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West of the Moon, East of the Sun by KnifeEdge
 
Chapter 47: With Teeth
 
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Author’s Note: This chapter covers the same time period as Chapters 23, 24, & 25.

I just want to say how lovely it is that some of you ARE re-reading previous chapters and discovering some of the little clues that were left for you in Part I. It makes me really happy when you guys start bouncing up and down and pointing at passages in Part I. Think of it like a really weird easter egg hunt… there’s more there than you might realize. Like this chapter, for instance…

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all recognizable characters, locations, and dialogue belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and the various writers. Show writers and any other quoted authors have been credited in individual chapters. I'm making no money from this—it is purely in the name of fun.

Betaed by Phuriedae* and Science
*because Spike is English, I’ve made a rather anal retentive attempt to spell things “properly.” My beta (who IS British), has asked that I include the following disclaimer: “Any Britpicking mistakes are my beta's, because she reads too much fic written by you bloody Americans and is used to your bizarre ways by now."







Credits: This chapter contains dialogue from the episode “Crush” written by David Fury.

Chapter 47

With Teeth


15 February 2001

Bloody hell. I never want to go through that again.

Goddamn women always cocking things up.

Started with the bleeding TV. Why the fuck do they always interrupt my programmes for the sodding news? As if I give a rat's fuck about human politics and what all. Was just waiting for Passions to start when they put out a bulletin. Almost didn't watch, but… well, the female news anchor's blouse was low cut and I got distracted. Wasn't till they switched to shots of Sunnyhell Station that I realised what the hell she was yammering about. Murders. Multiple. On the bleeding train.

Throat trauma.

One day they're just gonna come right out and say 'vamp attack', and the whole world will probably end. Be kind of funny if all it took was the general populace taking off their blinkers.

Still, vampires feeding on a train car full of passengers… might as well have put out a sign: new Big Bad in town.

I might be chipped, but I'm still the oldest vamp in Sunnyhell, which makes this my territory. Most vamps in town have learned to respect that, and the ones that don't…well, let's just say they don't have a long unlife expectancy. So the thought of letting some new master set up shop in my town stuck in my craw. Besides, the last thing the Slayer needs at the mo' is another problem to deal with.

Wasn't a hell of a lot I could do, what with the sun up overhead, but the sewers connect all kinds of places. Started at a couple of the local demon bars. Most anyone could tell me was that it was the work of some new vamp, but the only ones anyone had heard of were holed up downtown.

Managed to get there just after sunset. Wankers were lairing in a shithole warehouse with busted up furniture and a shoddy TV. They'd stepped out the minute the sun went down, so I waited till they got back. When they walked in the door it was easy enough to see that they weren't the ones behind the train. These two were still new enough their fangs squeaked. Short and squat sensed me immediately. He stopped right inside the door and squinted at the couch where I was lounging, reading some of their skin-mags. Tall and lanky, on the other hand, was clearly dumber than a dodo and fast headed for extinction. He came strolling in, and didn't notice me until he was practically in my lap.

"Who are you?" asked Pinky. "How'd you get in here?"

Just rolled my eyes. "Through the bloody door, you pillock."

"What's a pillock?" he asked.

"You're Spike," said Brain, coming in more cautiously, ignoring his friend. "I've heard of you."

"You're smart," I said. "But you've got shite taste in beer. Coors Light? Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Sorry," Brain said, shrugging and glaring at Pinky who was carrying another twelve pack of the swill.

"What?" said Pinky, clearly lost.

"Heard you got a chip," said Brain, shifting nervously. "That true? Can they really do that now? Make it so we can't hunt?"

"Well, that depends," I said.

"On what?" asked Pinky, wide-eyed.

There are certain advantages to being nearly a century and a quarter old. Speed, for instance. I had them both by the throats before they even thought to blink.

"On what you want to hunt," I said, letting them dangle a bit. "Me? Well, I just like violence. Don't much care who I'm ripping apart."

"Urk, urgle," said Pinky, trying to pry my hands off his throat.

"Sorry," I said. "I thought I was still talking. See, it's like this. I'm feeling generous at the mo', so if you wankers prove helpful you get to walk out of here instead of drifting out on a draft. Got it?"

Brain gave me a weak thumbs up. Pinky gurgled.

"I'm looking for the vamps behind that bloody mess on the train last night," I said. "And I can smell a lie at thirty paces." I loosened my grip, dropping them both to the floor. Pinky shot back to his feet, but Brain stayed where he was, watching me.

"We don't know," Pinky said. "Honest. We just got in town—"

He never even saw me pull the stake out of my pocket.

"Tsk," I said to Brain, eyeing him though the settling dust. "Wrong answer."

"I never liked him anyway," said Brain, staying on the floor. Yeah, he was smart, this one. Might actually survive to see thirty. I hummed the Jeopardy theme song, waiting.

"Okay," he said, getting the hint. "Far as I know it was just one vamp, come up from Los Angeles. There were rumours that something big was going down. Bunch of masters facing off or something. Lots of demons getting recruited. We were in a gang down there, but… it seemed like a bad deal. So, we packed up and left. Neither of us really wanted to get caught in the middle of an all out demon battle, you know? It's possible this is connected. I don't really know anything else. I swear."

Well, it was more than I had. Besides, I sort of liked this one. "Word of advice, chum," I told him as I left. "If you're looking for a quiet spot to settle down, the Hellmouth isn't it. You might want to scarper while you can. The Slayer catches you, you're dust."

"What's the Slayer?" he asked, confused. Chill went down my spine.

"Mine," I told him, and left.

Then I waited across the street for twenty minutes or so and watched while he bundled his kit into a beat up old Pontiac and headed out of town.

Something about those words unsettled me. Too familiar. And the walk back was worse. Something kept niggling at my brain, maybe a premonition of things to come. By the time I got back to the crypt I was all but running. There was something wrong. Could feel it in my gut.

The open trapdoor was my first clue. I'd been careful to keep that hidden for a while now. Didn't want any nosey-parkers poking about down there, but it looked like someone had found it anyway. I'd left a few torches lit, so the light flickered against the ceiling, up out of the open hole. I got very quiet and listened.

Someone was moving about.

A smallish someone. I could smell the Slayer's scent in the air, but it might have been an old scent. There was something else, layered over it. An old, familiar scent. Roses—dead roses, and jasmine. Strong, like heavy perfume.

I went down the ladder, knowing what I'd find, but not quite ready to believe it.

"Who's there?" I asked, picking up the knife I keep handy by the steps.

A shadow slithered out of the bedroom. "Look who's come to make things right, my pretty Spike," she said, stepping into the torchlight, looking like an old dream. Tall, dark, slender as a memory. Still beautiful. God, those big eyes that saw more than the sane ever could. Her hair… I knew how she'd feel if I touched her, how she'd taste. Knew the texture of her skin and the sharp edges of her fangs as well as I knew my own.

My salvation. My princess. My Drusilla.

I'd dreamed of this moment. God, so many times. Days, nights, I'd lie awake dreaming that she'd come back to me, that she wanted me again. I'd imagined it so many different ways. Her crawling, begging, pleading, demanding. A century and more at her side—it was all I knew. How to be hers. How to please her, make her smile. She'd snap her fingers and I'd be there, at her heel, ready to do whatever it took to make her happy.

I'd wanted it so badly, the last couple of years. All I'd wanted was for her to come back.

And there she was.

And the sight of her left me cold.

"Dru," I said. "What are you doing here?"

"I've come to make us a family again," she said, drifting towards me. "Mummy has come back to us now. Only now I'm the mummy."

She giggled. I stepped around her, heading into the bedroom for no other reason than to get some space to bloody think. My head was a muddle.

"Darla's dead, Dru," I told her. "Angelus dusted her himself."

"But she came back," she said. "She tasted of magic and sin. I drank her all down and made Mummy my own darling girl. Daddy was not pleased. But he will be. Soon he will be one of us again. Just like you, my pretty Spike."

Dru's hand on my face felt so familiar I wanted to sob. God. It'd been so long since I'd felt her touch and now…it just felt hollow.

"So, let me get this straight," I said, trying to work my way through her Dru-isms. "Darla got herself mo-jo'd back from the beyond, you vamped her, and now she and you are… working to turn Angel into his old evil self again?"

"Mmm-hmmm," she said, coming around behind me and stroking my hair.

"Sounds fun," I said. She didn't get the sarcasm. Never really had.

"It is. Like lollipops at the circus. Although…didn't care for Angelus setting us on fire." She ran a hand over a healing burn mark on her chest. There was another on her face, but the shadows mostly hid it. I wondered for a moment why I didn't care more. I should have. I should have been howling at the moon in rage for what Angel had done to her.

But inside there was nothing. The demon opened a lazy eye and watched, but didn't care, and even poncy William was silent on the issue.

"And this has… what? Got you all nostalgic now, has it?" I asked.

"I want us to be a family again, my William," she said. She leaned close, whispering in my ear. "Come back with me."

"To Los Angeles? I've done the whole LA scene, Dru. Didn't agree with me." Besides, trust Angelus to find the one bloody city in the world guaranteed to fluff his massive ego. I've no desire whatsoever to go back. "I've got a nice little setup here," I pointed out. "Decent digs, and all the tasty townies I can eat."

"Naughty!" she said, tsking at me. "Needn't make up stories. I know why you're not coming. Tin soldiers put little knick-knacks in your brain. Can't hunt. Can't hurt. Can't kill." I didn't appreciate her little imitation. I know I look bleeding ridiculous when I get zapped. She reached for my head, her eyes full of pity. "You've got a chip."

I thought of Brain back there in the warehouse and suddenly I was furious. "Right, so you've heard. Poor Spike's become a cautionary tale for vampires. 'You better be good kiddies or they might wire you up someday!'" I kicked out at the nightstand and watched half the contents fall off.

Dru followed me. "I don't believe in science," she said. "All those bits and molecules that no one's ever seen. I trust eyes and heart alone." She reached for my hand and clasped it to her chest. It was a familiar sensation, but the skin under mine was cold and I wanted it to be hot. Wanted it to burn me. "Do you know what mine is crying out?" she said. "You're a killer. Born to smash, and bash, and bleed… like beautiful poetry. No little tinker toy could ever stop you from flowing."

The demon agreed, and even William's head came up.

But her skin was cold, and I thought of Louhi and stepped away.

"You don't understand. The pain, love… it's searing. Blinding."

"All in your head," she promised, laying her hands on my hair. "I can see it. Little bit of plastic, spider webbing out nasty blue shocks. And each of them is a lie. Electricity lies, Spike. It tells you that you're not a bad dog, but you are."

I wanted to agree. My demon wanted to agree, but in the end it just laid down its head, bored. William, on the other hand, snarled at her, surprising me. Looks like the poncy git's growing some balls after all.

I'm not what I was. I've changed. I know it. I suspect Dru knows it, too. Whether it's the chip, or the challenge, or Buffy… I don't know. All I know is that, while the urge to kill is still there, it's not nearly as strong anymore. Not as strong as the desire to be… something more.

I had a place in the world. A dark, and glorious and bloody place. William the Bloody, Spike, Slayer of Slayers. For more than a century Dru and I cut a swath through continents together. I was feared. Infamous.

And it was all a lie.

I was never hers. She was never mine.

And if I went with her now, went back to her and Angelus and Darla, it would be just as it was. Only I'd be even more handicapped than I was in that sodding chair. I'd be her dog, in truth. Her bad, mean dog having to beg for her scraps. I could see it as clearly as I could her standing there in front of me. Following at her heels, waiting for her to kill for me and have her taste before I could have mine. Taking whatever abuse Darla and Angelus wanted to dish out. Watching them shag…

No.

It's not what I want anymore. I don't know if I could put it into words, what it is that I do want. All I know is that I've got a place. Got a life of my own now. I'm my own vamp, and if I put up with the Slayer's abuse it's on my own bloody terms. And whether she'd admit it or not, the fact that Buffy still treats me like the enemy means she still respects me… something I never got from Dru and the others.

And maybe, maybe, if I try I can be… something else. Don't want to be a bloody Scooby but… wouldn't mind working with the Slayer. I know I could be useful, if she'd give me half a chance. I may not be good. May not understand it, entirely but… I can try. For her, I can try. And I'd love her more than Angelus ever could even with a sodding soul.

I thought about Buffy, her smile, her eyes, her fire. And for the first time, when I looked at Dru… she came up wanting. How could I go back to the dark and the cold, now that I've touched sunlight?

"Maybe," I told Dru, stepping away from her hands. "Maybe it does lie. But I'm not what I was, Dru. Not anymore. I can't go back."

She frowned at me, sadly.

"You're so cold, my William," she said, touching my chest then snatching her hand away. "But your heart burns, like dandelions in the sun. It's burnt me all up, and all I am in you is ash." She looked away, glancing at her feet. "What's this?" She picked up my journal from where it had fallen off the stand and I swear I almost felt my heart leap.

"Just a journal," I said, watching.

She opened it and flipped through, then cast it away from her with a pained cry and pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. "Cursed," she whispered, so soft I barely heard it. "Oh, my William. She has taken you already, and I cannot follow you there. East of the sun, west of the moon. My poor sweet prince. She has taken your voice and hidden your face and even I cannot see you anymore."

God, I wanted to shout. She knew. Somehow, Dru knew. Her bloody pixies. Miss Edith. Somehow she'd seen it. But it lodged in my throat and I couldn't say a word.

"My poor, poor William," she said, backing away now. "So trapped. So cold. She will put out your fire, then put out the sunshine and all the world will be cold."

"What are you prattling about?" I said.

"Poor Spike. So lost. Not even I can help you now," she said. Sad thing was, she was right. Whatever it was she knew, who would listen to her? Who would believe her? Not like I could take her to Buffy and say 'Oi, Slayer, remember my ex? If she starts babbling you might want to pay attention.' Slayer would just dust her and be done with it.

Even when someone knows, I'm still buggered.

"You should go," I told her. "If the Slayer finds out you were here, about the train, Dru… You're not strong enough to fight her."

"You wouldn't let her," she said, sadly, slowly backing away. "I know your heart. If it came to that, you'd kill me first."

"Get out of here, Dru," I told her, knowing she was right. I'd dust her. I'd do it because she brought me into this world. And I'd do it to prove to Buffy I deserve to stay here. "Leave Sunnydale. Don't come back. I'm not your Spike anymore."

When Dru left me the first time, I was heart broken. Like someone had torn me in two. When she left the second time, she ground those bits into dust beneath her heels, and what rose out of them was nothing more than vengeance, pure and furious. Then the chip forged me, bent me and twisted me into a new weapon. I'm not hers to hold anymore. She destroyed my heart.

And Buffy made it beat again.

Figuratively speaking.

And yeah, I'm aware I'm mixing my bloody metaphors.

Not the point.

Point is, when Dru left this time…I felt nothing but relieved.

Until I realised we hadn't been alone.

Was just getting ready to turn in, maybe do some writing before heading off to dreamland, when I heard a noise. This tiny little gasp of air. Thought maybe I was hearing things—that sewer tunnel off to the side carries sound pretty well, makes a good early warning system if anything's trying to sneak up on me that way—but my nose told me otherwise. It was faint, but under the smell of Dru's perfume and the usual scent of my lair, there was the tart scent of strawberries.

When I stepped closer to the sewer access tunnel, it got stronger: Slayer. "I'll take olfactory senses for five hundred, Alex. Coconut. Strawberries. Sunshine. What are three smells that don't belong in my bed chamber?" I halted at the entrance of the tunnel, picking up on the rapidly accelerating sound of her heartbeat once I knew to listen for it over the running water. If Dru hadn't had me so twisted I probably would have noticed straight off. "I suppose there's a good reason why you're lurking about down here, or were you just playing Peeping Slayer?"

I doubted she'd come up the sewer tunnel, so she must've snuck down here before Dru got here and tucked herself away to see what I was up to. When she stood up, though, she looked so adorably guilty but trying to hide it that I couldn't resist a smirk. "There was no peeping," she said, though we both knew otherwise. "Besides, how was I to know you were gonna…" She flapped her hand at me, clearly unhinged by seeing me mostly naked. Her face was flushed and gorgeous, she was breathing heavier than usual, and the unmistakable scent of arousal was starting to drift my way. Apparently she liked the show. Couldn't resist tweaking her nose a bit, though.

"Go to bed?" I said. Wouldn't mind going to bed with her, what with her being able to see me and all. Could tell she was thinking about it, too, by the way her eyes kept darting from me to the bed behind me, then back.

"Strip," she corrected me, trying to sound offended and failing. God she's gorgeous when she's all flustered. Even in the shadows her eyes were over bright, pupils dilated and shining. Her lips were parted a little and all I wanted just then was to sink in, maybe have myself a nibble on that delectable lower lip. Could feast on her mouth for hours. I remember Willow's spell last year, sometimes too well and sometimes not well enough. Want to know how much of that was magic and how much was just… Buffy. If she's even half what I remember, then she'd still be the best thing I've ever tasted in my entire existence.

Wish it weren't so bloody damned cold (and I'm taking this out on Louhi's hide first I get a chance), since it means every time I see her out and about normally she's bundled up to her pointy little chin in coats and scarves and hats and gloves. It’s a bleeding tragedy, is what it is. Still, even with all that it was easy to see her chest heaving a bit when I stepped back and stuck my thumbs in my belt loops, giving her a tiny peep at what she'd interrupted.

"If that's what you were after, should've kept quiet, Slayer. You missed the grand finale. I prefer to sleep naked," I told her. Prefer, of course, even though I've been wearing fucking sweats or jeans and a shirt to bed every night thanks to her.

Watching her eyes fix on my crotch and listening to the changes in her body that caused… yeah, I'm still bloody hard thinking about it. Could tell she was getting aroused, too, and the demon was practically demanding that I shove her up against a wall, shred her damned clothes and plunge in to the hilt. Poncy William, however, was arguing that that was the fastest way to get myself dusted, so I chose to listen to my better instincts.

Didn't mean I couldn't do something evil to make up for it, and the most evil thing I could think of just then was buttoning back up and denying the Slayer a peek at a real man. God knows I've been forced to sit through enough of Angel's shagging sessions to know that while he might be blessed with a massive head, the southern one definitely got the short straw.

Throwing on some clothes helped calm the demon down a bit, too. If I was going to make it through the night without dusting I needed all the help I could get. Last thing I wanted was to brass her off when she was already running hot and bothered. "I wasn't trying to see you naked, Spike," she said, putting some vinegar back in her tone as she stalked back into my bed chamber.

"Yeah? So what were you doing?" I asked. "Snooping about hoping to find some evidence of my grand evil plan? Hoping I'd wander in here and have a long chat with a minion, revealing everything I'm up to?" As if I would. A hundred years of reading, watching films and sodding daytime TV is enough to teach any vamp worth his fangs to keep his bloody gob shut and not go around blabbing plans to every minion that happens by. Besides, I've read the Evil Overlord List (though the White Witch could use the Cliff Notes version). The Slayer, of course, was looking guilty. "You were, weren't you?"

"No," she groused. "Well, maybe the first one."

Bint should know me better by now. I'm not one for the big world ending type plans, now am I? Not much for plans period. Oh, I make them all the bloody time. Good ones. Well thought out and easy to execute. I just get so bored with all that waiting. Angelus' problem was always that he spent so much time on the foreplay he almost never got to the grand event. Well, that and he was a buggering moron.

"Find anything evil, Slayer?" I asked, hoping she'd stumbled on my journal but knowing that even if she had she'd already forgotten it.

"Just your decorating style," she groused, which made me laugh. Not sure why, but that seemed to confuse her. "Aren't you going to ask how much I overhead?"

"Don't need to ask. I'd wager you've been here the whole time. Heard every word, didn't you?"

"Almost," she said. "Not that any of it made sense. I don't get it, Spike. Why didn't you go with her?"

Wasn't sure how to answer that. Tell her the truth? That, while I still love her, I wasn't in love with Dru any more, and that the thought of leaving Buffy makes me ache? That just touching Dru left me cold? That if I had I would have just been Dru's lapdog again, and possibly Angelus' whipping boy? That the thought of all that, just for the chance to drink human blood again… just didn't seem worth it? That I'd rather go against my nature if it means earning myself a real place beside her? That I've changed?

And the truth is, I don't know if she'd even understand the magnitude of any of it. She'd probably find something evil or wrong in all my reasons—and I'm savvy enough to know that it's likely. Like I told Tara a few months back, my moral compass doesn't point due north, if I've even got one. All I know is that I didn't want to go. I've changed. Wasn't sure she'd accept that as an answer though. She probably wanted to hear that I wasn't going because I was still planning on killing her or because I wanted to stay and get the chip out or some such rot. Neither of those would have made a lick of sense, but I know she'd buy it. It's what she expects, yeah?

"Which reason do you want, pet?" I asked, trying to make up my mind.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"You want the real reason or do you just want the one you're gonna believe?"

She got that narrow-eyed look, and her fist clenched, though I doubt she realised it. "I want the truth, Spike."

Bugger. Felt myself getting twitchy just at the thought of trying to put it into words. Could have done with a cigarette to calm myself down but I was out of bloody smokes.

"The truth," I said, then stopped, not sure how to go on. What could I say that wouldn't have her running for the bloody hills? Truth's always been my weapon of choice. Nothing hurts like it, nothing manipulates like it, either. For the first time I realised that it's a double-edged sword. "Truth is… I'm changing, Buffy. I know, you don't think that's possible and… it sounds daft to me, too, but there you go. I'm not what I was."

So it wasn't the whole truth, but it was the core of it, yeah? She started to interrupt but I wanted to say my piece before she threw it in my face.

"Look, Slayer, I don't know if it's the chip or if it's…" you, I wanted to say but that wouldn't go over, "… being around your do-gooder lot all the time, but I've changed, and it doesn't matter whether you believe it or not. It's true."

She was frowning, which meant that either I'd said something to make her think or she was lining up her bloody excuses for why I was wrong. "Spike," she said, "you haven't changed. You don't have a soul. That chip in your head… it's just holding you back. You're like a serial killer in prison—"

Goddamn souls. Fucking Angel has her so convinced that the soul is the seat of all that's bloody holy—-and all right, maybe it is, but that doesn't mean that it's infallible, that it's the only way to be good. If she could only see… but then that's been our problem since the beginning, hasn't it? And I… I can't ever say what needs said in a way she'd understand it or accept it. Buggered, the both of us.

"Then why didn't I go with Dru?" I asked, hoping she'd open up her eyes. "Chip only keeps me from hurting or killing. Doesn't stop me from feeding on the already dead. Be easy enough to let Dru take em down and feast on the remains."

Her face scrunched up and her fists tightened. Probably not the smartest choice of argument, reminding her that there's ways around the chip—but that's the whole sodding point. There's ways around it, I'm the one that's chosen not to take them. There were nights, last year, when I was chained in that bloody bathtub where I did nothing but think of ways around the sodding chip. I needed her to understand.

"Remember what I told you before? There's me, and the demon and…what's left?" I said. "The demon… it wants blood. Always will. I'll always be a vampire. Can't change that. But I… it's not like it was. I'm not like I was. I can be good."

"Spike—," she started to say but I wasn't in the mood to hear her arguments. These last few months… God, I don't even think about killing like I used to. I miss the fight more than anything else, but the killing? It's no longer this driving force anymore. It's like… thinking about shagging, yeah? It's always there, in the back of my head, but it's easy enough to ignore. I might not always know exactly what's right or wrong, but William usually doesn't point me false. And I'm not bloody stupid. May not have a moral compass, but I understand the concept of ethics. And if I have to live by hers, it's not such a hardship. Don't kill people. Seems pretty simple, if you take out the part where it's completely against my demon's nature. But I'm not the demon. Or, not just the demon, at any rate. It doesn't rule me. It never has. Just like she's not ruled by her Slayer side. If she were, I'd have been dust by now.

"I can," I insisted, unable to find the words, then, to tell her. "And if you weren't so bloody blind, you'd see it, too." I said, feeling my temper about to snap.

Wonder if Louhi knew, when she set this challenge, that she needn't have bothered blinding Buffy? Or maybe it was just poetic irony that she chose that particular rule. Doesn't matter. I swear. Between Buffy and Dru and Louhi… The one I love hates me, the one I used to love just wants me for her bloody lapdog, and the one I loathe wants to take me home and make me into her vamp sex toy. The old me would have just killed all three of them so there weren't any more bints left to cock up my unlife. Sometimes seems like my entire existence has been defined by bloody women.

And the only consolation I have is that when I turned to look back at Buffy to figure out why she'd gone silent, she looked as confused as I felt. Men haven't exactly given her her fair share, either, seems to me.

We're a right pair, aren't we?

When she said she wanted to go… For a moment I thought about stopping her, forcing her to stay and hash this out. But I know better than most, don't I, that trying to stop Buffy when she doesn't want to be stopped is about as easy as trying to make the earth turn the other way round. The only question was… did she really want to go? Figured it'd be safer to let her decide on her own.

In the end it didn't seem to matter much what either of us wanted, Mother Nature had her own bloody ideas. Sometime between me getting back and Buffy deciding to leave a snowstorm had kicked up. Not quite a full blown blizzard, but enough snow and wind to make her walking home through the dark graveyards a bad prospect. Offered to let her stay, but… she wasn't having it. Could smell the mix of attraction and a hint of fear on her. Confused me for a mo' before I realised that the fear was because of the excitement.

She's attracted to me, whether she wants to admit it or not, and it scares her to bits.

Reminded me that it's not the first time I've smelled that particular combination on her. Smelled it the first night we met, when she first clapped eyes on me. Thought at the time it was just a result of her fighting, but I picked up on it plenty of times after. Even that disastrous night a few years back when I'd pinched the Teen Witch and Easily Unconscious… chalked it up to Angel that time around but might've been… And then with the Gem of Amara, when I ran into her at that bloody frat party Harm dragged me to and we had our little tête-à-tête in the bushes…

Hundreds of times since then…

Doesn't matter, though, not with her hating me as much as she does. Could tell she was desperate to get home, desperate enough to demand I walk her there through the stinking sewers. Guess it's not so bad. I'd rather be the Slayer's guide dog than Dru's lapdog. Least I get to keep my dignity a bit, yeah?

When we got to the exit near her house, though, the storm had kicked up. Seemed a shame to turn back after coming so far, and she'd be a spot more comfortable at home than bunking in my crypt. Besides I knew her mum was probably frantic, so it seemed a better idea just to soldier on. Could find my way to her place blind, even though the snow and the wind were mucking up my sense of smell. Vamped I could see a bit better, though she balked for a moment when she realised I had. I could tell she hated it, being dependent on me to get her home, but I wasn't gonna let her stand there and bloody freeze to death. Was right, too, her mom was scared as hell when I finally delivered Buffy to her door.

Thought about sticking around, but I was knackered and I figured she was in her mum's hands. She'd be okay. Besides, wanted to get back and write all this down before I nodded off to dreamland. I suppose it could have been worse, but I don't want to go through another night like tonight. At least the White Witch didn't put in an appearance, though I know that storm couldn't have been natural. Right now, I just want to go to bed, curl up beside the Slayer and get some kip.

***


16 February 2001

Stopped off at the pub earlier tonight, hoping to hear something about Dru. I don't want her sticking about town. May not still be in love with her anymore but… I don't want to see her dust. It's hard to explain, what Dru is, to me. I know she was about as barmy as they come, but… she was my sire. She delivered me from mediocrity. She made me what I am. I loved her for more than a hundred years, and she never stopped surprising me. Taking me to new depths. Angelus taught me to be a monster. Dru… made me something else. Her prince. Her dog. Her weapon.

I want to know that she's out there, somewhere, being Dru.

Got an earful at Willy's. Seemed she'd come in out of the storm last night, shacked up with a Vryolk demon and headed back to LA under cover of the storm. Didn't feature sticking around for the play by play. She always did have a thing for ceiling danglers and Dru was never one to shy away from public performance.

On the way out, I ran into some silly bint out on the sidewalk, passing out fliers for a party over at the university. Wasn't going to go, at first, till I fell in behind an even sillier chit heading toward that part of town. She'd have stood out anyways, being the looker that she was, though something about her smile struck me as a bit off. Her frothy little dress, however, turned her into a bloody neon sign. Either she wasn't human, or she was from Norway. Either way, I figured I better follow. Spent an age, trying to figure out what she was. Had a heartbeat, but she smelled odd. Too perfumed, not enough skin and sweat.

She stopped every person between town and the campus, asking the same bloody questions over and over again. "Have you seen Warren?" "Warren's my boyfriend, do you know where he is?" Blah blah blah, Warren… like he was some sodding pup that had just run off. Considering how tenacious she was, I couldn't really blame him. That sorta devotion is the kind that sends most blokes running for the hills and praying for an avalanche. I get loyalty and devotion… hell, I'm a predator, so I get stalking, too. There's fixation, and then there's latching onto someone with every claw and limb and tooth and refusing to let go. No man wants that.

Figured that she fetched up within sight of the Slayer. Doesn't just about everything that's damned in this town? Was trying to keep an eye on her, and have a bit of a tease with Buffy when she came on up. Something definitely wasn't right with her, and I knew the Slayer could sense it, too. Weird noises coming from her, too low to be audible to a human. And her scent was odd. If I hadn't been paying attention… crush of humans in that place might've covered it, 'specially the scent of alcohol steeped frat boy that overwhelmed the joint.

When she asked if I knew Warren, though… couldn't resist. Told her men don't like being hunted like rabbits and if he'd run off, it was probably because he didn't want to be found.

Wasn't till she'd hoisted me up over her head that I realised just how 'not human' the bint was. Bloody threw me through a window. I limped round back and licked my wounds, and by the time I got back inside she'd run off and the Slayer and her Slayerettes were having a confab.

Seems our Miss April is a sodding robot. Being a vampire means you get to unlive to see everything, I suppose. When I was a lad the closest thing we had to a robot were some of those clockwork automatons that were coming out of Paris; singing birds and windup tin soldiers. Fifty years ago, a robot was a big metal bucket with dials and antennae and such. Then along comes old Asimov and suddenly everybody wants realistic bots, no different from people, except soulless and mindlessly devoted to its owners. You can feed me every sodding reason under the sun, but everybody knows why. Man wants mechanical sex. A soulless, uncomplaining female made to serve his every bloody whim.

Looks like someone finally figured it out. 'Bout bloody time.

Must've twisted Buffy's arm, since she was favouring it. Didn't like the thought of her walking home alone with an injury, even a slight one, but it had mostly healed up by the time she decided she wanted to patrol. I like patrolling with her. She's got a quick mind and a smart little mouth that makes bickering and talking with her fun as hell, even when she's being Bitchy Buffy and doing her best to point out all my bleeding faults.

Fun thing about the chip… long as I'm not causing pain, I can get up to all the mischief I want. Little bit of snow down the back never hurt anyone, and some loosely packed snowballs to the face doesn't do much more than surprise her and leave her blinking the snow out of her eyes. Was as much fun as actually fighting her, with the added bonus that I didn't have to worry about getting my head zapped. Running, laughing, taunting, listening to her heart race and her breathing speed up and her smart quips.

When she tackled me, felt like the most natural thing in the world to catch her and roll her under me. She stared up at me with those big eyes of hers… god, could almost see the thoughts chasing through her brain. Could smell her arousal and her nervousness at having me so close. Made me hard enough I had to fight not to grind myself against her. Didn't want to scare her off… or worse, brass her off and end up dusting for it. God I wanted her then, so fucking badly. Just a taste. Just… my mouth on hers, dipping inside, seeing if she tastes as bloody good as I remember from that idiotic spell last year. My demon was practically slavering and even William couldn't seem to decide what was the right thing to do. Taste her and be damned for sure, or not and be doubly damned for not taking what I wanted like I should.

When she shivered though… I forget what the cold does to humans. Maybe… maybe what I thought was desire was just hypothermia setting in. Didn't want to take the chance. Had her back on her feet and starting to move when she snapped at me. Don't know why she was so angry. Knew she'd have hated it if I'd kissed her, but she was acting like she was more brassed that I hadn't. Or maybe that I'd dared try to show her a good time. Hell if I knew. Got right in her face, half expecting a busted nose for my efforts…

All she did was raise her pointy little chin and practically dare me.

Bloody hell. Not kissing her just then was probably the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my entire existence. Someday… someday I'm gonna get my chance, and I'm not going to have to worry about dusting from anything but the heat of her under me. She's going to want it, want me and she's not going to go running off, virtue all aflutter afterward.

So I didn't.

Which still makes me a complete prat, but at least I've got my pride, yeah? Good thing I don't need it to keep me warm.

 
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