Chapter 3

She spent the next day getting her new life set up.

She needed a place of her own, somewhere she could train and be herself. She wasn’t living just a double life now; she was living a triple life. Hiding the fact that she was a Slayer from the world now seemed easy compared to hiding the fact that she wasn’t the Slayer they knew from Giles and the Scoobies. Research wouldn’t change: Giles and Willow had that covered and she had never been a big part of that. But training was going to be a problem. Her fighting skills were now way past the point at which Giles had her and she didn’t dare show him how far ahead she was. Yet she needed to keep training at that level, didn’t dare slack off on those skills. And she needed a private space to be her adult self rather than the teenager she was supposed to be.

Willie the Snitch gave her a lead to someone who might have the kind of place she wanted. It turned out to be a Krasevic demon. Once it had recovered from the near heart attack it suffered when the Slayer suddenly turned up on its doorstep, it took her to the place it was renting out as a safe house for other demons. Buffy looked dubiously at the tumbledown warehouse it took her to, but the flat hidden beneath that proved more than satisfactory—a large livingroom that could easily be turned into a training area once all the furniture was pushed back against the walls, a smallish bedroom mostly taken up by a kingsized bed, a minuscule kitchen and a bathroom with only a shower stall instead of a tub. The fact that there were no windows only meant that she didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing her, everything was neat and clean, and the only thing the Krasevic demon wanted in payment was immunity for itself and its clan. Since Krasevics were non-harmful and peaceable to the extreme, Buffy had no problems agreeing.

"I’m going to be working out in here," she said. "I hope you don’t mind. I’ll try not to damage anything."

"Slayer," said the Krasevic with feeling, "you can blow the place up if you like. It’ll be worth it not to be looking over my shoulder all the time."

She smiled at it. Lorne, Clem and others of their kind had made her accept the fact that not all demons needed to be eradicated on sight.

"Put the word out. You don’t hurt anyone, you don’t get hurt. I’ve no quarrel with anyone but the troublemakers."

"No trouble from us, Slayer!" the Krasevic said, pulling at its tail enthusiastically. "Need any help fixing up the place the way you like? I got contacts."

Since it was so willing to help, she took advantage of its offer and by nightfall the livingroom had been transformed into a very adequate training area with everything and more that she needed in the way of mats, punching bags and other equipment, all happily free of charge.

"Liquidation sale," explained the Krasevic. "These few things won’t be missed. Can be liquidated once you don’t want them no more."

Things were working out nicely. She went on patrol that night with a big grin on her face.

It was dead quiet. Not a vamp showed. In Restfield cemetery, she paused to take a nostalgic look at Spike’s old crypt, empty and thick with dust and cobwebs. It would be another two years before he moved there in the other reality; in this one, he probably wouldn’t move in at all. She went on through the various cemeteries, wandering hopefully through moonlight and shadow, trying to provoke something into happening. When nothing responded to her provocations, she dropped in at Willie’s to see if he knew what was up. She laughed when he told her the latest word on the street, then went on.

It was Friday night, which meant that Joyce wouldn’t mind her being out late. She picked up some snacks and energy drinks from the all-night grocery and headed back to her new flat to stock the fridge there with these essentials.

She was just shoving open the broken doors of the dilapidated warehouse when Spike stepped out of the shadows behind her.

"What the hell is this place, Slayer?"

"Home away from home." She raised her brows at him. "When did you start to follow me? I didn’t sense you."

"Thirty-five yards, that’s your radius. Figured it out." He gave her a cool look. "We need to discuss those rules."

She nodded. "Come on down."

He followed her warily down the stairs, then raised his brows at the gym revealed when she opened the metal door at the bottom.

"What’s this then?"

"Needed a place to train."

"In secret?"

"Long story. Tell you sometime. Come on in, Spike," she said carelessly and he frowned at her as he stepped through the doorway.

"Just like that? Bit casual, innit? Taking a lot for granted, aren’t you?"

"Wouldn’t let you in at Revello Drive, with my mother there. You don’t have a treaty with her." She started putting her purchases away in the fridge and cabinets. "This place is neutral ground. Nobody’s going to be here but me. And we have an agreement. Unless you’re thinking of breaking the pax."

"Depends on the rules." He was prowling around, checking the place out. "Only one exit?"

"Door at the end over there leads to the sewers."

He grinned. "You think like a vamp."

"This was a demon safe house until I took it over today."

"What do you need a safe house for, Slayer?"

"Long..."

"Long story. Right." He hitched a hip onto the back of an armchair and sat watching her curiously.

"And how is the Master of Sunnydale?"

He smiled grimly. "So you’ve heard."

"Word’s out. That’s you now, isn’t it? You took out the Anointed One."

"Annoying One got annoying once too often."

"Line of Aurelius. Angel’s disqualified because of the soul. Drusilla because of her mental state. The crown passes to you. Did you think of it before or was it something I said last night that gave you the idea?"

"Did you mean to give me the idea, Slayer? Think you’ve got all the vampires in this town by the short hairs because you’ve got a leash on me?"

She shook her head. "It doesn’t work like that, does it?"

"Damn right it doesn’t. The pax is between you and me, Slayer. I may be in your hand, but the ones I control are not."

"Does that mean you’ll be sending them after me tomorrow? St. Vigeous, remember?"

"Can’t. That would constitute a direct attack. Pax won’t allow it." His lips tightened and he gave her a hard look. "But if any one of them decides to do it on his own, I won’t stop him."

"A concerted attack might worry me. A couple of suicidal idiots, well, that’s just a nice little workout for me. Besides, how many of them are left after last night?" she asked dryly. "I think they might all be a little shook right now."

He grinned involuntarily. "Yeah. Not a brave bunch, that lot. St. Vigeous is a no go. You set me up, didn’t you?"

She shook her head. "No, I really didn’t. But I knew you’d come. No unfair advantage, wasn’t that what you said? I was betting on that. And, just so you know, I didn’t mean for you to take out the Anointed One."

"And I didn’t mean to take him out, except he pissed me off and I suddenly remembered that there might be benefits in being the Master of Sunnydale."

They smiled crookedly at each other.

"Now, the way the pax works, as I understand it," Buffy said, "is that you can’t attack me and you can’t order someone to attack me. You cannot aid or abet a vamp or a demon who attacks me on his own. If I’m taking on one of your people, you cannot help him. You have to stand back and wait for the natural conclusion of the fight, which would be that I dust him," she said with a grin and he gave her a twisted smile. "You have to remain neutral. Right?"

"One exception," he said coldly.

"And here’s where the negotiating begins," she sighed.

"Drusilla. You attack her, Slayer, and I will defend. Doesn’t matter if she is the one who attacks you first. I will still defend. Pax breaks immediately and I will fight you. Non-negotiable."

"She might attack me just to break the pax. You do admit that’s possible." She saw him bite his lip. He knew that she was right. "Will you stop her from attacking me?"

There was a long silence. Then he said reluctantly, "Yes."

"Fair enough. I won’t go after her. You keep her from coming after me. Deal?"

"Deal."

"Conversely, you don’t attack Angel."

"Oh, come on, Slayer!"

"It’s only fair. ‘I do you and then I go after him.’ Isn’t that what you said? Well, I can’t allow that."

"What if he attacks me? I have to be able to defend myself!"

This time she bit her lip. "Yeah, okay. Self-defense allowed. I suppose you’ll want me to stop him coming after you the same way you’d stop Dru from coming after me."

"Are you out of your mind? Egg him on, Slayer! Please! I’d give anything to get a chance at that wanker!"

She hit her forehead. "God, I’m dumb!"

He was laughing. "Did you really not expect that?"

She sighed. "Wasn’t thinking. Getting back to the table. The pax doesn’t give me the right to tell you what to do with the vamps you control."

"Got that right. They go on the same as usual."

"And if I come across them, they get to be dust, the same as usual."

He shrugged. "The way it is. The only vamp you have power over is me, pet. The pax is with me. And even that is limited. It’s a truce between us, is all. It’s a way of allowing an outsider to live in an overlord’s territory. Controlling the way he feeds, so that it won’t upset any power balances that might exist between rival overlords. Making sure he takes only what he needs to survive and doesn’t kill for sport or go on a rampage that creates the kind of massacre that would focus human attention and bring them out in peasants-with-stakes-and-torches mode."

"I read that in Giles’ books. The pax requirements are that you ask permission to feed."

"Yeah. Where and..." He stopped, his eyes widening. "Oh, no, pet. Oh, no."

"I’m the Slayer. I can’t let you feed on the people of Sunnydale, Spike."

He jerked to his feet. "Slayer! That’s unreasonable! I’m a vampire! I have to feed!"

"There are alternatives."

"Bloody hell, no! A thousand times, no! I’m not bagging it with pig’s blood from the butcher’s! There’s your deal breaker, Slayer! Want a formal statement of intent for a new challenge? You’ve got one!"

"Spike..."

He whirled away, flinging his arms out and stamping around the room.

"Christ, I haven’t fed in two days! Because of the pax! I’m bloody starving here! Challenge, Slayer!"

She hadn’t even thought of this, had stupidly thought that the pax would hold him. Why hadn’t she remembered that it was the chip that had stopped him before, the agonizing pain of the chip whenever he tried to harm humans? Even the soul had come later, after the chip had gotten him used to not feeding. The desire for human blood never went away. Even after a hundred years, Angel still craved it. And she had thought she could stop Spike from feeding, without either chip or soul. She was a fool.

But she couldn’t let him go on feeding.

Desperate, she could find only one solution. "One question."

He was still stalking around the room, going in and out of gameface. "Yeah, what?"

"How much blood would you need if it’s Slayer blood?"

He spun and stared at her. "What?"

She took a deep breath and repeated, "Slayer blood."

"You’re offering to let me feed on you?"

She nodded.

There was a long, vibrating silence. Then he said very softly, very dangerously, "What’s going on, Slayer?"

"Nothing. You need to feed. I can’t let you feed on..."

"Bollocks! Want to stop me from eating the populace? All you need to do is stake me. Problem solved. You’re the Slayer. Just because we got the hots for each other doesn’t mean you should be feeding me Slayer blood. There’s something more to all this and I wanna know what it is."

"Look, it’s complicated, okay?"

"Fucking A, it’s complicated! I walk into Sunnydale just looking for a nice, conventional, I-kill-you, you-kill-me scenario. Everything neat and by the book. Next thing I know, the two of us have our tongues down each other’s throats. We’re yay much away from fucking each other into the bloody ground. Don’t even care that it’s in the bleeding school, in front of a bleeding audience. That’s supposed to be normal for a Slayer? Please! Wanna tell me what that’s all about?"

"It’s a long..."

"Yeah, yeah. Got that. Well, I’ve got all the time in the world, pet. I’m sodding immortal and I’ve got nothing particular to do for the next several decades. You on the other hand might want to get out of this room a bit sooner. Not gonna let you unless I get some answers. ‘Course you could stake me, but I’m kinda getting the feeling that you don’t want to do that."

Buffy sighed. "Damn it."

He hooked a hip on the back of an armchair, folded his arms and waited.

"You’re not going to believe it," she said.

"Try me," he said grimly.

She drew a deep breath. "I’m not really the seventeen-year-old Slayer that you think I am. I’m twenty-three years old, I’m from the future, and I’m here to prevent you from burning up in the Hellmouth."

There was a long silence.

"You’re right," Spike said at last. "I don’t believe it."

Buffy shrugged.

"Why the hell should you care whether I burn up or not?" She just looked at him and finally he said slowly, almost wincingly, "We’re...lovers in the future?"

She nodded. "And then you died. And it was my fault. And I’m not going to let it happen again, no matter what it takes."

Her eyes were stinging. She spun around so that her back was to him and swiped at them angrily.

Spike stared at her back. He knew she was crying. And she was crying over him and that was... nobody had ever...

He felt battered. Knocked completely sideways. Ever since coming to Sunnydale, it had been one shock after the other. And now this fairytale.

Except the emotions were real. He could tell that. The passion and the tears and the anger. There was a storm of emotions in her, all mixed together, all violent.

Give up her whole life in the future and come back in time. For him? God!

"You sure act older than you look," he said carefully, trying to feel his way through the quicksand. "That’s true. How’d you manage the, uh, transfer?"

"We won the battle. You won the battle. The Powers That Be owed me. They have these servants, Oracles they’re called. They can play tricks with time. Got them to send me back. They couldn’t do it physically, but they could put my older mind into my younger body. So they did and here I am."

"No way to tell if all of that’s true," he muttered, almost under his breath. "Could be stringing me a line. Playing games. How do I know you’re not? Could say anything. Come from the future. Yeah, that happens every day."

"You’re a vampire. You’re standing in a Hellmouth. There are demons running around all over Sunnydale. You’re talking to a Slayer. And you balk at a little time travel?"

"When you put it that way..." He grinned involuntarily, then sobered. "Need proof, Slayer. You gotta see that. Can’t just expect me to swallow a story like that."

"What kind of proof? It’s not like I could came back with an I.D. or something."

"Mm." He thought about it, frowning, then snapped his fingers. "Knowledge. The stuff in your head. You say we’re lovers. You say you know me. All right. Tell me something about myself that’s not in your Watcher’s diaries."

She smiled slowly at the triumphant look on his face that said he thought he had her.

"Let’s see. William was a poet. He wrote..."

He held up a hand, wincing. "Don’t go on. Yeah, he was a poet. But a lot of people knew he wrote bloody awful poetry and they could have mentioned it to someone or written it down somewhere the Watchers could have found it."

She hesitated, then said, "You only loved two women before me. Cecily and Dru. You wanted to claim Dru, but she wouldn’t let you because of her fixation with Angelus..."

His lips tightened into a grim, hard line and he slashed his hand in the air, cutting her off. "Dru could have told Angelus both those facts, just for a laugh, and Angel could have told you."

She bit her lip, then said reluctantly, knowing that this would bring back painful memories for him, "You loved your mother. She had tuberculosis. When you got turned, you turned her, hoping to make her well again. But then you had to stake her because she wasn’t your mother any more, only the demon."

He jerked to his feet and spun away. "I never told anybody that, not even Dru." He looked back at her. "I told you that?"

She nodded.

"I must really have trusted you."

"God knows why," Buffy muttered. "I wasn’t good for you. God only knows why you loved me. You deserved so much better than me."

He smiled faintly, watching her. "Oh, I can see why. You shine, Slayer. You burn."

"Oh, yes, I burn. You burned. But not this time," she said fiercely. "Not this time."

"All right," he said suddenly. "I accept it. You’re from the future. Until something happens to prove you’re not. So where do we go from here?"

"Back to the pax." She looked at him gravely. "Can’t dust you. You know that now and maybe you’ll use it against me. You can challenge and this time you’ll probably win. Because you know that I’ll be trying for a standoff and you’ll be trying for a kill. You can bag your third Slayer any time you want to, Spike."

"No," he said sharply. His eyes were very dark, the pupils dilated. "No, I want...Let’s try the pax for a while. See how it plays."

"Back to the negotiations then. Back to: no feeding on the populace."

"Slayer blood. Is that how you keep me in line in the future? With the promise of Slayer blood?" He tilted his head to study her neck. "No bite marks that I can see. Push your hair back."

She shoved the loose waves of her hair back, smiling, but shook her head. "Wrong body, Spike."

"Oh, right. Keep forgetting."

"But there wouldn’t have been any anyway. You bagged it."

"Christ, you really had me by the short hairs, didn’t you? Not going to happen this time, you got that, Slayer?"

"How much Slayer blood do you need in a day?"

"‘S powerful stuff. Less than a mouthful."

"Figure I can spare that." She studied him thoughtfully. He was pale. Not as pale as when he had come to them when he had first got the chip and gone she didn’t know how many days without feeding. But pale enough that she could believe that he hadn’t fed since the pax and probably for some time before it. "Want to seal the deal?"

His lips parted and his gaze fixed on her neck, darkening and growing intense. She heard the little catch of his indrawn breath.

"Yeah," he said softly.

He came and took her upper arms lightly in his hands, drawing her to him. She laid her hands on his chest, wondering whether she would have to push him away if he took too much or whether he would know and be able to stop himself.

"This really seems perverse, Slayer," he said and she couldn’t help laughing.

"I thought vamps were into perversions."

"Not this kind. This just seems against the natural order of things. If I got my fangs in you and drained you dry in a fight, that would be right. But just offering yourself up like this...it’s weird."

"So you’re not going to do it?" she mocked and he grinned crookedly.

"What, not take it when it’s offered? I’m not crazy."

He went into gameface and pushed the waves of her hair back from her neck. Every Slayer instinct in her rebelled and he grinned at her, feeling her heart rate rise and her body tense. She shoved those instincts down determinedly. He bent and his fangs slid with exquisite precision into the vein at the side of her neck and she felt the draw as he drank.

Both Angel and the Master had bitten her and both times it had hurt agonizingly, Angel because he had been out of his head, the Master because he had meant to kill her. So when Spike bit her, she braced herself for pain.

Except it wasn’t pain. It was like the time Dracula had bitten her, when she was under his thrall. She couldn’t properly remember much of that, but she did have a vague memory that it had been pleasurable. Seduction rather than violation, the purpose—keeping the victim willingly coming back for more.

A languorous rapture thrilled through her body, a wanton sexuality. She suddenly understood Riley a whole lot better. Her knees turned to water. She leaned into Spike, her hands sliding from his chest down around his sides to splay across his back under his duster, her arms closing about him, holding that cool, strong body to her. God, she had missed this! The feel of him, hard chest and ripped abs and lean hips and long legs. He was so fine, all that supple, solid muscle and clean, strong bone vibrant against her. How could she have thrown it all away before? Not this time.

She was shuddering helplessly, incredibly turned on. He was aroused too. She could feel him hard and urgent against her, his body vibrating with tension. He withdrew his fangs, licked the wound to seal it, looked down at her, his eyes half-closed with heavy sensuality. She had no idea how much of her blood he had taken, couldn’t have stopped him even if it had been too much, the sensation had been that deliriously sweet. But she could see the power of her blood moving in him, in the passion flaring so intensely between them.

His hand slipped up her shoulder, slid around to the nape of her neck, fingers sifting through her hair.

"Wanna fuck, Slayer?"

That was what it would be to him now—fucking. Well, it was only fair. That was what she had done to him before—fucked him, while he had been making love.

"Want to make love," she agreed.

He frowned faintly, something moving behind his eyes. Then he shrugged and his mouth came down on hers.

Their mouths twisted, devouring each other. She could taste the faint, coppery tang of her own blood from where he had licked the bite mark to seal it. It was unimportant, compared to the long slides of his tongue against hers, to the way he kissed, with his whole body and his entire being, as if nothing in the world existed except this moment and this voluptuous pleasure. She didn’t know whether that was a vamp thing or whether it was just particular to Spike, that total focus on the moment, his whole self surrendered to it and to her. Certainly, Angel had never kissed like that. It was incredibly arousing.

They were both gasping for breath. And that was definitely a Spike trait. Vamps didn’t need to breathe, but that was one of the things that she loved about Spike, that lust or shock or passion would have him panting and struggling for air. It betrayed what he tried to keep hidden—how deeply he felt things.

He shrugged his duster off, let it fall on the floor, stepped back to tread off his Doc Martens. She bent to unzip her own calf-high boots and step out of them. When she straightened, he just picked her up quite simply, settling her thighs around him and their hips together, and carried her into the bedroom. Her legs wound around him, ankles locking in the small of his back, and she couldn’t help rubbing herself against him.

"God, Spike!"

He laughed against her face, giving her that sloe-eyed look, then dropped them both on the bed, still locked together. Her hands went immediately to his belt buckle, trying to wrest it open. He pulled her hands away.

"What’s the hurry, Slayer?"

"Want you," she said plaintively. It had been too long. Just the feel of him in her arms, the scent of him, the taste of his mouth, and she was desperate for him, couldn’t wait, had to have him now.

"Wanna enjoy this. Never fucked a Slayer before. Might never have the chance again. Gonna make this memorable, sweets."

He pulled her tank top off, unsnapped her bra, threw it away. His hands closed on her breasts, kneading and caressing, and his head came down, mouth finding her nipples, moving from one to the other, tonguing and suckling. She keened involuntarily, her head hitting the pillow, her whole body arcing to that electrifying touch. Her fingers dug into his thick hair, holding his mouth to her breast.

"God," he muttered. "The way you respond, the way you respond to me." Spike wasn’t used to that, this immediate, shuddering, passionate response. It shook him, somewhere down deep where his most secret vulnerabilities lay. Dru was jaded; it took work to arouse her and, too often, twisted, painful games that made him feel that he could have been anyone, could have been no more than something mechanical, less than a vibrator.

"The two of us," Buffy murmured. "Always could drive each other crazy."

She ran her hand deliberately down his back, pushed under the belt of his jeans, raked the small of his back with her nails. It was not really a sexual touch, but his body jolted against hers.

"Know my buttons, do you?" he said, amused.

"Oh, yeah." She pulled his T-shirt off and he let her, his hands busy unzipping her jeans. "Want your skin, want your skin against mine."

He pulled her jeans and thong off in one smooth movement, twisted to yank off his own jeans, slightly hampered by the fact that she had his head wrapped in her arms, her mouth sliding along his jaw and then sucking down his throat. He shuddered involuntarily.

"You know my buttons all right." He slid over her and they coiled around each other like snakes. "Let’s find yours."

"Can’t wait." She rubbed herself against his erection demandingly and he groaned. "C’mon. C’mon."

"No. God, you’re wet. You’re so wet for me. And hot! Bloody furnace."

"Spike!"

"Finding your buttons, pet. Gonna drive you crazy."

"Already there, dammit!"

He laughed against her ribcage, his hands and mouth and body sliding all over her, working all the places that made her writhe and moan, stretching it out excruciatingly. She was drowning in sensation, lost in the feel of him, arcing and thrashing uncontrollably under him. And it went on and on and on until her hands clawed mindlessly down his back, drawing blood. He gasped against her throat. Then finally, finally, his weight came full upon her and he moved over her with intent.

"I’m glad you’re the first this time," she muttered against his mouth, feeling him start to come into her. "I’m glad you’re the first with this body."

He paused, staring down at her in surprise. She clutched at him.

"Oh, God, Spike! Don’t stop!"

"Forgot," he murmured. "Experienced mind, inexperienced body. Right. Doesn’t have to hurt, luv."

His fangs slid smoothly into her neck. She was so sensitized to him right now that it came as an unbelievable rapture, her whole body seizing up. She hardly felt the pain of his entering her under the thunderbolt of her intense orgasm. Then as he continued to drink, multiple orgasms, each one crashing over her like waves, under the double penetration of his cock and his fangs, his body pistoning into her, the deep thrusts hitting every sweet spot in her body, his fangs keeping up that slow draw that turned the whole experience into delirious ecstasy.

"OhmiGod!"

Taking her blood was affecting him too. She felt him shudder violently against her as he came. Her brain whited out.

She came back to herself to find him gasping into the curve of her shoulder, his head on the pillow beside hers and his body heavy upon her.

"Oh, God, that was incredible, Spike!"

He turned his head to look at her, his eyes intimate and smiling. Nothing like the look of softness and tenderness that she was accustomed to seeing from him, but still startling coming from this Spike.

"You can say that again, Slayer." His breath was shaking in his open mouth, his eyelids heavy in replete, smug, tomcat satisfaction. "God, you’re something else. Never felt anything like it in a hundred and twenty years. Thought I’d turn inside out."

He ran a hand down her body lightly from shoulder to knee and she shivered against him.

"Ohh."

"Could get addicted to this," he muttered, sounding a little unnerved.

He slid to one side and she turned to face him, running her hand lightly across his shoulder and down his arm. It was odd seeing no bruises on either one of them. Their lovemaking had always been so rough and hurried and violent before. Then she thought back more carefully. Except for that first time, when they had fought before making love, there had never been bruises on her, only on him. And she was the one who had made it violent.

And now here was this Spike, no soul, no love, and yet instead of the harsh, bruising sex that she would have expected, it had been exquisitely sweet.

"All vamps have perversions, right?" she murmured and his brows rose, amused.

"Suppose."

"You know what your perversion is, Spike? Gentleness. That’s your perversion. For a vamp, that’s perverse."

He looked taken aback, then completely embarrassed, brushed that away with a dismissive sweep of his hand.

"You up for another round, Slayer? I know I am."

She looked down and laughed. He was. "Gotta love that vamp refractory period."

"Hope you have the stamina to match, Slayer."

"Oh, I do."



TBC