Chapter 3

It was just like Spike to try to protect her by going after that J’Havren demon by himself, Buffy thought with fond exasperation. Like it or not, they were a team and she wasn’t about to let him take the brunt of all the dirty work on himself. Happily swinging her axe, she ran towards the sounds of an already escalating brawl.

Then something hit her and she dropped the axe.

The next thing she knew she was lying on the floor of her livingroom.

Or rather, the floor of her livingroom several years ago.

"Ohh-kay," she said, sitting up and looking around her. "What the hell is going on?"

After several apocalypses, evil Firsts and sunlight-focusing amulets, she was getting pretty nonchalant about weird occurrences happening to or around her. Getting seemingly thrown back in time didn’t freak her out the way it would have even a few years ago. She sat still for a few minutes, looking around with nostalgia at the differences in decor of the livingroom. Once she had her thoughts in order, she got up and went into the kitchen to take a look at the calendar and nodded with satisfaction when it confirmed her guess: a few months after their confrontation with Glory.

Which meant that Dawn was still living with her, Willow and Tara were at their apartment on Marriot Street, Giles was probably back in England and Spike...Spike and she were not yet together and he was probably still living in his crypt in Restfield cemetery.

That was going to be the hardest thing about being in this time—that she couldn’t be with Spike.

"Right," she said out loud. "I’m just gonna have to try to get back as fast as I can. First things first—where’s Willow?"

It had to be a spell of some kind, and that meant that Willow was the one who could do something about it.

Buffy headed down to Marriot Street, interestedly noting all the differences in Sunnydale between her time and this. Funny how one never noticed the changes while they were happening; one just went with the flow and took it all for granted. It was strange seeing how much was exactly the same and how many things had changed, like different stores and restaurants and even stop signs.

She took a deep breath outside the door to Willow and Tara’s apartment. This wasn’t something that one could discuss over the phone; it needed a face to face confrontation and she was nervous about it. There was no answer when she rang the doorbell and she bit her lower lip in indecision.

They could be anywhere at this time of the night—at the Bronze or anywhere on campus, at any of the several libraries, computer rooms or residencies.

She decided to try the Bronze rather than searching through the entire college and was relieved to find them there. Anya and Xander were dancing, but Willow and Tara were at a table, sipping at colas.

"Hey, Buffy," Willow smiled as she stopped beside them. "You’re late. I was wondering if you were even going to show up. And, hey, didn’t I tell you to wear something sexy? Shirt and jeans? Good for patrolling, yeah, but so not of the good for picking up guys."

"I’m picking up guys now?" Buffy made a face. "Really not into that."

"But I thought..."

"Um, yeah. Forget about that for a moment, would you?" One good thing: she couldn’t have changed so much if Willow thought she was their Buffy. "I’ve kinda run into a little problem."

"What’s wrong, Buffy?" Tara asked, frowning in concern. She at least seemed to be picking up vibes that something was off kilter.

"Um, Will? Have you been doing any spells lately?"

"Oh, yeah," said Willow with enthusiasm. "A couple of locator spells and floating a rose around the room, oh! and reading auras—Tara’s really good at that and she’s showing me how to..."

"N-nothing really major, Buffy," Tara interjected quickly. "Just l-little stuff."

Willow looked at Buffy’s frown and flushed as red as her hair. "Oh! Just little stuff, really, Buffy! No big things that could backfire, like that my-will-be-done spell. Because backfiring, so not of the good, and things could really go wrong. As they have in the past. But not now. Definitely not now. Because we really haven’t done anything big or major or..."

Tara put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Sweetie, calm down."

Willow took a deep swallow of her cola. "I just don’t want Buffy to think..."

"I just wondered, Will." Buffy caught Xander’s eye and waved him over. "Because I’ve kinda run into a really big problem and I’m like a hundred percent sure it’s a spell."

"What kind of problem?"

"Who’s under a spell?" asked Xander as he and Anya joined them.

"I am. I’m not your Buffy. Well, I mean, I am Buffy, but I’m not the Buffy of your time. I’m from the future. I’m Buffy of 2010."

"Great Marty McFly!" exclaimed Xander and Buffy sighed.

"Yeah, the whole Back To The Future thing."

"You’re serious," said Willow.

"Yes. You were expecting to see your Buffy here, weren’t you?"

They all nodded.

"Well, I’m here and I’m future Buffy. Which means that she’s probably in 2010 where I should be."

"It’s a spell," Anya agreed. "And a very powerful one. Too powerful for someone like Willow to cast. I can sense the lingering magics and it’s more like something I would have cast when I was a vengeance demon."

"That’s some very heavy mojo," Xander remarked. "Could it be some other vengeance demon?"

"It could be. I’ve lost the ability to tell who it is, now that I’m human. I don’t even know whether it is a vengeance demon and not some witch or warlock, like Ethan Rayne. I only know it’s not Willow." Anya sulked a little. "If it is a vengeance demon, it’s awfully rude for her not to drop by to at least say hello. Like I’m a pariah or something. I was just unlucky, that’s all."

Tara patted her on the shoulder. "We don’t even know if it is a vengeance demon, Anya. As you said, it could be anything."

"All sorts of things could cast a spell like that," Willow agreed. "Whatever it is, it’s awful powerful. We’ve got to find out what and why."

"We’ve got to find out how to reverse the spell," said Buffy flatly. "Not to be rude or anything, but I want to go home."

Tara looked at her sympathetically. "I-I can understand. It must be horrible to be torn away from everything and everyone you care about."

"She cares about us," griped Xander.

"But not the same us."

"Let’s go to the Magic Box," Willow said while Xander was working out the ramifications of that. "We certainly can’t work any spells here at the Bronze and the Box has everything we need in terms of reference books and supplies."

"‘Not the same us’," Xander mused as they headed towards the Magic Box. "Future Buffy, huh? So, tell us, what are we like in the future?"

Buffy cast a glance at Xander and Anya, and bit her lip. "More or less, as happy as we are now."

"What I meant was..."

"She can’t tell you, Xander," said Anya. "If she does, it might change the future. You know that."

"Well, I’d like to know if I won the lottery and am a wealthy man in the future," muttered Xander under his breath. "You couldn’t tell us next week’s lottery numbers, could you, Buff?"

"You don’t need lottery numbers, Xand," said Buffy. "You own your own construction company and you’re very well off."

Xander puffed out his chest. "Well, all right!"

"If she’s telling the truth," laughed Willow.

Xander’s face fell. "You are telling the truth, aren’t you, Buffy?"

"Of course, I am, Xand," said Buffy and widened her eyes at him in a look of such obvious insincerity that all the girls laughed.

"She could say anything and you wouldn’t know whether it was true or not," said Anya. "So what’s the point of asking?"

"That’s not fair," mumbled Xander. "Our own personal pipeline to the future and we can’t use it."

"Suck it up and deal," grinned Buffy as Anya unlocked the door to the Magic Box. "We’ve got more important things to do right now."

An hour later, they still hadn’t made much progress. Willow and Tara had cast several spells, but had only succeeded in confirming what Anya had said at the beginning, that it was a spell, that it was powerful and that it had been cast by a very experienced demon of some kind.

"Way to go," muttered Xander and Anya shook her head at him.

"It’s harder than you think, Xander," she said. "They’re doing the best they can."

"We’ll keep trying, Buffy," said Willow apologetically. "I promise you, we won’t give up."

"Thanks, Will," sighed Buffy. "Counting on you."

"I just hope our Buffy is all right wherever she is in the future," Tara said.

"Oh, she’ll be all right. Sp..." Buffy was about to say that Spike would take care of her, then broke off abruptly, remembering that things were different here and now. "She’ll have the sense to get in touch with you all and you’ll take care of her," she amended lamely.

Tara gave her an odd look that meant she had caught that slip, but said nothing. Buffy looked away hastily.

"You don’t need me here, do you? Would it be all right if I went on patrol?

Willow nodded and Xander said, "Want me to come along?"

Buffy shook her head. Her Slayer sense was picking up that particular tingle of vamp presence that was Spike’s signature. She would rather have Spike with her than Xander. To be honest, Xander was a liability on patrol; Spike was an equal and an asset.

"Things look dead out there. It’ll be a routine patrol. I’ll just do a quick sweep and be back before you know it."

She went down Main Street, then cut across to the first of the cemeteries. She expected Spike to join her almost immediately, but he didn’t. It really was a quiet night; nothing seemed to be stirring. She left that cemetery and went on to the next, feeling him pacing her through the darkness, an ever-present tingle just on the edge of her awareness. She was a little puzzled as to why he was being so skittish. It was as if he were trying not to let her know he was there, while at the same time staying close enough to be able to watch her back the way he did in her time.

She kept waiting for him to join her, but he kept hanging back until finally she lost patience and called out, "Spike, I know you’re there. Will you stop lurking and just come out?"

There was a small hesitation, then he materialized out of the shadows the way older vamps do, one moment not there, the next solidly and dangerously present, right in front of her, way too close for safety. If she hadn’t known his signature so well, her reflexes would have driven the stake in her hand straight into his heart.

"Wasn’t lurking."

"God, Spike! Did you have to do that? I damn nearly staked you."

He shrugged. "So why didn’t you?"

She didn’t know whether he was challenging her or whether he honestly didn’t care. There was something off about him, the way he was standing looking not at her, but off into the distance somewhere. There was a kind of tired apathy to him that she couldn’t understand. Spike was always full of bounce and vitality, full of snark and mockery. Now from the tilt of his head, the half-lidded, inward-turned gaze, the mockery seemed to be directed at himself.

"I wouldn’t do that," she said a little helplessly.

"Wouldn’t you?" he said with a disbelieving look. "That’s nice to know, Slayer. Never would have suspected it. I must remember that."

"To use against me sometime."

"Of course."

"You wouldn’t do that."

His brows rose. "How do you know I wouldn’t?"

She smiled at him and he looked completely taken aback. "I know. Wanna come patrol with me? Since you’re here already."

"Uh, yeah. Sure."

She fell automatically into their usual patrolling position, she at his right hand, he on her left. Since he was lefthanded and she right, this allowed quite a wide area to be covered at once. Their strides fell into step, she lengthening hers just that little bit, he reducing his to allow her to keep up. She didn’t even think about it; it just felt natural and right for him to be at her side like this; they had been doing this for so many years that it was almost like breathing. What had felt strange was his not being there, being way off in the distance somewhere. The only thing she found unusual was his silence: her Spike was always talking, laughing, teasing her. This Spike was silent, slanting sideways glances at her in bewilderment as she, without thinking, talked as they usually did, about everything and nothing.

"What’s the matter with you tonight?" she asked finally when they had almost completed their circuit and were heading back to the Magic Box. "How come you’re so quiet?"

"Fella can’t win with you, Slayer. How may times have you told me ‘Shut up, Spike’ and now when I do, you start complaining." He gave her a frowning, sideways look, the corners of his mouth tightening. "Besides, you haven’t let me get a word in edgewise. What’s up with you anyway? You never talk this much."

"Yes, I do," she said in surprise. "People are always saying..."

"I mean, to me."

Movement in an alley saved her: four vampires, three of them fledges.

"Night’s not a total waste, after all," she laughed with satisfaction and threw herself into the fray, heading for the older vampire and sensing Spike beside her moving smoothly to intercept the fledges.

And there was the dance, after all, ducking and weaving, vamps dusting one after the other. Not the perfect dance that it was with her Spike, because this Spike didn’t have her moves down yet and they weren’t as perfectly in sync as they would be later on. But close enough for her to feel the joy of it, the sense of the two of them moving almost as one.

The last vamp vanished and she flung around, laughing, and threw her arms around Spike in a hug, completely forgetting in the heat of the moment that it wasn’t her Spike. His whole body went rigidly still in her arms and he stared at her with profound shock as she raised her head, realizing her mistake.

"Oops," she said weakly. "Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to..."

He caught her shoulders, his fingers digging painfully into her flesh, and pushed her back. "Okay, who are you and what have you done with Buffy?"

He had phrased it as a joke, but his eyes belied that. His eyes were dangerous.

"Gonna be a little difficult to explain." She drew a deep breath. "There was this spell."

"Ah. Willow?"

"No. Not this time."

"Keep going."

"I’m Buffy. But I’m the Buffy from 2010, from the future. We think that your Buffy and I switched places."

He let her go and leaned dazedly back against the alley wall.

"Well, that explains a lot about tonight," he said after a while. "Who’s ‘we’?"

"Willow and Tara and Anya. They’re trying to figure out what happened, find a way to reverse the whole thing."

He was silent for a moment, studying her intently.

"So you’re the future Buffy."

"Yep."

"You don’t look any different. Sure...act different."

She flushed a little. "How?"

"You’re not staking me. ‘S an improvement, I must say. We friends then, in 2010?"

She didn’t know how much to tell him of what they really were. "Yes. Partners. Patrolling. You know. We make a good team."

"Always said we would. The Scoobies okay with that?" He gave her a look of total disbelief.

"Well, you saved the world a couple of times. Nearly died."

"I what?"

"Saved the world. What’s so surprising about that? You already have, a couple of times, back with Acathla, then with Glory. This time it kinda proved to them that you’re a white hat."

"You don’t have to be insulting." He drew a deep breath. "Why would I go and do something like that for?"

She said nothing. He leaned his head back against the wall, his eyes closed.

"For you," he whispered.

She nodded, but he didn’t see it. He didn’t have to: they both knew it was true. Her throat hurt. She wanted to put her arms around him, but didn’t dare because it would betray all the rest of what existed between them.

His eyes snapped open and widened in horror. "I’m not all soulful, am I? Tell me I’m not!"

She couldn’t help smiling. "No. You aren’t."

"Oh, thank God. If I knew I was gonna be as broody and soul-having as the great poof, I swear I’d stake myself."

"You’ve already got a soul, don’t you know that? Anybody who cares so much, already has one."

He looked at her with absolute shock. "You’re mental."

She reached out and touched him lightly just over where his heart should have been beating, but wasn’t. "William’s still there, Spike."

He looked disgusted. "What do you know about that ruddy useless git?"

"A lot." She turned. "C’mon. I want to get back to the Magic Box and find out how they’re doing."

"I don’t care," he said, not listening, still hung up on what she had said about a soul.

"A hundred years of caring for Drusilla. Sure you don’t."

"That was different."

"Keep telling yourself that." She smiled at him over her shoulder. "You don’t care for Dawn either, do you? And you didn’t care for my mother."

"Summers women," he mumbled under his breath, excusing himself.

"Yeah, Big Bad."

He followed her, shaking his head. "Can’t get my lobes around all this."

"Don’t have to. With any luck, Willow will find the solution soon. Then everything will be back to normal."

"Yeah," he said softly after a long moment. "Normal."

He was silent the rest of the way to the Magic Box, then balked suddenly as she opened the door.

"Better be on my way."

"Aren’t you coming in?" she asked, startled.

"Not welcome."

"After saving Dawn, after all your help with Glory and with patrolling these last few months..?"

The others had seen them now and Xander was jumping to his feet, yelling, "What is he doing here?"

She looked at Xander in surprise. "Spike helped me with my patrol. Took out a couple of vamps."

"Yeah, so he can kill you himself later. I knew I should have come with you!"

"Told you," said Spike quietly and began to turn away.

"No, wait!" she exclaimed, reaching after him.

"What’s the matter with you, Buffy?" Xander was demanding. "Don’t you know you can’t trust him? At least our Buffy doesn’t let him get anywhere near her!"

"Shut up, Xander!" she said with real fury and he gaped at her in shock.

Spike was stepping backwards, fading into the shadows. He made a tiny movement of his lifted hand, unaware that he was doing it, just a cup of his fingers as if he cupped her cheek, except it was from ten feet away and what he was touching was thin air. His face was impassive, but she knew him utterly and she could see the desolation in his eyes and the minute, dejected slump of his shoulders.

"You’re a fantasy, Buffy 2010," he said so softly that the only way she could hear it was because of her Slayer hearing. "This is the real world."

He turned and was gone with vampire speed, black leather disappearing into black shadow in an instant. Buffy walked into the shop and slammed the door behind her as hard as she could. It rattled in its sockets, she was that angry.

"What is your damage, Xander!"

Xander was gobbling like a turkeycock. "What are you doing, Buffy, getting all buddy-buddy with Spike? I mean, it’s Spike! Y’know, evil guy, no soul..."

"Yeah, yeah. Got the memo. No soul, evil, yadda, yadda, yadda."

"Buffy, he could kill you!"

"He could, but he wouldn’t."

"You don’t know that!"

"I do know that, Xander! I’m from 2010, remember? I know what all of you do. And Spike? He doesn’t harm anyone. He’s my right hand. He..."

"No! He can’t be! I’ll stake him first!"

Buffy shoved him hard, thumping him down into his chair. Xander sat there with his mouth open, finally silent, shocked beyond words. Buffy leaned over him, snarling her words into his face.

"If you even try to stake him, I’ll kill you, Xander. A couple of years from now, he saves the world from an apocalypse and almost dies doing it. I won’t risk the world because of some stupid, ignorant prejudice of yours!"

"P-p-preju..."

"That’s exactly what it is, Xander. Who has he hurt over the last couple of years? Tell me."

"That’s only because of the chip..."

"The chip doesn’t keep him from hiring minions to kill us. And what has he done over the last year? Let me tell you. He’s helped defeat Glory. He killed Doc and saved my sister. He’s been killing demons to help me keep the Hellmouth clear..."

"Even when we didn’t know about it," Tara said suddenly and everyone looked around at her, startled. She blushed. "I-I’ve been talking to Willy. Spike patrols on his own and doesn’t tell Buffy. That’s why there’s been so much less demon activity around here recently. He kills a lot of the ones that cause trouble. The other demons hate him. They call him a traitor."

"Why would he do that?" Willow asked. Tara and Anya flashed each other knowing glances, then looked hurriedly away.

Xander thumped a fist on the table. "Yeah, why? He’s up to something, Buffy...!"

Buffy slapped him upside the head. It was a light slap, but it shocked him into shutting up.

"God, you can be so stupid! He’s not up to anything. I know why he’s doing it and it’s none of your business. Willow, in a few months he’s going to save Tara’s life. I’m over at your place and this moron starts waving a gun around, trying to shoot me. Tara almost gets shot, but Spike stops it, takes a couple of bullets for her. If it weren’t for him, Tara is going to die. Isn’t that reason enough to keep him around?"

"God, yes!" gasped Willow.

"Right. That just leaves you, Xander. And you are such a fucking hypocrite."

"What!"

"Hyp-o-crite," said Buffy, spacing every syllable. "There you are, sleeping with a vengeance demon who..."

"Ex-demon! Ex-demon!"

"Who has killed countless numbers of people, more than Spike ever has..."

"But she’s human now and she’s sorry!"

"Are you sorry, Anya?"

"Not really," said Anya simply. "It was my job, you know."

"Didn’t think so," Buffy nodded. "It doesn’t look to me, Xander, that you have any right to make judgements about demons. Or about anybody’s love life, for that matter."

"But he doesn’t have a soul!"

"Yeah, yeah. You know, I’m sick to death about hearing about this soul business. Hitler had a soul, Ethan Rayne has a soul, serial killers have souls. It seems to me that what you do with that soul is what really matters. Actions speak louder than words and for quite a while now all Spike’s actions have been of the good. So I’m saying it once and for all. New law. Not ever to be broken. No one stakes Spike. Except me. Understood?"

"Buffy..."

"And speaking of words, I’m so, so tired of hearing you dump on Spike all the time. I don’t want to hear any more of it. I’m not asking you to like him. I’m just asking you to keep your mouth shut from now on."

"Hear, hear," said Tara and Xander shot her a betrayed look. But both Willow and Anya were nodding thoughtfully.

Buffy smiled faintly. "Right then. Tara, can I speak to you for a minute?"

"S-sure," said Tara nervously and followed her across to a quiet corner near the door.

"Tara, what’s wrong with Spike?" Buffy asked, keeping her voice low.

"Oh! You saw that."

"I know him pretty well. He’s really down. I’ve never seen him this down before, even when Drusilla left him. He’s really quiet—and that’s not a good sign with Spike. When Dru dumped him, he got stinking drunk, loudly and dramatically all over the place. He wept on my Mom’s shoulder. Kidnapped Willow and Xander for some crazy plot. Damn near jumped up and down in the middle of Sunnydale, with a bull’s eye painted on his chest, asking me to stake him. But he never got all quiet and...and dejected like this."

"I’ve seen his aura," Tara said softly. "It used to be all brilliant and vivid, even if it was with conflicting, clashing colors. Now it’s all dark."

"You see things, Tara. You empathize. Do you have any idea what could be wrong?"

"Well, I wasn’t here when the Dru business happened. But...He didn’t have the chip then, did he?"

"No. Is it the chip?"

"Not just the chip. It’s kind of a combination of things. When Dru dumped him, he was still part of the demon community. He had a place, you know? But now he’s killing demons for you, well, for our Buffy. So they’ve cast him out."

"You said they think he’s a traitor."

Tara nodded. "And he doesn’t have any other place. Not even with us. We won’t let him."

"You do."

"I realized what was happening only recently. It’s made him feel a little better. But..."

"Yeah."

"He can’t be human, but he can’t be a real monster either. He’s the...the most alone person I’ve ever seen. And I think the rejection’s starting to get to him. It’s been month after month of rejection, from everybody, for so long now. And...and our Buffy..."

"She’s been kicking him really hard. That’s the impression I’ve been getting. Even when he’s helped so much."

"I-I think she’s scared." Tara looked sideways at her. "He’s really hot, you know..."

Buffy grinned. "Why, Tara!"

"Hey, I might be gay, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a hot bod. Aesthetic appreciation," said Tara primly.

"Aesthetic, huh?" They both laughed, then sobered.

"She’s tempted. So she keeps pushing him away," Tara continued. "Which is her privilege. But because she’s scared, she keeps being really brutal about it. And I think he’s lost all hope. And without hope..."

"My Spike said that there was a time he was so down he almost went for a walk in the sun."

"Depression can kill, Buffy."

"It can go both ways at this point, can’t it? Nothing’s fixed. The timestream’s always in flux until something actually happens. So he really could decide to dust." Her eyes widened in horror. "And if he dusts, then my Spike..."

"Might cease to exist," Tara nodded grimly.

"I can’t lose him, Tara!"

Tara looked at her seriously. "What is he to you, Buffy?"

"My lover. My dearest and best friend. My everything. I love him. I can’t lose him."

"Then don’t," said Tara.

***

Then don’t.

As if it were as easy as that. She spent the rest of the night thinking of ways and means, woke up the next morning with the solution staring her in the face.

She laughed, shaking her head at her own stupidity. Simple. So very simple. She packed Dawn off to school (how easy it was to fall back into the old routines), then headed out to Spike’s crypt.

He would be sleeping at this time of the day. Despite that, she knocked scrupulously at the door of the crypt before letting herself in. The ground floor was empty, the ancient TV set cold when she laid her hand on it: he must have gone to bed at first light. She pulled up the hidden trapdoor and climbed down the ladder, letting the trap close behind her and making sure that the latch Spike had installed was locked. He had left it carelessly undone, unconcerned that enemies might break in. It was another bad sign, that he should be so lax about his own safety.

He was deeply asleep, sprawled on his back in the middle of the big bed, his head turned to one side. When she was with him, he would spoon around her, holding her close. Left alone, he starfished, arms and legs flung wide, the sheets half-kicked off and barely covering that beautiful, carven, alabaster nakedness. She smiled fondly down at him now, relishing the sight of him, this breathtaking, savage, deadly creature that belonged so utterly to her.

Or would. In the future. Not now.

"Spike," she said and he came awake with lightning swiftness, sitting up with a jerk, then pulling the sheet across his hips as he registered who was standing in front of him.

"Buffy?" he said incredulously. "What are you doing here?"

She sat down at the foot of the bed. "Not your Buffy, I’m sorry to say. Just Buffy 2010, as you phrased it."

"Oh." After a moment, he slid down to sit beside her, gathering the sheet around his waist. "Okay, what is Buffy 2010 doing here?"

"I wanted to be with you. I miss my Spike. It hurts, not being with him."

"Your...Uh." He shook his head as if to clear it, then raised a hand to rub at his eyes. "I’m not processing things properly. Still half asleep, I guess. Uh, give me a moment to get dressed."

"Why?"

"Why? If you haven’t noticed, I’m naked here."

"Oh, I’ve noticed." She cocked her head sideways at him and smiled. "You never used to have a problem with being naked."

He gave her a halfhearted leer. "I don’t. You do."

It was the perfect opportunity to make the point she had come here to make.

"Not this Buffy. I always love seeing you naked. You’re beautiful naked."

His jaw dropped. "Always? What do you mean always? You’ve seen me naked a lot?"

"Lots of times. We’re lovers, you know. Been lovers for years."

How do you keep him from watching the sun rise? You give him hope.

He looked for a moment as if he were going to pass right out with shock. His lips opened, but no sound came out. She laughed softly and ran a hand down the left side of his neck, rubbing lightly at the point between his neck and shoulder where her bite mark should be, but wasn’t yet.

"It’s strange not seeing my mark. It would be right here, a little raised pattern on your skin."

He looked even more faint. "You...you claimed me?"

"Uh huh. Just like you claimed me." She thrust her hair back to show him the marks on the right side of her own neck.

His hands caught her upper arms and pulled her forward so that he could look closely at the mark.

"My God, it is my mark! My God, you let me claim you!"

She laughed a little at his incredulous face. "Oh course. I’m yours, just like you’re mine. We’re mated."

He touched the mark disbelievingly, fingertips rubbing lightly over it, and she felt the usual little jolt of electricity and heat flash through her as it always did whenever he touched his mark. Her breath caught and she gasped involuntarily, her head falling back weakly.

He looked at her, wide-eyed. "It’s real."

"Of course it is." She smiled at him. "You can’t fake something like that."

He looked beyond words. He was panting a little in rapid, shallow catches of breath, seizing at air that his vampire’s body did not need, but shock made necessary. It was one of the things she liked about Spike, that unlike other vampires like Angel any intensity of emotion would make him breathe, that shock or lust or passion would have him panting and struggling for air. It showed how deeply he felt things.

She could feel his breath against her face, shuddering through his open mouth. His lips were so close, so tempting. She took his face in her hands and kissed him.

His whole body jerked. Then his arms were fierce about her and he was kissing her with such intensity, with such need, that it was like being hit by a tidal wave. She toppled over, her arms tight about his neck, and then they were lying there, clasped in each others arms, and he was kissing her over and over again, his mouth desperate on hers, devouring her. And the feel of him against her, his body in her arms, the scent of him, the taste of him, were so familiar, so sweet, that desire came in a rush and she found herself surrendering unconditionally to it.

She hadn’t meant to make love to him. She had come here just intending to tell him what they would be in the future, to give him some hope. But this was Spike and he was hers and he loved her and she loved him and it just felt so right.

She kicked off her sneakers, pulled the tank that she was wearing over her head. He was looking at her in wonder, his hands shaping the lace-covered curves of her breasts, barely touching, still hesitant.

"Help me," she said, working at her jeans. He slid them down her legs, came back up, his hand sliding up the outside of her thigh disbelievingly.

She scrambled up the bed, pulling him with her. When their heads were on the pillow, she pushed him onto his back and leaned over him, smiling.

"Let me make love to you."

"What?" The word was blurred against her mouth. He looked up at her dazedly, his eyes darkening as his pupils widened.

"Let me make love to you." She caught his wrists and stretched his arms out to either side. "Don’t touch, okay? Hold on to the headboard if you have to, but don’t touch."

"God! Anything you want, Slayer. You know that." He shuddered as her hands ran back down his arms, his eyes half-closing, surrendering to her. "You own me."

"Good." She kissed him softly, her hands stroking his face, sliding through his hair. "We’re gonna do this real slow, okay? Gonna take my time."

"Okay," he said breathlessly, his tongue sliding into her mouth, trying to take deeper possession of her mouth than she let him.

"Cheat." She sucked on his tongue, then kissed along his jawline, then the hollow of his cheek, then sweetly his eyelids, one after the other. She felt him tremble.

"Buffy..."

"I love you."

His whole body jerked. "Oh, Christ! Buffy, I love you! I love you so much."

"I know. Hands!" She caught the hands that were trying to clutch her to him, pushed them back down on the bed. "We’re going to do this my way. Do I have to get out those chains I know you have and shackle you to the bed?"

"Promises, promises." But his eyes were wet when she looked down at him.

She kissed them again, tasting his tears, and her heart swelled almost to bursting. She pushed his head back and kissed under his jaw, then sucked down his throat. He arched his throat to her mouth, making a wordless sound of pleasure. She smiled, then moved sideways to kiss his neck where her claim mark would be later on, opened her mouth and sucked on the skin there. He shivered.

"Won’t claim you," she murmured. "Not yet." That was for his Buffy to do.

Her hands were sliding over his shoulders now and down over his chest. Her mouth followed them. She tongued the flat coin of his nipple, pushed the soft nub inward. It hardened under her tongue.

"God!"

"Love your nipples," she said. "They’re so pretty."

"Not pretty," he muttered.

"Yes, they are. You’re pretty all over."

"Handsome or sexy or hot, yes. Pretty, no."

"Handsome and sexy and hot and pretty."

She was working her way down his abdomen now, her hands stroking his sides, her tongue licking that very lickable sixpack. He was shuddering continuously now.

"Jesus, Slayer, you’re going to kill me."

"Always said I would. But I think you like this way better than the other."

"God, yes!"

She ran her tongue into his navel, then bit him softly just below it. His whole body bucked.

"Buffy!"

"Hands."

He flung them above his head and gripped two of the rails of the metal headboard. His head was raised to stare down at what she was doing, and his eyes were full of disbelief and awe. She kissed the hollow of his pelvis, first on one side then the other.

"Getting to you, aren’t I?" she remarked, smiling down at his groin. He was fully and painfully erect now.

"Damn right."

She flipped her hair so that it trailed teasingly over his stomach and his cock. He hissed.

"Bend your knee."

"What?"

She tickled the sensitive back of his knee, then pulled it up and pushed it outward, opening him up to her. Then she bit the inside of his thigh, high up.

"Christ!" His hips bucked right off the bed and his other knee started to tremor. "Slayer, come up here! I can’t take this any more!"

"Having too much fun down here." She licked the underside of his cock, one long sweep from base to tip, and he cried out in shock. "Oh, yeah. Loads of fun."

She took him into her mouth then and sucked, her cheeks hollowing. He yelled, a wordless sound of utter pleasure and disbelief. She really started working on him then, her hands pumping his cock, her mouth sliding up and down it, nibbling and sucking. One hand found the heavy weight of his balls and massaged them, then she sucked them one by one into her mouth, licked the sensitive bit of flesh between them and his cock, smiled at his yowl. She licked her way back up, probed the sensitive slit on the top of his cock with the tip of her tongue, provoking another yell, then sucked him back into her mouth as deep as she could take him, swallowing around him. He was babbling a litany of curses and praise by this time, his head thrown back and his throat arching as his hips thrust mindlessly upwards, driving his cock into her mouth. The rails of the headboard were starting to bend, he was pulling on them so hard.

"Oh, God, Buffy, stop! I’m going to come! Oh, God, Buffy! Stop!"

She smiled around him and kept on going. His balls tightened in the palm of her hand and then he was coming, unable to help himself, his cock pulsing in her mouth. She swallowed, held him through the aftershocks, then slid up his body to wrap her arms around his head while he gasped and shook and muttered, "God, God, God..." into the hollow of her shoulder.

He finally turned his head to press his forehead against hers, looking at her with dazed, marveling eyes. "How could you...I can’t believe that you did that..."

"Love doing that to you."

"You’re a bloody miracle." His face was ablaze with adoration. "That you would...I nearly blacked out. It’s never been this intense for me ever, not in a hundred and twenty years. Because it’s you. Because it’s you. Buffy, I love you so much."

"Love you too, Will."

"Oh, God..." He kissed her fiercely, possessively. "My turn. I need to...I want..."

"Anything you want, love."

It was like being hit by a whirlwind. Her bra disappeared; so did her thong. Then his hands and his mouth were everywhere. There wasn’t an inch of her skin that he didn’t fondle and caress and kiss. She was already aroused by her going down on him. Now he drove her into a frenzy so intense she thought she would die from it.

"Oh, God, yes...Now!" she gasped. "I want you in me. I want you inside me. Spike!"

"Yes."

He came into her hard, then froze. She opened her eyes to see him staring down at her, his eyes awed, unable to believe that he was really taking her. She smiled and raked her hands down the beautiful muscles of his back to his ass and pulled him demandingly deeper into her.

"Take me. Take me now," she purred, half-laughing, half-insistent. Then her laughter fell away in passion. "Darling. Darling. Don’t stop."

His jaw clenched and he thrust into her hard, losing control, pistoning into her.

"Yes. Hard like that. Yes. Harder. Oh, God, don’t stop!"

"Can’t," he gasped and then they were both beyond words.

Their hips battled; she thrust up as he was thrusting down and the sensation was so intense that she thought her heart would burst from the unbearable pleasure of it. Her body arched like a bow under his; her hands clawed at him, driving gouges down his back; she made wordless, helpless, unintelligible sounds to the rhythm of their bodies slamming into each other.

It was too much, unendurable. She found herself teetering on the cliff edge, almost ready to fall, needing just that one thing more. She looked up into his face, saw his head flung back, his eyes squeezed shut, his lips parted in a snarl of effort, his jaw clenched so hard the muscles of his cheek and neck were jumping. And she reached up and dragged his head down to her neck.

"Bite me."

There was no protest from the claim. This was Spike. Spike then and Spike now were the same. The claim mark recognized him. He froze momentarily in shock that she would ever consider such a thing, then his fangs slid smoothly into her neck and she felt the draw as he drank. It was indescribably erotic, exquisitely pleasurable for both of them. She felt his body seize up as he started to come, fell over the cliff herself at the dual penetration of his cock and his fangs.

"Ohhh..."

She thought she really had blacked out this time. She came back to herself to find him heavy upon her, his lips dazedly sucking on the bite mark on her neck. He hadn’t taken much, he never did, just a couple of sips, just enough to affirm the claim and intensify their orgasms. Now he licked the puncture wounds drowsily to close them.

"Stay in me. Stay on me. God, you feel so wonderful."

He lifted his head and looked down at her. His eyes were incandescent with joy, the intense vivid blue at the heart of a flame. She could see the power of her blood moving in them, in him. Inside her, he was starting to harden again.

"Gotta love that vamp refractory period," she murmured, wrapping her arms around him. And the dance began again.



TBC