a/n: Again, I want to thank my betas, Slaymesoftly and Mabel Marsters, for all their help.


Soul Survivors
Chapter Eight: Give it Time


One by one, the gang filed out of the office. They’d spent the night going back and forth with ideas and plans to keep both Giles and Buffy safe, but they hadn’t come up with anything worth taking a second look at. Buffy and Spike were still wide-awake at two o’clock in the morning, but the rest of the gang needed their sleep.

Willow stood by the back door, clutching a couple of books to her chest and waiting for Xander to come out of the restroom. She’d said goodbye to Spike and Buffy as they walked out, noting that Buffy took one of the Watcher’s Diaries with her. It was strange to see them so close, and it was hard for her to remember that Buffy was a vampire.

Looking down at her brown hush puppies, she wiggled her toes and thought how strange her life was. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Faith waving at her from across the room. If she didn’t look, maybe the over eager Slayer would give up. Willow was too tired to deal with her now. In addition, Faith hadn’t changed out of that sexy workout suit and it wouldn’t be a good idea for her to get another view of that cleavage. When she’d walked in earlier in the evening and seen the two girls rolling around on the floor…she closed her eyes while mentally stomping a foot. No naughty thoughts. No naughty thoughts. You did not wish to change places with Buffy. Nope.

“You ready to go?” Xander took the books from her, giving her a curious stare.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Faith asked as she crossed the room.

Willow was about to tell Faith that she was just too tired, when Xander said, “We were just leaving.”

“I’ll only be a minute.” Faith grabbed her arm, pulled her out the back door, and started to speak before the door was even closed.

“I wanted to let you know that I had a talk with Buffy the other night. She told me that I should back off and give you some space.”

Willow leaned against the brick building and did her best to keep her eyes above Faith’s neck. Willow swallowed, but could not speak. She nodded.

Faith smirked at her, coming a little closer. “I would say I’m sorry, but that would be a lie, cuz it’s so fun to make you blush.”

“Okay, we’re done here, right?”

Willow went to open the door but Faith put her hand on it. “Really, Willow. You won’t hear another suggestive thing from me. Unless, of course, you say you’re interested?”

Willow gazed into her eyes, feeling a little disappointed to see the mocking gleam in them.

Glancing down at the pavement, Willow told her, “I’m not a casual kind of girl. I just don’t do that, so I really appreciate you backing off. Things are very hard for me right now.”

“Yeah, well, if you ever change your mind, let me know.” Faith moved away from the door, opening it for Willow.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~


The next afternoon, Buffy sat in Spike’s chair reading the Watcher’s Diary about Andra. She turned a page and glanced up again at the entrance to the lower level. She should be down there sleeping, too. Turning in the chair while lying across it, she put her bare feet up and over one of the sides.

Reading was so not her thing, but she felt a strange pull towards this diary. Knowing that she wasn’t the only slayer in history to fall for a soulless vampire somehow made her feel better. It was one thing to get infatuated with Angel, who had a soul, and another thing completely to fall in love with Spike, who just had a chip in his head at the time.

Lying upside down with the book over her head, she let go of one side, reached for the candle on the crate next to her, and moved it closer. Buffy could see exceptionally well, but the small handwritten words in flowery prose were hard to muddle through.

She couldn’t understand why Andra would want to be turned into the very thing she killed every night. She had to think that she’d lose her soul and go about killing innocent people. The only excuse Buffy could come up with is that the girl was very young and had no clue what she was asking. Even when Buffy was infatuated with Angel, the thought never crossed her mind to ask to be turned. Of course, she didn’t want to be a soulless creature when her boyfriend had a soul.

“Buffy?” Spike asked in a husky, not-so-awake voice as he climbed up the last rung in the ladder.

“I’m right here.” She slapped the book shut before sitting up straight.

He leaned against a pillar, wearing only his jeans, a lit cigarette in hand. Smiling at her, he said playfully, “I know I have it bad when I’m starting to get jealous of a book. Missed you when I woke up.”

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t sleep.” She rose up from the chair, going towards him. “The book is in watcher speak and I can’t make out most of it, but I’m really curious about that slayer.”

Buffy wrapped her arms around him and sighed when he lifted his head to keep the cigarette in his mouth away from her hugging her back. She nuzzled his neck, eyeing the marks she’d put there.

Changing positions, she ran a finger over the marks and felt him shiver. “Why don’t these heal like other wounds?”

He shrugged while putting the cigarette out. “It’s not so much a wound, as a mark of territory. It will heal slowly, unless you choose to mark me again.”

She closed her eyes, fighting off the urge to let her fangs drop. It was maddening how much she wanted to mark him again. Buffy rubbed her own neck and glanced at Spike. He hadn’t tried to mark her yet.

“Speaking of biting, there’s one thing that was a surprise to me.”

The warmth of his smile reached his eyes. “What’s that?”

She focused her gaze on his bare chest. “When I bit you, I thought the blood would just rush into my mouth, but it didn’t. I had to really suck hard.”

He chuckled while placing her hand over his heart. “Remember, love, I’m a vampire. If you bit into a human, the blood would flow like water in a faucet, because their heart would be pumping the blood around.”

She shook her head in amazement. “There is a difference between biting humans and other vampires and there are marks that don’t heal right away. How come I didn’t know any of this stuff?”

“I’m sure there are books out there with the information, but I guess, “know your enemy”, doesn’t apply to those types of details.” Spike lightly ran a finger over the side of her neck, and she instinctively leaned closer to him. “Besides, marks or claims are extremely intimate details between two vampires. Not the kind of thing we go on Oprah and share with the world.”

“Claims? That sounds familiar, but what does it mean?”

Using a finger, he lifted her chin and kissed her softly before saying, “A claim differs from a mark by mere words. They’re like wedding vows, but are much more binding.”

She stared at him through half closed lids. “What are the words?”

“The one doing the biting says simply ‘mine’ and the one who is bit answers back with the word ‘yours’. Then the bitee becomes the biter and the words are spoken again.”

She pondered that for a moment while he rubbed her back. If she’d said ‘mine’ the other night, would he have answered back with ‘yours’? She would have. Maybe he couldn’t do that with her, if he’d already been claimed by another.

“You and Drusilla?”

Spike took her hand, leading her to the couch. “I can’t lie. I desperately wanted to be claimed and claim Drusilla, but she wouldn’t have me that way. I wasn’t her Angelus.”

As much as she hated their sire and felt great satisfaction in the fact that she was dusted and gone by her own hand, she felt bad for Spike. Buffy relaxed into the couch, leaning her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” His gaze was steady and serious.

“Do you think-I mean-me and you-”

“Give it time, love. You may decide that I’m not the one for you after all.”

They both jumped when the crypt door opened with a bang, letting in the dreaded late afternoon light.

“Buffy! Spike!” Dawn screeched in a desperate, out-of-breath fashion, standing in the open door way with her chest heaving.

They both ducked lower behind the couch, shielding their eyes. “Close the door, Dawn!” Buffy ordered.

“Oh. Sorry.”

Once the door slammed shut, Dawn raced to the couch and grabbed them both by an arm, pulling on them. “You have to come to the house right now.”

“Slow down, Bit.” Spike motioned to his armchair. “Have a seat, take a couple of deep breathes and tell us what’s wrong.”

She dropped into the chair and held a hand over her stomach, still breathing too fast. “Social Services. Xander picked me up from school and when we got home, there was a message on the answering machine from Social Services.”

Buffy sat up in alarm. “I thought I took care of things a long time ago. What did they want?”

“The lady says that it’s time for our annual home visit. She wants you to call her to set up a time for her to come over.” Dawn bit her lip and stared with big eyes at her sister. “If they find out that you’re dead, they will send me away to dad’s.”

“No,” Buffy said firmly. “We can handle this.”

“Xander told me to come and get you. He thinks you should call her back and stall her somehow.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


Spike paced back and forth, with a notepad and pen in his hand, behind Buffy while she sat at the desk in the living room. Dawn was perched on the arm of the couch, both feet swinging wildly, hitting the couch with loud rhythmic thumps. Below them, the ping and thwack of a hammer shook the house and filled the air.

Buffy tried to go over in her mind, once more, what she was going to say to Miss Barns. She closed her eyes and covered her ears, but she was too tuned into the sounds around her. Growling, she quickly stood up.

“Here, love.” Spike thrust his notepad in her face as she glared at him. “Act natural. You’re going away for a week, you work swing shift, and can she schedule a night time appointment?”

“That’s it!” She threw her hands up, then pointed at Dawn, who froze in mid swing. “You. Go upstairs to your room and do your homework.” Pointing now at Spike as Dawn rushed up the stairs, she ordered, “You. Go down to the basement and tell Xander to stop working for just a few minutes, so I can make my call. And stay down there, until I come get you.”

He smirked at her as he backed out of the room. “I love it when you go all dominatrix on me.”

“Don’t be such a pig.”

Spike sighed dramatically. “And when you call me names; it just give me goose bumps.”

A giggle floated down from the stairs.

“Dawn! Homework!”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~


Xander was pounding away with the hammer, bare-chested, in jeans with a big tool belt wrapped around his waist.

Spike grimaced. “Oh, put a shirt on, will you.”

Xander halted for a brief moment before raising the hammer back again.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Spike walked behind him and sat in the metal chair in the middle of the basement. “Unless you want to deal with a brassed off vampire who is trying to make a phone call.”

Xander glared at Spike before tossing the hammer down and picking up a one-gallon water jug. Spike glanced around at the now cluttered space. Two by fours, boxes, nails, tools and other unidentifiable stuff lay scattered about. His gaze rested on Xander again and he frowned. The vampire picked up the t-shirt lying at his feet, tossing it at Xander.

Xander studied him for a few seconds before pulling the shirt over his head. “What’s your problem? You worried Buffy will get a look at my well muscled, broad chest and dump your sorry butt for a better man?”

Spike snorted. “Hardly. You’ve never had what it takes to turn her head.” He motioned towards his own face and said derisively, “Fangs.”

“Yeah, well now that she has those, she doesn’t have what it takes to turn mine.”

“Glad to hear it,” Spike said with a raised brow. “Just don’t let Buffy hear you say that, or I’ll have to pound some bloody sense into you.”

“Of course I wouldn’t say that to her. She may be a vampire, but my friend is still in there, too.” He paused, frowning. “Could you not do that?” Xander asked him when Spike went to light a cigarette. “At least while I’m down here.”

For a slit second, Spike thought about lighting up and giving him a two-fingered salute, but he stuffed the lighter and pack of cigarettes back into his pockets. Xander had his back turned to him as he rearranged some tools.

“So. You and Anya? Are things back to normal?”

Xander went still before throwing the wrench in his hand down with a clank. He turned slowly, fixing Spike with a murderous glare. “I don’t want to talk about Anya. Especially with you. Ever.”

“Right then,” Spike said cheerfully. “Change of subject. Show me those plans that you drew up.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Buffy came down the stairs a few minutes later, they were still standing at the workbench with their backs to her. Xander was pointing out things on a large unfolded paper and Spike was nodding. She took a moment to look around. Who knew that one day she would be reduced to living in her own basement? Her thoughts brightened, when she caught the familiar sight of Spike’s long black duster. At least she wasn’t alone.

“Hey, guys.”

“How’d it go, pet?”

“Miss Barns has agreed to come by next Tuesday for the in home appointment. She was pretty understanding.”

“Great.” Spike told her. “That gives us a little over a week to fix things up here and get our stories straight between us all.” He looked at Xander. “Think we can have the wall up by then?”