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Hearts Breaking Even by slaymesoftly
 
Twenty and twenty-one
 
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Chapter Twenty

With Joyce’s understanding, if not her complete acceptance, of her calling and its duties, Buffy found that her life became much easier. No longer did she need to sneak in and out of her room at night or lie to her mother about her activities. Although, after reporting on a particularly gruesome and dangerous slaying episode and watching her mother go into hysterics, Buffy had learned to be as vague as possible when it came to describing her more exciting evenings.

Once Joyce had sat down with Giles and had a chance to ask all her questions, look through his old Watcher’s Diaries and other reference books, she looked at the man with new understanding and appreciation. The more she watched him with her daughter, whose own father was conspicuously absent from the major events of her life, the more she was grateful to the British librarian for his obvious affection and concern for Buffy.

They were able to establish a comfortable friendship centered around their mutual love for Buffy and their desire to see her outlive all the Slayers who had come before her, although the Watcher was very candid with Joyce about the dangers Buffy faced every night.

“May I ask you something, Rupert?” Joyce asked quietly, early on in their relationship.

“Of course, Joyce. Please. What do you wish to know?”

“I want to know what you know about William. About Spike. Can my daughter really trust him the way she seems to?”

He sighed and pushed his glasses up off his face.

“I wish I could answer that with certainty,” he replied honestly. “I simply don’t know. It’s quite true that as soon as he recognized her he ceased his attempts to kill her, and, in fact, risked his own life to protect her from Angelus; however, before he knew who she was, he had every intention of making her his third dead Slayer.”

“I think he loves her,” Jenny put in quietly.

Giles nodded reluctantly. “That would seem to be the case. However, since he has left the area with Drusilla and with no intention of returning, I am hoping that any similar feelings she may have for him will dissipate with time and she will fall in love with someone more…appropriate.”

Joyce and Jenny exchanged a look of female solidarity at the Watcher’s idea that “appropriate” would ever be an issue with a young girl when it came to choosing with whom she would fall in love.

It was months before Buffy was herself around Xander or Angel; and they were no more comfortable around her. While Xander was profusely apologetic about his words and behavior while unsouled, Buffy couldn’t forget what Spike had said about the way the boy felt about her. She had caught him once or twice looking at her with eyes that flashed amber when he thought she wasn’t looking and in spite of Willow’s frequent hints to change things, she was glad he no longer had access to her home. She really didn’t relish the idea of waking up one night to find vamp Xander in her bedroom – soul or no soul.

As for Angel, his apologies were sincere enough, but grudgingly given. He persisted in acting as though she was in the wrong to have had sex with Spike while he was off fucking Drusilla. In the interest of peace, she refrained from pointing out that he had jumped on Dru before he lost his soul, not after, but she made sure he also knew that he wasn’t welcome inside her home. Any chance they might have once had for a relationship had been ruined once she’d had a chance to enjoy Spike’s sardonic humor as well as his talented hands and mouth. She found that the idea of kissing Angel’s brooding face or being held by his overly large body was just completely unappealing, although it took several months for him to accept the change in her feelings.

Xander had moved back into his parents’ basement; if they noticed that he had stopped going to school in the daytime, they didn’t mention it. He came and went as he pleased, confident that his mother would not bother looking into his small refrigerator and finding his stash of pigs’ blood. In spite of their dislike for each other, Angel’s sense of tradition was too strong for him to leave someone of his line on his own, and he reluctantly took Xander under his wing, teaching him which butchers were the most accommodating, what other types of blood were available, and giving him some history of their vampire family.

He did not consider Xander a grandchilde in the way that Spike was his clear descendant, but the tiny amount of blood that Drusilla had allowed him to take made him a bit more than a minion, and Angel grudgingly accepted responsibility for training the boy. The fact that he found Xander almost as annoying as Spike, but without the desire to please that had mitigated Spike’s more outrageous behavior as a young vamp, made taking care of his newest family member more of a chore than even he had expected.

When Xander complained about his treatment, asking if this was how Angel had treated Spike when Drusilla first turned him, the older vampire had had enough and snarled, “Be very grateful, boy, that you are being brought up by me and not the Angelus that broke William in. You would not have survived to still be a thorn in my side 124 years later.”

Buffy did her best to maintain some sort of normal high school life – for her mother’s sake as much as for her own; she dated casually, but refused to become involved with anyone. She and her mother agreed that they would not share her vocation with her father, and they were both grateful when his busy schedule made it impossible for Buffy to visit him in LA for more than a weekend every once in a very great while.

Summer came and went, and Buffy’s senior year of high school got off to an uneventful start. She briefly thought about having met Spike for the first time in the early fall two years ago, and again the year before, but scolded herself for hoping that might become a tradition.

No, he’s gone and that’s that. Time to move on. It was wonderful, but it was just one of those things….Oh my god, I sound like an old song from the 40’s! Gah! I really need to get out more. Get that man – vampire-- out of my mind and heart. I need to find somebody else who will make me feel…

Only in her bed at night, alone with her thoughts and his often-read letter, did she give in to the fear that she really was never going to see him again. She had no idea where he’d taken Drusilla or what they were doing. Her slayer side gave a guilty twinge, knowing that they were feeding on the citizens of some other country, but she couldn’t help but hope that he was all right and not in any danger.

Giles had assured her very early on in her slaying career that the older a vampire was, the more difficult to slay. Not only were their strength and speed far greater for their age and experience, but the longer they survived, the more they learned what they could and could not do in order to remain undetected among human populations. That was why most of her patrols involved graveyards; better to catch them as fledglings and dust them while it was relatively easy than to allow them time to perfect their survival skills. Those skills improved with every year of unlife – Drusilla’s encounter with the mob in Prague not withstanding. Giles said that her willingness to take chances such as that was clear proof of Drusilla’s insanity and that she surely would have dusted at the hands of her pursuers had not Spike risked his own unlife to rescue her.

The reminder that Spike was still with his insane girlfriend, in spite of her behavior with her sire, sent Buffy into another brief melancholy as she worried about his safety and suffered pangs of jealousy over his devotion to the brunette vampire. For several weeks she was subdued and quiet, slaying with a fierce determination but little or no flare.

Sleep held her as it never had before. When she was alone in her room, in her bed, hugging Mr. Gordo to her chest and rubbing her face on the pillowcase that she’d never washed, she was free to dream of hands that soothed and excited at the same time; lips that could go from tender to demanding and back again in one kiss; a powerful, lean body that fit hers so well that they seemed made for each other. In her dreams, there was no slayer, no vampire, just William and Buffy making love over and over until they were exhausted. When she would wake up to find herself grinding her hips into the unsatisfying mattress, she would slip a hand into her pajamas and try to imagine it was Spike’s talented fingers stroking her to release.

So she passed her time, finding just enough older, smarter vamps to slay that her skills continued to improve and she became stronger and more confident everyday. As her eighteenth birthday approached, Giles became surprisingly reticent, promising to take her out for dinner, but refusing to discuss it otherwise.

Buffy almost canceled the proposed night out, although she knew her mother was looking forward to it, when she found herself so weak that she was almost killed by a fledgling vamp. She thought she must be getting the flu or something as she became more easily tired and grew weaker and weaker. Finally, she told her Watcher that she didn’t feel she could patrol – she was so weak she could barely lift a sword, let along wield it against anything more vicious than the practice dummy.

With a grim face, he assured her it was all right for her to miss patrol for a few nights and they made plans for him to pick her and Joyce up on her birthday. Buffy dragged home, too exhausted from trying to train to do more than tell her mother she was tired and going to bed. Morning came too early and she found herself with no more strength or energy than she’d had the night before. For the first time, she wondered if she was losing her powers; if somehow another Slayer had been called and no one had bothered to notify them.

Her Watcher, however, pooh-poohed the idea, saying simply that she was probably tired and needed more rest . He refused to listen when she said she that had lost her Slayer strength, mumbling reassuring platitudes and not meeting her eyes.



*****************


In a small city in Colombia, a half-drunken Spike overheard a bar conversation between two other demons that made his stomach clench with dread.

“So, you know that Slayer in California, the one that killed the Master?”

“Yeah. She’s quite a piece of work. That’s why I’m living here!”

When the laughter died down, the first demon said, “Seems she turns eighteen in a few weeks. You know what that means.”

“New Slayer! Maybe the next one won’t be quite so tough,” the second demon said wistfully. “I’d sure like to go back to the Hellmouth. I liked it there.”

Fighting back his panic, Spike nodded companionably and said casually, “Hey, mate. Bit of a Slayer fancier myself. What’s so special about this one turning eighteen?”

“And you are?”

“Name’s Spike. William the Bloody. Maybe you’ve heard of me?”

“Oh yeah, you’re the one who’s living with that crazy slu-“ He was interrupted by a sharp punch from his friend. “Sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean—“

“Yes you did,” Spike answered calmly. “It’s alright, mate. I know what she’s doin’. We’ve reached an understanding about it.” He smothered his shame and rage at hearing Dru’s infidelity discussed in a bar. “So what’s the deal about the Slayer turning eighteen?”

“You’ve never heard of the Cruciamentum?”

“One of those Council of Wanker things, is it?” Spike tried to appear only mildly interested as he called for another round of drinks on his tab.

“Yeah, those idiots! When their best Slayers turn eighteen, their watchers take away their powers and then they lock them in building with some random vamp. If the girl can dust it without her super powers, she gets them back.”

“And if she can’t?” Spike rocked back in his chair, blowing smoke rings at the ceiling.

They both looked at him like he wasn’t very bright.

“Then the vamp kills her and another slayer is called.”

“I see.” Spike struggled to keep his voice noncommittal. “Seems like a waste of resources, if you ask me.”

“Well nobody ever said humans were overly bright.”

The demons roared with laughter, which Spike did his best to join even as every fiber of his being was demanding he tear out the door and run all the way to California if he had to. As soon as it was possible to do so politely, he excused himself and left the bar, taking to his heels as soon as he was out the door. He burst into the room he’d been sleeping in by himself since he’d caught Dru with a chaos demon, and began throwing things into a duffle bag. He mentally reviewed what he would need to get to California as quickly as possible.

He passed Dru’s room and paused for a second, wondering if he should tell her where he was going. Even though she was still furious at him for taking her away from Angelus, she depended on him to take care of her and expected him to be there when she wasn’t cheating on him with some other demon. The sounds coming from her room made up his mind for him and he left the building without a backward glance.

He had to bite a baggage handler in order to get into the plane’s cargo hold, although he refrained from draining the man, leaving him on the floor after stealing his uniform. He had a tense moment when it appeared the direct flight from Colombia to LA was going to be searched for drugs, but at the last minute money changed hands and the door was firmly shut.

The flight gave him plenty of time to wonder what he was going to do when he got to Sunnydale. Other than eat that Watcher if he’s done anything stupid to her

He had no idea what had gone on in Sunnydale since he’d taken Dru and left the country. He had been very careful not to follow any news pertaining to the United States or California; had kept in touch with no demons on the Hellmouth and done his best to relegate Buffy back to her status of fond memory that might or might not be real. But, a year later, he had to admit that it was never going to happen.

His warrior elf queen was a living, breathing, warm and loving woman. One that he had held in his arms, whose essence he had tasted. A woman he had felt come on his hand, in his mouth, and on his cock. A Slayer who had willingly given a vampire her blood. Who had cried when he left her to save his unfaithful lover from a well-deserved dusty death at her hands.

I am well and truly buggered. He thought, not for the first time. Face it, William, you’re in love with the bloody Slayer and there is no way that can end well.

It was still dark when the plane landed at LAX and Spike was able to sneak out with the baggage and make his way to the cab stand. Picking the pocket of a harassed-looking man in a business suit, he quickly took the bills out before handing the wallet back to the grateful man with a cheerful, “Think you dropped this, mate.” A short cab ride and he was picking up his beloved Desoto, patting her fondly while the demon in charge of the storage facility got change for one of the hundreds Spike had lifted at the airport. A few more minutes, and he was on his way to Sunnydale, growling softly as he realized he didn’t know the exact date of Buffy’s birthday and might be too late already.


Chapter Twenty-one

His first stop was Willie’s bar to pick up the latest news. The entire demon community knew that the Slayer’s eighteenth birthday was imminent; one quiet, young-looking female vamp insisted she’d been a student at Sunnydale High and that she knew that the Slayer’s birthday was, in fact, that very day. There was some discussion of forming a group to wait outside the designated building and watch to see who or what emerged, but the possibility that there would be muscle from the Watchers Council surrounding the house discouraged all but the hardiest or drunkest demons.

The youngest ones still argued for forming an audience to cheer the victor, one claiming he’d heard the Watchers Council had picked, “Some real badass vamp this time. Name’s Kralik. Turns out he was already a torturing murderer before he got turned. Not their usual tame newbie. They must not want this Slayer to win.”

Spike did his best to seem casual and mildly interested, commenting only that, “I’ve always figured this bint was going to be my third Slayer. Guess I should wander over there and see who’s trying to steal my glory. Anybody know where they’ve set this up?”

Directions to the abandoned rooming house firmly fixed in his brain, Spike threw the last hundred dollar bill on the bar and bought a round for the house before easing out the door and sprinting to his car. Five minutes of frantic driving and he was pulling into a driveway beside a large house that showed no signs of life except a black van in the driveway. A broken sign proclaiming The Sunnydale Arms dangled from its remaining hook.

One look at the van, one sniff inside, and Spike shifted into game face, growling softly. The scent in the van was not Buffy’s, but it was close enough to leave him worried. He got back into the Desoto and moved it around to the rear of the house, parking it carelessly in the middle of the yard. He sprinted to the back door of the building, easily breaking the flimsy lock and entering what appeared to be a kitchen. The sight that greeted him did nothing to soothe his rattled nerves.

Two bodies lay sprawled across the table – both with gaping holes where their throats had been. The size of the men and the now-useless weapons beside them told him they were Council muscle and he wondered briefly what kind of vampire, other than a master, could take out two armed and experienced Council workers.

Tradition had it that the Council tended to choose newly-risen, less than dangerous vampires for the Cruciamentum. It was not, after all, in their best interest to have their Slayers lose the battle to remain alive. One that could not defeat a fledgling vamp using just her wits and the weapons provided, was incompetent and therefore expendable. There was no way that Buffy fit that description and Spike frowned as he moved away from the dead men. He remembered the mocking words from the demon at Willie’s about the Council not wanting Buffy to win.

Got to be a pretty canny vamp to get the drop on experienced soldiers like that. And a powerful one to get them both at the same time. Almost looks like Buffy’s being set up to fail.

He moved silently through the house, glancing impersonally at another body, this one clearly a Watcher or one of their many flunkies. Following the trail of bodies and blood, he made his way to the top of stairs clearly leading to be basement. He listened carefully first, detecting the racing heart beat of an extremely frightened human, but no other sign of life. When he heard footsteps approach the stairs, he stepped back into the shadows until a newly-turned vampire still bearing the bloody wound that had killed him came into view.

The fledgling was no match for a master vampire with an agenda and soon found himself helpless and unable to speak as he was hustled from the house. When Spike felt they were far enough away not to be heard, he removed his hand from the vamp’s mouth and whispered, “One chance, wanker. What’s down there and who does he have?”

“The…the Slayer’s mother,” the trembling fledgling squeaked. “He’s using her to get the Slayer here. He’s a serial killer, turned vamp. The Council keeps him drugged so that he’s controllable, but he got loose and---“

“And they’re sending the Slayer in there with him? Without her powers?” Spike’s snarled whisper was filled with pent up rage and the unfortunate fledgling whimpered in fear.

“She’s been…difficult. The Council wants a new Slayer to guard the Hellmouth. This one is too unpredictable.”

“Her Watcher agreed to this?”

“No, he thinks it’s a regular Cruciamentum. Easy kill if she keeps her wits about her. He doesn’t know what’s waiting in there. No one counted on Kralik getting loose, though. Now he’s free and there isn’t any Slayer to stop him. I’m lucky I got killed quickly because he needed me to help him. Others aren’t going to be so lucky.”

“You’re about to be lucky again,” Spike said absently, already thinking about ways to defeat the vampire inside the house as he wrenched off the unfortunate former watcher’s head. He brushed the dust off his hands and moved back toward the house until his attention was distracted by the tingles that indicated a Slayer was in the area.

A peek around the corner of the house showed him a panting Buffy, running up the driveway, her Watcher behind her begging her to wait for him and not to do anything rash.

“That sonofabitch has my mother!” she shrieked back over her shoulder as she threw open the unlocked front door. “If she dies, it’s your fault!”

Spike quickly slipped in the back door and ran to the basement stairs, hitting the bottom with one graceful jump. He took in the scene at a glance, a pretty blond woman tied to a chair, clearly frightened out of her wits but with a defiant tilt to her chin.


Glancing around quickly, he saw no sign of the other vampire; then he heard the Slayer’s enraged voice upstairs and heavy footsteps moving in her direction. With a slash of his fangs, he ripped through the ropes holding Buffy’s mother, quickly sliding back into his human face as she cringed away from him. Before he could explain that he was there to help, she had picked up a pitcher from the nearby table and clocked him on the head.

“Hey! That was bloody ungrateful!” He glared at her briefly, then his voice softened as he explained, “I’m here to help you and your stubborn bint of a daughter. Stay behind me and when we get upstairs, I want you to go out the front door and lock yourself in the Watcher’s pathetic excuse for a car. Are we clear?”

Something about the urgency in his voice and the worried looks he was shooting toward the upper floor triggered a thought and Joyce looked at him carefully before responding.

“Wi-William?” she gasped. “Spike? Are you Spike?”

“Pleased to meet you,” he growled. “Let’s GO!”

Grabbing her by the arm, he raced up the stairs almost pulling her off of her feet. He shoved her in the direction of the front door, hissing, “Run!” while he followed his ears toward the sound of breaking furniture.

Satisfied that Joyce was safely outside, he moved quickly toward the sound of Buffy’s pounding heart, allowing his howling demon full rein. When he burst into the room where the insane vampire appeared to have Buffy cornered, he slid to a halt and watched her with admiration. She held a bottle of pills in one hand, pills for which the demon was shrieking and reaching as the Slayer danced around the room, always keeping a piece of furniture between herself and the raving monster. Just before she ran out of barricades, she threw the pills across the room, running in the opposite direction while the vamp pounced on the bottle, frantically tearing at the top.

She ran straight into Spike’s chest, stiffening when she felt herself caught by arms too strong to belong to anything human. Before she even looked up at him, she brought her knee into his groin; even without her slayer powers, she brought him gasping to his knees, tears filling his eyes. Only then did she see who had been holding her and she dropped beside him, babbling apologetically.

“Spike! I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was you. I don’t have my powers and I can’t sense…What are you doing here?”

“Came to save you, didn’t I?” he managed to grit out. “Although if that overgrown troll attacks right now, I don’t know how much help I’ll—“

“Shhhh. Just watch,” she whispered.

He followed her gaze to where the enraged monster was using the glass of water from the table to wash down the pills he’d just swallowed. The lumbering vamp, a vicious and maniacal smile on his face, turned and began stalking toward them. He made it only a few steps before stopping and beginning to shake. Pain, outrage, and fear chased themselves across his face just before he roared and burst into a cloud of dust.

Spike raised an eyebrow at the girl still kneeling beside him, and she grinned wickedly.

“What did you do, pet?”

“I cheated,” she said smugly.

“Goes without sayin’,” he grinned back at her. “But how?”

“I put holy water in all the water glasses.”

“Good on you, then,” he responded, getting painfully to his feet and pulling her up with him. “Should have known you wouldn’t need my help for one ugly vamp.”

They stood staring at each other, neither one making a move to get closer together or further apart until Spike finally burst out, “Bloody hell! It’s been too long.”

He pulled her into his body, lifting her off her feet as he dipped his head toward the lips he’d thought never to see or taste again. The kiss was tentative at first, the vampire not sure what his reception was going to be; the girl wondering if he came back only to save her and would walk out of her life again now that the crisis was averted.

Before their brains could process the emotions being stirred, their bodies were already responding and the kiss deepened almost by itself as they let their instincts free to make the decisions. By the time a breathless Giles and a stubborn Joyce Summers had burst through the front door, crossbows at the ready, Buffy and Spike were oblivious to anything but each other.

It took a large amount of throat clearing by the Watcher and an indignant, “Buffy! William!” from Joyce to penetrate the pleasant, lustful fog into which the two blonds had fallen. With a loud sigh, Spike reluctantly set Buffy back on her feet and relaxed his grip. When she moved away with a sheepish smile at her mother, he let go completely, standing uncomfortably with his arms at his sides.

“Are you all right, Mom?” Buffy asked anxiously, feeling a sharp twinge of guilt that she had temporarily forgotten that her mother had been a captive. “How did you get loose?”

“William untied me and sent me outside. And Rupert, here, expected me to stay out there while you were locked in with that monster!” she finished with a glare at Buffy’s watcher.

“Did he also tell you he’s the one responsible for makin’ Buffy lose her powers and settin’ up this little test?”

There were matching gasps from the two women and they turned identical wounded looks on the mortified Watcher. The scowl Giles shot at the glaring vampire promised a staking as soon as he could arrange it, but when Spike’s expression evolved into an equally deadly promise of retribution for his putting Buffy in danger, the older man backed down immediately.

“Buffy…Joyce…I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am about all this. I had no idea they were using such a formidable vampire for Buffy’s Cruciamentum. It is almost as though Quentin was TRYING to get her killed…”

“He was,” Spike said flatly. “The flunky told me so before I dusted him. She was never meant to walk out of here. And you set her up for them,”
he finished quietly, unconsciously reaching for Buffy’s hand and pulling her closer as though to protect her from her own Watcher.

Giles’ face was a study in confusion, dismay, horror, and finally a quiet anger. “I see,” was all he said in response, but there was no sign of the gentle bookworm in the man’s demeanor as he ushered them out the door. “Let us be gone from this unpleasant place. I will be needing to make some phone calls immediately.”

Buffy and Spike turned down his offer of a ride, the vampire pointing out that his own car was hidden in the back yard and needed to be moved before the rest of the “Council wankers” showed up to pick up the bodies. Joyce looked back and forth between the two superbeings holding hands so tightly, then sighed and nodded. The glimpses into Buffy’s life that she’d had over the past year had given her an unwelcome but clear understanding of exactly how not normal her daughter’s world was, and she had no doubt that her disapproval of the girl’s relationship with a much older vampire would be met with the scorn it deserved.

When Giles appeared about to argue, she poked him and said, “Leave them alone. You have enough to deal with explaining to me why I shouldn’t ask Spike to kill you for endangering my daughter like that. If I don’t like the explanation, I may do it myself,” she added, waving the crossbow in his face.

Spike’s laughter as he and Buffy went around the building to find his car drifted back to them and they heard his chuckled, “Looks like you’re a bit of a chip off the old block, pet.”

They walked quietly for a few seconds, savoring the joy of being together again, before Buffy spoke suddenly.

“Did you really come back to save me?” she asked quietly.

“Well, yeah. As soon as I heard the story about this barbaric test and that your birthday was coming up, I took off. Got here as soon as I could, but it almost wasn’t fast enough.” His eyebrows came together in a frown as he considered how close she had come to dying and he squeezed her hand a little tighter.

“And now?”

“What do you mean, ‘and now?’ “ he asked with genuine bewilderment. “Jus’ got here, didn’t I? I don’t really know what now. I guess that depends on you, love,” he said more softly, looking at her out of the corners of his eyes.

Dropping his hand, she marched toward his car, not turning to look at him as she responded, “So, you’re not going running back to wherever you were?” She tried to keep her voice even and not allow the fear or hope to show through, but she couldn’t control her heartbeat and he felt it speed up.

“Not unless you tell me to, Slayer,” he answered quietly. “There’s nothing for me there. Everything I care about is right here in this miserable town.”

“I’m not a Slayer right now, Spike. Will you still want me if I don’t have my powers? Giles promised I’d get them back pretty soon, but what if I don’t? What if I’m not the Slayer anymore? What if my blood couldn’t heal you? What if I can’t keep up when you want to---mmmmmph!”

Deciding the best way to show her he would still want her, powers or no, he pulled her in for another lengthy kiss, one that went on until she was whimpering and clinging to him with both legs wrapped around his waist. Gasping unnecessarily, he pulled his mouth away and fought to get the back door of the car open.

He stumbled into the car’s wide backseat, pinning Buffy to the upholstery while he tried to fit a hand between them. Her own hand was trying to get his jeans unfastened but having no more success than he was squeezing between their two tightly-glued bodies. With a frustrated growl, he lifted himself up on his arms and pushed her skirt up, ripping through her underwear before popping the snap on his own jeans and yanking down the zipper.

As soon as he was free, Buffy yanked him back down, using her heels to pull him into her in one quick move. She wriggled her hips until he was as deeply seated as she could get him, then she stopped moving and sighed in happiness.

“I missed you,” she whispered against his mouth. ”Missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too, love. You have no idea how badly I wanted to come back here.”

“What did you do with Dru? Did you bring her back too?”

“No, pet. That’s done. She’s never forgiven me for letting you take away her precious ‘daddy’. She doesn’t want me… and I don’t want her anymore.”

While they talked, he began rocking his hips gently, letting the sensations build slowly for both of them. He buried his nose in her neck, inhaling the scent he’d tried to keep fresh in his mind for almost a year. Taking the soft skin of her neck in his mouth and sucking on it, he pulled the sweet smelling blood to the surface, carefully keeping his demon under control. Buffy arched her neck, moaning softly as his lips pulled gently on her skin. All she could think about was the way she had felt when he pulled blood from her while they were making love and she unconsciously pulled him in tighter, forcing his teeth against her throat.

“Ah, no, love. Not now. Not here. Not like this.”

“You don’t want to bite me if I don’t have my powers?”

The pain and uncertainty in Buffy’s voice tore at his heart as he realized he was behaving just as she been afraid he would.

“No, sweetheart, please believe me, that’s not it at all. But it’s been so bloody long, and I’ve dreamed of this so often – I’m afraid, love. Afraid of how badly I want to taste you again. I came so close to taking too much the first time…”

“I trust you,” she said softly. “I know you won’t hurt me. Especially not now, while I’m not…” She gasped as he touched the spot she’d never thought anyone would find again and she unconsciously squeezed him tightly.

“Guh! Are you sure you don’t have your powers, love? Because that didn’t feel like…”

“No, I still feel weak – I just…I missed you so much…Please, William, please…”

As she approached her orgasm, she clutched him and begged for the ecstasy that he could provide with his fangs. He could feel his own release building, unable to control himself after a year of dreaming of the very liquid being offered so willingly. With a groan, he sank his elongated fangs into the soft skin, unerringly finding the faded scars from his first bite. With a cry, she arched against him, shaking and sobbing as waves of pleasure washed over her.

Spike exploded into her, the taste of her warm blood adding to the incredible sensation of having her warm body around him again. Other than a faint trace of the drugs her Watcher had been giving her, Buffy’s blood tasted and felt no different than what he remembered from the year before. He took only a few deep draughts, enough to leave them both trembling and teary as they recovered.

As he carefully licked the tiny wounds closed, he murmured against her throat, ”I love you so much, Buffy. Want you to make you mine forever.”

“I don’t have forever,” she murmured back, curious about the odd sensation that had shot through her body at his word. “But I’m yours if you want me.”

When Spike’s body trembled against her and there was no mistaking the magic flowing around them, she heard him mutter, “Bloody hell. I am a soddin’ idiot.”

He pushed up on his arms again, leaving their bodies still intimately connected.

“I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“You didn’t mean for what to happen?” she asked, her lower lip coming out in a pout. “And what do you mean, you’re an idiot? For what? For—for…loving me? Is that why you’re an idiot?” Her eyes began to swim with unshed tears as she thought she heard him say that he was sorry they’d made love.

“Not sorry for loving you. Could never be sorry for that, sweetheart. I’m sorry I opened my big mouth and said it at the wrong time, is all.”

“So,” she said, making a shrewd guess, “that strange tingling I felt wasn’t just because you’re so good at sex?”

“ ‘Fraid not, pet.” He grinned in spite of himself. “That was a claim. The demon…no, not the demon, me – I said the words that would bind you to me while we were still---“ he wriggled his hips against her to emphasize what they were “still”--- and with having my mouth on your neck like that… I’m sorry, love. I really didn’t mean to do that to you.”

“Why not?”

Her forthright question took him aback a bit, and he struggled to answer it thoroughly without frightening her.

“Because a vampire claiming ritual establishes a bond that lasts for life. It only goes away when one of the mated pair dusts. And usually, so I’m told, the one left behind walks into the sunlight soon after. You’re only eighteen years old, Buffy. Barely old enough to be legally married, never mind shackled to a demon for the rest of your life. Even if I thought it was a good idea, I would never intentionally do anything like that to you without talking about it first and giving you a chance to say ‘yes’ or ‘no’.”

“Not to mention the back seat of an old car isn’t the most romantic place for a lifelong pledge,” she said dryly.

“That too,” he agreed sadly, waiting for the anger he was expecting to see when she fully realized what had happened to her.

The anger didn’t materialize, although she did nudge him hard enough that he took the hint and reluctantly pulled out of her warmth, tugged her skirt down and helped her sit up. He zipped his pants and backed out of the still-open door, saying gruffly, “Let’s get out of here, pet. We can sort this out when we don’t have to worry about a squad of tweed-wearing Council wankers showing up any minute.”

Nodding her head in agreement, Buffy slid across the seat and out the door, only to get right back into the front through the door Spike was holding open for her. She slid across the large seat just far enough to let Spike in behind the steering wheel, putting her hand on his thigh possessively as he started the car and drove out of the yard.



 
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