still feel really out of it.”
 
Buffy collected her supplies and stood up. “Get some rest, okay? I’ll come check on you in a little bit.” She turned and went upstairs, leaving Spike to lie there in the dim light, fighting the despair that threatened to overwhelm him.
 
*****************
 
The others were still in the kitchen. Willow had made herself a cup of tea, Dawn was picking idly at a paper napkin, and Xander was pacing back and forth, agitated. When Buffy reappeared, Dawn jumped to her feet and anxiously asked, “Did it work? Is he cured?”
 
“I don’t know if it worked,” she said. “He was talking, which is more than he was doing when we got him here. But he’s still pretty weak. I’ll go check on him again later.”
 
“So what do we do now?” Xander asked. He clearly was still unhappy with the idea of Spike under Buffy’s roof, drinking Buffy’s blood, and he made little effort to hide it.
 
Buffy regarded him with narrowed eyes. “Xander, if you want to leave, leave. I’m not going to force you to help if you don’t want to. But if you’re going to stay then keep your unhelpful comments to yourself.”
 
“Fine. If you want to waste your time and put yourself in danger for a soulless vampire, be my guest. I’ve got other things to do.” With that Xander turned and stomped out, slamming the door.
 
“What’s his issue?” Dawn asked.
 
“Probably just residual crabbiness from the wedding,” Willow remarked. “He’s not dealing with it all that well.”
 
“Oh poor baby,” Dawn snapped sarcastically. “He leaves his fiancée at the altar and we’re supposed to feel sorry for him? Yeah, right.”
 
“Please, can we have that particular argument later?” Buffy cut in. “If he doesn’t want to help, fine. Willow, are you with me?”
 
“Um, sure,” Willow said. “But most of the stuff is at the Magic Box.”
 
Buffy looked at the clock. “I’m going to go patrol. When I get back, we’ll see how Spike is. If he’s still bad, we can go to the Magic Box early tomorrow morning and start in on the research.”
 
“Should we call Tara?” Dawn asked. “I mean, she’s good with healing spells and stuff like that. Maybe she can help with the research.”
 
“Sure. One of you can do that while I’m gone,” Buffy said. She grabbed her jacket, checked her stake supply, and headed out into the darkness.
 
As soon as Buffy left, Dawn turned to Willow. “Can you call Tara while I check on Spike?” She turned to head downstairs before Willow could answer.
 
Willow paused for a moment, then picked up the phone. She and Tara had gotten along fairly well at the wedding, and Willow hoped it was a sign that their relationship would soon mend. Dialing the number from memory she played with her hair nervously as she waited for Tara to pick up. “Hello?”
 
“Tara, it’s Willow,” she said. The thrill of hearing Tara’s voice never quite went away, and the sound was made more precious by the fact that she didn’t hear it on a daily basis anymore.
 
“Hi. What’s up?”
 
“It’s Spike. Buffy brought him here to the house. He’s sick or something,” Willow began.
 
“How can vampires get sick?” Tara wondered.
 
Willow explained the whole story beginning to end, finishing with, “Do you want to join in the research party tomorrow? We’re going to the Magic Box first thing in the morning.”
 
“Of course,” Tara said. “Spike’s a member of the group. We need to help him out if we can.”
 
Willow frowned a bit. She had rather hoped that Tara would mention spending time with her as a reason for joining the research. She didn’t exactly share the ‘Spike’s a member of the group’ sentiment. But rather than debate that point she said, “That’s great. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
 
“Tomorrow,” Tara agreed as they both hung up.
 
Dawn had made her way down to Spike’s cot. She sat down next to him and reached out to clasp his hand. He opened his eyes slowly and said, “Hey, Nibblet.” His voice was still a scratchy whisper, with barely a trace of his warm, rich accent.
 
“Hey, yourself,” she said lightly, trying to hide her fear. “How do you feel?”
 
“Like I’ve been run over by a truck,” he said. He fought to keep his eyes open and focused.
 
“Did the Slayer blood help?” she asked.
 
“Some,” he admitted. “I can stay awake a bit longer than before. Still feel like I haven’t fed in ten years.”
 
“We’re going to go into research mode tomorrow, so we can find out what’s wrong with you,” Dawn explained.
 
“I appreciate that, Bit,” he said.
 
“Spike, I’m… I’m sorry I told Buffy. I know you said not to. Are you mad at me?” she asked nervously.
 
“You did the right thing,” he said. “Sometimes us guys are too stupid and stubborn for our own good.”
 
“Not arguing with that statement.”
 
Spike half smiled. “Watch it, Nibblet.” He closed his eyes again. “Sorry, I’m still so tired. Not much of a conversationalist.”
 
“Go back to sleep,” Dawn said, tucking him in. “Buffy will come to you when she gets home.” He was asleep again before she got half way up the stairs.

TBC

Disclaimer: All the characters belong to some rich person who is not me.

Thanks so much for the encouragement so far!

******************
Chapter 4 - Diagnosis
******************
 
Patrol was a rushed affair that evening. Buffy made her way as quickly as she could through the biggest cemeteries, taking care of four fledges and two older vamps who hadn’t been in town long enough to know who she was. Their talk of having ‘skinny blonde chick’ for dinner was cut abruptly short as said blonde chick took them out in about half a minute. Too easy, she thought to herself, dusting off her hands. They should be ashamed to call themselves vampires. The thought brought her back to one particular vampire, and she pointed her feet back toward home.
 
Buffy waged a mental battle all the way home. Why do I care? Why am I doing this? These questions and many of their relatives kept bouncing constantly through her brain, but no answers seemed to come up. All she knew is that the thought of Spike being gone forever bothered her. A lot. If he had left town she would have missed him, if she was being honest with herself. But if he ceased to be entirely? If there was no chance he would ever darken her doorstep again? The idea filled her with an unnamed dread. So if I hate the idea of him being dead, what does that mean? She shied away from deeply exploring the answer to that.
 
When she got home, Willow was watching television in the living room. “How was patrol?” Willow asked as Buffy hung up her jacket.
 
“The usual. Where’s Dawn?” Buffy asked.
 
“She went to bed. Spike was sleeping last time she checked.”
 
“I’ll go see how he’s doing,” Buffy said as she headed to the kitchen for a clean mug and the kitchen knife. “Can Tara join us tomorrow?”
 
“Yes. She’ll meet us there.” Willow furrowed her brow as she saw Buffy heading to the basement, clearly intending on feeding Spike again. “Are you really sure that’s a good idea? I mean, he hasn’t had human blood in a long time. What’s that going to do to him if he gets better?”
 
Buffy raised her eyes to the ceiling and counted to ten. “Willow, the animal blood didn’t help. The human blood Dawn got him – which I have to remember to kill her for getting – didn’t help either. The slayer blood seems to. I heal quick.”
 
“Just worried, that’s all,” Willow said.
 
“If you want to worry about something, worry about figuring out what did this, okay?” Buffy turned and went downstairs, leaving Willow still frowning behind her.
 
Buffy made her way down to Spike’s cot. “Spike? Got some tasty Slayer goodness for you,” she said.
 
Spike opened his eyes at the sound of her voice. “Evening, Slayer,” he said. He watched as Buffy put the mug down and prepared to slash her arm. “You really don’t need to do that, you know.”
 
“Yes, I do,” she said, slashing away before he could protest again. His stomach growled at the scent of her as the mug slowly filled. She realized she hadn’t grabbed a towel to staunch the flow. “Shit. I’ll be right…”
 
“Give me your arm, Buffy,” Spike said quietly. Hesitating, she looked questioningly into his eyes before slowly moving her bleeding arm close to him. He took her arm with one shaky hand and brought it to his lips. He tenderly ran his tongue over the wound, sealing it, before planting a kiss on her wrist. The action caused warmth to flow through her body and down between her legs. Embarrassed, she pulled her arm away. “Thanks,” she muttered. “Um… here, let me help you sit up.” She lifted him once more, cradling him with one arm while she held the mug for him in the other. He drank it down and licked his lips as she laid him back on his pillow. “Slayer two meals in a row. Gonna spoil me,” he croaked.
 
“You seem a little more talky,” Buffy observed. She noticed that his eyes seemed a little clearer as well.
 
“I feel less than completely comatose, yeah,” Spike agreed. “Still pretty immobile though.”
 
“Do you remember anything that could help us figure this out?” Buffy asked. She had gotten up and was sitting on an old chair, elbows on her knees, watching him for any signs of improvement.
 
Spike wrinkled his brow in concentration. “It was just this gradual thing, you know? I was fine, then I started feeling tired all the time. I had been going through about one or two pints a day, but after a while I was going through three or four pints in a sitting and I still felt like I was starving. ‘Bout the time that Nibblet came to see me, after the wedding, I couldn’t actually summon the strength to get to the butcher’s anymore.”
 
“Oh yeah, that reminds me, what was the idea of sending my sister to Willy’s?” Buffy said with more than a hint of aggravation.
 
Spike shook his head slowly. “I didn’t send her there. I expressly forbade her to get me any human blood. Listens about as well as her sister does,” he replied.
 
“Hey, I heard that,” Buffy said, but her irritation with him died back down. She should have known that Spike would never knowingly put Dawn in danger. “I’ll threaten her miserable existence for that later I guess.”
 
“What’s the plan, then?” Spike wondered.
 
“Well, since Slayer blood doesn’t seem to be an instant cure, I guess we hit the books tomorrow,” Buffy said. “Will you be alright here alone?”
 
“’M a big vamp. Can take care of myself. Still feel like I could sleep the clock round anyhow,” Spike said. “You’d better go upstairs and get some food and liquid into you now. Can’t have you keeling over from blood loss, you hear?”
 
“I hear you,” Buffy said. She stood up and found she did feel a little lightheaded. “I’m going to go take care of that not keeling over thing. Can I get you anything else before I go crash?”
 
“I’m good, Slayer,” Spike said. “Thank you.”
 
“You’re welcome,” she said quietly. She made her way to the kitchen, finding it blessedly deserted for once. She grabbed a huge glass of water and heated up some of the leftover pizza. As she munched she pondered the situation further. She and Spike were actually being cordial to each other, for once. Spike wasn’t making snarky and inappropriate comments, and she hadn’t called him a pig or punched him in the nose. It was so unlike their usual exchanges that it gave her pause. Even before they had started sleeping together, their interactions had never been like that. Either she had been too traumatized from her return from the grave to say much, or she had been drunk, or depressed, and their conversations had mostly consisted of Spike trying to get a rise out of her, to jolt her somehow into living again. After they had started in on the sexcapades it was either angry sex or disgust on her part. This was different, and she wasn’t sure what to make of it entirely. She kept turning these things over in her head while she finished eating, but came to no clear conclusion. With a sigh she shut all the thoughts back into the ‘deal with later’ drawer in her mind and went up to bed.
 
********************
 
“Buffy I’m never going to be able to concentrate anyway!” Dawn whined.
 
“Dawn, I know you’re worried. But if you skip school then I’m going to be worried about social services paying us another visit.” Dawn had tried every possible argument for weaseling out of school in favor of research with the gang, but Buffy put her foot down. “As soon as school is over you can come straight to the Magic Box, okay?” Buff said.
 
“Fine,” Dawn sighed. “Can I just check in on Spike before I go?”
 
“Fast – you need to get there on time,” Buffy admonished.
 
Dawn came down the stairs with her usual racket. “Spike? Are you awake yet?”
 
“I am now,” Spike muttered. He opened his eyes and squinted at her. “For such a slip of a thing you come down the stairs like a herd of cattle.”
 
“Sorry,” Dawn said, blushing a bit. “How are you this morning?”
 
“Talking. Awake. Not much else,” he admitted.
 
“Buffy’s making me go to school, but I just wanted you to know I’m not abandoning you,” Dawn said.
 
“Not worried about that, Nibblet,” Spike said with affection. “But you’d better mind your sister and go. Don’t want you getting taken off to some foster home.”
 
“Okay,” Dawn agreed. “We’ll have you back on your feet in no time. Just wait and see.”
 
“Appreciate the confidence, Bit,” Spike said. “Now go, before you get in hot water.” He closed his eyes and listened with a half smile to the thumping of Dawn’s feet. Bint weighs a hundred pounds. How does she make such a godawful din? A few minutes later the door opened again and another set of feet came down, quieter this time. “That you, Slayer?” he asked, opening his eyes again.
 
“Room service,” Buffy said. “Figured you could use a little more to eat before I ditch you for the day.”
 
“I told you, it really isn’t necessary, pet,” he argued. “’M not really worth it.”
 
Buffy responded by pulling out the knife and slicing her arm again. “Look, it seems to be helping, at least a little. If we’re going to find you a cure, we need you to stay alive long enough for us to cure you. So take your medicine like a good vampire.” She brought the cup over to him and moved to help him sit up.
 
Spike ignored the cup to tend to her arm first, once more drawing his tongue along the cut and sending shivers down her spine. Only then did he permit her to feed him. He tried to hold the mug himself, but his shaky hands could barely manage it, and Buffy ended up helping just to keep it from being spilled. “Fucking embarrassment this is,” he muttered as he finished. “Even when you dropped that pipe organ on me I could at least move my arms.”
 
Buffy was moved with pity for him. To be a fighter like Spike, trapped in this weak body, must be absolute hell. “We’re going to figure this out, Spike. I swear to you.”
 
“Whether you do or not, thanks for trying, love,” he said. He searched her green eyes until she flushed and turned away to pick up the knife.
 
“I’ll see you this afternoon, okay?” she said. Spike nodded his understanding, and Buffy turned to go.
 
“Are we ready to go?” Willow asked as Buffy came back upstairs.
 
“Just let me rinse out this mug and we can leave,” Buffy replied. After the dishes were done they left, walking at a brisk pace toward the Magic Box.
 
“How’s the undead English patient?” Willow asked as they walked.
 
“He’s talking more,” Buffy answered. “He still can’t hold the mug on his own, but he seems to be able to manage a bit more movement, and his eyes look clearer.”
 
“So the Slayer blood slowed down whatever is going on, but it isn’t a complete cure,” said Willow.
 
“Seems like it,” said Buffy.
 
“Who would want to do something like this to him?” Willow wondered.
 
Buffy shrugged. “Who knows? I know that half the demons in town think he’s a traitor because he helps me. Maybe someone got tired of him being on our side.”
 
“I guess I never thought of that,” Willow said. “He must not be very popular if he’s out with us every night killing his own.”
 
“Yeah, I can see why demons and vampires might take offense,” Buffy said. “But that being said, it’s hard to know if there is a specific grudge someone has against him.”
 
“I guess we just have to do what we can to figure this out,” Willow concluded as they reached the store. The bell rang as they entered, and Anya looked up from behind the counter.
 
“Good morning. Haven’t seen you in a while,” Anya observed. She seemed unnaturally subdued, and Buffy and Willow were reminded of how devastated she must still feel. Buffy was a bit ashamed that she hadn’t made any particular effort to reach out to Anya after the wedding. Aside from cleanup help, Willow had spent a lot more time comforting Xander than Anya. The situation was a bit awkward, to say the least.
 
“Things have been a little crazy,” Buffy said noncommittally. “But we need to do some research.”
 
“What about this time?” Anya asked.
 
“It’s Spike,” Buffy began. “He’s sick or something. He’s been gradually… wasting away or whatever you want to call it. He eats, but he just keeps getting thinner. He doesn’t know what did this. I figure it’s a spell or a poison or something.”
 
Anya wrinkled her brow in thought as she moved over to the bookshelves. “Hmm. It’s got to be something mystical…” She started pulling a number of possible books off the shelves and handing them to Willow, who bore them to the table. Anya made her way up to the dark magic section and loaded Buffy down with a pile as well. As Buffy set them on the table the bell rang again and Tara came in.
 
“M…morning everyone,” Tara said. Between feeling awkward around Anya, and still feeling a little nervous about Willow and magic, her stutter had a tendency to slip in now and again.
 
“Hi, Tara,” Willow said with a smile. “Come join the research party. The topic of the day is things that can make vampires starve.”
 
Buffy found herself annoyed that Willow was taking this so lightly, but held her tongue for the present. If you were the one starving I bet you wouldn’t be cracking jokes, Buffy thought. However, since telling Willow off would most likely slow the research down, Buffy just reached for a book and dived in.
 
The research went on until lunch time without any success. Poisons were found that made vampires burn from the inside, develop fevers, and think they were immune to sunlight so that they would dust themselves among other things. But they found nothing specific that could make them starve as they glutted themselves on blood. Spells were considered, but none seemed to fit the bill exactly. Buffy tossed the latest book on the table and sighed. “I need to take a break for a few minutes,” she said, sitting back in defeat.
 
“Same here,” Willow said. “I mean, I guess we’ve eliminated some avenues, but we still don’t seem to be getting anywhere.”
 
Tara put her book down and said, “Do we know for sure whether it’s a poison or a spell? There are spells that can detect the presence of past spells done on a person.”
 
“We don’t know anything really,” Buffy conceded. “We should try it. As long as the spell wouldn’t hurt him worse, I don’t see the harm.”
 
“I can do the spell this evening,” Tara said. Willow sat up, secure in the knowledge that she could do that spell in a heartbeat, without even thinking about it. Willow started to speak, but kept silent as she saw the others nodding at Tara. She knew that the subject of her own magic was still a touchy one. I’ve got it much more under control now, she thought. How long is it going to take for them to trust me again?
 
“Why don’t we have some lunch and start this up again afterward?” Anya suggested, not really noticing Willow’s slight frown. “Is pizza okay with everyone?” The other three agreed, and Anya went to make the call. A few minutes later she returned saying, “The pizza’s on its way.”
 
“Thanks, Anya,” said Buffy. They spent several minutes clearing space on the table, putting away books they were finished with, and sorting out notes. Fighting her usual urge to dodge difficult subjects she asked, “How are you doing anyway? We haven’t really talked much since…”
 
“Since Xander stomped my heart in front of all my friends?” Anya said bitterly.
 
“Um, yeah,” said Buffy.
 
“I’ve been alternating between depressed and wanting to call up some of my vengeance demon friends for a freebie,” Anya continued. “I’m pretty sure that’s the standard reaction to this sort of thing.”
 
“You wouldn’t… do anything to him, would you?” Willow asked nervously.
 
“Me personally? Probably not. Although like I said, if one of my friends happened to give him nightmares for a year or boils on his penis, I wouldn’t exactly object,” Anya replied.
 
“I know he made some mistakes,” Willow began. “But he does still care about you.”
 
Anya barked out a short sarcastic laugh. “He has a funny way of showing it. I’d hate to see how he’d treat me if he hated me.”
 
“That had to be so awful for you,” Buffy put in. For whatever reason, the full impact of what Xander had done finally hit home. She had been thinking about Spike’s absence from the wedding, and dealing with Dawn, and had only really given passing thought to Anya’s point of view. “I just can’t imagine what you were feeling.”
 
Anya looked hard at Buffy. “I was wondering if anyone was going to notice that someone other than Xander was involved in this whole thing,” she said in a voice tinged with hurt. “To hear some people talk you’d think that Xander was the only one who had a right to be upset.” At that point the pizza delivery man came in, and Anya broke off the conversation to go pay him.
 
Willow had been about to mount another defense of Xander when Tara spoke. “Willow,” said Tara, putting a hand on her arm. “I know you’ve been Xander’s friend for a long time. But he’s in the wrong here, and you can’t keep defending him in front of Anya. It’s hurting her.”
 
“I know his timing sucked, but he’s really hurting too,” Willow protested.
 
“I didn’t say turn your back on him,” Tara said. “Just... be sensitive to Anya’s feelings, okay?”
 
Willow’s response was cut off by Anya returning, pizza in hand. “You each can chip in four dollars,” Anya said, capitalism once more rearing its head. The others paid Anya then dug in, grateful for the break from the awkward conversation. At least until Anya said, “So Buffy, why are you worrying so much about Spike? Have you two decided to resolve the obvious sexual tension or something?”
 
Buffy nearly choked on her pizza. She definitely noticed that she had gotten used to Xander stepping in to filter Anya’s embarrassingly blunt mode of communication. Now that Xander wasn’t here, Buffy wondered what other comments were going to be flying out of left field. After recovering from her choking fit she said, “Spike’s been an ally and a… a friend. I couldn’t just leave him suffering like that.”
 
Tara looked searchingly at Buffy. She knew their relationship was more than friendship, even though said relationship seemed to be on the rocks of late. Why is she still so afraid to talk about it? Tara wondered.
 
Tara’s question was answered when Willow said, “I still don’t understand why you were so willing to give him your blood. I know you guys had some sort of thing going, but if it’s over, that seems… unusual, to say the least.” Tara shook her head slightly, wondering when Willow was going to stop commenting on Buffy’s personal affairs.
 
Anya broke in, “You gave him Slayer blood? And you’re still here?”
 
Buffy sighed. “I gave it to him in a cup, okay? I’m not putting in a tap for heaven’s sake.”
 
“That was sensible,” Anya agreed. “Did it have any effect?”
 
“It seems to have helped a little, but it’s definitely not an instant cure.”
 
That seemed to spark a thought in Anya. “You know, we’ve been mostly looking at poisons available in this realm. Maybe it’s something rare from another dimension. If it came from another dimension where Slayers don’t exist, it might explain why Slayer blood doesn’t help.”
 
“Do we have that sort of information?” Buffy wondered.
 
Anya wandered over to the bookshelves. “There are some other books here – more obscure stuff. Some of it is in demonic languages, but I might be able to help with some of those, unless we trust Willow enough to do a translation spell.”
 
Willow’s face burned red. “For the thousandth time, I’m sorry the magic got out of hand! You don’t have to keep reminding me every ten seconds.”
 
Buffy once more counted to ten, trying not to knock various people’s heads together. Sometimes it felt like navigating the Scoobie relationships was a full time job, and the pay sucked. “We’ll cross the translation bridge when we come to it, okay? Let’s just finish eating and get back to work.” The four of them finished eating in silence and cleared away the leavings, returning to the book pile.
 
By the time Dawn showed up after school they had a list of about twenty potential spells and a list about twice that long of possible poisons and potions from a variety of sources. Some were extremely far-fetched, but they decided not to eliminate anything at this stage. “Did you figure out what’s wrong with Spike yet?” Dawn asked as she hurried in and plunked down her backpack.
 
“We’ve narrowed it down a bit,” said Buffy. “But we’ve still got a long list of possibilities.”
 
“So what do we do now?” Willow asked. She was tired, cross-eyed from reading, and starting to wonder if Xander might be right – that this was an awful lot of worry about a pain in the ass vampire, regardless of his past assistance.
 
Buffy considered. “Let’s go back to my house. Tara can do that spell to see if there is any residual magic hanging around him. And maybe if we ask him some questions about the poisons we know about something will ring a bell.” They gathered up notes and several large books. Waving goodbye to Anya, Willow, Dawn, and Buffy climbed into Tara’s car for the short drive home.
 
“Anya’s still pretty upset, huh?” Dawn asked. Even she had noticed the air of hurt and anger around the former demon.
 
“You can say that again,” Buffy agreed. “I think Xander had better give her a huge amount of space. Like for at least ten years.”
 
“And here I thought I might actually see a functional adult relationship for once,” Dawn muttered. “Someday I’ll have to find an actual grownup couple who have stayed together and study them, just to see what they’re like.” None of the others had an answer for that, and the ride finished in silence.
 
When they got to Buffy’s house, they unloaded all the books onto the dining table. “Wait here,” Buffy instructed. “Let me go see if he’s awake.” Buffy headed downstairs, closing the door behind her. “Spike? We’re home.” Spike was asleep, so she went to his side and shook him gently. “Spike?”
 
Spike stirred and slowly opened his eyes. “Hey, Slayer,” he said. “What’s the story?”
 
“We’ve got some possibilities,” she said. “Tara wants to do a spell to detect the presence of any past magicks on you. That way we know if it’s a spell or a poison. Do you feel up to it?”
 
“Guess I don’t have much of a choice,” he said. He hesitated, then said, “I don’t want to have to ask you this but…”
 
“Oh, stupid me,” Buffy said, understanding his meaning. Of course he was hungry. “Let me go get the knife…”
 
“Buffy, do you trust me?” he cut in quietly. Buffy’s mind flashed back to the last time he had asked that question, with handcuffs dangling from his fingertips and a ‘dare you’ expression on his face. His expression this time was one of desperation, rather than lust, but the question was the same. Did she trust him, or not? After a moment’s hesitation she slowly held out her arm. He took it in his cool, still unsteady hands and brought it to his mouth. With a visible effort he brought forth his fangs and sank them as delicately as he could into her wrist. The sting was so slight as to be hardly noticeable, and the sensation of his lips and his tongue, together with the suction of his drinking filled her once more with a wave of pleasure. She closed her eyes and drank in the sensation as he took in more of her essence. God that feels good. Why does that feel so good? It’s totally wrong. Then, just as she thought she might come right there and then from the sensation he stopped and kissed the wound closed. Her eyes flew open as her breath came in gasps. Spike fixed her with his blue eyed gaze and said, “Must be helping – couldn’t even vamp out the other day. Thank you.”
 
“You’re… you’re welcome,” Buffy stammered, suddenly embarrassed. “I’ll… just… I’ll go get the others. Now. To do the spell. Um, yeah.” She turned and all but fled up the stairs, pausing before she opened the basement door to get herself under control. “Hey,” she said to the others. “We need to go do the spell and whatever downstairs. He’s awake, but there’s no way he can get up here right now.”
 
“Buffy, are you alright?” Willow asked, noticing that Buffy looked a bit flustered.
 
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Buffy said, moving purposefully into the dining room. She rummaged around with burning cheeks until she found the sheets of paper with the list of poisons. Grabbing that and a couple of books, she led the way back down the stairs, followed by Dawn. Willow looked at Tara who shrugged, grabbed the spell ingredients and followed, with Willow behind her.
 
Tara stifled a gasp at the sight of the emaciated vampire. “S… Spike. How are you f… feeling today?” she stuttered.
 
“Been better,” Spike said, trying to put her at ease with a faint smile. “Gonna do some mojo on me, are you?”
 
“Just a sort of a magic detection spell,” Tara said, recovering her composure. “This won’t hurt.”
 
“Doctors always say that,” he retorted. But truthfully, he had always trusted Tara, and had no qualms about letting her try to find out what the hell was going on. Just keep Red and her brand of magic meddling far away from me, thank you very much.
 
Tara lit four candles and placed one on the floor at each corner of the bed. She positioned herself kneeling at the head of the bed, with a bundle of burning incense held in her left hand. “Close your eyes and clear your mind,” she instructed. Spike did so while the others watched intently, looking for anything unusual. Tara chanted in a strange tongue for a long minute then said, “Reveal.” The girls’ eyes grew wider as a white mist came out of the bundle of incense, circled Spike once, then dissipated without further ado.
 
“What happened? What does it mean?” Dawn said excitedly.
 
“Nothing,” Willow said. “If it had been a spell we would have seen some sort of image of the spellcaster in the mist. Whatever it is, it isn’t magic.”
 
Buffy tried to hide her disappointment. “Well, I guess that eliminates half of the list,” she said, trying to look on the bright side.
 
“What else do you have on the list then?” Spike asked. He too had hoped for an easy resolution, and he had to fight the urge to close his eyes and sink back into inertia.
 
Buffy grabbed a couple of folding chairs from the stack of them under the stairs and put them out for Willow and Tara. Dawn perched on the edge of the cot by Spike’s feet, her long legs drawn up and her arms wrapped around her knees. “Ok,” Buffy began, tucking an errant hair behind her ear. “Some of these we can probably eliminate pretty quickly. You don’t have any rashes or spots or funny colors, do you?”
 
“Not that I’ve noticed,” Spike said with a faint hint of amusement. “Course I can’t see my back, so I couldn’t swear to it in a court of law.”
 
Buffy involuntarily conjured up an image of that long white back, and the attractive ass it led to. Would you quit that already! she thought, exasperated at her own brain’s inability to quit thinking about Spike that way. We’re not doing that anymore, okay? Done with that whole… naked Spike… thing. Arrgh. Forcing herself back to the question at hand she said, “Alright, we’ll keep those on the side if nothing else pans out. That leaves about… thirty other possibilities.” Spike groaned slightly, not sure if he could keep focused for as long as this was likely to take.
 
The conversation went on, with various possibilities being explored. This poison probably would have killed him outright. That poison had a side effect of hallucinations. This other one didn’t actually affect vampires usually. “Okay,” Willow said, looking over Buffy’s shoulder at the list. “We’re down to about a dozen. Most of these don’t originate in our dimension, so the information was sketchier.”
 
“Run down the names,” Spike said wearily. “Maybe something will ring a bell.”
 
“Let’s see,” Buffy said. “Dragon’s oil, gorgonbeast heart, essence of kerala wood, watais root, deathwater, snaketree extract…”
 
“Wait a minute,” Spike said. He closed his eyes and concentrated. Something was dancing at the edge of his memory and he couldn’t quite grasp it. “Can you tell me what dimensions or demons or whatever are associated with these things?”
 
“Hang on a minute,” Tara said. She ran upstairs and came back with some more pages of scribbled notes. “Okay, dragon’s oil is used for the feast of Delthrox, gorogonbeast heart is associated with grador demons, essence of kerala wood gets used in certain rituals by finger eating demons, watais root comes from the Trok’fav dimension, deathwater is what they call some obscure poison from Pylea…”
 
“Trok’favs,” Spike interrupted again. “Sound familiar. Do you have a description of them somewhere?”
 
Willow ruffled through one of the books for a moment then said, “Trok’fav demons are tall, blue-green skin, red eyes, generally humanoid.”
 
Oh fuck. He recalled that bar fight, at Willy’s. Biker vamps, a Mohra demon, and a bluish-green chap who had had way too many to be able to hold his own, but had jumped in anyhow. He had gotten exactly one shot in before Spike had kicked him in the gut, grabbed his head as he bent over, and snapped his neck like a twig. “I think I may have killed one of those in a bar fight round about the time this all started happening,” Spike admitted.
 
“Well, that’s good then, right?” said Dawn hopefully. “I mean, if we know what it is, then we can figure out the cure!”
 
Willow frowned as she read the entry on watais root again. “This is not the best translation. But it seems that watais root is used in vengeance killings. The Trok’fav demons evidently are compelled to revenge the death of family members, and watais root is a long and drawn out way to go.”
 
“So is there any antidote to this then?” Spike tried to remain calm, but his voice came out with a slight waver. He was afraid. Please let there be a way to stop this. Can’t live this way.
 
“According to this, the only thing that reverses the effect is ‘sang mater’, which translates as blood of the mother,” Willow read. “It’s a particularly nasty thing to do to a Trok’fav, since their family bonds are so strong. They essentially have the choice between slow death and matricide.”
 
“But what does that mean for Spike?” Dawn persisted. “I mean, his mother is long gone!”
 
“No,” said Buffy quietly. “It means we need to find Drusilla. He needs the blood of his sire.” She locked her eyes on his and wondered how the hell they were going to accomplish that.
 
TBC

Disclaimer: All the characters and recognizable dialog are Joss Whedon's, not mine. 

Reviews are most, most welcome. 

**********************************
Chapter 5 – Constants and Variables
**********************************
 
Everyone froze for a moment at Buffy’s pronouncement. Dawn found her voice first and said, “Um, isn’t she, like, long gone? Where do we even start to look for her?”
 
“We don’t!” Willow cried. “I mean, we can’t bring her to Sunnydale! She’s dangerous. Crazy dangerous. She killed Kendra, remember?”
 
“But Spike needs her!” Dawn argued, jumping off the bed to face Willow. “What are we supposed to do? Just let him die?”
 
“Dawn, honey, we’re not going to let Spike die,” Tara soothed, trying to calm things back down.
 
“Don’t you think you ought to consult the Spike in question?” Spike put in, but his voice was tired from the long session of weighing possible poisons and he could barely be heard over the women.
 
“Everyone stop!” Buffy yelled, and her forceful tone cut through the noise. The others turned to look at Buffy, whose expression was unreadable. “Just… stop, okay? I need to think about this. There has to be a way to solve this, but I need to think.”
 
“But we’re not even completely sure this is the right poison,” Willow protested.
 
“Willow, all the symptoms fit, and Spike killed one of these Trok’fav demons. I think we can assume we’ve got the right poison,” Tara said quietly. She didn’t know much about Drusilla, but what she had heard gave her chills. However, Willow’s fears weren’t particularly helping the situation at present.
 
“Please,” Buffy begged, her voice softening slightly. “Can we just step back for a second? We know what the problem is now. But we’re not going to find a solution this way.”
 
Willow’s furrowed brow unknotted slightly. “I’m sorry. I just… freaked. I mean, Drusilla equals some pretty unpleasant memories, you know?”
 
“Ladies,” Spike said, his voice low and scratchy. “Can I please talk with the Slayer alone for a moment?”
 
“Of course,” Tara said, ever the voice of reason. “Come on. Let’s take these books upstairs.” Willow looked concerned, and Dawn glanced nervously at Spike, but Tara repeated, “Come on. Give them some space,” and the others followed her up the stairs.
 
When the door shut behind them Spike said, “Sit down, pet.” Buffy obeyed, arms crossed, chewing her lip thoughtfully. “Can’t ask you to go after Dru for me. Red’s right – she is dangerous. Mad as all get out and with the sight to boot. Won’t have you risking yourself on my behalf.”
 
“But there’s no alternative!” Buffy protested.
 
“Yes there is,” Spike said his voice soft but determined. “You have to let me go.”
 
“No,” Buffy said, shaking her head. “I can’t do that.”
 
“Buffy, please,” Spike pleaded. “I can’t live like this, half surviving on your blood forever.”
 
Buffy stood up and faced away from him, trying to keep under control. But even without seeing her face, Spike could hear the threatening sobs in her voice. “Don’t ask me to watch you die. Not when there’s something that can save you.”
 
Spike shook his head slowly in disbelief. After regarding her for a few moments he said, “I don’t get it. You and I fight each other, and shag each other, and you beat the crap out of me and dump me, and now I’m suddenly irreplaceable? You made it pretty bloody clear that you didn’t want anything more to do with me.”
 
“Spike…” she began, trying to get her mouth to form some sort of coherent sentence.
 
“I won’t have your pity, Slayer,” he growled. “Not going to be a charity case. Not going to have you heal me up to assuage your conscience then kick me to the curb again when you’re done.”
 
“It’s not that,” Buffy said, still addressing the wall with her back to Spike.
 
“Then what?” Spike croaked, his frustration evident even in his weakened state.
 
Buffy took a deep breath and spoke, staring at the ground. “You’re… you’re a constant in my life.”
 
“What the hell does that mean?” Spike wondered.
 
Buffy turned and sat down, twisting her hands while she explained. “If you had left town, after we… after I broke things off, I would have missed you. But I would know you were out there, somewhere. You always come back. I know that if I ever really, really needed you you’d come back. But if you were dead…” Tears started escaping from Buffy’s eyes, and Spike’s jaw dropped open at the sight. “If you were gone, forever, the only other constant thing in my life besides Dawn would be gone and… I can’t deal with that.”
 
“You’ve got your friends and your watcher,” Spike said. “You don’t need me hanging about.”
 
Buffy shook her head. “They used to be constants too,” she said miserably. “But Xander just went off and did something I’d never expect him to do, and Willow’s all unpredictable lately, and Giles left me.” She lifted her head and drilled her green eyes straight into Spike’s astonished ones. “But you’re always here. Whether we’re fighting or working together or… other stuff, you’re here. And I’m not ready to live without that.”
 
Spike was stunned. “What are you getting at love?” he asked when his jaw started working again.
 
“I don’t know, okay?” Buffy said, getting up to pace back and forth, trying to put her confusion into words. Finally she stopped and barely meeting his eyes said, “I… I owe you. A lot. You were there when I needed someone to listen to. When I first came back, I mean. I was crazy and depressed, and you were the only one who could deal. It… it was my fault things went so wrong.”
 
“Buffy,” Spike interrupted. “Takes two to tango, yeah? Neither of us are saints, although you’re a hell of a lot closer than I am. You don’t owe me a thing.”
 
“Please,” Buffy said quietly. “I can’t explain it, alright? I don’t know what I feel, and I don’t know where this is all going to lead, but if I don’t try to make this right, I’m just going to lose it, okay? Please. Just let me try to make this right.”
 
Spike waged an internal war between his pride, his ever present love for her, and his fear of this situation he found himself in. But as always, he caved under the gaze of those green eyes and he sighed. “Don’t fret, Slayer. I’m in your hands, as ever. Do what you will.”
 
Buffy came over and laid her hand on his cheek. “I’m not going to let you down, Spike.” They both hoped that her statement would prove true in the end.
 
****************
 
“But Tara, you don’t know what she was like!” Willow, Dawn, and Tara had gone upstairs and proceeded to get into an argument about the whole situation. Dawn was ready to charge off in search of Drusilla, on her own if necessary. Willow thought the whole idea of trying to go after the psychotic vampiress was completely ludicrous. Tara was just trying to understand the situation and walk the line between the two of them, and was having a hard time of it.
 
“Willow, just calm down okay?” Tara was saying. She broke off when she saw Buffy come upstairs and close the door behind her. “Buffy? Is everything alright?” she asked.
 
“Yeah,” she said. “He’s sleeping again.” She ran her hand through her hair, thinking as she moved into the living room.
 
“Buffy, tell them! We’ve got to help him!” Dawn cried.
 
“I’ve been trying to tell her…” Willow began.
 
“Stop it! Both of you!” Buffy yelled. Fixing them both with a stern glare she said, “Look. We are not going to run off blindly after little Miss Psychovamp.” When Dawn started to protest she added, “But we are not going to let Spike die either.”
 
“I don’t want to be the voice of doom here,” Willow said. “But you’re talking about trying to find one vampire, somewhere in the entire world, who just happens to be somewhat psychic and who has the ability to control people’s minds! Where do you even begin?” Willow threw her hands up, completely mystified by the whole idea of actively seeking out the notorious Drusilla.
 
“I have to try,” Buffy said. “I know the risks, but I have to try.” She stared out the window and noticed that the sun had nearly set. “I’m going out to patrol. I think better when I’m killing things.” She grabbed her jacket and stakes and left the three bewildered girls behind her as she headed out into the night.
 
*****************
 
“What the hell is it? ‘Buy one fledgling, get two free’ night?” Buffy muttered as she brushed herself off. For whatever reason, the vamps were out in droves, with fledglings popping up left and right. She had had a bit of a tussle with three at once at one point that had left her with a bruise on her cheek and a rip in her jeans, and she silently bemoaned the loss of more clothes that she couldn’t afford to replace. As she left the last cemetery and started on the long walk home, she thought, I’ve got vamps coming out of my freaking ears, but not the one I actually want.
 
She stared running through what she knew about Drusilla. Crazy. Absolutely batshit, talking to invisible people crazy. Wiry. Strong, but not incredibly so. Psychic, but rambled so much that no one could figure out what the hell she was being psychic about. That thrall thing. Giles had described how she had made him think he was talking to Jenny, while Angelus was trying to torture information out of him.
 
Buffy slowed in her walk. Angel. He might know where she was. He’s got all sorts of connections. She wondered if Angel’s blood would work on Spike. Sire, grandsire, is there that much difference? It was probably worth a shot, although she doubted that Angel would donate blood for Spike. Even if he did, Spike would probably sooner die than accept help from Angel. I’d have to trick Spike into drinking it, if I could get Angel to cooperate. She sincerely doubted that cooperation would be forthcoming, but at least she could give him a call. He could give her information, if nothing else. Quickening her pace, she made her way back home to make a phone call.
 
********************
 
Buffy looked at the phone in her hand and at the clock on the wall. Ten o’clock. Definitely not too late to call a creature of the night. She had come home from patrol to find that Tara had gone home, Dawn was fussing over Spike, and Willow was worrying. She had sent Dawn to bed, told Willow to chill once more, checked in on Spike, who had dozed off again, and then retired to the living room to stare at the phone. How is Angel going to react? That’s the million dollar question. She used to feel like she knew Angel so well. But when they had met up after her return from the grave they had been like two strangers. She had still been so shell-shocked, and his mind had seemed occupied by concerns that had nothing to do with her or Sunnydale. He wasn’t a known quantity anymore, and she dreaded having to explain this situation to him. After a few more minutes of psyching herself up, she took a deep breath, screwed up her courage, and dialed.
 
The phone rang at Fred’s elbow as she stared at the computer, her owlish eyes utterly focused on her task. Research had become her bailiwick after Wesley’s departure, and she had a tendency to get lost in whatever subject was on the docket for the day. Barely taking her eyes from the screen she reached for the phone. “Angel Investigations, how can we help you?” she answered automatically.
 
Buffy didn’t recognize the voice on the other end of the phone. “Um, hi,” she said nervously. “I was looking for Angel.”
 
Fred frowned. Angel was in his office, ostensibly attending to some paperwork, but probably still beating himself up over the loss of his son. “May I ask who’s calling?” Fred asked, deciding that she was not going to disturb Angel unless it was really necessary.
 
“This is Buffy, from Sunnydale.”
 
Fred recognized the name, and realized that this was probably one of those calls she should pass on. “Hold on, I’ll see if he’s available.” Fred knocked on Angel’s office door. “Angel? Buffy’s calling from Sunnydale,” she called through the closed door.
 
Angel had been staring into space, remembering details of his son’s baby face, his hair, his tiny fists. He shook himself at the sound of the knock, and after hearing who was on the phone said, “I’ll take it in here.” Sitting up and rubbing his face, he picked up the phone and punched the blinking light. “Hello? Buffy?”
 
“Hey, Angel,” she replied. “Haven’t heard from you in a while.”
 
“Yeah,” he said, the weariness evident in his voice. “Things have been incredibly crazy around here.”
 
“Same here,” Buffy said. “Anyhow, I’m sorry to bother you, but I need some help.”
 
“What sort of help?” Angel asked. Truthfully, it was taking all of his strength to manage his own problems these days, and he wasn’t sure if he had any reserves to devote to Buffy’s problems. But since he couldn’t find the energy to explain his current crisis to her, he settled in to listen to what she needed.
 
Buffy took a deep breath. “I need to find Drusilla,” she said quickly.
 
Angel sat up suddenly, his full attention finally brought to bear. “Drusilla? I haven’t seen or heard from her in a year or so. Why do you want to find her?”
 
Buffy found herself reluctant to explain exactly why, so she answered, “I just… need to find her. And it’s kind of urgent.”
 
“Buffy, I don’t have the time or energy for games here,” Angel said crossly. “What the hell could you possibly need Drusilla for?”
 
Buffy clenched the phone and said, “I need her to help Spike.” She closed her eyes and waited for the explosion.
 
It was not long in coming. “Spike?” Angel growled. “What business do you have with him?”
 
“He’s been helping me, Angel,” Buffy explained. “He took care of my sister all last summer when I was… gone. He’s been someone I can talk to and depend on since I came back. Someone poisoned him with watais root – he’s wasting away. He needs the blood of his sire to cure him.”
 
“So let me get this straight,” Angel said in an increasingly irritated voice. “You want me to help you find Drusilla to cure Spike?”
 
“That’s the idea,” Buffy said, equally irritated. “Is this something that you can do with all your Investigator resources?”
 
“No,” Angel responded firmly.
 
“No, you have no idea where she is, or no you can’t find her with your resources or…?”
 
“No, I am not going to help you do something incredibly stupid that might get you killed,” Angel barked. “Whatever game Spike is playing, he’s dangerous. He may be pretending to be your ally because he’s got that chip in his head, but the second he doesn’t need you he’ll turn on you. And you of all people should know how dangerous Drusilla is. No way am I going to deal with having your death on my conscience because I helped you find her.”
 
“Angel, Spike is not faking it, and he’s not using me. If anything I’ve been using him to help me cope since I got back. I’ve been a total bitch to him sometimes, and he still helped me. I owe it to him to help him out,” Buffy replied.
 
“He’s evil, through and through,” Angel growled. “I should know. I helped make him what he is.”
 
“You haven’t seen him in a while, Angel,” Buffy began.
 
“Not since he tried to torture me to death, no,” Angel interrupted. “So pardon me if I don’t have warm fuzzy feelings toward him.”
 
“Angel,” said Buffy, trying to remain patient. “Right now, he’s dying, okay? He weighs about a hundred pounds and he’s fading away by inches.”
 
“Good riddance then,” Angel muttered.
 
“I need him, Angel,” Buffy snapped. “I don’t have anyone else around here who isn’t up to their eyeballs in their own problems, and I can’t handle it all on my own. He’s a… he’s a friend. I can’t just let a friend die without trying to help.”
 
“Forget it, Buffy,” Angel said with finality. “With anything else I’d be glad to help you, but trying to find Drusilla is fucking suicidal, and relying on Spike is just a recipe for disaster. I’m not going to be a party to your self-destruction.”
 
“And once again, Angel knows all, and knows what’s best for Buffy,” she said sarcastically. “I forgot. You’re the expert on what I need. That’s why you ditched me like everyone else.”
 
“You know that’s not fair,” Angel yelled.
 
Buffy lost her temper and gave up. “Whatever. Thanks for your nonexistent help. Have a good life.” With that, Buffy punched the off button angrily and tossed the phone to the other end of the couch. Fuck him. So tired of the ‘I know what’s best’ shit. She rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands, trying to think of what her next move should be. When she didn’t come up with any brilliant idea after a few minutes, she went to the kitchen to find something to eat and drink. She wasn’t particularly hungry, but she forced herself to heat up a can of soup, to keep her strength up and help replenish the blood she was losing keeping Spike alive. She stared into space while she ate, trying to come up with a solution. She finished the entire bowl of soup while hardly registering the taste, then went downstairs to see what Spike was up to.
 
Spike had woken up a few minutes after Buffy had gone upstairs. He found his hearing was almost back at full strength, but he hadn’t paid much attention until he heard Buffy say ‘He’s been helping me, Angel’. His eyes snapped open at that point and he found himself straining to hear Buffy’s end of the conversation. He wished she had told him she was going to call his grandsire – he would have been able to save her the trouble. Angel wouldn’t lift a finger to help me if I was being dipped in holy water in front of him. In fact, he’d probably sell tickets and bloody popcorn. It gave him a little lift to hear Buffy defending him to Angel, and the way she dismissed him at the end made him positively grin. You tell him, Slayer. GIt always thinks he knows sodding everything. He realized that this didn’t get him any closer to a solution to his problem, but anything that pissed Angel off was by definition a good thing.
 
He took stock of his situation while he listened to Buffy knocking things about in the kitchen. His vision and hearing were definitely improved. He was able to get his gameface on, although it still felt like it took as much effort as lifting two hundred pounds. He could stay awake for longer, and talk longer before exhaustion overcame him. But when he tried to get up, he found he could barely manage to raise his head from the pillow. His hands shook so badly that he had to struggle to grasp the covers to readjust them, and rolling over was out of the question. Fucking useless pile of bones I turned out to be, he grumbled silently. He found himself wanting to get up and destroy something, and was beyond frustrated at his inability to do so. A few minutes later the door at the top of the stairs opened and Buffy descended. “Evening, Slayer. How was patrol?”
 
“Long,” Buffy said, plopping in the chair next to him. “Every fledgling on the planet had to rise in Sunnydale tonight. I know it’s a hellmouth but, sheesh.”
 
“Don’t suppose a conversation with the great Poof made for a satisfying cap to the evening either,” Spike observed.
 
“Heard that did you?” Buffy said ruefully. “I guess you can guess how that turned out.”
 
“Could have told you he’d be of no help,” Spike said. “He’s never going to see me as anything but evidence of his Angelus years, no matter how many times I help you White Hats. He’s got a soul, so that makes him judge and jury of the rest of us vamps. Wanker.”
 
Buffy smirked a bit. “Don’t hold back, Spike. Tell us how you really feel.”
 
“We’ll be here all night if I do,” Spike said. “And you look ready to drop any moment.”
 
“Planning to, right after you have some dinner,” she said.
 
Spike frowned a bit. “Don’t suppose I can convince you that I don’t need you to do this, can I?”
 
“Spike, it’s been a long, aggravating day. Don’t make me pound you to get you to feed, okay?” Buffy said in an exasperated voice.
 
“Alright pet. No need to break my nose again,” Spike conceded. He forced his fangs out and gently sank them into her proffered wrist. She closed her eyes as the perplexing, erotic sensation that she was becoming all too familiar with spread through her body. Spike closed his eyes as well, savoring the rich, heady taste of this woman, this Slayer. All blood had unique flavors, but nothing matched the pure liquid power in a Slayer. His demon could have drank all night, but he forced himself to stop before her heart started to slow down. He opened his eyes as he pulled away, noticing the ecstatic expression on her face. Once more he closed the wound tenderly and said, “Thank you, love.”
 
Buffy opened her eyes and returned his gaze, saying nothing for a minute. She pulled her arm away gently, her lips parted as she struggled to keep her composure. “Why… why does that feel so good?” she asked quietly. “Does it always feel like that?”
 
Spike managed a slight shrug. “It can. It’s what keeps the vampire whores in business. It’s like a kiss, in a way. A kiss can be brutal and painful, or not. Bites are the same way. Don’t want to hurt you.”
 
“You didn’t,” Buffy said. She stood up slowly, tired and confused by what she felt. “I… I need to go to bed. We’ll work on all this some more tomorrow, okay?”
 
“Yeah,” Spike said. “Thanks for trying. No matter what happens, I appreciate the effort.”
 
“We’ll figure this out somehow,” Buffy assured him. “Good night, Spike.”
 
“Night, Slayer,” he replied. She gave him one more searching look before she went upstairs. She barely managed to get undressed and into bed before exhaustion claimed her and she fell into a dreamless sleep.

TBC

Disclaimer: All the characters and any borrowed dialog are Joss Whedon's, not mine.

Thanks ever so to the reviewers who keep me writing!


***********************
Chapter 6 – Discussions
***********************
 
“So how are you doing?” Willow sat across the table from Xander at a local coffee shop. She had woken up that morning to find the Summers girls still asleep. She had quietly poked her head downstairs to find the house’s other occupant also still out cold. Needing to process the previous day’s events somehow, she had called up Xander to see if he was available for some early morning coffee.
 
“Hanging in there,” Xander replied. “I still think that I did the right thing, but I miss her, you know? I’m probably going to spend the rest of my life second guessing the whole thing.”
 
Willow leaned forward and patted Xander’s arm. “It’s going to take a while, but you’ll heal. I thought the world was going to end when Tara left me. Sometimes it still feels that way. But I think we’re starting to be friends again, little by little.”
 
“I don’t know if Anya’s ever going to forgive me,” Xander said, shaking his head.
 
“She is still pretty pissed at you right now,” Willow said with a sigh. “She was still hurting when we saw her yesterday.”
 
“Oh yeah. How did the research go?” Xander asked. He had given up hope that Spike would have the decency to just dust quietly and be one less annoying thing in the life of Xander Harris, so he might as well hear what was going on with the vampire.
 
“Well, the good news is that we figured out that he was poisoned with some obscure poison from another dimension called watais root,” Willow said. “The bad news is that the only thing that can cure him is the blood of his sire.”
 
“That sucks,” Xander said, not particularly sympathetically. “So is Buffy going to put him out of his misery or what?”
 
“No. She’s planning to go after Drusilla,” Willow replied.
 
Xander coughed and sputtered as he choked on his coffee. “She’s going to do what??” he cried, grabbing a handful of napkins to mop up his shirtfront.
 
Willow shook her head. “She says she’s not going to let him die on her watch,” Willow said. “She’s been feeding him more of her blood, which seems to help a little bit, but she has every intention of trying to find Drusilla to cure him.”
 
“Is she nuts?” Xander said. “I don’t think I’d go after Drusilla for any reason, let alone to help the Bleached Wonder. What the hell is she thinking?”
 
“I don’t know,” Willow said. “She keeps saying she owes him, and she can’t let him just die, even though she says whatever they had going is over.”
 
Another mouthful of coffee went down Xander’s throat the wrong way. As soon as he stopped coughing he said, “What did they have going? Was she involved with him?” The idea absolutely floored him.
 
“I don’t know the details,” Willow admitted. “But she pretty much told Dawn that they had had some sort of relationship, but that she had broken it off.”
 
“How come none of us knew about this?” Xander wondered.
 
“Apparently she didn’t want to tell any of us because she thought we would freak out and she didn’t want to deal,” Willow said.
 
“That’s…” Xander paused. “Ok, I suppose I would have freaked out, given that I just freaked out. But why would she start anything with him in the first place?”
 
“That I can’t tell you,” Willow said. “I guess she was a lot more messed up than we realized. We were all sort of preoccupied, you know?”
 
“Guess so,” Xander sighed. “But what are we going to do about the current crisis?”
 
“I don’t know. I mean, I tried to remind her about the last time we dealt with Drusilla, but she’s got her mind made up. I overheard her calling Angel last night to try to get his help.”
 
“Did he agree to help her?”
 
“From the way she told him off before she hung up, I’m thinking not,” Willow said.
 
“So what does she plan to do next?” Xander asked.
 
“I don’t know. I got up extra early today and she and Dawn were both still in bed.” Willow said. She sipped her coffee and thought for a moment. “Do you think we should call Giles?”
 
“That’s a thought,” Xander agreed. “Maybe he’ll be able to talk some sense into her.”
 
“I’ll give him a call later,” Willow said. After another sip of coffee she mused, “Do you suppose we should talk to Buffy first? I mean, she might get mad about us going behind her back.”
 
“Yeah, but don’t you think Giles should have some background info?” Xander countered. “I mean, what if she calls him and doesn’t tell him the whole story?”
 
“She wouldn’t lie to Giles!” Willow protested.
 
“She’s been lying to the rest of us for a few months,” Xander noted.
 
Willow chewed on that thought for a while. “I suppose giving Giles a bit of a heads up wouldn’t be the worst thing we did this year.”
 
“You’ll call him then?”
 
“Yeah. Some advice would be of the good about now.” With that settled, they finished their coffee and moved on to other topics.
 
******************
 
Buffy woke to the sound of Dawn banging around downstairs. “I’ve gotta go! See you later!” Dawn yelled before flying out the door for school. Buffy groaned as she rolled over and pulled the pillow over her head. Ok, five points for getting out the door on time. Minus five thousand points for being loud enough to wake the dead. Speaking of which… She pulled the pillow back off her head and sat up, yawning. She got out of bed and grabbed her robe, making her way down to the kitchen. She saw a note from Willow saying she had gone out for coffee with Xander and groaned again. Probably deciding what sort of intervention I need, she rightly surmised. How many years do I have to do this Slayer gig before they decide I know what I’m doing? She made herself some breakfast, washed it down with coffee, then went downstairs to check on the vampire.
 
Spike was sleeping, which gave Buffy a chance to look at him. His face was a lot closer to his usual alabaster tone, as opposed to the ghastly gray it had been. But she could still see the curve of every rib, and there was no hint of his formerly sculpted muscles. Those arms which had held her, punched her, and fought beside her lay like two useless sticks on top of the blanket, and it nearly caused her physical pain to see it. He didn’t deserve this. He might have in the past, but not anymore. Her eyes trailed back up to his face, where his eyes had opened and were regarding her thoughtfully. “Not a pretty picture, is it,” he said.
 
“You’ve been better,” Buffy admitted. “But you’ve also been worse. I think after Glory you looked worse.”
 
“Thanks, I think,” he muttered. “Think you could help me sit up a bit, love? Getting rather tired of lying here looking at the ceiling.”
 
“Sure,” she said. She gently but firmly hoisted him upright and helped him turn so that he could lean his back against the wall. She arranged a pillow behind him and pulled up a folding chair for his feet. “Better?”
 
“Much,” he replied. He had reveled in her scent as she helped him, feeling the soft curves of her body as she put her arms around him. Had he been his normal self he would have been sporting an instant erection, but in his current state – nothing. God just fucking stake me. If a Slayer in her nightclothes doesn’t get me hard, then I’m beyond dead. Put me in an urn and call it done. He kept his thoughts to himself at the sight of her quiet, concerned movements, making sure he was comfortable without making him feel any more helpless than he was. For whatever reason, she was helping him, willingly. He couldn’t begin to fathom exactly what was going on in that blonde head of hers, but for now he only had the strength to accept her help, whatever the motive.
 
Buffy sat down next to him and held out her arm. “You might as well have some breakfast. I’ve got to work this afternoon, and I’ll need some time to rest up before I go.”
 
Spike didn’t waste his lack of breath arguing with her again. There wasn’t any point if the answer was going to be ‘shut up and drink’ followed by a threatened punch in the face. He rubbed her wrist gently with his thumb, brought it to his lips, and kissed it tenderly before vamping out and sinking his fangs in. The heat began to flow through Buffy again as he drank, but it stopped all too soon. “Are you sure that’s enough?” she asked with concern. “You didn’t drink very long.”
 
“Don’t want to risk you passing out at work,” Spike said. He deftly closed the wound and added, “I’ll hang in there with what I got.”
 
“How are you feeling this morning?” she inquired. She moved to a more comfortable position, but remained next to him on the bed, which surprised the vampire somewhat.
 
“Not quite ready for battle, I’m afraid,” he said. “Senses are nearly at full power now. Guess I can remain upright thus far.”
 
“I wonder if we just kept you on a Slayer diet long enough whether you’d get over it,” Buffy mused.
 
“At this rate it would take months and months,” Spike answered. “And when I get too long between feedings I start to get weaker again.”
 
“So you’d be having Slayer for breakfast, lunch, and dinner forever,” Buffy said. “That doesn’t sound like a winning strategy.”
 
“And you’re so skinny. Probably have to drain you dry to get any real improvement, and then I’d be out of Slayer and back where I started,” Spike said with a little smirk.
 
Buffy smirked back, then fixed him with her green eyes. “Do you have any idea where Drusilla could be?” she asked.
 
Spike blew out a breath and leaned his head back against the wall. “I heard through the grapevine that she had been around LA last year, although I can’t confirm that. That’s really the last I heard. I can sense her if she’s near because of the whole sire bond thing, but I haven’t sensed her since…”
 
“Since you chained us both in your crypt?” Buffy put in with a wry smile.
 
“Um, yeah,” Spike muttered ruefully. “Not one of my better ideas in retrospect.”
 
“So no ideas how to find her?” Buffy asked.
 
“When we were together, she’d run off sometimes, but usually not too far. And she would usually come back when the voices in her head got too loud or something. I used to have more of a connection to the demon world to try to get word of her, but lately I’ve been on the outs with a lot of my sources.”
 
“I guess that’s my fault, huh,” Buffy said, looking away. “I never really thought about what it must be like for a vampire to be helping the Slayer.”
 
“About the same as what it must be like for a Slayer keeping company with a vampire,” Spike answered. Buffy looked at him, trying to make sense of the tone of his voice. “I’m pretty fed up with being your dirty little secret, Slayer. But given the peanut gallery that you’re surrounded with, doesn’t really surprise me that you don’t want to announce your extracurricular activities.”
 
Buffy leaned back against the wall next to him and stared out into the cluttered basement while she spoke. “It’s all so fucking complicated. The whole thing with Angelus just scarred them for life, you know? They’re all guilty about pulling me out of heaven, there’s no leader anymore, everyone’s relationships are all kablooey. I can’t run away from home, and I can’t throttle them, so it’s easier to just say nothing and keep your head down sometimes.” They lapsed into silence for a few moments, leaning against the wall and staring anywhere but at each other.
 
After the silence had stretched out to the point of awkwardness Spike asked, “What’s your plan from here?”
 
“I thought about giving Giles a call,” Buffy answered. “See if any council resources could help.”
 
“Suppose it’s worth a shot, although he doesn’t seem to have a lot of love for yours truly,” Spike muttered.
 
“Maybe I’ll just tell him it was some Slayer dream that predicted some horrible fate unless I found her,” she said. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
 
“Say he does know where she is. Then what?” Spike inquired.
 
“Either we go to her, or I bring her here, I guess,” Buffy said with a shrug. “Those seem to be the only two options.”
 
“Buffy,” Spike said gravely. “Bringing her here would be dangerous. Not just for you either. She’s Angelus’ get, and she’d go after your Scoobies just as fast as Angelus would. Mind you, her reasons would all have to do with the stars and the fairies and what her sodding dolls told her that morning, but the effect would be the same.”
 
“Then we go find her,” Buffy said. “We’ll just have to figure out how.” Silence fell again as they both contemplated how that could possibly be done.
 
***************
 
“You need to smile more, Summers,” admonished Buffy’s annoyingly chipper coworker Steve. “It’s part of the Doublemeat experience!” Buffy plastered a false smile on her face and counted to a hundred. Again. Steve had only been there a few weeks, but he had apparently drunk the Doublemeat kool-aid by the gallon. He was rapidly becoming the manager’s shining example of all things Doublemeat. Buffy was seriously considering seeing if his head would fit in the fryolator. “Did you have a fight with your boyfriend or something?”
 
No, I’ve been donating a pint of blood twice a day for a few days now and I’m exhausted, you smarmy little toad. Keeping the false smile firmly in place she replied, “Sorry, I thought I was smiling. I’m just a little tired today. Had trouble falling asleep.”
 
“That’s too bad,” Steve said with what sounded like sympathy. The illusion was shattered when he continued, “But the show must go on!”
 
One…two…three… Buffy had counted to three thousand or more by her estimation. Her job sucked on a good day, but today it was hell. She was worried about Spike, pissed at Angel for being completely unhelpful, and wondering what the Scoobies were up to. She hadn’t seen Willow yet today, and she sincerely hoped that they weren’t talking behind her back about her doings with Spike. She had the energy to deal with Spike, and maybe Dawn, but not much else. She definitely did not have the energy to deal with Steve the Super Slinger of Special Sauce. She offered to go in the back and do the hated job of refilling ketchup dispensers, just to keep from strangling him and three or four customers for good measure. While she worked, she thought about what she would say to Giles. There’s the truth, she thought. You could just tell him the truth – you care about Spike.
 
She stopped dead for a moment. The admission had snuck up on her out of nowhere, but if she was honest she couldn’t deny it. She cared about him. It made her heart ache to see him in his current state. She didn’t think she loved him. They had too much baggage between them at present for that. But she needed to help him. To lose him was not to be thought of. In a strange way she felt lighter having finally clarified her position somewhat, at least to herself. With that thought, she survived the rest of the shift with Steve the Wonder Cashier with a slightly lower aggravation level. She managed to get by with only counting to one hundred once.
 
When the shift finally ended she mumbled a nearly inaudible reply to Steve’s cheery, “See you again tomorrow!” and headed home. How bad would it be, hypothetically speaking, if I fed Steve to a vampire? Actually, she was in the business of dealing swift death to demons, rather than drawn out torture, and having to listen to Steve blather fell into the latter category. The vamps would probably cover their ears and flee after thirty seconds. She toyed with the idea of walking in to work, setting her ugly uniform on fire in the middle of the grill, and flipping Steve and everyone else the bird before dancing out. However, the need to occasionally feed Dawn and pay bills won out over her need for senseless destruction.
 
As she reached her house she finally managed to put her workday behind her. She thought about calling Giles, but then smacked herself on the head as she remembered, Oh yeah. Time change. It’s like, the middle of the night there. Not a good time to ask someone for help. She silently berated herself for forgetting that simple fact and not calling earlier. Maybe it’s the blood loss. Or it could be that I haven’t called him in a month or two. She felt a twinge at the thought – she really should make more of an effort to keep in touch. But it wasn’t like he called a whole lot either, so she guessed it went both ways.
 
“I’m home,” she called as she finally opened the front door.
 
“Hey, Buffy,” called Dawn from the kitchen. She was munching some tortilla chips while she worked on her homework. “How was work?”
 
“Long, greasy, and annoying,” Buffy grumbled. “How bad do you need to have a house and clothes, really?”
 
“I’m pretty attached to being not rained on or naked,” Dawn replied. "So I guess you need to stay employed."
 
“Figured that would be the case.” Buffy sat down and flopped onto the table, resting her head on her arms.
 
“Tough day at the office?” Willow asked. She was a little concerned – Buffy looked even more wiped out than usual.
 
“Yeah,” Buffy mumbled without picking up her head.
 
“I went grocery shopping today. Can I get you something?” Willow inquired.
 
“Is there anything with caffeine?”
 
“One cola product, coming up,” Willow said. Buffy muttered a ‘thanks’ and drank the soda gratefully while stealing a few of Dawn’s chips.
 
“Anyone check on Spike?” Buffy asked after she had restored herself a bit.
 
“I chatted with him a little when I got home,” Dawn said. “I brought him a couple of books to read – he was getting bored.”
 
“I guess that’s a little improvement,” Buffy said. “I guess I’ll go check on him before patrol.” She finished her soda and headed down to the basement. She found Spike asleep again, but this time with a book splayed out on his chest. She recognized it as one of her mother’s – a collection of the writings of Oscar Wilde. She would have thought a biography of Sid Vicious would be more up his alley.
 
Spike stirred and opened his eyes. “Hello, Slayer. Guess I drifted off a bit there.”
 
“I never got into Oscar Wilde much myself,” she said, sitting down.
 
“Are you kidding?” Spike said, his voice animated, but still a bit weak. “This guy was hilarious. After all the boring moralist crap I had to read growing up, this guy was brilliant. I saw The Importance of Being Earnest when it debuted. Course they closed it when they found out he was a raging poof, but that’s beside the point.”
 
Buffy smiled. “Sometimes I really forget how old you are,” she said.
 
“Seen a lot in my time,” he agreed. He looked her over. “You look tired, pet.”
 
“I guess I am,” she admitted. “Do you think… could you wait until tomorrow to feed? I think I need to recover a bit.”
 
“Been trying to get you to do that for two days now,” Spike admonished. “I’ll survive. But you won’t if you pass out in the middle of patrol.”
 
“Admit it, you’re just trying to preserve your next meal,” she teased.
 
Spike wasn’t joking, however, when he answered, “It’s more than that, Slayer. You know it.”
 
“I know,” whispered Buffy. She took his hand and ran her thumb over his knuckles. “I realized something today,” she said, studying the web of veins in his hand.
 
“Yeah?”
 
She looked into his eyes. “I care about you Spike. I’m not just helping you because it’s the right thing, or it’s what I’m supposed to do. It’s because it’s you. I still… I still don’t know how things are going to work out between us. But I just thought you should know. I do have feelings for you.”
 
Spike was struck dumb for a minute. He had never, ever thought she would get to the point of admitting that they were something more than comrades in arms or sex partners. “Thank you for that, Buffy,” Spike said tenderly when he found his voice again. “Means a lot.”
 
“You’re welcome,” she said, looking long and deep into his blue eyes before shaking herself out of her trance. She squeezed his hand and slowly stood up.”I’m going to go patrol, then crash. Need anything before I do?”
 
“You’ve already given me more than you’ll ever know,” he said softly. Buffy blushed, flashed him a nervous smile, and went upstairs, leaving a thunderstruck, happy vampire in her wake.
 
**************
 
Whatever Powers looked out for Slayers were clearly in a good mood that night, as Buffy encountered exactly two, easily dispatched fledglings and no other trouble. She still took the time to check out all the cemeteries. In Restfield she stopped to look in on Spike’s crypt. It seemed undisturbed, but she lit a few candles anyhow, just to make any passing demons think it was lived in. Her scent would probably scare away most of the local creatures, but she felt some need to look out for Spike’s place. She still felt lingering guilt about the torching of his lower level, although she also wanted a good explanation from him someday about why he had been keeping those demon eggs in the first place. I’ll grill him about that when he’s back on his feet.
 
Her front door was the most welcome sight she had ever seen when she finally got done trekking through Sunnydale. It was nearly 10:30 in the evening, and she was ready to crawl into bed fully dressed. She found the house quiet, for which she was grateful, and she tried to make as little noise as possible as she hung up her coat and took off her boots. Her efforts ended up being pointless as the silence was shattered by the phone ringing. Who the hell? she wondered as she lunged to answer the phone before it woke everyone else. “Hello?”
 
“Buffy, it’s Giles,” came the familiar British voice.
 
“Giles?” Buffy said. “Why are you calling so late? Is something wrong?”
 
“Well here it’s actually 6:30 in the morning,” Giles reminded her. “But I was hoping to catch you before you went to bed.”
 
“Well, you did, although just barely. Can this wait until morning? I’m really beat.”
 
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to talk with you sooner rather than later,” he said.
 
Buffy rolled her eyes and threw herself into a chair. “Fine. What’s up?”
 
“Willow called me at around eleven in the morning your time,” he explained. “She’s worried about you and this situation with Spike.”
 
“What did she tell you?” Buffy asked with a weary sigh.
 
“She told me that Spike was poisoned with watais root, and that you were keeping him alive with your own blood, and that you planned to go find Drusilla to cure him.”
 
“Well, that’s pretty much the story,” Buffy said curtly. “Can I go to bed now?”
 
Giles frowned at her impertinence. “Willow also seemed to think that you had some sort of relationship with Spike.”
 
“So?”
 
“Do you really think that’s wise?” Giles asked.
 
“I swear, the next person who asks me that is getting a broken nose,” Buffy snarled. “Giles, he’s been helping me keep it together since a certain father figure ditched me and told me to sink or swim on my own. Well guess what? I sunk. Badly. I treated Spike like crap and I was so freaking depressed I could barely function. Spike helped me despite the fact that I was a total bitch to him. I broke off the relationship we had because I was using him and I couldn’t live with myself. He’s going to die if he doesn’t find Drusilla, and I don’t want him to die. Understand?”
 
Despite the sting of her words, Giles couldn’t stop being a watcher. “You have a duty as the Slayer, Buffy,” he said sternly. “You cannot neglect that duty and put yourself and others in danger to help a vampire.”
 
“How am I neglecting my duty? I just got back from patrol, which I did after working at a fucking grease pit of a fast food place all day to support me and Dawn. Explain what duty I’m missing here!” she yelled.
 
“Who will guard the hellmouth and Sunnydale if you go off chasing after Drusilla?” Giles demanded.
 
“I was gone for the whole summer twice. I was dead for five months. I think Sunnydale will probably survive without me for a couple of weeks.” Buffy replied.
 
“Buffy,” Giles said, his tone softening a bit. “I regret that I had to leave you. I truly thought it would be the best thing for you. But you are talking about deliberately seeking out a notorious master vampire, on behalf of another notorious master vampire. Can you not see how I might be concerned?”
 
“Look, I’m sorry you got dragged into this. I don’t know why Willow couldn’t just, I don’t know, talk to me instead of calling you. But I’m telling you this now – I need to help Spike. If you have any information about Drusilla’s whereabouts, I’d appreciate it, as it would mean that I could get back to my hallowed Slayer duties faster,” Buffy snapped.
 
Thousands of miles away, Giles took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. After a long pause and a sigh he said, “We know she’s not in Europe. Last we had heard she was somewhere in North America. Aside from that, we don’t know.”
 
“Do you have any means of narrowing down her location?” Buffy asked.
 
“None that the council would approve of,” Giles replied. “The coven we work with could probably find her, but we’d have to tell them why, and they wouldn’t do anything of this nature without some clear benefit to the council. There is no benefit to the council, or anyone else, in the healing of a dangerous vampire.”
 
“There would be a benefit to me,” Buffy said quietly. “I wouldn’t lose one of my strongest allies.”
 
“Be that as it may, I cannot help you,” Giles said with finality. “And I do wish you would reconsider this task you have set yourself on. I can’t see it ending well.”
 
“I need to do this,” Buffy stated firmly. “If you’re not going to help me, I hope that I can trust you to at least stay out of my way and leave the council out of this.”
 
With another heavy sigh, Giles answered, “I will not mention this to the council. You have my word.”
 
“Then I guess that will be all,” Buffy said. “Goodbye, Giles.”
 
“Goodbye, Buf…” Giles stared, but he heard the click and the dial tone before he finished his sentence. He looked with dismay at the phone for a moment, then replaced it gently on the holder. He wondered for what had to be the hundredth time whether he had done the right thing by leaving.
 
*****************
 
Willow woke up the next morning when the door slammed, signaling Dawn’s daily departure. She squinted at the clock, groaned, then threw back the covers. She had hardly seen Buffy at all yesterday. After her coffee with Xander she had done some shopping and gotten home shortly after Buffy had left for work. The call to Giles was made reluctantly, but in the end she felt better for having done it. Giles had muttered a number of ‘Good Lord’s and ‘my word’s and she was certain that he had polished his glasses completely into dust. But it had felt good to unburden herself of her worries about Buffy, about Buffy’s unknown relationship with Spike, and her struggle to cope the last few months. Willow hoped that Buffy wouldn’t be too terribly angry at her for talking to Giles first, but she would rather have Buffy angry with her than in danger.
 
Willow threw on a pair of lounge pants and a t-shirt and went downstairs to see about breakfast. She found Buffy sitting at the kitchen island drinking coffee. “Good morning, Buff,” Willow said. “I must have fallen asleep before you got in last night.”
 
Buffy didn’t answer at first, staring into her coffee mug. Willow frowned slightly, then reached to get a cup of coffee for herself. She was almost startled into dropping it when Buffy said suddenly, “Any particular reason why you felt the need to talk to Giles behind my back?”
 
Willow blushed and stammered, “I, um… I was just…”
 
“You know what, save it,” Buffy said curtly. “I thought we had somehow moved on from that whole ‘doing things for Buffy’s own good’ crap, but apparently I was wrong.”
 
“Buffy, I just wanted his advice,” Willow said. “I didn’t know what to make of this whole thing with you and Spike and…”
 
“Then ask me for Christ’s sake!” Buffy yelled, jumping to her feet. “Here I am! Ask me! But don’t keep tattling behind my back like I’m some sort of unruly two year old!”
 
“Fine, then. What is going on with you and Spike? Because God knows you haven’t actually shared anything with any of us in, like, two months!” Willow shouted back.
 
“Hmm, wonder why? Maybe it’s because I’ve been a fucking wreck because I was dragged out of Heaven, then nearly danced myself to death, then got my fucking memory erased, and all that on top of trying to support this house on minimum wage!”
 
“How many times can I apologize?” Willow cried. “For the ten thousandth time I’m sorry, alright? But what does all this have to do with Spike?”
 
“I was sleeping with him!” Buffy screamed, finally just letting it all out. “I was numb and fucked up and I couldn’t feel anything, so I fucked Spike. Are you happy now? Do you know what you need to know?”
 
“But Buffy, why didn’t you tell anyone?” Willow asked, completely perplexed.
 
“Because Xander would have been disgusted, and probably tried to stake him, and you would have staged some sort of intervention, and I had enough crap to deal with!” Buffy exclaimed. “You all made it abundantly clear what you thought of Spike. I had no reason to believe you’d do anything other than freak out and make my life even more hellish than it was.”
 
Willow was shocked beyond belief. Her jaw wobbled around for a while trying to form some coherent words until she finally said, “Ok, but why did you break it off then? Did he do something wrong?”
 
“No, I did,” Buffy said, her voice getting ragged from yelling and from pent up emotions. “I was using him. He loves me, and I was using him for sex and then treating him like shit. I broke it off with him because he deserves better than a bitch like me.” Her voice was practically a sob by the time she finished, and she sat back down, burying her face in her hands.
 
Tentatively Willow approached her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Buffy, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry we… made things so difficult.”
 
“Don’t,” Buffy said quietly, and Willow took her hand away, hovering uncertainly next to the woman she had thought was her best friend.
 
After a minute, Willow quietly asked, “Was Giles able to help?”
 
“Not really,” Buffy replied, sitting back and staring once more at her coffee. “She’s somewhere in North America. That’s all he knows. Or at least all he’s telling.” She finished her coffee and got up. “I’m going to check on Spike,” she said in a flat voice. She made her way downstairs without another word. Willow sat down and sipped at her rapidly cooling coffee, having lost her appetite for breakfast. 

TBD

Disclaimer: The vampires and their friends are all Joss Whedons.

Thanks so much for the reviews! Sorry to make you wait so long for the update. 


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Chapter 7 - Location, Location
************************
 
“You alright, love?” Spike asked as Buffy came down the stairs. “Sounded like quite a row going on up there.” He had been woken by the sound of Willow and Buffy’s argument and had listened with a mixture of emotions. He was proud of his Slayer for standing up to Willow and the Watcher, amazed that she had finally recognized his love for her aloud. But over the past months she had suffered so much angst and heartache and self loathing rather than risk the wrath of her friends that it made him wish he could get up and knock them senseless. Girl doesn’t need all this from them. She really doesn’t.
 
“I’m fine,” Buffy said distractedly. “Giles called last night, after Willow let him know how I was going over to the dark side, or whatever she told him. He can’t or won’t help, other than saying she’s probably in North America, which narrows it down not at all.” She sat down beside him on the bed, looking tired and troubled.
 
“Hey,” he whispered, moving his skeletal hand to cover hers. “Don’t worry about it, alright? I’m not worth all this bother.”
 
Buffy looked at his hand, and at his concerned blue eyes. She shook her head, befuddled. “You don’t make any sense sometimes. I… I meant what I said, to Willow,” she stammered, turning red as a rose. “I had no right to… to treat you the way I did. You were trying to help, and I…”
 
“Slayer,” Spike said. His voice held more than a hint of its usual strength, and his tone made her stop and look at him. “I’m no saint. I could have tried harder to stop you, instead of dragging you down to my level. You don’t need to beat yourself up on my account.”
 
She couldn’t understand him. Here he was, wasting away before her eyes, and he was worried about her. She had been at her lowest and had taken it all out on him, and here he was trying to make her feel better. “You really are a masochist sometimes, you know that?” Buffy said finally. “You have terrible taste in women. Drusilla, Harmony, me – you’re not love’s bitch, you’re love’s whipping boy or something.”
 
“So you’re going to put me out of my misery then?” Spike said with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood.
 
Buffy half smiled. “My life would be too boring without you. Gonna have to figure out how to keep you around.” They observed each other for a long moment, processing all that had been said. Then with a little shake of her head, she pushed up her sleeve and held out her arm. “You need some breakfast. You look dead.”
 
“Very funny, Slayer,” Spike growled. But he took her arm and fed, taking slow, gentle sips that made her sigh with pleasure. When he had finished, he ran his thumb thoughtfully over her wrist. “Gonna get a scar on your pretty arm if we keep this up.”
 
Buffy shrugged. “What’s one more scar between friends?”
 
Spike’s head fell back and he tried to get comfortable again. “So all those council wankers can’t find us a vampire?” he asked.
 
Buffy shook her head. “No. I guess they have a coven who could…” She broke off, then smacked herself on the forehead. “Of course! Locator spell! Willow or Tara could do a locator spell! Why didn’t I think of that before?”
 
“Think they’ll be powerful enough to pull it off?” Spike asked doubtfully. “I mean, North America’s rather a big place.”
 
“Guess we won’t know unless we try,” Buffy replied. She stood up. “I’ll try to get Willow and Tara together at the Magic Box. Maybe Anya can help out too.”
 
“It’s a good an idea as any,” Spike agreed. “Is Red going to be willing to help though?”
 
“Oh, she’ll help. If I have to force her at gunpoint. She owes me,” Buffy said, determined. She found her mood lifting now that she had something concrete to do. “Need anything?”
 
“Can you just pass those other books over?” Spike said. “Might as well catch up on some more literature from my misspent youth.” Buffy handed him a few more volumes – Dickens, more Wilde, and the collected poems of Byron. “I know, doesn’t really fit the big bad image, does it?” he said as he noticed her amused perusal of the titles.
 
“I won’t mention it to the other demons. For all they know, you spend your free time biting the heads off of kittens or something.”
 
“Gotta protect my reputation,” he jibed.
 
“I’ll try to see what the witches can come up with,” Buffy said. “Be back soon.” Spike smiled faintly and watched her go. Then his smile faded as he tried to sit up on his own. He struggled and ground his teeth, and managed to get about half way there, but in the end he just couldn’t manage it. He flopped back, exhausted again, and growled in frustration. Fuck this. Even if I wanted to stake myself to end this I wouldn’t have the strength to drive the goddamn thing into my own chest. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He angrily tossed Oscar Wilde to the side with as much energy as he could muster and lay there, fists clenched and cursing silently.
 
*****************
 
“So, can you guys do it?” Buffy had gathered Willow and Tara at the Magic Box, and explained to them and to Anya what she wanted them to do. Getting Willow to come along had been a matter of applying guilt and thinly veiled threats in liberal amounts, but ultimately she had reluctantly accompanied Buffy to their usual meeting place.
 
“I’ve never tried a locator spell this big before,” Willow admitted. “And anyhow, I thought you guys didn’t want me doing magic anymore,” she added peevishly.
 
“Willow, it’s not the magic that bothered us,” Tara explained patiently. “It was the using it recklessly, and against our will. Here you’d be using it to help someone who genuinely needs this kind of help.”
 
Anya added, “Besides, I think you’re going to need some help with this, so it’s not like you’re sneaking off to erase our memories again or anything.”
 
“Anya, please,” Buffy said. “I’m not interested in bringing up all the same old baggage right now. We’ll deal with that later. Right now, I have a vampire to find. Can you do this or not?”
 
“I can do it,” Willow said reluctantly. “But I’m not sure how exactly I can pinpoint it. I can probably get it narrowed down to the state without too much trouble. But exactly where is tough. It would be easier if I had something that belonged to her to help focus the spell.”
 
Buffy thought for a moment. “Get everything you need together for the spell. I’ll run home and ask Spike if he ever kept anything of hers.” She was out the door before anyone could object.
 
“I guess we need a map,” Tara said as she blinked in the wake of Buffy’s sudden departure.
 
“We’ll need the usual herbs as well,” Anya said, moving toward the jars on the shelves.
 
“Guys, wait. Can we discuss this first?” Willow said. “I’m just not sure it’s such a good idea to do this.”
 
Tara looked searchingly at Willow. “Willow, she’s going to do this thing. If she doesn’t get help from us, she’s going to find it somewhere else. Do you want her to get desperate enough to go seek out Amy for help? Or someone worse?”
 
Willow conjured up the image of Buffy at the mercy of Rack or some demon sorcerer, and shuddered. “She wouldn’t do something like that,” Willow said, sounding less certain than she would have liked.
 
“Are you sure?” Tara asked pointedly.
 
All of a sudden, Willow realized that given the number of things Buffy had been hiding from them in the last few months, anything was possible. With a deep breath she capitulated. “Alright. We’ll find Drusilla.” Still uneasy, she began clearing off the table in preparation.
 
**********************
 
Buffy entered the quiet gloom of Spike’s crypt. She had run home to ask him about whether he had any of Drusilla’s things. After she woke him out of a doze and asked her question, he had hesitated. Then he had told her, “In my crypt. Sarcophagus nearest the windows. Under the bones there’s a metal box. One of her lace gloves is in there.” As she had been leaving he had called her back saying, “Slayer? Can you… can you make sure to hide it safely again? It’s got some mementos I’d hate to lose.” She had never seen him anxious about any possession other than his duster, and it puzzled her. But she readily promised to take good care of it, and had headed off to the crypt.
 
Now she was using her Slayer strength to shove back the heavy stone lid. Wrinkling her nose at the decayed bones in their winding sheets, she picked through the pile until she came upon the box. It was about the size of a shoebox, battered and a bit worse for wear. She pulled it out and sat down in Spike’s armchair to find what she needed. When she opened it, she found it full of all sorts of odds and ends. Tickets from a Sex Pistols concert. Pictures of Spike and Drusilla from a number of eras. A black silk bow tie. Have to ask him about that one. Can’t imagine him in a suit, like, ever. Programs from various plays. A very old sepia toned print of a young man with curly hair and glasses standing behind an elderly woman. She realized with a gasp that it was Spike, or rather William, before he was turned. My God, he looked so different. She assumed the woman was his mother. Wonder if he ate her like Angel did to his family? She studied the image intently. The gentle looking young man staring out from behind the spectacles looked worlds away from the cocky vampire with the bleached hair and the scar across his eyebrow. Yet those cheekbones were the same, and the little smile, and the long fingers. She pondered this mystery for a few more minutes before returning to her task. Finally, near the bottom, she pulled out a black lace glove which was nearly crumbling with age. She wondered if it predated Spike, or had it been something they had acquired during their time together. Resolving to ask him about all these things at a later date, she carefully packed everything back up and returned the box to its hiding place, shoving the cover back to keep everything from prying eyes. Carefully tucking the glove into the inner pocket of her jacket, she made her way back to the Magic Box.
 
When she got there, she found a ‘Closed’ sign on the door, but pushed it open anyway. As she had surmised, the closed sign was to prevent them from being interrupted during the spell. “Oh good, you’re back,” Anya said. “I want to get this spell done so that I can reopen the store in time for the after work crowd.”
 
“Sorry to make you wait,” Buffy apologized. “I have a glove that was Drusilla’s. Careful – it’s pretty old.” She handed the glove to Willow, who carefully placed it in the center of the map. A ring of candles surrounded the table, with a pentagram drawn with herbs across the center of the map.
 
“Well, here goes,” Willow said. “Tara and Anya, do you still want to help?”
 
“Of course,” Tara said. She and Anya joined hands with Willow and stood around the circular table. After concentrating for a few minutes they all chanted together, “Seekers we, let us find, knowledge to fill heart and mind…” The chant went on for a minute or so, but Buffy was hardly listening. She was watching the map instead, hoping desperately for a sign.
 
A glow gradually appeared over the table. The glow grew brighter and brighter, then shrank in size but remained a searing, bright white. It continued shrinking and moving into a corner of the map until it became a pinpoint and stopped. “There,” Buffy breathed. She put her finger on the bright spot and kept it there as the spot grew more intense, then winked out. The other three women blinked and dropped each other’s hands, breathing hard at the effort.
 
“Where is she?” Anya asked.
 
Buffy looked at where her finger was. “Massachusetts. Along the coast. Boston maybe?”
 
Tara peered at the map. “Hard to tell, but Boston seems like the best place to start.”
 
“Okay, but how are you going to find someone who’s psychic if she decides she doesn’t want to be found?” Willow asked. “I mean, you could go all the way across the country and find she’s moved on.” The others fell silent for a moment.
 
“I’ve got it!” Anya said. She went into the basement storeroom and rummaged around for a while, leaving the others to look at each other and shrug in confusion. A few minutes later Anya came back upstairs with two brown stones on chains. “Eyes of garzon!”
 
“What the what?” Buffy asked, none the wiser.
 
“They block psychic abilities. I, um…” Anya suddenly deflated a bit. “I got them as a wedding present from one of my demon friends. They were supposed to protect me and Xander from any psychic attacks.” She held them out to Buffy. “I guess they should get used for something,” she said a little sadly.
 
“Are you sure, Anya?” Buffy asked, mindful of the former demon’s still-hurting psyche.
 
“Yes,” Anya said, straightening up. “I’d rather not have them around as reminders. And they’ll protect you from Drusilla’s thrall as well.”
 
“Thank you, Anya,” Buffy said, taking the Eyes of Garzon from Anya. She placed one around her neck, and the other in her jeans pocket. “Thank you, all of you, for helping me figure out where I need to go.”
 
“But, Buffy, how?” Willow asked. “How are you going to find her, and bring her back here?”
 
“I won’t bring her here,” Buffy explained. “I’ll take Spike with me to go find her.”
 
“You’re just going to take off across the country? What about Dawn? And the hellmouth? And your job?” Willow just couldn’t accept the fact that Buffy was actually going to do this incredibly insane sounding thing.
 
Buffy’s gratitude for Willow’s reluctantly given help was replaced in an instant by renewed irritation. “Thank you, Giles junior,” Buffy spat out sarcastically. “Gosh, however would I remember all my duties if I didn’t have you to remind me constantly? I know what my responsibilities are, and I will make arrangements. But I am taking Spike and going, so learn to deal.” With that Buffy turned and stomped out of the store, slamming the door behind her.
 
“Does that mean I can open back up for business then?” Anya asked. Tara shook her head at Willow, who stared after the departing Slayer in stunned silence.
 
*****************
 
“Massachusetts?” Spike said. “Don’t know as we ever went there way back when.”
 
Buffy was once more sitting next to Spike. She was munching a sandwich and drinking a soda, after Spike had refused to even speak to her until she got some food. She was growing pale, and seemed thinner than normal, and it worried him. “Any idea why she’d go there?” Buffy asked between bites.
 
“It’s old,” Spike surmised. “Well, as old as you get for the States at any rate. She always had a preference for old places. She claimed she could hear the whispers of people who had come and gone. Old places had more voices to talk to, I guess.”
 
“Why did you come to Sunnydale then?” Buffy wondered.
 
“Only to find the poof to cure her,” Spike said. “I liked it well enough. Decent bars, good radio stations, California girls not wearin’ much – I had no problem with it. But she was always uneasy in wide open places. She liked dark streets and old houses – places with some history, you know?” Spike closed his eyes for a moment, lost in memories.
 
Buffy looked at him intently. How could it have been to spend an entire century with someone, care for her, risk life and limb to cure her, and then have her throw you over for someone else the second she had the chance? “Do you ever still miss her?” Buffy asked quietly.
 
Spike opened his eyes and looked at her with one raised eyebrow. “Jealous, love?”
 
“I guess it just occurred to me how much it must have sucked to be dumped by someone you spent so much time with,” Buffy said. “I mean, I was pretty messed up when Angel left, and I had hardly known him three years. You and Drusilla spent, what, a century together? How did you survive that?”
 
Spike laughed, a short, ironic chuckle. “Same way I survive everything. Lots of whiskey, cigarettes, and random violence.”
 
“Makes me wish I could hold my liquor,” Buffy commented. “All I’ve got is the random violence, and it doesn’t always do the trick.” She finished off her soda and continued, “I guess all this isn’t helping us plan our trip, is it?”
 
“Buffy, this is one hell of an undertaking,” Spike said doubtfully. “I don’t fancy putting you at risk to save my sorry skin.”
 
“Too bad,” Buffy said firmly. “I’m saving your sorry skin whether it wants to be saved or not. So you can participate in the planning or I’ll nail you into a coffin like a good vampire and ship you air freight.”
 
Spike raised his hands as best he could in surrender. “Fine, you bossy bint. How are we doing this?”
 
“Well, I’m assuming a plane is out,” Buffy said. “I mean, even if we took a night flight, any delays or problems and you’re at risk of being a pile of dust on the seat next to me.”
 
“Train could work,” Spike mused. “But we’d have to get a sleeper compartment.”
 
“Those can be pricey,” Buffy said. “Mom looked into that once for some vacation. Ended up being a lot cheaper to fly. Plus if we had to change trains somewhere random then we’ve got that dusting problem again.”
 
“It’s starting to look like a road trip is in order,” Spike observed.
 
“I guess if we drive at night, sleep during the day, that will work,” Buffy agreed. “You’re probably in no shape to drive, huh?”
 
“Afraid not,” Spike answered dejectedly.
 
“I can drive, but I’ll let you know now, I’m pretty terrible at it. I mean, you might want to risk dying from the watais root rather than get in a car with me. Full disclosure.”
 
Spike smirked and said, “I’m already dead, remember? How much more can you kill me in a car wreck? Besides, you’ll do fine. At night, fewer people on the roads, no one to notice your mishaps.”
 
“Just don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Buffy said. “I almost forgot. I have a present for you.” She fished out the eye of garzon from her pocket and passed it to him. “It guards against psychic attacks. If we wear them, it will be less likely that Drusilla will know we’re coming.”
 
Spike reached out and took the chain from her, getting it over his neck with a little effort. “Not exactly my style, but not a bad idea. Not sure how much she’s already seen, though.”
 
“Since there’s no way of knowing that, I’m not going to worry about it,” Buffy declared. She stood up and gathered up the leavings of her lunch. “I’m going to start making arrangements. Later on, I’m coming back down and you are having a good dinner. The stronger you get, the easier it’s going to be for you to travel.”
 
“Yes, ma’am,” Spike said with mock meekness. Buffy rolled her eyes at him and headed upstairs. She dealt with her dishes and then sat down to plan. Money was going to be a bit of an issue, but she had been jealously guarding her one credit card for emergencies. Since this clearly constituted an emergency, she decided she was going to charge first, and deal with the bills later. She made a mental note to see if Spike had any money to contribute to this adventure. Picking up the phone, she called the Doublemeat Palace to speak to her manager. She spun a tale about having to care for her father in L.A., who was recovering from emergency surgery, and asked if there was any chance of getting her job back when she returned. The manager wouldn’t guarantee anything, but said Buffy would be welcome to stop by on her return to see if there were any openings. Buffy decided that would have to do, and thanked the manager politely. Who knows? Maybe I’ll be able to find something different when I come back and say farewell to Steve and the smell of fry grease forever. That thought lifted her spirits considerably, and she continued with her preparations. Their mother’s car was still in their driveway, which saved her having to rent something. She would need a cooler, and maybe a big blanket to cover Spike with in case they had to do something in the daytime. Mentally running through her checklist she thought, I guess that covers every item on the list except one.
 
“I’m home!” Dawn called as she came clattering into the kitchen, plopping her bag on the counter. “Any news on the Spike front?”
 
“Hey, Dawnie,” Buffy said. “Actually, I do have some news. Sit down so we can discuss.” Dawn grabbed an apple out of the fridge and sat down across from her sister. “Willow and Tara did a locator spell. Drusilla’s somewhere in Massachusetts.”
 
“How are we going to get there?” Dawn asked.
 
“We are not going,” Buffy explained. “Spike and I are going, and you are staying here.”
 
“What? I can’t come with?” Dawn cried. “Spike’s my friend. I’m the one who was taking care of him!”
 
“Dawn, I know,” Buffy said. “But Drusilla is scary dangerous. As it is I’m not exactly sure how we’re going to find her and how this is all going to work. But I’m going to have enough on my hands dealing with Spike without worrying about you as well. Plus, you do have that whole school thing as well.”
 
“Who’s going to take care of me?” Dawn wondered.
 
“Who do you want to take care of you?”
 
Dawn thought for a while. “Do you think I could go to Tara’s?”
 
“If it’s okay with Tara, I suppose,” Buffy said. “Or if Tara wants to stay here, if it’s not too weird with Willow that is. I’ll talk to her later.”
 
Dawn bit her lip uneasily. “How long do you think you’ll be gone?”
 
“Hopefully only a couple of weeks,” Buffy said. “Not really sure though.”
 
Dawn’s voice got very quiet as she said, “What if you don’t come back?” She looked up at her sister with tear filled eyes.
 
Buffy got up and went over to pull her sister into an embrace. “It’s okay, Dawnie. I’ll come back to you. I always come back, remember?” Dawn clutched her close, praying with all her might that it would be true again.
 
*******************
 
The next morning found Buffy in the kitchen, working on various preparations. The previous night she had gone to Spike’s crypt after patrol to gather up spare clothes for him. She had also brought his memory box home and hidden it carefully in a corner of the attic, safe from prying eyes. Spike had had a good long draught of Slayer blood, after which Buffy slept like a rock for ten hours. This morning her Slayer healing had kicked in, and coupled with the urgency of needing to set out on her quest she was moving with frenetic energy. She heard a knock on the door. Assuming it was Tara, who had said she would stop by to discuss arrangements, she yelled, “Come in!” without removing her head from the refrigerator.
 
“Hey Buffster,” came Xander’s voice behind her.
 
Shit. Just what I need. Controlling her emotions she turned around to greet Xander. “Good morning. What’s up?”
 
“I was going to ask the same thing,” he answered, looking around at the cooler and the pile of snacks, stakes, and assorted other odds and ends piling up on the counter.
 
Buffy grabbed a few ice packs out of the freezer and tossed them in the cooler as she said, “Spike and I are taking a road trip.” She continued her packing without particularly looking at Xander.
 
Xander grabbed her arm to stop her. “Buffy, why are you doing this? This is nuts.”
 
“Because I care about him, Xander,” Buffy replied, tugging her arm out of his grasp and going back to what she was doing. “Because he risks an awful lot of crap to help me and I owe him one. I owe him several, in fact.”
 
“He only helps out because he thinks it will help him get into your pants,” Xander said bluntly. “He’s got no soul, Buffy, remember?”
 
Without pausing in her movements she said, “He was helping me before he got into my pants, as you so elegantly put it. And even after I dumped him he didn’t turn on me, or murder my friends, or anything like that. He helps because he wants to, for whatever reason. I don’t see the need to look a gift horse in the mouth.”
 
Xander’s mouth had dropped open so wide that he looked comical. “You slept with him?” he cried.
 
“Yes, Xander. Although I’m not exactly sure how that is any of your business whatsoever,” Buffy retorted. “You were sleeping with an ex-demon and no one said anything.”
 
“But Anya’s human! Spike’s a vampire for God’s sake!”
 
“Wow, after all these years you can recognize a vampire. Good for you, Xander,” Buffy snapped. Slamming down the box of protein bars she had in her hand she spun to face him. “What do you want from me Xander? Do you want me to throw myself on one of my own stakes? Take myself to the Watcher’s council and ask them to punish me? Why, exactly, are you here?”
 
“I thought we were friends, Buffy! That’s why I’m here!” Xander exploded.
 
“So is this what friends do now? Judge each other’s sex lives?” Buffy yelled.
 
“Only when their choice of sex partner puts me at risk!” Xander yelled back.
 
“How are you at risk? He can’t hurt you with the chip. The only person he can hurt is me, and he doesn’t.”
 
“Wait, he can hurt you, and you’re going to travel cross country to cure him? The hell?”
 
“Xander, get out,” Buffy snapped. “I’ve had it. My life, okay? I need to help him. Not asking your permission, and I really don’t give a flying fuck if you understand my reasons or not. If you want to help, you can help the others keep Dawn safe while I’m gone. Otherwise, feel free to go your merry way. Oh, yeah,” Buffy added angrily. “No need to go behind my back and talk to Giles either. I already talked to him, and he’s going to have to learn to deal too.”
 
Xander was completely at a loss. Buffy had been either despondent or going along with whatever for so long that he had forgotten what angry, determined Buffy looked like. Angry, determined Buffy was frightening and bewildering, and he shook his head saying, “Buffy, what happened to you? We were a team. We were practically a family. What happened?”
 
“Life, and a bunch of other stuff,” Buffy replied. “Xander, I don’t want to fight with you. Truly. But I am not changing my mind. Accept, or move on.”
 
“I can’t support you in this, Buffy. You’re putting yourself at risk for…”
 
“For a person I care about,” she finished quietly. “You would do the same. Even for Anya. Even now.”
 
Xander opened his mouth to reply, but in the end he could say nothing. With a sudden jolt he realized that she was right. He would do something like this for Anya, even after the messy breakup. “I’m… gonna go now,” he said lamely. He turned and left without another word. He got in his car and sat there, drinking everything in for a few minutes before slowly driving off. Watching from the window, Buffy let out a long breath. Even if I didn’t have a vampire to cure, I’m just about ready for a vacation from all this drama. She turned away from the window and went back to her preparations.

Disclaimer: I don't make any money from this, just playing with Joss Whedon's characters.

Sorry about the wait between chapters - stupid paid employment!


****************************
Chapter 8 – Road Trip
****************************
 
“Do you have the number written down?” Buffy asked anxiously for the third time.
 
“Buffy, I told you, it’s right here on the fridge,” Dawn said with a roll of her eyes. Buffy was rushing through the last of her preparations for their journey. She had bought a prepaid cell phone so that Dawn could contact her and vice versa. Tara had agreed to help keep an eye on Dawn. Dawn had pleaded with her until Tara gave in and agreed to move into Buffy’s bedroom for the duration. Willow was torn between being secretly pleased that fate had put her and Tara under the same roof again, even if only for a little while, and being alarmed that this whole plan was actually being carried out.
 
“Willow, you and Tara are going to put the wards on the house, right?” Buffy asked. She was checking over her to-do list and making sure that nothing had been overlooked, much to the annoyance of Dawn
 
“Of course we will,” Tara soothed. “Try to relax. We’ll manage fine – you just concentrate on getting there and back.”
 
“Sorry, guys,” Buffy said. “I just want to make sure nothing gets forgotten.” She had loaded the car with maps, provisions, clothes, and weaponry during the waning afternoon hours, and now that the sun had set she was anxious to get underway.
 
“Then maybe you want to go get, I dunno, the vampire?” Dawn said with another eye roll.
 
Buffy stopped dead for a moment. It was true. She was about to dash off to cure Spike while Spike sat in her basement, waiting for some assistance in getting up the stairs. “That would have been pretty embarrassing,” she muttered, shaking her head. She took her purse out to the car, double checked everything once more, then made her way downstairs to where Spike sat, leaning against the wall and waiting for her with a bemused smirk.
 
“Forget something, did you love?” he quipped.
 
“Shut up, or I’m sending you UPS,” Buffy retorted. “And hey, you’re sitting up. That’s an improvement.”
 
“That last long feed seemed to help a bit,” Spike admitted. He did not admit that it had taken about fifteen minutes of effort to haul himself upright, and that he had dozed off for about ten minutes afterward. But he had considered it a small victory nonetheless.
 
“I guess it’s time to go,” Buffy said. “How should we do this? Can you stand do you think?”
 
“We can try, I guess,” Spike replied doubtfully. Buffy bent down and put Spike’s arm around her shoulder and heaved him up off the bed, but his knees buckled almost immediately, and Buffy had to scramble to catch him before he hit the ground. “I guess the answer is no,” he grumbled.
 
“Time for a piggyback ride then,” Buffy said. Spike wound his arms around her shoulders and she hoisted him up. It was extremely awkward, given her small stature, but her Slayer strength served her well as she struggled up the stairs with her burden. Dawn and the others watched in astonishment as she carried the vampire through the kitchen and out to the car, settling him in the passenger seat. The others had followed them out to make their farewells. “I guess we’re off then,” Buffy said.
 
Dawn hugged her sister, trying not to cry. “You’d better come back, or I’ll… I don’t know what,” Dawn threatened.
 
“Shh, Dawnie,” Buffy said, looking into her sister’s eyes and stroking her hair. “We’ll be back in a couple of weeks. Promise.”
 
Dawn released her and bent down to hug Spike as well. “Get better, okay?”
 
“Will do, Nibblet,” he responded affectionately.
 
Tara also hugged Buffy and said, “We’ll keep an eye on everything. Don’t worry about us.”
 
Willow faced Buffy, chewing on her lip nervously. “I really hope you know what you’re doing,” she said.
 
“Just keep everyone safe, okay?” Buffy said. Willow, resigned, nodded her agreement. Buffy looked around at the three women, and her house then took a deep breath. “Okay, we’re out of here. I’ll call you when we get somewhere tomorrow.” She closed the passenger door on the vampire and got into the driver’s seat. With one last wave, she drove off, leaving Tara, Dawn and Willow in their wake.
 
******************
 
“The next exit is the one for the interstate,” Spike told her as he studied the map.
 
“Thanks,” Buffy muttered, concentrating with all her might on the road ahead of her. She knew the route to L.A. fairly well, but she truly had never really driven east, out of California. Other than an occasional visit to relatives, by plane, when she was younger, she had hardly ever been out of California. As she merged onto the interstate heading east, she found that she would rather face a nest of a dozen vampires than a cross country road trip, at least with herself in the driver’s seat.
 
“Relax, Slayer,” Spike said, noticing how white her knuckles were as she gripped the steering wheel. “You’re going to wear yourself out being all tensed up like that.”
 
“Sorry,” she said, trying to obey his command. Now that she was on the road heading east, with much less traffic than near town, she did her best to take a few deep breaths and unclench her hands a little. “I’ve never been comfortable with this whole driving thing.”
 
“Big scary Slayer, bane of the existence of all demons, and you’re afraid of getting behind the wheel?” Spike snorted.
 
“Sworn to protect the innocent, remember?” Buffy retorted. “If I crash into someone I’m sorta betraying my calling.”
 
“Ah, you’ve just never had a good teacher,” Spike said. “I could turn you into a good driver in three or four lessons.”
 
“I don’t know. Aren’t you the guy who took out the Sunnydale sign when he first got here?” Buffy said slyly.
 
“Hey, I’m evil, not incompetent. Besides, the sign had it coming.” He smirked a bit as he remembered that tidbit coming up in some conversation. It had been the night that Buffy got drunk in his crypt. Given her state that night he was surprised that she remembered.
 
“It’s sort of a shame we have to do this at night,” Buffy said after a few minutes of companionable silence. “I finally get a chance to see the country, and it’s all at night.”
 
Spike looked at her curiously. “Where have you visited outside of sunny California?”
 
Buffy shrugged. “We went to Mexico on a vacation once. When I was eight or so we visited my aunt in Florida. We visited some cousins in Dallas at some point too. But other than that, I haven’t really seen anything else. I’ve been stuck doing the Slaying gig since I was fifteen. Doesn’t leave a lot of time for world travel.”
 
“Bloody unfair that is,” Spike said, shaking his head. “Whole big world out there and you’re stuck on hell’s half acre.”
 
“Well, not all of us can have a few lifetimes to travel in. Some of us have to live with being mortal and all.”
 
“If it’s any consolation, I haven’t seen much of the world in the daylight either,” Spike replied. “I had been to the countryside a few times, but London was pretty much my world until I was turned.”
 
A thought occurred to Buffy. “Spike, how old were you when you were turned?”
 
“Twenty-eight. Still living at home caring for my mother without any particular prospects,” he said with a touch of chagrin.
 
“Was that her picture? In your memory box?”
 
Spike laughed a little. “Saw that did you? William in all his sodding pathetic glory. But yes, that was her. She was a fine lady. Your mum reminded me of her quite a bit.”
 
Buffy hesitated, then asked, “What… what happened to her?”
 
Spike sighed and closed his eyes. “She was ill. She had consumption and it was killing her.”
 
“Consumption?” Buffy interrupted.
 
“What they call tuberculosis nowadays,” Spike explained. “It was heartbreaking to watch her suffering, coughing up blood. Nasty disease. Probably would have ended up developing it myself if I’d lived long enough.” The memory of his mother and her turning pained him, and he fell silent, not wanting to speak of it.
 
Buffy sensed that the subject was a touchy one, and despite her curiosity, she decided not to press him on the subject right then. Reverting to the earlier subject she said, “So what’s on your short list of places to visit before you die? Or in your case, after you die.”
 
Spike thought for a moment. “Paris is amazing at night. Lights along the rivers, great theater. Actually let Angelus drag me to a ballet there once. Thought it was going to be a bloody waste of time, but I found myself completely fascinated. Nearly moved me to tears, great ponce that I was.”
 
Buffy had a thought. “Is that why you had a bow tie in your box?”
 
Spike raised an eyebrow. “How much time did you spend cataloging my things, Slayer?”
 
Buffy blushed slightly. “Not much. But a few things stood out. Like that bow tie. It’s really hard to imagine you in a suit.”
 
“I guess you’ve only ever seen me in punk mode,” Spike said. “But although I threw off the shackles of Victorian clothing as fast as I possibly could, I did occasionally have to dress up. I’ll have you know I looked rather well in a tuxedo when the occasion demanded it.”
 
“You’ll have to model that for me someday then, because I can’t picture it at all,” Buffy laughed.
 
They drove on through the night. After a couple of hours, Buffy stopped to use the restroom and get some caffeine, but otherwise there was no break from the endless miles of blacktop unrolling in front of them. Spike kept her spellbound with tales of his travels. He described Rome, Amsterdam, Geneva, Berlin, and many other cities so well that Buffy felt she had no need to actually visit them. After a while Spike grew tired and dozed while Buffy drove on. She glanced at him, asleep with his pale skin and white hair glowing in the darkness. In his sleep, William’s gentle face tended to show itself, with a small smile replacing the usual smirk. Still hard to picture him in a tux, she thought. But she had to admit, to herself if not to him, that he was beautiful when he slept. These thoughts led to another recurring thought: What’s going to happen to us if we do manage to cure him? They had gone from enemies, to drinking buddies, to fuck buddies, to exes to…? She had no idea what they were now. Well, I guess I have about two thousand miles to figure it out.
 
She pulled into a motel around five in the morning. Spike woke when the car stopped, sitting up and rubbing his face. “I take it we’re stopping for the day?” he asked blearily.
 
“Yeah. Sunrise is coming, and I’m getting tired.”
 
“Where are we?” he wondered, looking out at the nondescript motel.
 
“Somewhere in Nevada, I think,” Buffy said. “I wasn’t really paying attention the last hour or two.” She gathered up her purse and said, “I’ll go get us a room.”
 
“Here,” Spike said, fishing a roll of money out of his coat pocket and handing some to her. “I had Nibblet go fetch it from my crypt while you were out. Mean to pay my way as much as possible.”
 
“Thanks. That will help,” she replied. She went into the small, shabby lobby and found the clerk dozing in his chair. He sat up when she cleared her throat and ran his eyes appreciatively over her body in a way that made Buffy want to shower for a week.
 
“How can I help you, miss?” he asked with a leer.
 
“My friend and I need a room for the day,” she answered, hoping that the mention of a companion would keep him from doing something stupid that would require her to break his arm in three or four places.
 
The clerk looked out the window and saw the leather clad vampire fixing him with an icy stare through the car window. Even as thin as he was, he could manage a rather fierce look, and the clerk decided to change his tone. “Okay, do you want one bed or two in the room?” he asked with a more businesslike tone.
 
Buffy hesitated for a moment, then said, “Two beds, if you’ve got it.” She wasn’t sure that sharing a bed would be a good thing right now. That would lead to no end of badness and mixed messages. She handed over the requisite cash, received the room key, and muttered, “Thanks.” She headed back out to the car, knowing full well that the creepy clerk was watching her ass the whole time.
 
She got in and drove the car down the length of the building to the end. “That guy seemed like a prince among men,” Spike observed.
 
“Typical sleazy creep,” Buffy said.
 
“Want me to eat him?” Spike said.
 
“Nah. He’d just give you a headache and indigestion,” she said. “Thanks for the offer though.” She parked the car, slightly crooked, Spike noticed, and shut it off. “Let’s get you in there first, then I can grab my stuff.” She opened the hotel room door and pocketed the key before coming around to Spike’s side. She got her shoulder under his arm and locked her strong arm around his waist. “Hold on tight. Let’s see if we can get you inside semi-upright.” With a heave, Buffy pulled him to his feet. She clumsily half dragged him into the room, his legs barely supporting him, until she was able to drop him gently on the bed. He flopped on his back, exhausted, while Buffy brought in some food and her duffle. When she had brought everything in she said, “I’m going to take a shower, then have something to eat, then feed you before I sleep. Need anything right now?”
 
With an irritated sigh, Spike said, “You can help me get further up on the bed and hand me the remote.” Buffy knew that his irritation was at his own limitations, not at her, and she helped him get situated without saying anything. “You go have your shower, Slayer. I’ll be alright now.” Nodding in agreement, Buffy grabbed her things and closed herself in the bathroom. Spike flipped on the television and surfed rapidly through the channels, but nothing appealed, so he turned it off again. With a bit of an effort, he managed to get his shoes off and tossed them and his duster haphazardly on the floor next to the bed. He was half dozing when Buffy emerged from the bathroom, in a pair of sweats and a tank top, toweling her hair. He roused himself and tried to sit up a bit. “Feeling better love?”
 
“Much,” she said. She padded over to the cooler she had brought in and pulled out a couple of sandwiches and some Gatorade. As she sat cross-legged on the bed she talked in between bites. “I think it works best if you have a good long feed right before I go to sleep. Knocks me out, and it gives time for the Slayer healing to kick in.”
 
“You’re getting pale and skinny, love,” Spike said with concern. “Not sure this constant blood donation is good for you.”
 
“I’m fine,” she insisted. “You seem to be just that little bit stronger every day, and that might come in handy if we do manage to find her.”
 
“Maybe when you check in with the gang you can have them do another locator spell, just to make sure she’s still there,” Spike suggested.
 
“Good idea,” she agreed. She finished her meal and cleared away the garbage, then came and sat next to Spike. “Soup’s on,” she joked, holding out her arm.
 
Spike kissed her wrist slowly and sweetly before he vamped and drank. He held her hand like it was something sacred, like a man going to communion. She closed her eyes as the slow, lingering warmth moved through her body. God I could come from this, she thought. Finally, after what felt like an amazingly long time, he stopped, and kissed her wrist again. Looking up at her he marveled at her beauty, with her head thrown back and her lips parted slightly. Goddess. She’s an absolute Goddess, and I don’t deserve her. “You still with me, Slayer?” he asked softly after a few moments of silence.
 
Buffy opened her eyes and came back to herself, blushing a bit. “Yeah, I’m here,” she said. “That… feels really good.”
 
“I know,” he purred. Their eyes locked for a long, long moment. Buffy leaned down and kissed his lips, gently, like she had after Glory had used him for a punching bag. “What was that for, love?” he asked quietly.
 
“For putting up with me. For protecting Dawn. For all the stuff I never thanked you for, because I was fucked up,” she said in a low voice.
 
“You’re welcome,” he replied. He took her hand and kissed it in true Victorian fashion. “Now get some sleep. Got a long road ahead of you.”
 
“You get some rest too, okay?” she said as she moved slowly over to the other bed.
 
“Goodnight, Buffy.”
 
“Goodnight, Spike.” With that, she turned off the light and drifted off to sleep in about five minutes, with Spike following her shortly afterward. 

TBC

Usual disclaimer: I'm not making any money off of this. Just having fun with Joss' characters.

Thanks for your patience. I've had a few insane weeks with little time to write, but hopefully this chapter will keep people going. 

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Chapter 9 - Traveling
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Spike woke shortly after sunset, as he seemed to do automatically whenever he was on what he considered to be a normal schedule. He had been working with Buffy and the Scoobies for so long that his hours had become fairly erratic, but his preference as a vampire was always going to be to sleep all day and maraud all night. Not that you’re up for any mayhem at present, you pathetic sack, he grumbled to himself. If I ever find the bastard who did this to me they’ll be finding pieces of him for months. He looked over at the next bed and beheld the sleeping form of the woman he still loved. The message of the separate beds had been received loud and clear: she wasn’t up for a return to their previous physical relationship. Neither was he, truth be told. Between his current physical state and his desire not to have his heart stomped any further, he was okay with a little distance. At the same time, he realized that he could probably just lie here and watch her sleep for about a month and be perfectly content. Could compose a sonnet about that hair of hers, he mused. She looked so young and fragile, with that golden hair spread out in a halo on her pillow, her lips parted slightly, her breath rising and falling gently. It was always so hard to believe that this delicate little woman could take out half a dozen vampires twice her size in the blink of an eye. He continued watching her sleep for a long time until at last she stirred and those green eyes opened.
 
“’Bout time you woke up,” he joked lightly.
 
“What time is it?” she mumbled sleepily as she sat up and rubbed her face.
 
Spike glanced over at the clock radio beside his bed. “It’s 7:05.”
 
“We’d better hit the road soon,” she said, yawning. She stretched and ran her fingers through her hair, trying to get her bearings. “Let me call home, and then we can get our stuff together.” She threw back the covers and padded over to find the cell phone in her bag. She dialed the number, and waited, still yawning, until someone picked up. “Hello?” came Dawn’s voice.
 
“Hey Dawnie, it’s me. Just checking in.”
 
“Buffy!’ Dawn said excitedly. “Where are you guys?”
 
“We’re in… let’s see… Mesquite, Nevada,” Buffy said, squinting at the address written on the telephone. “We made pretty good time last night. I just got up from sleeping all day.”
 
“How’s Spike?”
 
“He’s hanging in there,” Buffy said. “How are you doing?”
 
“I’m fine. Did well on my English test today and everything.”
 
“Good. Is Tara there? I have something to ask her.”
 
“Just a minute,” Dawn said. She yelled for Tara, causing Buffy to wince a bit and pull the phone slightly away from her head. Dawn could be extremely loud sometimes, and it seemed worse when one was just waking up. After a minute or two, there was a slight clatter as Tara took the phone.
 
“Hey Buffy, how’s the trip so far?” Tara asked.
 
“So far, so good,” Buffy replied. “How are things around there?”
 
“We’re all surviving,” Tara said noncommittally. Truthfully, it was a little awkward sharing a roof, but not a bed, with Willow again. They had conversed pleasantly enough over breakfast and dinner, but never seemed to delve into the unspoken question of their relationship status. Willow desperately wanted Tara back; that much was obvious. Tara missed her, missed what they had, but was still hesitant. Every time Willow brought up how worried she was about Buffy, Tara was on edge, waiting for her to suggest a magical fix. So far that hadn’t happened, but that doubt was still there, and it was so difficult to move past it.
 
Buffy spoke again, “When you get a chance, can you get the others to do the locator spell again? Let us know if we’re still heading in the right direction?”
 
“Sure,” Tara replied. “We’ll do it tomorrow, and if you call tomorrow night we can tell you what we know.”
 
“That’s great,” Buffy said. She looked at the clock again and sighed. “I’ve got to get on the road. Can I just talk to Dawn one more time?”
 
“Sure,” said Tara, handing over the phone. The sisters said their goodbyes, with admonishments on both sides to be careful, before hanging up. Buffy grabbed some clean clothes and went into the bathroom to change. When she came out, she found that Spike had managed to lean over and snag his shoes from the floor and was wrestling them on.
 
“You seem to be moving a little more,” Buffy observed as she brushed her hair.
 
“Yeah. Hope we get to Boston in time for the bloody marathon,” he muttered. Buffy packed up their things and started bringing them out to the car while Spike struggled to sit up. By the time she got back he had managed to get his legs over the side of the bed, but then had flopped down on his back for a quick breather to recover from the effort. “This is ridiculous,” he growled. “I killed two fucking Slayers, and now I’m worn out from getting my goddamn shoes on.”
 
“Have I ever mentioned that I’m not so crazy about the ‘killing Slayers’ part of your past?” Buffy asked, hands on her hips.
 
“May have heard you say something about that once or twice,” he replied. “Are you going to help me up, or bring up my past sins some more?”
 
Buffy reached over and grabbed his arm, hauling him to a sitting position. “I’ll help you into the car, where I can bring up your past sins while I drive. How’s that?”
 
“Guess it’ll have to do,” he sighed. She once more put his arm around her shoulder and dragged him upright, half carrying him out to the car. It was like dealing with someone who was completely and utterly drunk. Buffy had to fight not to wince at the feel of his bones, his hips like sharp stones under his skin, and his wasted arms like sticks. It was such a far cry from the lean muscle she had reveled in. She awkwardly helped him into the car, where he closed his eyes to rest for a moment while she shut the door. She jogged over to the office, turned in the keys to the creepy clerk, and was back in the driver’s seat in a flash.
 
“God, that guy is skanky,” she muttered. “Do they teach that in cheap motel school?” Spike had no answer as she started the car, put it momentarily into reverse, slammed on the brake, got it into drive, then drove off.
 
“Buffy, love, I mean this in the nicest possible way, but you are a terrible driver,” Spike said as he recovered from the whiplash.
 
“I did warn you,” she said, somewhat sheepishly.
 
“Yes, I guess you did,” he answered. “Serves me right.” He opened up the map and traced their route. “Entrance to the interstate should be up ahead in a bit,” he directed. She managed to get back on to the highway, slightly white knuckled as she negotiated the merge. Spike smirked at her and shook his head, staring out onto the road ahead. She tended to drive fairly slowly, for his tastes. Of course, he didn’t have to worry about getting tickets, or dying in a crash. He would probably survive most crashes, and he had eaten a policeman or two in his time. But he resolved not to make the girl even more self conscious, lest she get flustered and test that killing him in a car crash theory.
 
They drove on for about forty five minutes when Spike heard Buffy’s stomach growl. Looking ahead, he saw a sign signaling the next rest area coming up in five miles. “Pull over at that rest area when we get there,” he ordered.
 
“Why?” Buffy wondered, fixing him with a confused look.
 
“Because you haven’t eaten anything since you woke up, you stupid bint, and you’re going to end up keeling over from lack of nourishment,” he growled. “I’ll not have you starving yourself on my account.”
 
“I guess I did forget that detail,” she admitted. “I’ve got some snacks in the car though.”
 
“No,” Spike insisted firmly. “You’re going to pull over, and get a decent hot meal, or else I’ll be forced to drain your stubborn neck.”
 
“Fine, Mr. Bossy,” she muttered. She took the ramp into the rest area and parked, nearly getting the entire car in the parking space this time. “Need anything?”
 
“No, I’m fine,” he said. He fished out a twenty from his pocket and said, “It’s on me. But make sure you actually eat, yeah?”
 
“I will,” she promised. True to her word, she went inside and found a pizza shop. She at an enormous calzone, polished off a large soda, then went back to get another soda and an order of fries for the road. Guess I was hungry, she mused as she stifled a belch. She went back to find Spike dozing again, and she let him sleep while she drove over and filled up the tank at the service station. Spike woke when she floored the accelerator, trying to merge onto the highway.
 
“Back on the road again, then?” he asked blearily.
 
“Yep. With a full Slayer loaded with caffeine, we should be there in about half an hour,” she quipped. “Actually, how long do you think it will take us to get there?”
 
Spike studied the map. “I’m thinking five or six nights, at this rate.”
 
“Why couldn’t your crazy ex go haunt Las Vegas instead?” Buffy wondered. “I mean, that only took half a night to get to.”
 
“Dunno, pet,” Spike said. “Never did quite figure out why she took it into her head to do some things.”
 
“She must have been… interesting to live with,” Buffy said, trying to be tactful.
 
Spike laughed. “She was absolutely bug shagging mad,” he said, shaking his head. “Loved her for a century, but she could be quite a challenge some days.”
 
Buffy thought about that for a while. “Why did you stay with her?” she asked finally.
 
“Told you – I loved her,” Spike explained. “She found me on one of the worst nights of my life and brought me into this whole new world. I was strong and powerful for the first time ever, I finally got laid after years of the whole bloody Victorian repression routine…”
 
“Wait a minute,” Buffy broke in, looking over at him open-mouthed. “You died a virgin? At twenty-eight?”
 
“Um, yeah,” Spike muttered.
 
“Wow,” Buffy said. “It’s just so hard to imagine. I mean…” She trailed off, embarrassed at what she had been about to say.
 
Spike continued her sentence, however. “You mean I’m pretty good in the sack, is that it?” he asked with a smirk.
 
“Well, yeah. Don’t let it go to your head.” Buffy was blushing at this point.
 
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Spike replied, still smirking. “But remember, I had a hundred years to get it right. When Drusilla found me, I barely knew how to fit tab A into slot B. Pre-marital sex was, shall we say, frowned upon severely in my time. Fine upstanding Christian gentlemen like myself were supposed to behave themselves until properly wedded to the right girl.”
 
Buffy snorted. “Fine upstanding Christian gentleman? You?”
 
“Just because you were raised a Godless California heathen doesn’t mean we all were,” Spike said. “My mother once had dreams of me joining the clergy if you must know.”
 
“Put that on the list of things that I just can’t imagine,” Buffy said.
 
“In the end, I couldn’t imagine it either,” Spike admitted. “Had no desire to be a country vicar with a humble wife and five brats running around.”
 
Buffy laughed out loud. “I just can’t even conceive of you as a priest or whatever,” she giggled. After she recovered herself she added, “So did you go to college and all that?”
 
“Went from boarding school to Oxford, like all the other good little Victorian gentlemen,” Spike said. “Studied classics.”
 
Buffy wrinkled her brow. “Classics? What does that mean? Because when I think classics, I think stuff from, well, your era.”
 
“Girl has the cultural awareness of a flea,” he muttered as he raised his eyes to the heavens and shook his head. “Classics means Greek and Latin. Languages, literature, all that ancient stuff.”
 
“What would you do with a degree in classics?”
 
“Lots of folks went into the clergy, or into teaching. I wanted to be a writer. Ended up caring for mum and living off the inheritance when my father died.” He looked over at Buffy curiously. “Why are you so interested in the history of William the Bloody Pathetic Wanker?”
 
Buffy shrugged, eyes fixed on the road ahead. “Not sure how we got on the subject. But I guess we never did really talk much. There seems to be a lot I don’t know about you.”
 
“Well, we didn’t talk because you tended to say ‘shut up, Spike’ and ‘Can we not talk?’ every time I opened my mouth,” Spike noted dryly.
 
“Shut…” Buffy paused. “I’m doing it again, aren’t I?”
 
“You’re like a bloody broken record sometimes, Slayer,” Spike observed. He stared out the passenger window as he kept talking. “I sort of get it, you know.”
 
“Get what?”
 
“You’ve been trained to kill my kind. It’s what you do. And you’ve been burned by every guy you’ve ever dated. So to have to admit that you…” he paused, considering his choice of words carefully. “That you got something out of being around me was tough. You had to change your whole world view, on top of having to come back from the dead and deal with all the other crap. You didn’t want me close, but you needed someone, and you couldn’t resolve it. So you took what you needed and scurried back to your little fortress so you’d be safe.”
 
Buffy tightened her hands on the steering wheel, biting back a sarcastic reply. He knows me so well. He’s got me pegged down to the last detail. How can he know me better than I do? “Why did you let me do that?” she asked quietly.
 
“For the hundredth time, I love you,” he said, fixing her with his blue eyes. “I know I’m nowhere near worthy of you. I’m a fucking vampire, for God’s sake. But I love you. And since I love you, I can’t stand to watch you suffer, not when I can help ease your pain, even a little bit.” His voice was deep and heavy with emotion.
 
Buffy bit her lip. She felt like crying, but she didn’t quite understand why. “I’m sorry,” she said, still resolutely not meeting his eyes. “You didn’t… deserve that.”
 
“That’s probably a subject for debate,” Spike said. “But… thank you. For the apology, I mean.” They lapsed into an uncertain silence for a long time after that.
 
******************
 
After a midnight stop for the bathroom and a snack, they kept heading east, winding their way through Utah. Buffy could make out some dark shapes of mesas and rock formations silhouetted against the night sky, but it was tough to make out the details. “Wish I could see all this,” she said. “I hear it’s pretty breathtaking.” It was the first sentence she had spoken in an hour.
 
“You Yanks do have a lot of pretty country, make no mistake,” Spike agreed. “But we’ve got better beer on the other side of the pond. Given my sunlight allergy, I’ll take the beer anytime.”
 
“American beer isn’t that bad,” Buffy argued.
 
“Says the girl who turns into a cave woman after a few glasses of Godawful microbrewed piss.”
 
“It was cursed microbrew, I’ll have you know,” Buffy said indignantly. “Who told you about that?”
 
“Heard it from the Scoobies. They were reminiscing about you. Last summer, that is,” he added, his voice sobering a bit as he remembered that long, horrible summer without her.
 
Not wanting to take the conversation down another miserable road, Buffy ignored the last comment and said, “Well, okay, that beer was pretty bad. But I had some sorrows to drown.”
 
“Damn things always learn to swim, in my experience,” Spike said. “I must have gone through an entire distillery trying to get over Drusilla. Never did work. Ended up screwing Harmony to try to take my mind off things.”
 
“And you say I have bad taste?” Buffy scoffed. “Harmony Kendall? I mean, hello, she was dumb as a rock before she died, and I’m certain she hasn’t gotten any less annoying.”
 
Spike looked at her curiously. “I forgot. High school mate of yours, was she?”
 
“Mate is a strong word,” Buffy replied. “She was part of the local contingent of snooty popular girls. I was forced to be in some classes with her. Which could be an advantage. She could make anyone look smart by comparison.”
 
Spike laughed. “Got that right. Try playing twenty questions with her sometime. You’d get more stimulation conversing with a mailbox.”
 
Buffy laughed in return. “I guess we all get one relationship that was a mistake end to end. I had Parker, you had Harmony. Maybe we could get them together. Harmony could eat Parker, I could stake Harmony, cosmic balance is restored.”
 
“Pretty sure your watcher would object to you feeding your exes to vampires, pet,” Spike noted.
 
Buffy put on a mock pout. “Well then what’s the point of having all you creatures of the night around anyhow?”
 
“Fodder for Hollywood horror flicks, nothing more,” Spike said, deadpan. Then they both looked at each other and laughed again. The pleasant banter went on for a while, until Spike’s energy ran out again and he dozed off. Around four in the morning, Buffy pulled into a rest area with a twenty four hour restaurant and had a huge breakfast while Spike slept. When she got back into the car, the slamming door woke him. “Where are we?”
 
“Not completely sure,” Buffy admitted. “But I just had a good breakfast, so I’m going to find a motel, feed the vampire, and crash.”
 
“Just don’t crash before then,” Spike quipped. Buffy shot him a fake dirty look and drove on. She was starting to worry about sunrise when she finally saw a motel sign and took the exit. This motel was manned by a bored looking skinny kid in his early twenties. He booked her a room with two beds without much comment, took her money, and went back to surfing the net. Buffy drove around to the other side of the building, found the room, and wrestled Spike and their gear inside.
 
“This place is a bit less sleazy than the last one,” Buffy commented. “I’m in desperate need of a shower.”
 
Spike was stretched out on the bed, recovering from the effort of getting inside. “You know where I’ll be,” he said. Buffy left him wrestling with boots and his duster while she grabbed her things to hit the shower.
 
Buffy stood for a long time rinsing her hair and thinking about the vampire in the next room. She didn’t remember the last time she had had such a long, interesting conversation. Even if things got onto touchy and awkward subjects sometimes, it was engaging in a way she hadn’t experienced in years. She had never really talked with Riley, at least not once they started sleeping together. Conversations with Angel had been good sometimes, but there was some unspoken distance between them that could never be bridged after Angelus had paid a visit. She and the Scoobies had been growing apart even before her death and the aftermath. It had been hard to have meaningful discussions when you were fighting hellgods, and now… She was more than a little grateful for a break from Willow’s ‘I’m sorry’ fest, and the Anya and Xander drama. Maybe by the time she reached Boston she would have her head straightened out somewhat.
 
She finished her ablutions and came out, toweling her hair. Spike was idly flipping through channels, but very little of interest seemed to be on at five in the morning. “Not a bloody adult station in the lot,” he complained.
 
“Sorry, I guess they don’t go for those things in…” she checked the hotel stationary. “Rifle, Colorado. Rifle? What the hell kind of a name for a town is Rifle?”
 
“More my style than Sunnydale,” Spike said. “Although you have to appreciate the irony of a hellmouth called Sunnydale.”
 
“That irony has struck me on more than one occasion,” Buffy agreed. She sat down next to him. “Right or left arm today?” she asked. “They’re both equally chewed up at this point.”
 
“Decisions, decisions,” Spike said. “I’ll go for left today. I’m a lefty. Good a reason as any.” Buffy held out the chosen arm and Spike fed, tender and gentle as usual. He finished with his customary kiss to her wrist and a whispered, “Thanks, love.”
 
“Don’t mention it,” she replied, blushing slightly at the sensation. “I think it’s bedtime for Slayers though.” She lifted her hand without thinking and ran her hand through his hair tenderly. Then she pulled her hair away, embarrassed, and made her way to bed.
 
“Sleep tight, Buffy,” he murmured. She smiled in return and turned out the light. With his enhanced eyesight Spike watched her until he was sure she was asleep, then closed his eyes as well. 

TBC

Disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns all. I just borrow a bit.

Thanks again for all the reviews. They truly keep me writing!


****************
Chapter 10 – Closer
****************
 
Two more nights passed in the same vein. Buffy checked in at home and found that the latest locator spell showed no change in Drusilla’s whereabouts. Willow still sounded doubtful and apprehensive, but Tara assured Buffy that Willow was keeping the magic under control. Since there wasn’t anything Buffy could do about Willow from a distance, she decided to trust Tara to keep her reined in, and then put it out of her mind. Dawn missed both of them, and asked for daily updates on Spike’s condition.
 
Each night found Spike a little bit better, although still completely dependent on Buffy for getting in and out of hotels. Colorado, Nebraska, and Iowa rolled by. He was perfectly happy that he was not seeing some of these states in the daylight, because from what he could see there was not a damn thing going on. Endless flatness, far as the vampire eye could see.
 
Buffy on the other hand, was grateful for the straight roads with little traffic. By the fourth night of driving she could almost be said to be relaxing behind the wheel. She still tensed whenever a truck passed her, but at least she only tensed, rather than jumping in her seat. I may almost be getting the hang of this whole driving thing, she thought as she passed the sign that said ‘Welcome to Illinois’.
 
“How can they tell when another state begins?” Spike grumbled. “All looks the same. Makes me wonder why the bloody hell we fought you guys for this place.”
 
“I think it was because we had all the spicy buffalo wings,” Buffy quipped. Spike gave her a dirty look, then snickered. They had been chatting about all manner of things while they drove, although they had steered away from their relationship issues by silent mutual consent. Spike had kept her spellbound with tales of his exploits in Europe. Buffy had talked about her early days of slaying, her dreams of being a figure skater, the first boy she had ever kissed. Spike had watched her, intrigued, imagining her as a flat-chested, skinny little thing whirling on the ice. He realized he probably knew more about Buffy’s childhood after this trip than he did about Dru’s. Dru’s past had come out in bits and snatches, pieced together from her ravings and Angelus’ dark insinuations meant to keep her under his thumb. Other than her torture and her turning, Spike knew next to nothing about her childhood, except what she told her dolls or whispered to the fairies. He was pulled out of his thoughts by Buffy saying, “What I always wondered is why we don’t all talk like you.”
 
“Pardon?”
 
“I mean, we were British colonies, right? So when did we lose the British accents?” she wondered idly.
 
“Well if you had paid attention in your own history lessons,” Spike said. “You would have learned that there were Dutch, French, Spanish, all sorts of folks here. No wonder your accents got all warped.”
 
“We’re warped? Have you listened to yourself lately?” Buffy said. “I mean, half the time I can’t figure out what you’re saying.”
 
“How’s that?” Spike asked with a cocked eyebrow.
 
“Everything’s ‘bloody bollocks’ and all that. What the hell is a bollocks anyway?”
 
Spike laughed. “If you can’t figure it out, then I’m certainly not going to enlighten you.”
 
Buffy stuck her tongue out at him and drove on. After a couple more hours, they finally started to see signs of civilization. “We must be hitting the outskirts of Chicago,” she remarked.
 
“Haven’t been there since the ‘20’s,” Spike mused. “Wild time that was.”
 
Buffy’s curiosity was piqued. “Were you there when Al Capone and all those guys were running around?”
 
“Yeah. Total playground for vamps. There were so many bodies being dumped by the gangsters that no one noticed a few extras with holes in their necks,” Spike reminisced. “Used to have fun grabbing gang members, eating them, then dumping them where the other gang members would find them. They’d think some other gang did it, various gunfights would ensue. Good times.”
 
“Your definition of good times needs some serious work,” Buffy said.
 
Spike said nothing as he watched the city lights slowly get closer. He pulled out the map and studied it. “If you see a sign for Interstate 55, take that east,” he said.
 
“Okay. But I thought we were supposed to stay on Interstate 80,” Buffy questioned.
 
“Little detour,” Spike said. “Trust me.” Buffy shrugged and kept driving. The traffic got heavier as they approached the city, and Buffy got more and more nervous. “Relax, Slayer. Just follow my directions and take it easy.”
 
“Easy for you to say,” Buffy muttered. “I’m the one behind the wheel.” Spike continued feeding her directions, and she grimly made her way through underpasses and exit ramps. She barely noticed the scenery, so intent was she on the road and the other cars. Under Spike’s guidance she turned onto Lake Shore Drive, winding her way along the lakefront.
 
“Turn right here,” Spike said. Buffy noticed a sign that said ‘Planetarium’ and wondered what Spike could be getting at. “There. Park next to that wall,” he instructed, pointing at a parking spot next to low wall separating the parking lot from Lake Michigan.
 
Buffy parked and looked at him. “What are we doing here?”
 
“Help me out of the car,” Spike said. Puzzled, Buffy did so, supporting Spike until he could sit on the wall. “Now sit next to me and look,” he said quietly.
 
Buffy sat next to Spike and looked, then gasped at the sight. The moon was full and glowed white, glistening over the lake. Light from thousands of windows danced on the water. The skyline went on and on, and every building was different from the next. “Wow,” Buffy said, impressed. “I mean, it’s like LA without the smog.”
 
“So different than when I last saw it,” Spike said. “It was… smaller. But still had this view. Wanted to see if this view was still what I remembered.”
 
“And is it?” Buffy asked quietly, turning to look at the pale vampire beside her.
 
“It’s even more striking than I remember,” he said, still drinking in the skyline. “Dru and I drained some guy and left him on the beach not far from here. Danced on the beach in the moonlight. Thought I could never be happier in all my days.”
 
Buffy turned her gaze back to the shining city in front of her. “She really hurt you,” she observed.
 
“Yeah,” Spike agreed. “Had some good times though.”
 
Buffy bit her lip and turned to Spike once more. “I… you know we can’t let her go. After we cure you, I mean.”
 
“Figured that you’d probably feel that way,” Spike sighed. “Guess I can see your point.”
 
“You’re not…” Buffy began. He wouldn’t fight me to save her, would he?
 
“Won’t stop you,” Spike said quietly, turning to meet her eyes. “Don’t know if I can help you. Sire bond’s a pretty strong thing. Hard to fight that. But I won’t stop you.” They held each other’s gaze for a long time, then wordlessly Buffy stood up, took one last look at the city, and helped Spike back to the car.
 
********************
 
They spent the day in a hotel in South Bend, Indiana. Buffy called to check in, found that the latest locator spell had placed Drusilla still in the Boston area, and hung up the phone.
 
“Still bound for New England, then?” Spike inquired.
 
“Looks like it,” Buffy answered. “How much longer do you think it will take?”
 
“Probably another two nights,” Spike estimated. “It would probably be about eighteen or twenty hours straight through, but that would involve a little too much sunlight for my tastes.”
 
“Guess we should head out then,” Buffy said. She was tired. Although the days of sleep and the Slayer healing did help her recover from the daily bloodletting, she still felt weary from the long nights of driving. “Can’t figure out why driving is more exhausting than fighting vampires,” she said aloud.
 
“No idea, but I’ll grant you that it does wear you out. Last time I left Drusilla I ended up driving to LA from fucking South America. Never in my life wished more that I could take a bloody airplane.”
 
“Still say we should have shipped you in a box,” Buffy said, earning a two finger salute from Spike. “Alright, vampire. Up and at ‘em.” Buffy helped him to his feet. His legs could just about support his weight now, and although he leaned heavily on her it was much closer to him walking than her dragging him. “Glad all my blood seems to be going to good use,” Buffy commented as they reached the car.
 
“Don’t think I don’t appreciate it,” Spike said as he settled himself. “Would have been a pile of bones by now without it.”
 
“Well, don’t get too proud of yourself yet. You’re still not back to fighting weight yet,” Buffy observed. She closed his door, double checked the room for any stray belongings, and then got underway. After a stop for dinner at a little mom and pop diner, she got back onto the interstate to keep hauling east.
 
Looking out the window, Spike remarked, “I see we’re still in Flatsville.”
 
“It’s like they used up all the scenery on the west coast,” Buffy agreed.
 
“Should get more interesting as we get closer to the coast,” Spike said. “Haven’t been back to the east coast in quite a while. Was in New York in the ‘70’s, then wandered Europe some more with Dru. She must have been part gypsy or something. Never could get her to stay still.”
 
“What was it like when you were with Darla and Angelus?” Buffy asked, voicing a question that had been brewing for a couple of states.
 
Spike blew out a long breath. “Total baptism by fire into the world of vampires. Or baptism by blood I guess. They were both sadistic fucks. Darla had a near permanent case of PMS far as I could tell. She was a tough little whore when she was alive, and a tough little whore when she was dead. I liked a good brawl, but they liked a long drawn out death for their victims. Got old, quite frankly.”
 
Buffy thought back to what she had read about Angelus. “Did Angel, I mean Angelus, did he really kill his whole family?”
 
“Slaughtered the whole bloody village more like it,” said Spike. “Hated his father with a passion, on the grounds that his father thought he was a total wastrel, which he was. No real difference between Liam the human and Angelus. Angelus was just Liam with the brakes off.”
 
“Then what is Angel?” Buffy asked.
 
“Angel is Angelus with a shitload of guilt stapled on. He’s still a selfish bastard. Just kills people less and broods more,” Spike replied.
 
“He’s not… what you said,” Buffy said, although she wasn’t entirely sure why she was defending him.
 
“Then why did he ditch you?” Spike challenged. “Why did he leave you to carry on alone after your mum died? Where was he when Glory was gunning for you? He decreed that you were better without him without so much as a by your leave so that he could go off and seek his precious redemption. Never did ask what you wanted.”
 
Buffy was stunned. She tried to come up with a decent comeback, but she couldn’t think of a single argument to counter what Spike said. “We couldn’t be… together. I was mad at the time, but he was right. We can’t really be together.”
 
“Can’t say I want the fucking poof around, but still want to bash his humongous forehead in for leaving you in the lurch like that,” Spike said, shaking his head. “You deserve better, Slayer.”
 
She had no answer to that one either. Trying to redirect the conversation she said, “So Angelus ate his village. You never did say what happened to your mom. Did you…” She left the obvious unspoken.
 
Spike took a deep breath. He looked out the window and spoke in a low, quiet voice. “I loved my mum. Hated to see her suffer. When I became a vampire I wanted to save her. So I turned her.”
 
Buffy turned to stare at him open mouthed for a moment, then jerked back to attention as she started drifting into another lane and a truck behind her laid on his horn. “Shit!” she exclaimed as she got the car back where it belonged. After the adrenaline rush subsided somewhat her brain returned to their former topic. Tentatively she said, “Why did you..? It just seems like…”
 
“Like nothing you would want to do to someone you loved?” Spike finished bluntly.
 
“Yeah,” Buffy said. “What happened next?” she added, unable to contain her curiosity.
 
“She wasn’t… my mother, after that,” Spike said with difficulty. “She tore into me, said some terrible things. I ended up having to dust her. One of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.” His voice trailed off at the end of the sentence as he fought with his emotions.
 
The pain in his voice touched Buffy deeply, and she found herself reaching over to squeeze his hand. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t think… I shouldn’t have asked you about her.”
 
“Never really told anyone,” Spike muttered, squeezing her hand in return. “Drusilla didn’t ask when I came back without her, and I hadn’t told Angelus or Darla where she lived. Didn’t want them to find her.”
 
“I don’t think I could have done what you did,” Buffy said. “If my mom somehow came back as a vampire, I don’t think I could…” Her heart seized at the idea of having her mom back, in any form, and having to watch her die again, turning to dust in front of her. “I couldn’t do it.”
 
“It all happened so fast,” Spike said over a lump in his throat. “After that, I just let Drusilla lead me. Didn’t want to think about it. Immersed myself in the crunch and the rush of a good fight, let Angelus teach me the finer arts of torture, and otherwise tried to turn into something else. Didn’t want to be William anymore.”
 
“You still are though,” Buffy pointed out. “That’s what makes you different. William’s still in there. Not that I understand why or how, but you’re… odd, as far as vampires go.”
 
“Thanks, I think,” Spike said with a frown.
 
Buffy blushed. “I didn’t mean… I meant that…” she stuttered.
 
“No worries, Shakespeare,” Spike said. “I know you and the English language don’t get on well. I get your meaning.” He paused, looking at the hand still clasping his. “Feels good to get that off my chest after all these years,” he murmured.
 
She squeezed his hand again. “Glad I could be here,” Buffy replied. She clasped his hand once more, then put her hands back on the wheel as she drove on.
 
******************
 
They found Indiana and Ohio to be similarly uninteresting to drive through, with endless stretches of farmland in between brief but annoying maneuvering through cities. They stopped outside of Erie, Pennsylvania for the night. Buffy found a decent place for dinner, but passed motel after motel with ‘No Vacancy’ signs. “What the hell is everyone doing in Erie?” Spike asked after a while.
 
“Some religious convention or something,” Buffy said. “The waitress mentioned it in the restaurant.”
 
“So no room in the inn for us demon folk then?” Spike mused.
 
“Look,” Buffy said, pointing. “There’s one with a vacancy sign.”
 
“Looks like the bloody Bates motel, but it will have to do,” Spike said. They pulled into a shabby one story motel. The clerk was clearly a member of the sleazy creep breed of hotel staff, and Buffy’s skin crawled as he looked her over.
 
“I need a room for the day,” Buffy said.
 
“Well my room’s available,” he leered.
 
“Look, we’ve been driving all night, and my boyfriend and I need some sleep. Are you going to give us a room or not?”
 
He frowned at the mention of the boyfriend, but when a glance outside confirmed the existence of a glowering male in the car, he rolled his eyes and got a key. “I’ve only got a couple of rooms left. You can have number 8 on the end.”
 
“I’d like a room with two beds, if you have one,” she said.
 
“What, you don’t want to share a bed with your boyfriend?” he emphasized sarcastically. “Anyhow, all I have left are rooms with one bed. Take it or leave it.”
 
Irritation, apprehension, and exhaustion fought for supremacy in Buffy’s head, but in the end exhaustion and concern about the approaching dawn won out. “Fine, I’ll take what you have,” she grumbled. She got the key, paid for the room, and returned to the car.
 
“Problems, love?” Spike asked, noticing her irritation.
 
“The guy was another creep, and they’ve only got single rooms left,” she sighed as she drove the car down to the end room.
 
“Oh,” Spike said awkwardly. How is this going to play out? he wondered.
 
Buffy parked the car with a jerk and got out. Wordlessly she came around to the other side and helped Spike out. With his arm over her shoulder they lurched their way inside. Spike stumbled over the threshold, nearly sending them both to the ground, but Buffy caught him and guided him to sit on the bed. With her exhaustion showing in every movement, she dragged herself back to the car, grabbed the essentials and tossed them on the room’s one chair, closing the door behind her.
 
“I can sleep on the floor, pet,” Spike began. “More comfortable than the sarcophagus.”
 
“No,” Buffy said distractedly. Without any further elaboration she kicked off her shoes, took what she needed, and went into the bathroom to change. Spike stared at the closed bathroom door, puzzled, but spent the time tugging off his shoes and coat while he waited to see what she would do. Buffy came out dressed in the sweats and tank top she usually slept in and climbed into the bed next to Spike. He stared at her, searching her face intently to figure out what was going on. Buffy sat there, looking back at him for a long moment before she said, “We both need to rest. We’ll rest better in a bed. I know I can trust you.”
 
Spike’s mind flashed back to a night in his crypt. He had dangled handcuffs in front of her and asked “Do you trust me?” Her answer at the time had been “Never”, although he later did get her to try it. But do have her say it out loud, without being asked set loose a flood of tenderness toward her. He reached over and tucked a stray lock of her blonde hair behind her ear as he said, “Can’t tell you how much that means, Buffy.”
 
His eyes overwhelmed her, sapphire blue and filled with devotion. You’re not going to hurt him like that again, she told herself. He deserves better. Smiling shyly, she moved her hair away from her neck. “Here,” she said. “My wrists are getting sore.”
 
The blue eyes widened. “Are you sure?”
 
“Like I said. I trust you,” she answered. She turned so they were facing and tentatively put her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder. Spike cradled her close with hands that shook from both weakness and excess of emotion. He vamped, closed his eyes, and bit her as gently as he could. She closed her eyes as well and relaxed into the sensation as Spike drank, slowly savoring every drop. The erotic heat that spread through her when he fed was somehow intensified when he drank from her neck and she moaned out her pleasure softly into his shirt. As he continued to feed the sensations spiraled and built until she found herself shuddering in an unexpected orgasm. She gasped and vibrated against Spike as he sealed the wound slowly with his tongue and slipped back into his human face. He looked down into her face as her eyes flew open, startled and sated at the same time.
 
“You alright, love?” he asked quietly, bringing a still shaking hand up to stroke her face.
 
Buffy’s mouth was moving, but no words came out for a moment or two. Finally she gasped, “Oh God. That was...” She suddenly sat up, blushing and ashamed. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have…”
 
“Shh, Slayer,” Spike soothed, grasping her hand and tugging until she looked at him. “Nothing to be ashamed of.”
 
“But I don’t want to start this again,” she cried. “Using you. It was wrong, and you don’t deserve it and…”
 
“Buffy,” Spike broke in, his voice both firm and gentle. “You gave me your blood. You bared your neck to me and trusted me. How exactly is that using me?”
 
“But I…” Buffy was too embarrassed to finish the sentence.
 
“Just a side effect, love,” Spike said, his thumb stroking the back of her hand, willing her to listen. “I’m glad you got off on it. Don’t want to cause you pain.” He picked up her hand and kissed the back of it to emphasize his point.
 
Buffy searched his face again and found nothing that belied his words. “The last few days have been… I don’t remember the last time I felt so close to anyone. I don’t want to mess it up.”
 
“You won’t,” Spike assured her. “Neither will I. Now let’s get some rest, yeah?” Buffy met his eyes once more, then nodded. She got under the covers and after a moment’s hesitation, rested her head on Spike’s t-shirt covered chest. Spike coiled his arms around her protectively as they drifted off together.
 
TBC

Disclaimer: Characters = Joss Whedon. BuffyMeetsSpike = grateful fan. Don't confuse the two.

Thanks for all my wonderful (and patient) reviewers!


************************
Chapter 11 – Friends
************************
 
Willow was staring at the telephone.
 
The daily updates had allowed her to trace Buffy’s route in her mind. Nevada. Utah. Nebraska. Illinois. Indiana. She supposed they were somewhere in New York state by now, although they hadn’t yet called tonight. They would probably be in Boston by morning. As she stared at the phone her mind conjured up images of Kendra with her throat slashed, of Spike threatening her and Xander as he tried to get Drusilla back. She’s so dangerous, and Buffy’s so vulnerable lately, and why am I the only person who seems to think this is a bad, bad, bad idea? For days she had tried to bring up the subject of this inherent badness to Tara and Dawn, but Dawn saw Spike as a big brother and protector, and wanted to see him healed, and Tara felt that Buffy knew what she was doing. But what if she doesn’t? What if she’s just lost it somehow, and this is how it’s manifesting? Why is she doing all this for Spike of all people?
 
Her plan was simple. She was going to call Buffy and tell her that they had lost track of Drusilla on the locator spell. If there was no clue where Drusilla was they would have to give up this quest as hopeless and come home. There would be no other choice. Dawn and Tara had gone out to get takeout, and for once Willow had the house to herself. This was her chance for a private conversation. Sure, there would be fallout. Nobody liked being lied to. But this was for a greater good. You could make them forget, said the devil on her shoulder. You’ve done it before. She reached for the phone and dialed Buffy’s cell.
 
Spike had been awake for at least a half hour, just watching her sleep. She was curled up next to him, her head close to his on the pillow, her warrior’s fists relaxed under her cheek. God, what a lovely sight, he thought. He had so rarely gotten to watch her this way. Usually he was equally exhausted after their wild couplings, or she took off immediately to get back to Dawn, after breaking his nose again. He felt fiercely protective of her as he listened to her steady heartbeat and watched her chest rise and fall.
 
The peace was shattered by the electronic beeping of the cell phone. Buffy was so tired that she didn’t even stir. Spike looked across the room to where Buffy’s bag lay on the chair and thought about trying to get there to silence it. Fuck it, he decided. I’m not waking her, and I’ll probably make more noise than the sodding phone if I try to get there. Whoever it is can wait. He ignored the continued ringing and settled back down to admire his Slayer.
 
Willow frowned as the phone rang and rang with no answer. She looked at the clock and did some mental math. It’s about 6:30 pm their time. Why aren’t they up yet? They usually call around now. As she listened to the tenth ring, Dawn and Tara walked in carrying bags of Chinese food. Willow quickly hung up the phone and turned around with a smile. “Here, let me help.”
 
Dawn started unloading the bags, but Tara had noticed the guilty way Willow hung up the phone. “Willow, who were you talking to?” she asked.
 
“It was a wrong number,” Willow said quickly.
 
Tara tightened her lips. Willow’s aura was darker, shifting. She was clearly hiding something. “We’ll be right back, Dawn,” Tara said in a determined voice as she seized hold of Willow’s arm and led her to the back porch, slamming the door behind her. “The truth, Willow. Why were you calling Buffy?”
 
“I wasn’t…” Willow protested.
 
“Then why is your aura screaming ‘liar’ to me?” Tara retorted. “I swear to the Goddess that if you try to use magic or any other tricks to stop Buffy I will kick you out of this house myself.”
 
Willow jumped guiltily and backed up a bit. Tara never yelled at her. Even during the worst of their arguments she had hardly raised her voice. Willow hadn’t realized Tara was capable of this boiling anger. “Tara, please, you’ve got to listen to me! She’s in terrible danger and I can’t just…”
 
“You most certainly can, and you will,” Tara insisted. “She is going after one vampire. Not a hell god, not a cyborg - one vampire. If she says that she can do it, then you have got to trust that she can. She has always asked for help when needs it. If you have a problem with her relationship with Spike, then that is your problem. But I am not going to stand by and let you make it her problem. Do you understand me?” Tara had clenched her fists and was unconsciously advancing on Willow while she spoke. Willow backed away until she hit the wall of the house, her eyes wide and alarmed.
 
“Tara, I didn’t actually do anything, okay?” Willow stammered. “I was just… going to call her and tell her…”
 
“You were going to lie to her,” Tara realized.
 
“I… um… yeah,” Willow whispered. She hung her head in shame as her cheeks burned red.
 
“Why?” Tara demanded. “What possible good could come of that?”
 
“I don’t know, okay?” Willow cried. “I just don’t want her to get killed again! Not after all this… stuff we went through. I just couldn’t stand it again!”
 
Tara closed her eyes and tried to calm herself. Opening her eyes she said, “Willow, look at me.” Willow obeyed, tears running down her cheeks. “She could die any day. We all could. But she could also live every day if you’d just let her. You can’t fix what you did with the resurrection spell. You can only live with her as she is now, and let her figure out what she wants to do. If you try to arrange things your way, you’re going to lose everything. Especially me.”
 
Willow’s tears turned into full on weeping as she sank to her knees and covered her face. “Oh God, Tara. I’m so sorry. I wanted to lie to her… and fix it so she didn’t know… and I’m so, so sorry…”
 
Tara watched her for a moment, then taking pity on her, helped her to her feet. She put her arms around Willow and said, “Any time you feel like that, you tell me, right away, and I’ll help you. Alright?” Willow nodded into her shoulder, and they stood there for a long time, waiting for the storm to pass.
 
Willow finally straightened up and dried her face. They turned to go into the house to find Dawn sitting at the table, idly picking at the Chinese food on her plate. She didn’t even look at Willow. Hearing grownups fight always triggered something in Dawn. She knew, deep down, that the memories she had of her parents fighting weren’t real. But they were real enough to make her stomach clench.
 
Tara served herself and sat down next to Dawn. “I’m sorry you had to hear that, Dawnie,” she said.
 
“Me too,” Willow added as she sat down.
 
“Are you really sorry?” Dawn snapped. “Or are you lying again?” Her blue eyes narrowed accusingly at Willow, who found herself shrinking a bit before their fury.
 
“I’m… I’m really sorry,” Willow stammered.
 
“Should I start writing things down in my journal?” Dawn asked sarcastically. “Are you going to start erasing memories again?”
 
Willow’s face burned at the accusation but she managed to meet Dawn’s glare and say, “Dawn, I promise you, I’ll never do that spell again. It was a majorly bad idea, I know that. I know you don’t have any real reason to trust me. But I swear, I won’t do that again.”
 
Dawn kept glaring at Willow, suspicious and angry, but Tara said, “I’m glad you understand how wrong it was. But I think you need to go back to no magic again. No more locator spells or anything. Anya and I will do it if we need to.”
 
Willow opened her mouth to protest, but when she saw the still fuming teen and the stern face of Tara arrayed against her, she relented. “You’re right. I’m… I’m really sorry.”
 
“Let’s just finish eating, okay?” Tara suggested, and they all finished their plates in silence.
 
*******************
 
Spike could have stayed there forever, holding her and watching her sleep. But as the cheap electric clock next to the bed clicked over to 7:00, he realized that they should really get going. After this perfect night of closeness, he wanted more than ever to find a cure for the poison in his system. Could get used to this, he thought. With a little sigh of regret for having to disturb her, he leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Buffy, love. Time to wake up.”
 
Buffy stirred and rolled over as her eyes fluttered open. “Good morning, er, evening,” she said sleepily.
 
“It’s just gone seven o’clock. I guess we should get on our way.” He found her completely charming as she sat up, stretched, and pushed her hair back.
 
Buffy noticed the little smile on his lips and said, “I know. I look like Medusa in the morning. Evening. Gah, this vampire schedule screws me up!”
 
“You look beautiful as always, Slayer,” Spike said in a low voice, and Buffy felt a small surge of warmth through her entire frame at the sound.
 
“Thanks,” she said shyly. She got up then, grabbed her bag, and went into the bathroom. She emerged about fifteen minutes later looking considerably more awake and put together. After rummaging in another bag she found the cell phone to call home. “Did the phone ring while I was asleep?” she asked, noticing the missed call indicator.
 
“Yeah, about forty-five minutes ago,” Spike replied. “Didn’t want to wake you.”
 
Slightly concerned, she called home. She felt a flood of relief when Dawn answered. “Hey Dawn, it’s me. Is everything alright there? I missed your call.”
 
“That was Willow,” Dawn said, frowning at the witch in question. “She was once again planning to get you to give up and come home.”
 
Buffy frowned in turn. “Can you put her on, please, Dawn?” Buffy had only spoken to Tara or Dawn since this whole adventure began, feeling that she had enough on her plate without listening to Willow’s objections. But this was getting old, and it needed to stop.
 
“Hi, Buffy,” came Willow’s voice, sounding small and contrite.
 
“Willow, what’s your problem now?” Buffy demanded.
 
Willow winced at the harsh tone. “I.. um…” she stammered, having no idea what to say.
 
“Actually, you know what, I don’t care. We’ve been over this. Repeatedly. I don’t plan to quit until I find her, understand?”
 
“I think I’m getting the message,” Willow muttered, conscious of the glares coming from Dawn and Tara. “I’m… I’m not going to do any more spells. Tara and Anya will do the locator spell if you need it, but I’m really struggling, and I need to quit.”
 
“Fine,” Buffy said. “Just keep it under control. Because if I find out you did something to prevent me from helping Spike, you are dead to me, do you hear?”
 
“Got it,” Willow said quietly. “I’m sorry, Buffy.”
 
“Apology accepted. Now let me talk to my sister,” Buffy said shortly. Willow wordlessly passed the phone to Dawn. “Dawn? Did she try anything?”
 
“No, she was just thinking of it,” Dawn answered. “Tara’s helping keep things together.”
 
“Good. You listen to Tara, okay?”
 
“Okay,” Dawn replied. “Where are you?”
 
“I’m in Erie, Pennsylvania,” she said. “We’ll probably get to Boston by tomorrow morning. Tell Tara to see if she can do a more specific locator spell tomorrow so I can get the update as soon as possible.”
 
“I will,” Dawn promised. “Be careful, okay?”
 
“I will. You too, Dawnie.” They rung off and Buffy threw the phone down, frowning in irritation.
 
“Red up to her old tricks, is she?” Spike wondered.
 
“She was going to try to find some way of derailing us,” Buffy said. “Seriously, what the hell is her problem?”
 
“A combination of concern and power trip, I expect,” Spike mused.
 
“Got that right,” Buffy muttered. “Anyhow, let’s get out of here so we can get to Boston before sunrise.” She gathered their things, loaded the car, then loaded the vampire, as she had every night. This time, however, she gave him a quick, gentle kiss on his startled lips as she helped him into the car.
 
“What was that for?” he asked.
 
“For last night,” she answered. With no additional information, she went around to the driver’s side and got in. The usual ritual of finding a dinner spot was accomplished quickly at a fast food burger joint, and soon they were back on the Interstate heading east. “So, what do we talk about tonight?” she asked after a few minutes.
 
“Dunno,” Spike answered. “Haven’t we covered just about everything?”
 
“Almost,” Buffy said thoughtfully. “I guess we still haven’t covered one topic.”
 
“What’s that?”
 
“Us,” Buffy said quietly. Spike looked at her questioningly while she steadfastly fixed her eyes on the road. “What are we? To each other, I mean,” she added in a hesitant voice.
 
Spike too turned to look out at the highway unrolling in front of them. “Was all easier when we were mortal enemies, wasn’t it?” he began philosophically. “Not so long ago I knew exactly what the deal was. William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers versus Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I kill you, drink your blood, screw Drusilla, nice and simple.”
 
“Well, except for the fact that you never did succeed in that ‘I kill you’ part,” she said with a touch of a smirk.
 
“You cheated. You had a mother with an axe. Not bloody fair,” Spike retorted.
 
“You had minions, seemed fair at the time,” Buffy shot back. “But I get what you’re saying. It was a lot easier when I started. Vampires and demons are evil, so kill them. Pretty straightforward.”
 
“And now?” Spike inquired.
 
Buffy blew out a long breath. “Now it sucks,” she said. “My ‘good’ friends have done some pretty shitty things, and the evil vampire has been backing me up. Everything’s backwards, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
 
Spike thought for a moment. “What would you think of me if I wasn’t a vampire? Hypothetically speaking. Give me back a pulse and a soul, otherwise leave me as I am. What would you think?” He turned to watch her face as she struggled with a response.
 
Cursing herself for bringing up this whole topic in the first place, she chewed her lip and pondered that question. “Well, you’d still be a fashion victim trapped in the ‘80’s,” she began jokingly. “You’d still be a total pig sometimes.”
 
“Watch it, Slayer,” Spike growled lightly.
 
Abashed, Buffy continued, “But I’d have to say that you’re a friend. You do a lot of that friend-y stuff. You listen to me, and tell me the truth. You look out for Dawn, and you save me from doing stupid things sometimes. It’s like…” She trailed off for a moment.
 
“Like what?”
 
Buffy continued slowly. “ If I… if I hadn’t jumped you… that first time, I think… maybe we could have had something… eventually.” She turned eight shades of red as she contemplated her complete lack of restraint that night in the abandoned house.
 
“It wasn’t all your fault, you know,” Spike broke in. “I was no gentleman. I was goading you, pushing you. I wanted to drag you down to my level. I could have stopped you. Too bloody selfish to stop.”
 
“You’ve almost got an excuse, given the lack of soul thing,” Buffy replied. “After you said that I came back wrong, I sometimes wondered if I had left my soul behind or something. It gave me an excuse for what I was doing.”
 
“Nothing was wrong with you, Slayer,” Spike said gently. “I was being a dick. Had no right to say that to you.”
 
“So, what, do we keep apologizing to each other for the next year or so?” Buffy asked. “I don’t know what to do here! I’ve never been with someone like you. The Slayer manual doesn’t cover this sort of thing.”
 
“Always forget how young you are, pet,” Spike said, with a tender note in his voice that made her glance over at him. “You’ve had so much thrown at you, in such a short time. Of course you don’t know what to do. Hell, I barely know what to do and I’ve had a hundred plus years of figuring out relationships.”
 
“Then what do we do, Mr. Experience?”
 
“I suppose we could bury the hatchet, and just see where we end up,” he said with a shrug.
 
“You mean, I forgive you for being a pig and a vampire, and you forgive me for being a bitch?”
 
Spike chuckled. “As ever, you butcher the king’s English until it screams for mercy. But essentially, yes.” He looked over at her curiously. “What brought on all this soul searching about our relationship, love?”
 
“Willow,” Buffy said with a sigh. “After this trip, provided we’re successful, we have to go back to Sunnydale and face Willow, and Xander, and all that shit. I guess I want to figure out what our deal is while we don’t have all the background noise.”
 
“I’m yours, Buffy,” Spike said. “I’ll help you fight, give you an ear, whatever you need. But you’ve got to meet me halfway, yeah? Won’t let you treat me like dirt anymore.”
 
“I won’t. I promise. Right now, I need a friend who’s on my side more than anything. Can you… can we be friends?” Buffy asked, her voice pleading for understanding.
 
“I’d like nothing better,” Spike replied. He reached over and gently put his hand on her knee, and she covered it with hers. They drove on, holding hands, with renewed understanding like a lifeline holding them together. 

TBC

Disclaimer: All the characters belong to Joss Whedon, alas. 

Thanks as ever to my wonderful reviewers. My students' term papers are graded, so hopefully I'll be able to write more!


********************
Chapter 12 – Destination
********************
 
“I guess we’re here then,” Buffy commented. They had just passed a sign which read ‘Boston City Limits’. After what felt like an endless slog through New York State and the rolling hills of western Massachusetts, the end of their journey seemed to finally be in sight.
 
“Good thing, too. Only a couple hours until sunrise. Would be a shame to drive all this way and then dust me on the bloody Massachusetts turnpike,” Spike said.
 
Buffy noted a sign for a Motel 6, and took the appropriate exit. She found herself in a slightly dingy looking neighborhood just over the city line, but the motel seemed decent enough. There was a 24 hour pancake house next to the motel where she went to get some breakfast after settling Spike into the room. When she returned, Spike was dozing in front of some old movie. She turned it off, causing him to wake with a start. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” she apologized.
 
“Well, as you can see, it was highly compelling,” he yawned.
 
Buffy went into the bathroom to change before climbing in beside him. “Hungry?” she asked.
 
Spike frowned a bit. “Don’t think I should feed from you tonight. You’re going to need your strength to go after Dru.”
 
“But you need it, Spike,” Buffy protested.
 
“I’ll live for a night,” Spike insisted. “I want you to get a good sleep in. If I’m really suffering I’ll take a little nip when you wake up, alright?”
 
“Look, it just works better if you feed before I sleep. So shut up and eat, will you?” She held her wrist out accompanied by a patented Summers resolve face.
 
Spike shook his head. “You are, bar none, the most stubborn, exasperating female I have ever encountered in a hundred and fifty years on this planet, you know that?”
 
“Great, I win the prize then. Drink.” With a sigh of defeat, Spike ignored the proffered wrist and put his hands on her shoulders, gently pulling her close. He kissed her neck tenderly then vamped and sank his fangs in. Buffy closed her eyes, but found that after three small sips he was closing the wound and releasing her. “That’s all?” she asked.
 
“Told you, you need your strength. Now you get some sleep, or I’ll hire a minion to knock some sense into that blonde head of yours,” he growled.
 
Buffy understood his concern and relaxed her stern expression. She turned and snuggled down into the bed next to him, ignoring the second bed in the room entirely. “Mind if I stay here tonight?” she asked.
 
“Like you bloody need to ask,” Spike said. “Having you here next to me is the best thing in the world, love.” Buffy smiled up at him, then settled herself into the crook of his arm. Spike reveled in his good fortune for half the day before he fell asleep as well.
 
When Buffy woke around sunset, she stretched and rolled over to face the still sleeping vampire. Although he had recovered a little of his usual body mass on his Slayer diet, he still looked so thin and fragile, especially while he was sleeping. His cheeks were still hollow, with circles remaining under his eyes, although his lips no longer looked dry and bloodless. His arms were still like sticks, and his ribs still showed through his t-shirt in well defined ridges. How am I going to do this? she wondered. She had to somehow find Drusilla – not easy in a large city. Then she had to somehow restrain her until Spike could drink her blood, all while hoping that the amulet she wore actually worked to keep her safe from Drusilla’s thrall. Physically, she felt that Drusilla wouldn’t be that much of a threat. But if she gets her thrall on, I’m going to have a bad day. She wrestled with plans and doubts for a while longer before getting up and making her way into the bathroom to get dressed.
 
When she came out, Spike was still sleeping. With a little smile on her lips she went around to his side of the bed and kissed his forehead. He opened his eyes, surprised, as she said, “Good morning, sleeping beauty.”
 
“Prince Charming, you mean,” Spike said with a grin. He yawned and sat up with an effort. “Dragging a bit today I’m afraid.”
 
“I told you that you should have eaten more,” Buffy admonished.
 
“I’ll survive,” Spike insisted. “So what’s the plan?”
 
“Let me call Tara, and see if they have any other info for me,” she said. She fished the cell phone out of her bag and dialed the number. When Tara answered she said, “Hey Tara, it’s me. What’s the scoop?”
 
“Hey Buffy,” Tara answered. “Anya and I tried doing the spell with a map of Massachusetts. She’s definitely in Boston. We tried to get more specific, but we didn’t have any luck.”
 
“Well, I guess that’s something,” Buffy said, a little disappointed. Tara passed the phone to Dawn, and the sisters exchanged the usual warnings, admonitions, and expressions of affection. Then Buffy finally rang off and turned to Spike. “They’ve narrowed it down to Boston, not that it helps that much.”
 
Spike thought for a moment. “Do they have any of those tourist map things in the front lobby?”
 
“I’ll go look,” Buffy offered. She stepped out to the lobby and found a small, dusty rack of tourist info. Some of it looked a bit outdated, but there was a current ‘Boston Visitor’s Guide’ brochure that she brought back to the room. “What did you want to see?”
 
Spike took the brochure and started flipping through. “Need to see where the oldest neighborhoods are. The newer places have fewer places for vamps to go to ground, and like I said, Dru likes the old places.”
 
“There’s a map of historic graveyards,” Buffy pointed out.
 
“Those might have some tombs to hide in, but most aren’t used for burials anymore, so you’re not going to find a ton of vamps there. Even with the steady diet of tourists.” Spike read on, putting himself in Drusilla’s shoes. “I think our best bets will be the North End or Beacon Hill,” he decided at last. “Both old, really dense, lots of little alleys and whatnot, and lots of tourists for dinner.”
 
“So, what do we do, go door to door looking for vampires?” Buffy asked.
 
“No, you daft bint. You do your usual routine of walking around looking vulnerable until a vamp finds you. Then you persuade them to tell you any news of Dru. I guarantee, if she’s here, someone will have heard of her. She makes quite an impression.”
 
“You mean discussions with invisible things make even vampires take notice?” Buffy said.
 
“Got that right. Good or ill, hard to forget a conversation with Dru,” Spike said, shaking his head a little sadly. “Never was right in the head, poor girl. Never had a bloody chance.” Taking a deep breath, Spike faced Buffy. “Ready to go scout?”
 
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she said. After she helped Spike to the car she stopped in the office again. She made arrangements to keep the room for another night, to avoid having to drag all their stuff around Boston. Then with Spike navigating, she headed downtown.
 
Within fifteen minutes Buffy was gripping the wheel with white knuckles and beads of sweat were appearing on her forehead. “These drivers are insane!” she cried. “There’s no lane markings, the intersections are all fifteen streets coming together, no one signals, aargh!”
 
Spike tried very hard not to chuckle too loudly at her distress. “Clearly you’ve never driven in New York either. Drivers are just as bad, although their streets are more like a grid and less like…”
 
“A random set of lines drawn by a deranged five year old?” Buffy finished for him.
 
“Something like that,” Spike agreed. Studying the map he said, “If you see Hanover Street, take a right.”
 
Ignoring the horns blaring behind her, Buffy slowed down to study the signs. “Hanover, here it is. Jesus, what a mess.” Hanover Street proved to be narrow, lined with parked cars, and filled with tourists looking for Italian food.
 
“This would be the North End,” Spike said, looking at the tourist guide book. “Old part of the city, home to a large quantity of Italians. Not so you’d notice or anything.”
 
Buffy slammed on her brakes when she noticed a car pulling out of a parking place in front of her. By the time she maneuvered the car into the spot, she was practically deaf from the horns of the impatient drivers trapped behind her, but at last she was able to shut off the car and lean back.
 
“Buffy, love, did I mention that you are a terrible driver?”
 
“Once or twice,” she sighed. “But seriously, I never have to parallel park back home.”
 
“You never drive back home.”
 
“And your point would be?” Buffy reached behind Spike’s seat to grab a small bag containing stakes, a couple bottles of holy water, and other assorted weaponry. “I’m going to go hunt vamps. Will you be alright here?”
 
“I’ll be fine,” Spike insisted. “Be careful, yeah? I’m a bit dependent on you.”
 
Buffy was touched by his concern. “I’ll be careful. Promise.” She got out of the car and slammed the door before darting across the street to avoid being run over by a taxi. Hoisting her bag onto her shoulder, she started walking the streets. The main drag was packed with restaurants, but a street or two away the clamor of the crowd died down, and she was walking through a maze of narrow streets with dark alleys that led to a Revolutionary War era graveyard. Here vampires, Buffy thought. I know you’re out there. She wandered further from the busy streets, deliberately trying to look like she wasn’t paying attention, all the while waiting for that prickle at the back of her neck that meant there was a vampire nearby. A short while later, as she turned into a narrow passage between two buildings, she felt it.
 
She continued down the alleyway past a dumpster, knowing full well there was a vampire on the other side of it. Three…two…one… Just as expected, the vampire jumped in front of her as she cleared the dumpster. “Lost, little girl?” he asked. He was a little taller than Spike, wearing a Red Sox jacket and jeans. Local boy, gone vamp, she surmised.
 
“Actually, no,” Buffy responded brightly. “You were just the person I was looking for.” The vamp was momentarily confused at the response, and Buffy took that moment to deliver a spinning kick to his jaw that knocked him into the wall. She followed it up with a side kick that broke his knee and sent him crashing to the ground. She leaped on him and pounded him in the face four or five times until he lay there stunned and barely moving. As she sat on him, pinning his arms with her knees, she reached into her bag and grabbed a bottle of holy water. “So, let me tell you how this is going to go. You answer my questions, and I don’t pour holy water into your eyes too much. Understand?”
 
“Wha…. Fuck… who?” the vamp sputtered.
 
“Just a vampire slayer on vacation,” she said with a perky grin as she waved the bottle of holy water in front of his face. “Now, I want to know about a vampire you might have run across in your travels.” The vampire’s eyes got wide in disbelief and fear.

************************
 
By the time Buffy got back to the car, two hours later, Spike was practically pulling his hair out with worry. “Where the hell have you been?” he exploded as she got in the car. “Thought I was going to have to crawl around the streets of Boston trying to find the vamp who got you so I could kill them!”
 
“Sorry it took so long,” Buffy apologized. She was a bit disheveled from her fight, and looked exhausted, but her eyes were triumphant. “The first vamp I found hadn’t heard of her, but directed me to a nest a few streets over. There were five vamps there. I took them down, then interrogated them one at a time. It took a while – had to wait for a few of them to regain consciousness.”
 
“Remind me to be ever so careful not to get on your bad side, love,” he said, impressed by her efforts. “So did you get any information from them?”
 
“After watching the other four vamps go first, the last one was more cooperative. She said that she had heard about a new female vamp in Beacon Hill that seemed to be gathering a bunch of young male minions around her. ‘Some crazy old vamp from Europe’ was how she described her. She was so helpful, I almost felt guilty dusting her.”
 
“So are we off to Beacon Hill then?” Spike asked.
 
“Actually, I was thinking that maybe I want to try to go after her during the day. She can’t get away as easily then,” Buffy explained.
 
“Good thinking,” Spike agreed. “How about we drive through Beacon Hill a bit tonight, see if I can sense her, then head back to the hotel early. You can get some sleep, and then go after her tomorrow.”
 
Buffy took a deep breath. “I guess that means I have to drive in these crazy streets again, huh?”
 
“’Fraid so, pet,” Spike said.
 
Muttering curses under her breath, Buffy started the car. She made her way through the streets, trying to pay attention to where she was, in the event she needed a quick getaway tomorrow. It was exceedingly difficult. The streets seemed designed to thwart her. Finally she found herself cursing as an ambulance cut her off. “Are they trying to drum up more business?” she yelled, slamming on the brakes.
 
“No, I think they’re just heading for Mass General,” Spike replied. He pointed out the large hospital, which Buffy had completely failed to notice in her attempt to not get killed by the other drivers.
 
“Fine, but they don’t need to kill me on the way,” she grumbled. She turned at last off of the main street and started winding her way through another set of narrow streets that headed steeply up Beacon Hill. She drove slowly, not only to give Spike a chance to see if he could sense Drusilla, but also to avoid hitting parked cars on the barely passable streets. “I can’t believe this is a two way street. It’s like a half-way street.”
 
“London used to be a lot like this,” Spike remarked. “All narrow and twisted. Except we also had loads of horse shit everywhere, cars not having been invented yet.”
 
“Blech,” Buffy said. “Sort of glad I didn’t know you then.”
 
“You have no idea…” Spike trailed off and sat up straighter. “Stop the car,” he said quietly.
 
Buffy jammed on the brakes, gentle stops not being her strong suit. “What is it?” she asked.
 
Spike rolled down the window and stuck his nose out. Closing his eyes he inhaled. “She was here, not too long ago,” he murmured. He looked up the street, scanning the houses. Most were three stories, but one small, dark two story brick structure was crammed into the middle of the block. “Drive up a bit – near that one with the black door,” he said. Buffy complied and stopped in front of the house. A ‘For Rent’ sign lay discarded in the gutter in front of it. The house was dark, but a small amount of light came through the edge of a basement window which was otherwise covered on the inside. The hair on Spike’s neck stood up a bit at a familiar sensation. Sire. After all the shit she pulled that bond is still there. Fuck me. “That’s it,” he said quietly. “She’s there.”
 
“You’re sure?” Buffy asked.
 
“Yeah,” he said. After staring at the house for a long minute, he turned to Buffy. “Let’s get you home to bed, love.”
 
Buffy searched Spike’s face for some sign of what he was feeling, but she couldn’t quite figure his expression. Nodding, she drove off, heading back to the hotel. Spike was quiet all the way back, and said little other than to give directions. When they got there, Buffy helped him inside and got him to the bed. “I’ll be right back,” she said, heading to the bathroom to change. Spike took off his coat and shoes and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about what was bothering him. When Buffy returned, she lay down beside him and rested her head on his chest. “Want to talk?” she asked.
 
Spike drew her close and asked, “What about?”
 
“Well, something’s bothering you. Usually I can’t get you to stop talking, but the second we find Dru’s hideout you’re the silent type,” she observed.
 
Spike sighed. “I don’t know what it is,” he began. “Actually, I do know what it is, but I don’t know why it bugs me so much.”
 
“Splain?”
 
He thought about it for a moment then said, “Dru ditched me. Broke my heart eight ways to Sunday, screwed bloody Angelus in front of me, left me for a Chaos demon, all that crap. But I still, I don’t know, seize up at the idea of her dusting.”
 
Buffy remained cradled in the crook of his arm, watching her own hand gently stroke his thin torso. “Do you still love her?” she asked softly, not certain she wanted to know the answer.
 
“No, it’s not that,” he replied, planting a reassuring kiss on the top of her head. “It’s just… she’s my sire. I’m here because of her. I would have been a long forgotten tombstone in England by now if it hadn’t been for her. I’d have never met you if I hadn’t dragged her to Sunnydale looking for a cure. I feel like I owe her a debt for that.”
 
“Do you think all vampires feel this way?” Buffy asked after a few moments of silence. “I mean, Angel killed Darla soon after I got to Sunnydale. He never really mentioned what he felt about it.”
 
“Must have felt something,” Spike said. “Even if you bloody hate your sire, takes a lot to overcome that bond. I suppose the soul must have helped his Broodiness. He must have seen killing her as another step toward redemption, or whatever the hell he’s trying to accomplish.”
 
“I really can’t see letting Drusilla go,” Buffy said. “At the same time, I guess I see what you’re saying. I’m… well glad isn’t exactly the word. Grateful? Arrgh!” She was suddenly frustrated at her inability to say what she meant. She lifted her head to look Spike in the eyes. “I can’t see myself ever saying that I’m glad someone got turned into a vampire. But if you had to be a vampire, then I’m glad we crossed paths eventually, so I guess I’m somehow grateful to Drusilla for turning you in the first place, and am I making any sense whatsoever?” she finished, blushing a bit at her usual roundabout way of expressing herself.
 
Spike smiled. “I get it, Buffy.” He kissed her forehead tenderly. In response she stroked his cheek, then pulled him down into a sweet, almost chase kiss. The kiss went on, deepening, tongues gently mingling but without the violence and wild abandon of previous kisses. When they finally came up for air, both of them were nearly gasping with emotion. “Thank you,” Spike whispered.
 
“You’re welcome,” she whispered back. She moved upward, repositioning herself so that her neck was level with his lips. “Drink,” she said simply.
 
Spike vamped slowly, and Buffy’s eyes never left his as they changed from blue to gold. She didn’t flinch or make any movement other than to turn her head to let her golden hair fall to the side. He kissed down the line of her jugular, sending shivers of anticipation down her spine. “I love you, Slayer,” he whispered. Then he sliced gently into her neck and began sipping her nectar. Buffy closed her eyes and mentally traced the flow of heat down her neck, across her breasts, spreading out into her sex. Spike’s hand moved from her cheek down to skim her hardened nipples, then to gently massage her clit through her soft sweatpants. It wasn’t long before Buffy moaned involuntarily and clutched his arm as she shuddered in a lightning strike of an orgasm. Spike withdrew his fangs and kissed her neck again, once more repeating, “I love you. Always will until I dust.”
 
“I know,” Buffy replied, still shuddering slightly. They lay there in each other’s arms a long time, eyes locked, until at last they both nodded off.
 
**************************
 
Modern times can be quite a bore, Drusilla reflected as she brushed out her long black hair. She was seated in front of an antique vanity in a white nightgown, looking exactly like the 18th century girl that she had been. The only thing wrong with the whole scene was the lack of reflection in the mirror and the dead real estate agent on the floor in the corner. When she had arrived in Boston she had fallen in love with the twisted streets and gas lamps of the old neighborhoods and felt instantly at home. She had found this lovely little house, for rent and nicely furnished, and had moved in with the latest in a series of young minions. She turned young men who initially saw her as a mysterious enchantress, but soon grew tired of her mad conversations and whims and lit out for saner pastures. But unlike in the old days when one could eat the occupants of a house and be reasonably free from anyone bothering you for quite a while, now everyone was busy, busy, busy. Like bees buzzing about, she thought. She had had to dispatch a real estate agent and a prospective renter already, and the voices were telling her that more would come. She supposed she should move, but she liked this house. According to the advertisements scattered from the dead real estate agent’s briefcase, it was ‘built in 1720 and had been lovingly restored to its original condition’. It felt more like home than anything she had found yet in this too-new country, where there weren’t enough spirits to talk to most places. Not like when my William brought me to the hellmouth. The stars talked to me all the time there, and they screamed so deliciously. Wicked Slayer, ruining my William.
 
She put down her hairbrush with a sigh and wandered into the next room where her most recently acquired minion was sleeping the daylight hours away. He was blond and blue eyed. She found that most of the young men she turned ended up blond and blue eyed. She vaguely wondered where the other two – or was it three? – minions had gotten to. Perhaps the pixies got them, she decided. It was so difficult to keep track of the blond men who came through her life, each less satisfactory than the last.
 
Sometimes in her clearer moments she thought she might have made a mistake with that Chaos demon. Spike hadn’t liked that one bit. But then he had already been lost to the Slayer before that. The stars had told her with their tinkly little voices, and they had never lied to her. She frowned at her new minion. He wasn’t quite right. His hair wasn’t quite the right shade, and he was rather too tall, and seemed less attentive to her as the days went on. I shall have to find a new one if he doesn’t work out. How very tiresome, she thought.
 
Wandering into another room she reclined on an antique divan and closed her eyes, listening to the whispers around her. Something seemed… off. She felt like something was scratching at the corner of her brain, trying to get in. Like the stars have their hands over their mouths, she thought. The stars were buzzing with something important, but it wasn’t coming through. Not William, nor Daddy, she reflected. Daddy tried to kill me and Grandmother, and he doesn’t want to play anymore. And Spike cares only for the sunshine. She wondered if she had angered the stars somehow, but she couldn’t think of anything in particular she had done. She drifted into dreams, still wondering what was coming.
 
TBC

Disclaimer: Not my characters, just playing with them.

And now for more adventures in Beantown!

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Chapter 13 – Reunion
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It was five o’clock when they awoke, nearly at the same moment. “Afternoon, love,” Spike said. “Sleep alright?”
 
“Yeah,” she said as she yawned and rubbed her eyes. “Although I don’t know how I’m ever going to get back on anything like a normal schedule after this is all over.”
 
“Normal’s relative,” Spike noted. “I’ve been putting up with a human schedule for the last year or so. This week’s been the most normal vampire schedule I’ve had in ages.”
 
Buffy sat up and stretched. “Well, I guess I’ve had to be up all night and all day for so long that I don’t know what my schedule is.” She got up and moved the curtains carefully to look out the window. “Still have some daylight left it seems.”
 
Spike sat up with a little less than his usual difficulty.  “I’m feeling a touch better today, although I’m not quite up for my usual daylight dash, I’m afraid.”
 
Buffy stared out the window a bit longer, thinking. “I think if I pull the car real close I can get you into the back fast enough and cover you with the blanket.”
 
“Afraid I’m going to be a hindrance to you,” Spike said doubtfully.
 
“I can’t risk her getting away in the time it takes to come back and get you,” Buffy reasoned. “Easier to just keep you close. Besides, you haven’t been any problem thus far. Other than the fact that you hog the covers at night,” she finished with a grin.
 
“Oi! Do not!” he retorted. Then becoming serious again he said, “I really don’t want you getting hurt, love. Promise me you won’t take any unnecessary risks, you hear me?”
 
“I swear, you’re worse than Dawn,” Buffy said, rolling her eyes. She went over to her bag and rummaged around. The bag yielded a protein bar which she wolfed down greedily before finding some appropriate slaying wear. She disappeared into the bathroom to change and came out a few minutes later, hair pulled back, wearing a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt.
 
“Like the look, Slayer,” Spike said with a smirk.
 
Buffy blushed when she realized she had unconsciously put on the same uniform as Spike. She grabbed a denim jacket to throw over it. “Don’t be getting all full of yourself,” she said. “I’m running short on clean clothes.”
 
“Sure, you are,” Spike drawled. Buffy threw his duster at his face, and sat down to put on her shoes. Spike pulled the duster off his grinning face and shrugged into it before wrestling into his Doc Martens. Buffy went out and turned the car so that the passenger side was as close to the door as she could get it. She left the door open and brought the thick quilt from the back of the car.
 
“Are you ready?” she asked him.
 
“Guess we’ll find out,” he said doubtfully. Pulling him to his feet, Buffy threw the quilt over his head, and he wrapped his hands in the thick folds to protect them. Buffy wrapped her arms around him and led him to the threshold, supporting his wavering frame.
 
“On three,” she said, getting a firm grasp around his waist. “One… two… three!” She heaved him out the door with all her Slayer strength and bustled him quickly into the back of the car, slamming the door behind him. She went around to the driver’s side and jumped in, looking nervously into the back seat. “Are you alright back there?”
 
“Barely smoking,” he said, his voice muffled under the blanket. “We’d better get going though. Sundown’s in an hour or so.”
 
Buffy drove off, trying to navigate traffic and consult the map next to her at the same time. She wasn’t particularly successful. “Shit!” she said as she missed a turn, again. She pulled over on a side street and picked up the map, turning it this way and that way, looking at the nearby street signs, and cursing under her breath. “I don’t know where the hell I am!” she cried at last.
 
“Hand me the map,” Spike said from under his blanket.
 
“How are you going to read a map under a blanket?” she asked, exasperated.
 
“Vampire,” came the muffled reply. “I don’t need much light. Now give it over.” Buffy carefully slid the map under Spike’s quilt, defeated by the Boston streets. “What’s the nearest cross street?” Spike asked.
 
Buffy squinted at the nearest street signs. “We’re on Kingsley Street. The big street up ahead is North Harvard.”
 
Cautiously lifting a corner of the quilt to let in a little more light, Spike studied the map. “Alright, I think I’ve got it. You want to turn left on North Harvard and follow that for a while.”
 
“Thanks,” Buffy muttered. “Remind me to kiss Revello Drive when I get back home.”
 
“Duly noted,” Spike muttered. He called out directions as needed from his awkward position, but Buffy still managed to miss a turn or two since she couldn’t always understand his muffled instructions. “I said left!” he called at one point.
 
“I can’t go left if they won’t let me in!” Buffy yelled back. She narrowly missed being sideswiped by an SUV as she managed to get into the left lane and speed through the yellow light. “Now what?” she asked. “I’m on… Cambridge Street.”
 
“Keep going,” Spike said. “You should see that big hospital coming up on the left.”
 
“Got it,” Buffy said. She attempted to relax, but she had lost a lot of time being lost, and the sun was nearly down. So much for my surprise daytime attack, she grumbled to herself. She supposed she could have left earlier, but she had been exhausted and the sleep had been most welcome. Truth be told, she could have stayed lying next to Spike for another seven hours. She didn’t know exactly how it had happened, but they had become some sort of couple. More astonishing than that, she felt good about it. She felt in control and content, in a way that she hadn’t since she crawled out of her grave. She really wanted to have time to figure this all out. Her hands clutched the steering wheel nervously, hoping with all her might that they would get that time.
 
She finally came to the street leading up the hill, and she threaded her way between the parked cars in the fading daylight. Up ahead she saw the black door of the house that was their destination. She pulled up in front of it and turned off the ignition. “Ok,” Buffy began, reaching for her bag of weapons. “I’m going to go in there and take her down. When she’s incapacitated, I’ll come out and get you.”
 
Spike chafed about being left behind. “Don’t like this one bit,” he growled. “Feel like a useless sack of shite here.”
 
Buffy got out and came around to his side, opening the door and cautiously lifting the quilt to see his face. She gave him a gentle kiss and said, “Never useless, Spike. Now let me go get this done so we can get you back to normal, okay?”
 
“Take care, Slayer,” he urged her. She covered him back up and closed the door. She settled her bag on her shoulder and checked to make sure her amulet still hung between her breasts. Taking a deep breath, she mounted the steps and tried the doorknob. It turned, and the door creaked open slowly. Stake in hand, she stepped into the darkened hallway.
 
*******************
 
Bryan had enjoyed being a vampire from the start. He had been staggering home after a frat party when what he thought was a young Goth chick started hitting on him. He had followed her into an alley which she claimed led to her apartment, and had hardly known what was happening before suddenly he was waking up, buried in a tiny backyard behind an empty house on Beacon Hill. His mysterious dark woman had taught him how to hunt, and he had amused himself greatly by thinning out the herd of homeless people who hung out at the Boston Common. Another young vampire named Daniel was part of their little family as well, and they each were called upon to service their mistress in turn. Daniel was starting to spend more and more time away from the house of late. Bryan could understand why – the ravings did get on his nerves after a while. Still, she was a good lay, and good at luring in the prey, and he didn’t have anything else going on at present. He was hanging out in the living room of the empty house, waiting impatiently for the sun to go down and Drusilla to finish dressing and dealing with her hair so they could go hunt.
 
He heard the creak of the door and wondered who it could be. Probably someone from the real estate agency, he surmised. He got up and vamped, licking his lips in anticipation of a meal. Quietly creeping over to the door, he prepared to spring out into the hall.
 
“Greetings,” said a bright female voice. The small blonde owner of the voice stepped into the room and staked the surprised Bryan before he could make another move. The stunned look on his face was comical for a moment before he fell to dust at her feet. Buffy turned and scanned the room, reaching out with all her senses to figure out where the next target was.
 
In front of her vanity, Drusilla paused in her toilette. She had been so engrossed in a tune in her head that she hadn’t heard the door open, but now she became aware of a human heartbeat. Puzzled, she got up and set down her hairbrush. “Did you bring me a treat, my knight?” she asked as she opened the door.
 
“Hello, Drusilla.”
 
Drusilla hissed, stepping back warily. “Slayer. Wicked Slayer.”
 
“Glad to see you too,” Buffy said, stepping forward into the room.
 
“Why are you here, so far from your chattering little band? Have you tired of my William already?” Drusilla asked, her voice taking on its usual hypnotic tone.
 
Buffy dropped her bag and pulled out a stake. “Really don’t want to dust you right now,” she said, as the two women stalked around each other in a slow circle. “Spike needs your blood to survive. This will all go a lot smoother if you cooperate.”
 
“You lie, nasty bit of sunshine,” Drusilla growled. “I would know if my Spike were near. The stars whisper when he comes to visit his dark princess.” Her brain strained as she tried to force her way into the Slayer’s thoughts. Something was very wrong. “Why is your mind shrouded in black velvet and lace? Cheating, you are.” They continued circling like tigresses, dark eyes fixed on green ones, neither one blinking or looking away.
 
“Just one of my little secrets,” Buffy said. “Now, are you going to help, or are you going to keep blathering all night?”
 
In response, Drusilla snarled and pounced, her long fingernails like claws aiming for Buffy’s eyes. Buffy ducked under her outstretched arms and rammed her shoulder into Drusilla’s midsection. Her momentum carried them both onto the floor where they rolled and wrestled. Buffy got a good shot to Drusilla’s jaw, which rocked the vampire’s head back, but those razor sharp fingernails found purchase in Buffy’s shoulder and ripped into cloth and skin. “Fucking bitch!” Buffy growled, hitting her again and again. “That was my last clean shirt!”
 
They fought on, rolling on the ground and struggling together until Buffy was at last on top, pounding away as best as she could at the writhing creature below her. Drusilla’s vampire strength was given an extra boost by her madness, and she was a tougher opponent than she looked. She kept trying to fix her gaze on the Slayer’s, and she was confused as to why it wasn’t working. Has the sight left me? Did I anger the stars? A kernel of fear was forming in the very small rational part of Drusilla’s brain as she strove to throw Buffy off, and it was not a welcome feeling. Buffy got her hands around Drusilla’s neck and squeezed, banging her head against the floor in an effort to knock her out.
 
Suddenly a male voice called out, “Mistress? Are you here?” The sound drew Buffy’s attention just enough for Drusilla to free one of her hands and claw at Buffy’s shirt. Drusilla’s eyes widened as she saw the amulet dangling at her neck. Buffy landed one more punch and felt Drusilla go limp beneath her. She jumped to her feet, grabbing her extra stake from her waistband with a fluid movement. “Mistress?” came the voice again as another blond male vampire stepped in from the hallway. “Who the hell are you?” he blurted out when he spied Buffy.
 
“No time for discussion,” Buffy said as she lunged at him. He got a hand up to block her and she had to kick his knee out before she staked him. “Sorry we couldn’t be properly introduced,” she said as she brushed the dust from her hands. Before she could turn around she felt a sharp tug at her neck and whirled to see Drusilla holding the amulet.
 
“Pretty thing,” Drusilla crooned as she studied the stone, which turned and dangled on its chain. “It sings louder than the stars. But now you can hear me. Look into my eyes. Be in me…” Buffy’s blood ran cold as she struggled not to obey.

TBC

Disclaimer: All the characters and dialog that I borrow belong to Joss Whedon. All hail, Mr. Whedon.

Thank you so much, kind reviewers. Only a few more chapters to go!


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Chapter 14 – End of the Road
************************
 
About ten minutes after Buffy left him Spike sensed that the sun was nearly down. Cautiously he peered out. The street was narrow and crowded, and already engulfed in shadow, despite the fading daylight. Perfect neighborhood for vamps, he mused. He sat up, glad to be out of his cramped position on the floor. Hope I didn’t drain her too much last night, he worried. His eyes stayed riveted to the black door, willing Buffy to come out. The minutes ticked by interminably slowly, and he found his foot tapping with nervous impatience. She’s taking too long. As he watched out the car window a figure slipped out of an alley down the block, carefully walking near the buildings to keep to the shadows. Spike’s senses told him that it was a vampire, although from the cautious fearfulness that he exhibited as he looked up at the sky he had not been a vampire long. Spike shrank down a bit so as not to be noticed and studied the vampire’s blond hair and fair skin. Spike watched as he entered the house through the black door.
 
Spike growled as he sat up and ran his hand through his hair. Not good. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, and finally he decided that he couldn’t take it any longer. Checking once more to make sure it was all shadows between the car and the door, he opened the car door and pulled himself out. He leaned on the car heavily, making his way to the front bumper, which was closest to the front steps of the house. After resting there for a few seconds and gathering his strength he tottered upright and lunged across the narrow sidewalk, barely snagging the porch railing to prevent himself from completely hitting the ground. Painfully he pulled himself up the four stairs one at a time, then rested again, feeling like he had just scaled a mountain. This might turn out to be one of your worst ideas yet, William, he thought. He leaned on the wall and opened the door as silently as he could.
 
The door opened into a hallway with several doors off it and he could hear a familiar voice from the last room on the right. “You’ve ruined my prince, with your sunshine and the little pieces of lightning in his brain, shock, shock shocking him all the time.”
 
“That w…wasn’t… me.” Buffy’s voice sounded thick and strangled. She was fighting the thrall, and losing the battle. Spike steadied himself on the doorframe and lurched over to the wall, nearly sliding down it. A chair rail molding gave him something to hold on to as he heaved himself from doorframe to doorframe down the hallway, his legs threatening to give out completely on every step.
 
“He went back to kill the Slayer,” Drusilla hissed. She was walking slowly toward Buffy, who had backed up against the wall. Buffy found the stake slipping unheeded from her fingers to clatter on the floor as she stood transfixed by the low voice and the dark eyes before her. “And the little tin soldiers broke him. The sunshine catches him like a spider web and he struggles and writhes and can’t get free.” Drusilla advanced further, her eyes riveted on the Slayer’s as she morphed into her vampire guise. “But I will free him. You’ll see.” Buffy’s face drained of color as Drusilla stopped, inches from her face. “What does sunshine taste like?”
 
Spike heard Drusilla’s hypnotic monologue and redoubled his efforts to reach the room. With a last heave he made it to the doorway. Panting with exertion he looked up then cried, “Dru! Don’t!”
 
Drusilla pulled her fangs out of the Slayer’s neck and turned to look at Spike, holding the half conscious Buffy up by the lapels of her denim jacket. Rivulets of Slayer blood trickled down from the corners of her mouth as her eyes grew wide in pleasurable surprise. “William,” she purred. “You’ve come back to me. I knew you would, if I could get you out of the sticky golden web.”
 
“Dru, please, let her go,” Spike pleaded. “You’ve got to listen to me, pet.” He tried to step slowly toward her but stumbled, barely catching himself on the edge of the bed as he went to his knees.
 
“She’s made you ill, my Spike,” Drusilla said. “Let me finish her. Then we’ll dance together again, you and I, in the Slayer’s blood.” She smiled broadly, her bloodstained fangs gleaming in the light before she turned back to her kill.
 
“NO!” Spike roared. He vamped out, and with his last remaining strength launched himself at Dru’s back. Even in his sorry state he had enough mass to jar her into dropping Buffy. Clinging desperately he tore into her neck as she hissed and struggled, clawing at his arms as they clutched her to him. He latched on and drank, trying to hold on as his legs buckled and his weakened arms shook with the effort. But suddenly his legs buckled once more – then straightened. He felt a surge through him as his Sire’s blood slipped down his throat and his strength started to come back, like water filling a dry pool. As Drusilla’s struggles weakened from the loss of blood, Spike grew stronger and stronger, and his fangs sank even more deeply into her neck. He swallowed great draughts of Drusilla’s blood as her clawing grew feebler, until at last he wrenched his neck free with a shout, panting, with blood smeared across his lips.
 
“William,” she said, turning in his arms to look at him with a lost and confused expression. She started to collapse, and Spike bore her gently down to the ground. “I didn’t know you were coming. You got lost in the stars. What have you done to your wicked plum?” Her voice was plaintive, and it made Spike felt like his unbeating heart was being squeezed in his chest. He was always undone by the damaged, hurt, rejected little girl that was at her core, and for a moment he thought, I can’t do it. She’s like a child, she can’t help it. But then he caught sight of Buffy lying there, still breathing, but only just, and his love for the Slayer welled up like a spring. Tears ran from his eyes as he reached out and picked up the fallen stake. He looked back down on the pale face of this woman whom he had loved for more than a lifetime. He memorized her dark eyes, her black hair, her slender white neck. Bending down he planted a final, gentle kiss on her lips and whispered, “I’m sorry, love. Forgive me.” Then with a small cry of anguish, he plunged the stake into her heart and watched her fall to dust in his arms.
 
There was a dreadful tug at his mind, as the bond with his Sire severed forever, but he hardly had time to register it before he was bending over Buffy. He looked around wildly and found one of Drusilla’s scarves, which he wrapped quickly around Buffy’s still bleeding throat. “Hang on, love, please hang on,” he muttered as he scooped her up. Even in his distress he was relieved to find that his strength had returned, his body was his own, and his abilities were undimmed by the experience. He wasted no time, but sprinted out the door and down the street, heading for Mass General Hospital.
 
***************************
 
The intake nurse at Mass General had been flipping through a magazine when the door burst open and a man in a black leather coat came barreling through with a girl lying limp in his arms. “Someone help her! She’s lost a lot of blood!”
 
Doctors and nurses came running, a gurney appeared, and Spike carefully laid her down. “What happened?” said an intern as they rushed toward a treatment room.
 
“She was attacked. Some madwoman attacked her, bit her in the throat. She went after me after that, clawed me something fierce. Then she ran away. Please, her neck, she’ll die if she doesn’t get blood…”
 
“Sir, we’ll take care of it,” said a nurse, firmly pushing him back toward the waiting room. “Just stay here and let us help her.” She turned and said something to another doctor, who hurried after her into the room.
 
Spike swallowed and set his jaw as he watched the door swing shut behind the doctor. Every fiber of his being screamed to go in there and rip things apart until someone saved her. Don’t you know who she is? Fucking saved your little world ten times over you officious pricks. With an effort he clamped down on his violent urges, and whirled, stomping outside for a cigarette. He walked a distance from the door of the ER and leaned against the corner of the building, fishing a battered pack out of his pocket and lighting the cigarette with shaking hands. One hand ran nervously through his hair as he smoked. He literally didn’t know what he was going to do if she died. He mentally kicked himself again and again for not ridding the world of Drusilla years ago.
 
At the same time, he felt a twinge for the loss of his sire, his lover for more than a century. His mind kept bringing up her huge dark eyes, set into that ivory skin and framed by her ebony hair. He knew every inch of that face, could draw the tiniest details of her body from memory. He had loved her once, although that love seemed a shadow of what he felt for the Slayer. Drusilla had been beautiful and deadly and completely mad. Part of his reason for never hunting her down had been pity. She had never had a chance to be sane after Angelus had worked her over. Angelus had raped her and terrorized her and turned her, and then had done it all again when she was a vampire before leaving her. He had made her dependent on his approval, coming and going on his say-so, and Spike had never fully been able to fill the hole left by her sire’s departure. Even though Spike had been dumped by her, even though she had nearly killed the love of his life, he felt like some small part of who he was had been lost forever.
 
With a sigh he finished his cigarette, ground it out with his foot, and went back into the waiting room. He inquired about her progress to the nurse at the desk, but was told that there was no word yet. He sat down and leaned his head against the wall, closing his eyes for a moment. If she dies I’ll have to tell Dawn, he thought despairingly. His stomach clenched at the idea of having to inform Dawn that she was an orphan, again. He didn’t know if he could go back to Sunnydale without Buffy. The Scoobies, aside from Tara and Dawn, were clearly not going to welcome him with open arms. If she died saving him, how could even Tara and Dawn forgive him? Without her there was no reason to go back to Sunnydale ever again. Best thing he could do would be to disappear from their lives entirely.
 
“Sir?” Spike opened his eyes and sat up, unaware of how long he had been sitting there thinking dark thoughts. The receptionist was calling to him from her post. “The doctor said that you can come in and see her now. She’s awake and talking.”
 
“She’s… she’s alright?” he asked, hardly daring to believe.
 
“That’s what Dr. Carter said,” the nurse said with a little shrug. Spike’s face broke out in a relieved grin, with small tears of joy appearing in the corners of his eyes. He followed her instructions down the hall to a room near the end and slowly opened the door to behold Buffy, looking pale and tired in the hospital bed with a bandage around her neck.
 
“Spike,” she said softly with half opened eyes. “You’re okay.”
 
“So’re you,” he said with undisguised joy. “Had me worried there for a while, Slayer.”
 
“I’ve been chewed on by worse vamps,” Buffy said. Spike smirked at her attempt at humor and sat down next to her, taking her hand. “Where’s…”
 
“Drusilla’s dust,” Spike said quietly.
 
Buffy noticed the slight note of sadness in his voice. “You okay? I know that the sire bond thing is pretty intense.”
 
“I’ll live. Or approximate living,” he replied. “But yeah, it’s a little unsettling.”
 
“You were with her for a long time,” Buffy observed, rubbing her thumb soothingly along the back of his hand.
 
“Yeah,” Spike said. They sat for a few minutes holding hands, looking into each other’s eyes. “Seems like I’m back to my old self,” he said after the silence stretched out too long.
 
“Glad it worked,” Buffy said with a smile. “Hate to have to come all this way for nothing.” She closed her eyes, exhausted.
 
Spike took that as his cue to go for a while, so he stood up. “You get some sleep, love,” he said, kissing her forehead gently.
 
Her eyes fluttered open again. “Spike? Will you stay with me?”
 
With a smile, Spike settled himself back down and took her hand again. “Always,” he whispered.
 
*****************
 
“How are you feeling today?” a nurse asked the next morning as she brought Buffy her breakfast. Her ID tag labeled her as Caryn Baines, RN.
 
“Much better, thank you,” Buffy replied.
 
“Where did your boyfriend go?” Caryn wondered. “He seemed really worried about you.”
 
“He’s not…” Buffy began. Then she stopped. She had been about to say that Spike wasn’t her boyfriend, but she wasn’t sure that was true anymore. “I mean, he had to go move our car before it got towed, and I told him to go get some sleep.”
 
“Good thinking,” agreed the nurse. “I got towed last month, and getting to the impound lot is a chore. He seems like a keeper, that one. I thought he was going to pull all of his hair out waiting to hear if you were okay.” Nurse Baines smiled, then looked down as her pager went off. “Excuse me,” she said as she bustled out the door.
 
Buffy ate her breakfast, thinking about what the nurse had said. He’s a keeper. But how will this work? She thought about her options. As she saw it, she could break it off completely again, somehow have a relationship where they were friends and only friends, or go all the way and actually be a couple. Plan A was out of the question. She knew him now, and he knew her, and when she thought about not having him at her back she shuddered. Something vital would be missing from her life without him. Plan B was possible, she supposed. They had become friends, and they could leave it at that. But that would mean she would have to find some other way to fulfill her physical needs. She had finally admitted to herself that she couldn’t live without some sort of physical relationship. Even without the sex, just having someone to hold her when she needed to be held was necessary to keep her sane, keep her grounded. Besides, to try to be friends with Spike while sleeping with someone else would complicate matters all around. By process of elimination, that meant they needed to be a couple.
 
Sipping at her coffee, Buffy leaned back to ponder that further. Her forays into couplehood had ended disastrously in the past. How much of it was me? If she was honest, her behavior had a lot to do with the whole Riley situation. But then he had issues too. Parker was an ass, and Angel… was complicated. In some ways, Spike was easy to be with. No balance of physical power issue like Riley had. No losing your soul issues. No ‘you’re just a notch in the headboard’ issues. They were matched physically, mentally, and sexually. Ok, maybe not mentally. For all his posturing, he’s pretty freaking smart. Spike clearly loved her, even after all the abuse she had dished out on him. He would keep her and Dawn safe, and he would never leave her.
 
But then there’s the downsides, she thought with a sigh. She ran down the mental list of Scoobie objections. No soul. No guarantee that the chip would keep working. Vampire. Did we mention vampire? Tried to kill us once. Probably a bad influence to boot. Giles would rub his glasses into oblivion. Xander would freak and probably try to stake him. Willow would either wring her hands right off or try some magic fix, or both. Tara would deal. Dawn would deal. Anya would deal. Angel would probably join Xander in the staking party if he were to find out. Do I really want to set myself up for months of fighting with Xander, Willow, and Giles? The thought of having to have all these arguments again and again exhausted her. Her brain turned everything around and around, trying to reconcile I like being with Spike and I like not having to fight the others.
 
She was still lost in thought when the nurse came back to fetch her empty tray. “You certainly were hungry,” she said approvingly.
 
“Guess so,” Buffy replied as Caryn brought the tray out to a cart in the hallway. When she returned to take Buffy’s vitals and check her bandages, Buffy said, “Can I ask you a question?”
 
“Certainly,” the nurse replied affably.
 
“You’ve met my… my boyfriend,” she began. “I’ve got a few close friends who really, really don’t like him because of some stuff that happened a couple years ago. We haven’t really told them we’re dating, because I just don’t feel like fighting with them all the time. I’m afraid if we tell them they’ll freak out. What would you do?” Buffy had no idea what led her to pour out her heart to this random stranger, but she was desperate for advice.
 
“Does he treat you good?” Caryn asked.
 
“Yes,” Buffy said. “He puts up with a lot of crap from me.”
 
“Do you want to break up with him?”
 
“No… no I don’t. He… things are better when he’s around.”
 
“Then you need to tell your friends to go pound sand in the desert,” said the nurse decisively. “He seems like a good guy. Don’t make yourself miserable trying to make the naysayers happy. Once they break you guys up, you won’t have him, and you’ll resent them, so you won’t have them either. Stand your ground, that’s my advice.” She stood up and gathered up a few more odds and ends.
 
“Thanks,” said Buffy with a small smile. “That… that actually made a lot of sense.”
 
“You’re welcome,” she replied warmly. “Now, sit tight. I think Dr. Carter will be discharging you very shortly.” The nurse left, leaving a much less troubled Slayer in her wake.
 
*********************
 
Spike had indeed fetched the car and gone back to the hotel. He had noted with some degree of amusement that the car had managed to gather a parking ticket during the night. Don’t the parking police ever sleep around here? he had wondered. He dropped the ticket on top of the battered ‘For Rent’ sign in the gutter and drove back to the hotel. He hunted around on the radio until he found something suitably loud and violent and tapped his fingers to the beat as he drove. It felt amazingly good to be, well, if not alive, then at least restored to his usual unlife. To be able to walk, and drive, and function unaided seemed an unimaginable gift. All this and the girl too, he thought happily.
 
He found his way back to the Motel 6 with little difficulty. Once inside he stripped and showered for the first time since this whole nightmare had started. He practically purred as the hot water poured down, warming his tepid body. His thoughts turned to Buffy, lying in his arms, vibrating with pleasure as he drank from her. The thought made his erection spring up, bobbing in front of him and he grinned and thought Welcome back, old man, as he threw his head back into the spray and pleasured himself. His orgasm felt like a sort of rebirth, a confirmation that everything was operational and ready to rumble again. He turned off the water and toweled off, unable to wipe the grin from his face for even a moment.
 
He padded naked into the other room and rummaged around in the bags, locating a change of clothes that Buffy had thrown in for him. Washed, changed, and content, he lay back on the bed with his hands behind his head, thinking about his Slayer. He was still somewhat astonished that she would undertake all this for him. Few weeks back I would’ve sworn she would be willing to make some popcorn and sit around to watch me starve. Instead, she had brought him to her house, cared for him, given him her blood, driven him across the country, and nearly died to get him the cure he needed. I knew you felt something for me. Knew it.
 
The smugness that his thought brought him lasted for a good ten minutes until reality started creeping back into his mind. This was all well and good when it was just the two of them driving and talking, and even sharing the same bed. But he was pretty damn sure he wanted more than that. He wanted her, her body and her mind and her whole being, and he wasn’t sure he could settle for less. What’s it to be then, Slayer? It was all going to come down to her friends. Will she be willing to face the Scoobie scorn, or not? For all that he was incredibly annoyed at how her friends seemed to run her life, Spike did understand how important they were to Buffy. Her support structure was what made her a Slayer he couldn’t defeat. He wanted to be hers. Wanted it so bad that he ached with the thought of not having her. But he wasn’t going to be her dirty little secret any more. Fuck that. Either she’s with me openly, or we part ways. No other way this could work. For all that he was grateful to her, and for all that he loved her, he couldn’t put either of them through that again. He lay there, turning these thoughts over and over in his mind as the day wore on.

TBC

Disclaimer: Spike and Buffy and the rest belong to Joss Whedon, not me.

Thanks so much for all the readers who stuck with me to this, the last chapter. By now you've figured out that the Character Death is that of Drusilla, so no more worries, just some Spuffiness to close things out. 


***************************
Chapter 15 – New Journeys
**************************
 
Buffy was finally discharged around noon. She pretended to call Spike under the nurse’s watchful gaze, knowing full well that he couldn’t come get her in the daylight. For reasons she couldn’t entirely articulate, she lied and told the nurse that their car had in fact been towed and that she would have to take a cab. Caryn sympathized, and gave her the number of a reliable taxi company. Buffy was grateful that Spike had slipped some money into her wallet before he left, and within 45 minutes she was standing in front of the motel while the cab drove away behind her. She stared at the motel room door for a moment, collecting herself and taking a deep breath before she walked up to the door and let herself in.
 
Spike sat up the instant he heard the key in the lock and by the time Buffy made her way through the door he was standing, waiting for her. Buffy closed the door behind her and took off her jacket, tossing it on a chair. “Hey,” she said, facing him uncertainly.
 
“Hey,” he replied. They stared at each other for a few long minutes, searching each other’s eyes for some sign of their status. After the silence had stretched out interminably he continued, “At the risk of bringing up a bad memory, love, where do we go from here?”
 
One corner of Buffy’s mouth curved upward slightly at the recollection of the singing demon and their first kiss. “That was the first time you saved me,” she said.
 
“Don’t recall many others,” he said, still standing there, trying to gauge her mood.
 
“Every night,” she said, walking slowly closer. “Every night I came to you lost and angry and depressed and you saved me. Even when I said horrible things to you and beat you and treated you like dirt, you saved me.” She stopped and brought her hands up, one running through his blond curls, and the other stroking his cheek. She gently but firmly pulled him down and kissed him, slowly and with infinite tenderness. “Every night you save me,” she whispered.
 
His hands came up to cup her face in turn, trembling. “Just want to love you… court you… be yours. May I?”
 
“Yes,” she said, kissing him again, her hand stroking the back of his neck while she pressed herself tight against him.
 
Suppressing a groan, he pulled back gently and looked into her eyes. “Even when we get back?” he asked in an unsteady voice. “Can I be yours?”
 
“A wise person told me earlier today that trying to make my friends happy would end up making everyone miserable. I think we can make each other happy, and my friends will deal, or not. But I want… us,” she said, trying for once to put what she felt into coherent words.
 
Breaking into a radiant smile, Spike crashed his mouth down onto hers, clutching her close as their tongues met and mingled. The kiss went on and on, their hands sliding and caressing and their breathing becoming ragged with need. “Slayer,” Spike breathed as he nibbled down her neck. “Don’t know how much more of this I can take. Want you…”
 
With a little moan of pleasure Buffy broke away from him. For a brief moment Spike was startled and hurt, but when she quickly kicked off her shoes and took his hand to lead him to the bed he understood. They lay down next to each other, clothing coming off one piece at a time as they touched and explored each other. It all felt new, this tender lovemaking, rather than wild, animalistic desperation, and Buffy’s nerves were singing with anticipation by the time Spike was sliding her satin underwear off so he could kneel between her legs. Home. This is my home, he thought as he sank his tongue into her, feeling her arch her back and hearing her cry out with ecstasy.
 
“God, Spike, I missed that,” Buffy moaned. She clutched his head, reveling in the sensation of his cool tongue on her burning flesh. She was soon falling over the edge into an orgasm, shuddering and gasping underneath him. He grinned, giving her clit one last kiss before kissing his way up her body, lingering on her breasts and her neck until she begged, “Please, need you inside, please…”
 
“Yes, love,” he whispered, then groaned as he slid home, pausing to look down at her. The eyes of both lovers were wide as they gasped with the sensation. He bent down to kiss her and they lay there, unmoving, enjoying the sensation of being locked together. Buffy clamped down with her inner muscles and Spike hissed with pleasure. He began stroking in and out, slowly at first, then faster and faster as their climax built.
 
“Spike, drink, please, want you to,” Buffy cried. She opened her eyes and met Spike’s, then deliberately turned her head to expose her neck. “Take it. Please.”
 
“Fuck… Buffy…” He lapsed into complete incoherence as he vamped and sank his fangs into her, slamming his pelvis into her clit at the same time. He took three quick gulps of her sweet blood, nearly crooning in ecstasy. Buffy howled and immediately launched into an earth shaking orgasm, with Spike following her down a moment later. With a feral growl he pulled his teeth out of her neck and pounded her, over and over as he came, until at last, sated, he collapsed on top of her. He closed the wound on her neck as they gasped and shook with the aftershocks, coming to rest side by side with their arms and legs entwined.
 
“Spike… that… wow… my… oh God,” Buffy babbled incoherently.
 
“You can say that again,” Spike replied, and they both giggled a little at that. He stroked her hair. “You’re beautiful, Slayer,” he said as he watched the way her hair changed color depending on how it caught the light.  
 
Buffy searched the face of her vampire while she searched her soul as well. She had thought sex with Spike was good before but this… this was another whole order of magnitude. The connection she felt with him was a new sensation to her. She hadn’t felt it with Riley. She thought she might have briefly felt something like it when Angel took her virginity, but that sensation had been swept away in the aftermath. This was real. This man – well, vampire – cared for her, desired her, knew all her history and still wanted to be with her. And she knew his story now. Knew about what had formed him and shaped him, and how he had come to be who he was. It was clear that he could fight his vampire nature – he had staked his sire for her sake. Unlike the last time he threatened that, it wasn’t out of infatuation or desperation to get her attention. He had to choose between her or Drusilla, and he had chosen her. That’s love, Buffy, she told herself. Even Angel didn’t kill Drusilla when he had the chance. He loves you. So what are you going to do about it? “You okay, love?” Spike asked after a while, and Buffy heard the faint note of vulnerability in his voice. He’s waiting to be rejected again, she realized. At that moment, something clicked inside her head, and it all became clear.
 
“I’m okay,” she said, kissing him lightly. “I just realized something though.”
 
“What’s that, pet?”
 
“That I love you,” she replied, gazing steadily into his face.
 
Spike’s eyes widened at her admission. “Do you mean it?” he asked quietly. “Or is it the orgasm talking? Don’t… I can’t bear it, if you don’t mean it.”
 
Buffy’s face reddened a bit with shame. You really did a number on his heart, didn’t you, she admonished herself. Swallowing her guilt, she stroked his face, tracing the cheekbones as he half closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. “I mean it,” she said, her voice steady and low. “I love you. I want to be with you, I want you to work alongside me. I love you, Spike.”
 
“Oh, Slayer,” Spike whispered. “You’ve no idea what you’ve given me.”
 
“Then show me,” she replied, and they fell into each other once more.
 
**************************
 
Buffy was woken by the incessant sound of her cell phone ringing. The afternoon had been spent in exploring each other’s bodies and in cementing their newfound understanding. Spike dozed on as Buffy sat up, squinting at the clock. It was eight o’clock Boston time, and she realized that she hadn’t called home in more than a day and a half. She padded naked across the room to grab the phone from the bag. “Hello?”
 
“Where the hell have you been?” Dawn shrieked on the other end. “I was worried! I didn’t hear from you yesterday and I thought something had happened!”
 
“I’m sorry,” Buffy said contritely. “I had a rough day and night.”
 
“So did you find her?” Dawn asked.
 
“Yes,” Buffy answered. “We found her. Spike’s all better now, and Dru’s gone. She managed to get in a good bite – I had to go to the ER – but we’re both okay now.”
 
“So when are you going to be home then?” Dawn wondered.
 
Buffy looked fondly at the sleeping vampire. “We’re both dragging a bit from the experience. We’ll probably rest up tonight and drive home starting tomorrow.”
 
“So it’s really all over then?”
 
Buffy took a deep breath. “There’s one more thing that I need to mention,” Buffy began slowly. “Spike and I really got a chance to talk a lot during this trip and, well, we’re… we’re a couple. For real this time. Are you okay with that?”
 
“Are you crazy?” Dawn cried happily, so loud that Buffy had to hold the phone away from her ear. “Of course I’m okay with that! He’s one of my best friends, and if he keeps you from being all bad moody, then that’s awesome.”
 
Buffy smiled. “Thanks, Dawn. That really helps.” She took a deep breath. Just do it. “Can you please put Willow on for a second?”
 
“Okay,” Dawn said uncertainly. Dawn handed the phone over to the witch, who had an inkling of the topic of conversation. Willow took the phone, hesitated, then said, “Hello?”
 
“Hey, Willow,” Buffy said. Taking another long look at the sleeping vampire she said, “I’m telling you this now, so you have a week to get used to the idea. Spike and I are together. As in, we’re a couple. We’re going to hang out together, drink at the Bronze together, hold hands, and all that couple stuff. You are either going to learn to deal, or leave my house. Got it?”
 
Willow frowned, but then saw Tara with her arms crossed, looking at her pointedly. Swallowing, she said, “I don’t know if I’m ever going to feel a hundred percent comfortable with this. But I guess… I have to follow your judgment on this one.”
 
“So we have an agreement? No magic trying to break us up, no giving Spike a hard time, no guilt trips?” Buffy demanded.
 
“I… okay,” Willow conceded. “None of the above. I promise.”
 
“Good. Because the last thing I need after a cross country drive is a fight the second I get back,” Buffy said. “Could I talk to Tara please?”
 
Willow handed the phone over wordlessly. “Hi Buffy! I take it you were successful?”
 
“Yep. One cured vampire.”
 
“And I take it from Dawn’s squealing that you have some other news?” Tara asked with a grin.
 
“Spike and I are a couple,” Buffy said simply. It sounded more natural and more right with every repetition. “Just wanted to give everyone a heads up so there are no surprises or unnecessary stakings.”
 
“As long as he makes you happy, it’s all good,” Tara said. “Now hurry home, before Dawn blows a gasket.”
 
“Tell her to chill,” Buffy laughed. “See you all soon.” She hung up the phone and noted that Spike was awake and looking at her with half open eyes.
 
“Giving them fair warning then?” he asked.
 
“Yeah,” she replied. “I really don’t want the aggravation anymore.” She slid in beside him, still holding the phone. “I should probably make a couple other calls. Just get it all out of the way.”
 
“I’ll be right here for immoral support,” Spike quipped. She elbowed him playfully, then snuggled in so that her back was nestled into his chest.
 
“Here goes,” she said, dialing Xander’s number from memory.
 
“Hello?” came the familiar voice.
 
“Xander, it’s Buffy,” she said.
 
“Buffster? Where are you? Last I heard you were heading out for the east coast.”
 
“I’m in Boston,” she explained. “We found Drusilla, and cured Spike.”
 
“Great. So Deadboy is still with us then?” Xander said unenthusiastically.
 
“We need to get something straight here, Xander,” Buffy said firmly. “He goes by Spike. He and I have gotten very close over the past week. He dusted Drusilla and saved my life. We’re together, and plan to stay that way. Understand?”
 
Xander’s mouth wobbled for a while before his brain regained control of his jaw and he managed to spit out, “But Buffy, you can’t! He’s…”
 
“A vampire. With no soul. Got the memo. Don’t care. This can go two ways, Xander. You can accept, and try to at least be civil to him, or you can stay out of my life permanently. You’ve got a week to decide. But if you try to hurt him, or get between us, I am personally going to go all Slayer on your ass.”
 
“But… but…” Xander spluttered.
 
“One week. Make your choice.” Buffy rang off, leaving the flabbergasted Xander staring stunned at the phone.
 
“Nicely handled, pet,” Spike said, planting kisses down her spine. “Who else do you plan to call?”
 
“I thought about calling Giles,” she said.
 
“Um, love, it’s one in the morning there,” Spike said, continuing his path downward. “Sure you want to call him?”
 
“Oops. Forgot about the time change,” she said. She turned in his arms to catch his mouth with hers. “I guess we’ll have to keep ourselves occupied until he wakes up.” Spike raised his eyebrows in agreement and they returned to their previous activities.
 
The next time they woke up the sun was up. Spike rose to the sound of Buffy’s stomach growling. “When’s the last time you’ve eaten, pet?” he asked with concern.
 
“Mm,” she yawned. “Probably breakfast at the hospital.”
 
“You’d better go take care of that then,” Spike insisted. “Won’t have you wasting away now.”
 
“I’ll have to go out then,” she said. She stood up and started to rummage around for clothes.
 
“Now that’s a fine sight,” Spike said, leering at her playfully as she bent over her bag.
 
“Horndog, much?” Buffy replied, rolling her eyes. She came up with a mostly clean pair of jeans and a shirt without stains or tears, and called it good enough. Ten minutes later she was coming out of the bathroom dressed with her hair in a careless ponytail. “Be back soon,” she said, giving Spike a quick peck on the lips.
 
“I’ll be here,” Spike said. Buffy skipped out the door, heading down the street toward a diner she had seen before. Spike sat up in the bed and grabbed the remote, flipping through channels until he found a soccer game. He was settling in to watch when the cell phone rang again on the bedside table. Picking it up, he noticed the number seemed vaguely familiar. Curious, he answered it. “Hullo?”
 
“I beg your pardon, I must have the wrong number,” came a familiar British voice on the other end.
 
“Rupert!” Spike said. “We were just talking about you last night. How’s the mother land?”
 
“Spike?” Giles asked, his voice rising with alarm. “Why are you answering this phone? Where’s Buffy?”
 
“Relax, Rupert,” Spike said. “She popped out for a bite of breakfast. How did you get this number, if I might ask?”
 
“I called Buffy’s house last night, since I hadn’t heard from her in a while. Tara gave me this number,” Giles explained, still sounding flustered. “I take it that the two of you have accomplished this quest of yours?”
 
“Yeah. Found Drusilla, got cured.”
 
“Surely it wasn’t as simple as that,” Giles protested.
 
“No, it wasn’t,” Spike said, his voice becoming serious. “Dru almost got the better of her at one point. I managed to intervene, but it was a near thing.”
 
“And what became of Drusilla?” Giles wondered.
 
“She’s gone. Dust. Not going to be a trouble to anyone anymore,” Spike replied in a subdued tone.
 
“Am I to understand that you dusted her yourself?” Giles asked with a note of astonishment.
 
“Yeah. Had to. Buffy was hurt, needed to go to the hospital.”
 
Giles was taken aback. From all the books he had read, he was aware of how difficult it was for a vampire to kill their sire. “How were you able to accomplish that?” Giles wondered.
 
Spike rolled his eyes heavenward. Hope she’ll forgive me for this. “I was able to do it because I love her, Rupert. We’ve come to a new understanding after all this. She wants me around, and I intend to oblige the lady.”
 
“By that you mean…”
 
“I mean that I intend to court her, as they said back in my day,” Spike explained. “Gonna treat her right, take care of her, and love her every day. She seems to feel the same way.”
 
“Good lord,” Giles exclaimed.
 
“She doesn’t want to fight with you lot,” Spike continued. “She just wants you to trust her. Wants you to let her do what she feels she needs to do without having to justify her every action. She wanted to call you so that you weren’t blindsided. Just… trust her, Giles. You used to do that.”
 
Giles didn’t have an answer for a long minute. “I don’t know that I believe you,” he began. “I would rather hear all this from Buffy.”
 
“I’ll pass that along, but Rupert, you’re going to lose her if you keep this up.”
 
“What do you mean?” Giles asked sharply.
 
“The bint is incredibly pissed at you, if you hadn’t noticed,” Spike said bluntly. “You left her when she was at her lowest point. She came back from Heaven, depressed and damn near broken, and you left her when she needed you the most. Now she’s got a bit of her own back, taking charge, knows what she wants to do, and you’re questioning her. You’re already an ocean away. Won’t take much for her to decide she’s done with you for good. Is that what you want?”
 
Giles was taken aback. “Of course not!”
 
“Then for the love of Christ would you stop questioning the girl’s every move? Please. For all our sakes,” Spike growled.
 
Giles took a deep breath. “You have… given me a lot to think about. I will take it under advisement. Please… ask her to call me, when she gets a chance.”
 
“Will do,” Spike said. “Goodbye, Rupert.” Giles rang off and Spike leaned his head back. She must be the strongest bloody slayer in history if she can put up with fighting that lot all day and night. He drew his attention back to the soccer game, pondering the conversation he had just finished.
 
When Buffy returned, hunger sated, Spike clicked off the game and got up to greet her. “Less peckish then?” he said.
 
“If that means I’m full, then yes,” she replied. “Anything good on the TV?”
 
“Not much,” he admitted. He hesitated for a moment then said, “Watcher called while you were gone.”
 
“Oh,” Buffy said, suddenly wary. “What did he say?”
 
“Wondered how you were. I told him that we were successful.” Spike paused and then added, “Told him we were a couple as well.”
 
“I see,” Buffy said carefully. “How did he take that?”
 
“Can’t say he was jumping for joy,” Spike admitted. “He wants you to call him, as he doesn’t really believe yours truly. But I told him he needs to stop nagging and let you do what you feel is right. Are you angry with me?”
 
Buffy considered for a moment. “No. You were sticking up for me, as usual, so I guess it wouldn’t be right to be mad at you, would it?”
 
“Are you going to call him then?” Spike asked.
 
“Eventually,” she answered. “Right now, I really want a shower.”
 
“Want company?”
 
“Definitely,” she said with a smile. Spike followed her to the bathroom, silently rejoicing all the way.
 
******************
 
The day was spent in a mixture of sleeping, lovemaking, and talking. Toward afternoon, Buffy got up and started packing up all of their scattered things while Spike dozed. The black t-shirt she had worn while fighting Drusilla was beyond repair, and she tossed it in the trash. Her food stash was fairly empty – she might have to pick up some snacks for herself and some animal blood for Spike. It would be nice to not have to be a blood donor every day. Although I can’t say that I hate it during sex. No one told me about that little feature of vampires. Wow.
 
When she finished packing, she went outside to sit on the battered plastic lawn chair outside the door, watching the sun creep down toward the horizon. She felt more relaxed and at ease than she had since… she didn’t even remember the last time she felt like this. It was hard for her to put her finger on what was so different about this relationship. She had dated vampires before, she had dated men who straddled two different worlds and coped for better or worse with that. Other men had loved her, or claimed to, and she had loved them to varying degrees. There was no earthly reason this particular relationship with its twisted past should feel so comfortable, but she wasn’t knocking it.
 
She went back in after a while to find Spike in the process of getting dressed. “Sorry to abandon you,” she said.
 
“S’ alright,” he assured her. “We don’t need to be joined at the hip.”
 
“Well, sometimes it’s nice to be joined at the hips,” she teased, and Spike laughed easily in reply.
 
“Buffy,” Spike began. Buffy cocked her head at his hesitant tone. “I don’t want to… pin you down, or make you feel trapped or any of that rot. But are there going to be any surprise ground rules back home?”
 
“What do you mean?” she asked, confused.
 
“I mean, do you not want… do we not ever sleep at your house, for fear of warping Dawn?”
 
“I guess we’ll sleep wherever it seems right at the time, your place or mine. We should probably keep the screaming down to a minimum at my house, but otherwise, Dawn knows, she’s cool about it.” Buffy moved closer and rubbed her hands down his arms. “You sound worried.”
 
Spike took a deep, unnecessary breath. “I just… I’ve got what I always wanted. I’m with you, and you love me, and I’m… afraid to lose this.” He pulled her close and rested his forehead on hers. “God, I’m such a ponce.”
 
“No you’re not,” Buffy insisted. “I really said some horrible things to you. I never did give you any real reason to trust me in these things. But I promise you – no more hiding. You’re my boyfriend, for want of a better word, and you’re stuck with me.”
 
“Thank you, love. I needed to hear that.” He kissed her long and slow, until they risked falling back into bed for another night.
 
“We really should get going,” Buffy said. They started gathering up bags, and since the sun had gone down Spike helped load the trunk. As they slammed it shut, Buffy tossed him the keys. “I am soooo done with driving for this trip.”
 
“Our long national nightmare is over,” Spike drawled, earning a playful punch from the Slayer. They got in and Buffy stretched out in the passenger seat with a happy sigh. “Where to, my lady?” Spike asked in his most refined accent.
 
“Home, Jeeves,” she said. Spike cranked the radio, peeled out with a squeal, and turned the car to the west.
 
The End