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We Will Remember Them by Lilachigh
Chp 19 To bite or not to bite
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We Will Remember Them…
By Lilachigh

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
Laurence Binyon

Chapter 19 To bite or not to bite?

From a distance, in the woods surrounding the Chateau, came the rattle of machine-gun fire. Spike stared after Joy who’d handed her daughter to Buffy then headed in that direction without a backward glance. “She’s gone right off her trolley!”

Buffy had no idea what the words meant but understood from the tone exactly what he was implying. “No, she hasn’t, well maybe – jeez, she’s just lost her husband! She’s not thinking straight. All she wants to do is revenge him. If I lost you – I mean, if I lost someone I loved, I’d want to - well, I wouldn’t because that would be murder, but if it was another vamp or – oh!”

She felt the frustration of trying to talk to a Spike who wasn’t her guy boiling up inside her. “Can’t you understand that? How would you feel if you lost – “ she was about to say ‘me’ then stopped and stumbled over another name; she couldn’t remember if she was supposed to know it or not – “your lover?”

Spike swung round, his eyes cold. “Well, that’s exactly what’s going to happen when I get back to England. When I don’t arrive with a poxy Slayer on board the plane, Dru will be dust! If she’s even still alive.”

Buffy bit back the words – ‘She was very much alive a couple of years ago!’ She stared down at the child in her arms. Aurora was wide awake now, red-cheeked, her dark eyes shining, trying to force one bare foot into her mouth, blissfully unaware that her father was dead and her mother had handed her over to a Slayer she’d only known for a few days. “What do we do with the baby? How can we just take her to England? Joy could change her mind at any moment. There must be someone we can leave her with in France.”

Spike shrugged. “I’d dump it under a bush. Someone will find it. French or German, does it matter?”

Buffy glared at him. “Oh, yes, and I suppose you risked your unlife in a burning building just to abandon Aurora in the woods?”

Spike licked the burn on his hand and glared back: he was deeply ashamed of his impulsive action at the farmhouse. The screaming, the shooting, the blood and death had been like an aphrodisiac to him; given him a shot of energy that he’d badly needed. So he wasn’t entirely clear in his mind why he’d vaulted over a windowsill into the burning room, snatched the child from its crib and flung himself out into the night again as the roof crashed in with a thunder of flames.

Yes, that was what nagged at him, what he couldn’t understand; one minute he’d been enjoying the scene, savouring the blood, the death, wishing he could join in, deciding that he could probably grab a quick drink from one of the soldiers at the back of the force and then the next -

He shook his head. He wouldn’t think about it now. He was the Big Bad, William the Bloody. His reputation would lie in tatters if anyone found out he’d risked his life to rescue a sodding kid. And the last person who must ever know was his Yankee Slayer. Not that she was his, of course, he reminded himself angrily, that was just a way of keeping her straight in his mind – his Yankee Slayer, his Brit Slayer. Yes. Organisation, he was good at organisation.

“I was using her as bait to get Joy to come with us,” he snapped. “It was a good plan.”

Buffy hoisted Aurora onto her hip. “Yes,” she said dryly, “Great plan. Good result, Spike. Joy ready to fly away with us – oh look - not!” She fought back a smile. Her Spike would have done exactly the same thing; she would trust him with Dawn, had trusted him with her Mom. But this was William the Bloody; unchipped, pure evil, not trying to impress her, not declaring that he could change because he loved her, so why had he rescued the baby? It was such a - a – Williamish thing to do.

She gazed at the vampire who was lighting another foul French cigarette, the familiar silver lighter he’d stolen from the American guy he’d killed, gleaming in the starlight and began to wonder how much of William had survived when the demon entered his body all those years ago. Spike had no soul; that had been her mantra for so long. Now a very quiet voice inside her head murmured “does it matter?”

“I suppose we’ll have to take her with us,” Spike said at last. “Hey, perhaps the Council will be grateful to get a Slayer’s kid, even if they don’t get their Slayer back.”

Buffy sighed. The Council were going to get a Slayer, not just the one they expected! She only hoped she could convince them about her identity. “Hi, I’m Buffy Summers from California and oh yes, I’m from the future”. Not the best of introductions during a War.

She wished Slayers traditionally had some sort of sign on them – a neat tattoo, a little stake in blue just above her ankle, perhaps. That would be cool. She could thrust out her foot and say, “Hey, Slayer here. How do I get home?”

“We’re not going to be talking to them any time soon unless we take the plane back from the Germans.”

“Well, I’m not the one wasting time standing here chatting!” And turning, he strode away down the track.

Buffy cast one final glance towards the Chateau, feeling sick because the sound of gunfire was much less now and she had no illusions as to which side had won. She only hoped that Joy would find some way of escaping and would get to England to be reunited with her daughter.

Twenty minutes later she was crouched behind a thick bush, trying to keep Aurora quiet. The Tiger Moth was still parked where Spike had left it, but there were now two guards waiting, hopefully, for the pilot to try and retake his plane.

Buffy’s body tingled as Spike moved silently through the undergrowth and crouched at her side, his arm brushing hers. “I’ll take the one on the right. You deal with the bastard on the left. OK? And keep the bloody kid quiet! She’ll give us away. Can’t you stop that – gurgling?” he hissed angrily.

Aurora was awake and ready to play. Her hand shot out and grabbed at Buffy’s neck.

“She wants my locket!”

“Then give her the damned thing or I swear I will bite her!”

“It was a present. It belonged to - ”

“I don’t care if it belonged to the Queen of sodding Sheba! Just give it to the kid if it’s going to keep her quiet.”

Buffy fumbled at the catch with one hand, then heard Spike curse as Aurora grabbed again with a little shriek as the gold bobbed just out of reach. Buffy flinched as cold fingers suddenly touched the nape of her neck. She shut her eyes, knowing you shouldn’t ever let a vampire come this close, but this was Spike who always guarded her back and just for a few seconds she savoured the feel of his fingers on her skin. She bent her head forward so he could easily reach the clasp, imagining that cold touch sliding down across her shoulders towards her breasts…

Spike shuddered as the warmth of the Slayer’s slender neck burnt his fingertips. The temptation was overwhelming; he wanted to run his hands down under that stupid top she was wearing, feel the roundness of her breasts lie heavy in his palms, caress the nipples with his thumbs and then –

He groaned as she bent her neck forward, almost as if she was welcoming his touch. Which was mad because she was the Slayer, his mortal enemy, not a girl he would dance with to an inevitable conclusion. The longing to kiss the tender flesh was so strong it was almost impossible to fight. In desperation he vamped out, his fangs reaching for the vein that throbbed so tantalizingly under the pale skin. Then he hesitated, his mind whirling in pain. She so obviously trusted him – why else would she leave herself unguarded. It was against nature; a Slayer trusting him! She should be ashamed of herself. God, his life was becoming obscene.

With a growl, he flared back into human face, his fingers found the thin gold chain and with a brutal twist, he broke it and the locket fell into Aurora’s happy grasp.

Buffy gasped at the sudden sting of pain on her neck. Stupidly she’d been waiting for a kiss that should have been there, would have been there if he’d had any real feelings for her. Jeez, time travel must have fried her brain. Years of Slayer instinct seemed to have vanished overnight. She didn’t want to imagine what Giles would say if she ever had the chance to explain that she’d bared her neck to William the Bloody, waiting for his kiss!

She felt a familiar bitterness well up inside her and the desire to cry was overwhelming. Men rejected her; men left her. Even William the Bloody didn’t think she was worth biting!

“Sorry – couldn’t get the clasp undone,” Spike muttered. “Now, can we please get this sodding fight underway? I want to see the white cliffs of Dover before the sun comes up.”

Buffy laid the child down gently on the ground beside the track, sheltered by a low bush. Fighting was what she did; at least she knew she was hard to beat when it came to death and destruction. What every girl wanted to know, of course!

“Be quiet, sweetheart.” She turned to Spike. “What will happen to her if we don’t come back?”

“Where’s all your Yankee optimism gone, Slayer? We kill the guards, start the engine, I’ll turn the Moth round and you’ll fetch the kid. And if we both die, then as I said before, a fox will probably get her, if the locals don’t find her first. Now come on!”

Crouching low, Buffy hurried after Spike, wondering how the heck a Slayer with a child would manage. Because the mission – even one as bizarre as this – always came first.

Well, that was one thing she’d never have to worry about. There wouldn’t be any little tests in her life, excited phone calls to friends, discussions about names, plans and decisions made about the future. It would be difficult to get pregnant when the only man you could imagine touching you was a vampire! Especially one who obviously thought you were the most obnoxious thing he’d ever met and much preferred a dark-haired, vicious, psychopathic killer.

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