Chapter 6


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

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

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

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

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

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


***


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

He was absolutely positive that she was inside the house.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


***


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

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

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

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

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

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


***


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

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

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

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

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

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




Chapter 7


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

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

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

His eyes flicked abruptly to the door again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How though?

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

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

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


***


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

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

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

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

“Slayer, can’t stay long—” he began.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s a sire?” Joyce asked.


***


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

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

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

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


***


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

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

“Angelus.”




Chapter 8


“Angelus.”

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

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

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

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

“Maybe I do. What’s it to you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because this time I want it.”


***


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

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

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

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

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

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

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


***


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I challenge your claim over Spike.”




Chapter Nine


“I challenge your claim over Spike.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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




Chapter Ten


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the hell are you talking about?”


***


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


***


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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