And Here We Go Round Again

Pairing : Spuffy
Rating: NC-17 (for the over all fic, this chapter probably a tame R)
Summary: God I hate these. Okay. What if Spike, after Buffy cruelly rejects him in season 6, decides to take advantage of Anya in a different way?

Major thanks go to hollydb for her amazing encouragment and betaing, and schehrezade_1 for being there all the way through my various feelings of inadequacy and mind changing.

Please read and review...it makes the writing so much more fun.

 

Spike stood on the lonely square of pavement outside the shop. Through the window he could see Anya and her demon friend-- the one who had royally mucked up the Slayer’s birthday. Behind the bird he saw a number of magical ingredients lining the shelves, and books with useful spells.

He craved a solution, and as the only non-magical one he had access to was his own dusting, he was rather inclined toward the acceptance of magic.

But magic had consequences. He knew that, and he’d bleated the fact to the children umpteen numbers of times. Usually to no affect. Arrogant lot! But the pain sliced deep within him; he could feel himself bleeding on the inside and knew he was on the edge of tears every time he thought of her.

Bitch!

He hated her for the way she had treated him. Used his body, burned her imprint so deep he could never get her out of his system. He didn’t even have to close his eyes to feel the scorching reminder of her skin flush against his, his hands stroking her to writhing, pulsing pleasure.

He’d done good by her. Fair enough he might get a bit tongue-tied and make some really piss poor comments and observations, backing her into a corner of outraged fear and confusion. But he did his best, and really, demon! Evil! She couldn’t expect bloody miracles.

He couldn’t help but bow his head, though. It was a big fat hairy lie. He didn’t hate her. Couldn’t. He had so much love for her pushed down inside him that he could feel it viciously abusing his empty heart crater for a ‘get out’. He wanted her, true. He would do anything to enclose his cock within her heat and thrust her into sensual madness. He knew he could do it, too. She craved his love. Craved the salve the pain of his love brought her. And now she had cut him off. Distanced herself from his passion, removed herself from his support. Replaced him with judgmental bloody Scoobies before they could find out and tell her she was more wrong than she already thought she was.

But she wanted him. How could he help but know it? The night she came to him the night Finn re-entered all their lives, the destructive little prick. He’d seen it in her eyes then. She’d stamped her way through his door and stopped before him, her voice low and unsure, almost begging him to love her. She said she was using him. He knew her, though. Always bloody had. The chit couldn’t hide a thing from her Big Bad. And it wasn’t that the mighty beefcake had bombed his way back into Sunnydale that brought her to the edge of commitment to him. She had come to Spike because the git was another one who’d left her behind, and she was terrified that he would, too. No way was it mere upset at Finn’s obvious moving on. Even if it did bash at her ego. She wanted Spike and his love, not just the shagging. She wanted to connect.

The connecting freaked her out. Especially when she was reminded of what he was. She’d connected so much his demon didn’t matter. Until she was confronted with someone who figured out her dirty little secret. A human someone. A human someone who could tell all her friends.

Spike slumped in defeat. Thinking of how much she denied him made his head hurt. Really, he had no one to blame but himself. He’d set the scene years ago. Set the beat that their association was forever going to follow. All his death threats and well hell, actions! had tainted his existence for the Scoobies. And if that group couldn’t accept you, Buffy had no chance of changing her mind.

So, the real problem was because he’d started out her enemy. Started out wanting to bag another Slayer. Of the ‘making her dead’ variety. If he knew then what he knew now… Well, he woulda done things plenty different. Not let her shag and get bitten by the bloody poof for one.

But, there was no point fixating on the unchangeable. Magic was his only option now. He had to stop the pain. The hurt. When he could numb himself enough that he could think about his future; see where he should head now that the one great love of his life had kicked him in the balls with her stupidity and ignorance one last time. So she thought it was real for him! The bint still couldn’t accept that he could really feel love. So maybe it was time he took the problem away. Took his debilitating love away, so he could get out of this bleeding town and make something of his unlife.

Yeah, Spike. That’s the spirit!

And he turned again to the birds that he could see through the window, and wondered about consequences. What if a spell not only wiped out his feelings for the Slayer, but those for Dawn as well? What if he wanted to be all demon again, and wasn’t there to protect them like he’d dedicated his unlife to doing? Well, those were a few consequences that gave him pause.

With an abrupt shrug of his very masculine shoulders, he dismissed the concerns and entered the shop. As soon as he was inside, the demon Halfrek came over all jittery, and a little flirty. He found it disturbing.

He sniffed suspiciously and narrowed his eyes. Demon girl was all vengeful, for Harris. Not that the wanker didn’t deserve a good dick shortening, or a new eruption of the funny syphilis.

Actually, perhaps he should consider helping her out with that…could be worth him hanging around town to watch. And laugh.

He grinned with suddenly amusing possibilities. He could wish for the great donut consumer to swell from protracted association with the dough until he exploded. Or made sure only demon girls wanted a piece of him. Wait, that wouldn’t be any different to the norm. Forget that one!

Finally, he offered a greeting and asked for help in finding a spell. He may have said he needed a ‘thing,’ but this was a magic shop, he was sure that Anya was onto him about what he needed. And that was when things got way out of hand.

He could see them talking together at the other end of the counter, occasionally shooting him looks of consideration as they nattered about something obviously important. Not to him, though. He just wanted to get nice and numb, and right quick like.

He felt prickly and on edge when Halfrek up and left them alone, and by the time the alcohol had found a permanent flow toward his mouth, he felt like he was on the edge of monumental carnage to his peace of mind. Or maybe he just felt like the world as he knew it was about to become rather intense in its difference.

His guard had dropped after the first half of the bottle disappeared, and he felt himself moving on to bitter moments of self-reprisal. How could he seriously have expected to have a chance with her? Too much history-- really bad history-- and not all of it connected to him. Too much had happened in the Slayer’s past to allow her to consider what they had together in any way but disaster and heartache.

He could hear Anya egging him on, trying to get him to wish vengeance against Xander, and bloody hell, was he tempted. The ignorance of the berk burned his gut. Hypocritical little shit. If he had to wish the boy harm he’d…and he could see Anya straining toward him, eager to hear him and relish the words of personal torture that his mouth had been about to release.

He chuckled as she sat back, and chuckled again at her disappointment.

Another bottle was placed between them, and the contents quickly consumed. He could feel the conversation turning back to the whelp, and he was disgusted that the boy took up so much thinking space.

“He’s not worth the brain power to wish him harm, luv. No, if wishes…I’d wish…well, if anything I’d go back, back to where it all got cocked up, where I started her really hating me. Not trusting me. I’d change it, be different, help her. Support her, you know? But she’d see, I’m not just evil, and just cause I don’t have a soul doesn’t ‘cessarily mean I’m soulless. Yeah, go back and do it all over again. That’d show her.”

Spike smiled sadly and looked up at his drinking partner and saw her face set in the obvious features of her demon.

He had a split-second of cold realisation.

“Oh shit!” he screamed just as she chanted, “done”.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


His head was spinning and he suddenly thought that he was hyperventilating. Funny thing for a bloke that didn’t need to breathe.

Everything was all dark, though he could hear a heartbeat right in front of him. And something else, a presence he was not in the mood to face right now.

Feeling like a girly git, he realised that his eyes were squeezed tightly closed. Probably in fright from seeing Anya as a demon. He hadn’t come up against many Vengeance Demons before. Now he knew why: she was not the prettiest gameface on the block. He opened his eyes and frowned. He had no clue exactly what he had just wished for, or how Anya had chosen to interpret it. His belly felt like it was doing a lot of flipping before it got flopped.

“Angelus. And Harris. Fancy seeing you here.”

The two paused in their show offering of the whelp’s neck and looked at the vampire in front of them in puzzlement.

“You okay, Spike?”

He stood for a few more minutes in silence, contemplating the pair and sensing the couple of support vamps at his back, and finally realised exactly where he was. He should have been able to tell, what with the special brand of ‘keep it up’ nancy hair gel the ponce couldn’t do without…and those lifts…made Harris look short. Oh yeah, the early days…

“This Sunnydale High?” he asked them almost conversationally, then nodded as they looked at him like he was losing his feeble little mind.

“Oi, Peaches. Did I do the Yoda speech yet?”

Angel shook his head slowly, feeling swept away in a moment that felt like it was straight out of the Twilight Zone.

“Yeah, right…sorry ‘bout that. Not missing much, I’ll wager…So, Dru’s here, and still weak.” He muttered the last to himself in an effort to acclimatise to the situation and time frame he found himself in, and sucked in a breath for forbearance. Then he caught a glimpse of the lights reflecting off Harris’s nummy looking neck. He licked his lips in perverse enjoyment. “How about a bit of blood to celebrate being back with the family?”

Xander’s heartbeat rose in sudden anxiety, not completely secure with the belief that Angel wouldn’t let anything harm him.

Spike moved forward, lowered his fangs to the exposed throat, and began to whisper.

“Peaches, I know about the soul. Get Harris out of here. I have to kill these twits behind me so the Annoying One doesn’t know I turned on his minions. Don’t worry ‘bout the Slayer. Not going to ‘urt her.”

Mere moments after Angel realised that Spike was volunteering information about the Anointed One they had all been concerned about, Spike pulled a punch to Angel’s jaw, merely bruising where he could well have dislocated.

Stepping back, Spike couldn’t help but feel disappointed that he hadn’t plowed his fist right through his annoying sire’s chest and ripped out his heart…dust ahoy! But he knew Buffy would have his head…and he had no desire to be dust now. He felt uncomfortable with this sudden opportunity to change the past, but relished the excitement zinging through him like racing cars speeding around a bendy track before they crashed into the walls and burned.

She was close. And he smiled in delirious anticipation. His body reacted to the signals of excitement filtering down from his brain to his feet, and he felt himself bounce. He felt all springy and loose, and charged. He couldn’t wait to go to her, but for now the show needed to go on.

“You think you can fool me? You were my Sire, man! You were my…Yoda!” Spike winked at the two lumping brunettes in front of him, giving them an encouraging nod to indicate it was all a ploy for the vamps behind him.

Angel looked at him shocked and rubbing his jaw. He could sense the near jubilation affecting his progeny and wondered what the hell he was on.

“Things change,” Angel muttered.

The muscle in Spike’s jaw clenched hard, almost in punishment as he contemplated what the Slayer’s response had always been to that charge. Only the chip, not him. Just the chip. Now he could show her different.

“You’re right. Demon’s can change. We aren’t mindless automatons. We can choose not to kill.” And once he’d said it out loud, he felt stupid for not thinking it earlier. Of course he had bloody changed. That bleeding chip did nothing but give him excuses. And not the ones the Slayer credited him with. Not the ‘no bitey, no dead happy meals’ ones. More like the ‘hello Slayer’, ‘can I help, Slayer’, ‘I love you, Slayer’ excuses. Without the chip, he might have felt forever obliged to carry on as the evil vamp. No, the chip, as annoying as it was, gave him the chance to be in her circle. A little bit on the inner.

Not that she was bright enough to understand the difference.

Angel and Xander stood in stunned amazement as Spike seemed to nod in agreement with himself. They all jumped as he shouted to them to move, ‘this isn’t a spectator sport,’ and fists and fangs flew as vampire minions became vampire dust and ash littering the empty corridor for the cleaners to vacuum in the morning.

The three remained standing, eyeing each other warily.

“What are you up to, Spike?”

Spike smirked at the vampire that he considered to have ruined his life. He felt childish and spiteful, but invigorated about the prospect of doing a spot of ruining himself.

“I’ve come to make some changes. How ‘bout you?”

“I changed a long time ago. Do you have a soul?”

Spike looked on his elder in horror.

“What do you think I am? Do I look like a poof?”

Xander launched into a mirthful belly laugh. It came to an abrupt end as Angel flashed him some fang.

“Tut tut, Daddy! The boy is just ‘ppreciatin’ good humour. Speaking of, Dru’s here an’ she’s not well. You should go see her. She’s missed you.”

Spike’s voice had lowered in a sincerity that rocked him. In this timeframe he was still devoted to his wicked plum, his princess was his everything. But with the switch of his timeline, he brought with him the intense love he felt for the Slayer.

He wasn’t too stupid to look a gift horse in the mouth. Here was his chance, and he was gonna do what he’d hoped. He was gonna make everything right, including Dru. Maybe Angel could help her in a way Spike had never been able to.

Diverting the souled vampire’s attention had other benefits, too. His biggest priority was to keep the other away from Buffy as much as possible. Do something to dim their affection. Cut this soulmate crap. Hopefully in the process he could have it diverted from the poof to himself.

“You get the boy outta here while I take care of the others. I have to get back and deal with the Annoying One.” Spike’s eyes glinted with amused hindsight, which was now foresight…bloody hell!

Angel followed the instruction from Spike with a hesitant glance before finally following Xander Harris from the school. It wasn’t till he had passed through the heavy door that he wondered to himself why he was listening to his numbskull excuse of a grandchilde. Shaking his head, he meandered over to give Xander a hand in fighting the remnant vampire guard.

Spike took a moment to contemplate current events. He felt younger. He had been transported back four years to a time when he was on a fresh diet, no wonder he felt like a spring chicken. Pigs blood was flavourless, no hint of fear or arousal. He missed the hunt, and the kill. But a lesson had been learnt his last visit with Dru. Buffy was his future, and killing humans was not going to endear him to her. And she’d need him. He wasn’t going to skip out on her when she was up against some major Bads. And Dawn. She’d need him to protect Dawn.

No…he was in time to stop his continual death threats. Would stop attacking her. He could help her out with patrol, make with the friendlies with her mates and her mum. Even try cosying up with her Watcher if he had to. Show them all that it wasn’t just a soul that could make a vamp good.

As long as he didn’t have to watch too many of her snog sessions with the brooding poof, he could be patient.

For the first time that night he felt the pain in his chest ease, and the possibility of his love rejoice. His time for finding her, seeing her was beyond late and he set off to locate which corridor she was hiding in, an almost feral grin twisting his lips.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

He smelt her before he saw her. And what he first saw was legs. Long glorious smooth flesh of legs. He’d forgotten she had worn short skirts back then. Didn’t realise how much he had missed them. He was so caught up in the memory of those legs that he almost missed the vamp behind his Buffy raising a fire-axe.

“Watch out!” he called in near panic, reacting much faster than his mind could work. He knew she got past this stage to fight with him the first time this scenario went down, but fear grew legs and he propelled himself into the brunette. He violently disengaged her grip around the handle of the weapon and used it to detach her head from her shoulders. He grinned as the dust made a little inconsequential pile on the floor.

Too quick for him to notice Buffy standing against the wall in surprise, he was on the other vamp who had come round the corner. The axe engaged in a beautiful swinging arc and claimed another casualty.

“Now that was fun!” he shared with her as he turned around to face her.

The first connection of their eyes was electrifying, and he sucked in a breath to better prepare himself for taking in her gorgeous face. Here she was, not bitter from fighting Angelus, not broken from having cast Angel to the pits of hell, not craving death due to her tired devotion to the mission. And best of all, she was filled with pulsing life, not resurrected by incompetent and arrogant witches. He felt entirely overcome in the blessing of being in her presence.

Here was his chance.

Buffy.

Knowing him, he’d bollocks the whole thing in a matter of seconds. Right then, keep it simple.

“Hello cutie.”

He waited, wondering if she was going to use her old stand-by and bop him good in the nose. The nostalgic thought had him almost hoping she would, though a power snog would go a lot better on his bones. Not to mention his heart. Or other parts of his body that worked.

She continued to stare at him, dumbfounded. She seemed lost for words.

“You killed Sheila.”

Right, knew it couldn’t last forever.

“She was about to split your head in two,” he reasoned, trying to placate.

“She dusted.” Eyes wide, her mind trying to grip onto anything that might make some sense.

“She was a vampire, luv.” Spike tilted his head to the side, and memory poked into his happy moment. “Er, yeah, sorry ‘bout that. Might have been responsible. Think I fed ‘er to Dru.” He lowered his eyes to the ground, appearing almost…bashful?

“I thought you were here to kill me!”

He raised his eyes to hers once again and hoped that she could see how not all right he was with that notion.

“Nope. Made a mistake. Changed my mind. No killing for this vamp. Not anymore.” He shared his hopeful look, kept his face straight of any snarky innuendo or smirks that might influence her to distrust. Then, “I want to help you,” popped out of his mouth as he rocked excitedly back on his heels, hands in pockets…and thought of that miserable episode where he thought he was the souled Randy Giles. Without connection to the present situation, he grimaced. Bloody ponce, and what had he been thinking with that suit? And the hat...he shuddered at the memory, before zeroing in again on the present, and his girl who seemed a hell of a lot blonder, and slightly more cuddly.

“Huh! Are you for real? Cause vampires offering the help? Not so much. Unless you’re Angel. Which you so are not.”

His cloud darkened and he had to check himself against revealing his very real and violent hatred for his sire.

“No Angel, pet. No soul, either. But I can help you. I want to.”

She shook her head against his offer, and he felt the challenge get harder. He stayed determined, though.

“Please, give me a chance to prove it. I’ll take out the Annoying One for you. Piece of bloody cake.” He offered her the grin she had unwittingly informed him recently that she found incredibly sexy. The one with the tongue curl and the inspired twitch of his eyebrows as his eyes flashed a little wider. He was hoping that without all the baggage, it might have a better effect on her now.

“The who huh?”

He rolled his eyes at her before offering the full title in correct form. “The Anointed One. You know, sired by the Master himself. Prophecy yadda yadda…”

Her eyes grew wider and the green seemed to fire. “You would do that?” she asked in a breathy voice.

“For you, luv, I’d do a hell of a lot more besides.”

“This isn’t happening, is it? You’ve got me in some freaky thrall or something, right?”

“That’d be Dru, Buffy. Honest, let me show you that you can trust me.”

She considered his offer, never taking her eyes away from his. He bounced while she watched, hands tucked in his jean pockets hoping that she would take a chance. He could feel heat pulse through his body and excitement burn his veins. At her hesitant nod he felt himself explode as he launched forward and gathered her in his arms. He buried his face in her hair and almost wept in relief.

“You won’t regret it, baby. I’ll show you how good I can be for you.”

Not until he drew back slightly, still holding her body pressed up against his front, did he feel the sharp point of a stake against his back.

But the sight of her luscious lips barely centimetres from his wiped the danger from his mind as he felt drawn to her, captured and hauled in like a prized catch. The second their lips met, all thought was blown from his mind. This was a kiss like those passionate, ‘in-love’ ones they had shared during the fake engagement, not the animalistic, ‘fuck-me-now’ ones they had shared since she came back from death. This was young, and fresh and love. He couldn’t ever give this up.

His lips moved softly over hers, lost in a gentle rub rather than a hostile takeover. The moment she opened her mouth and allowed his tongue to lick her own he felt prickles erupt over his entire body. He allowed one hand to raise and tangle in her hair, holding her secure for him to continue his exploration. She had never allowed him to be this soft with her. Well, at least not unless under the influence of a spell.

He felt one of her hands curl around his waist and he pushed his body a little closer, not hard and fast, but enough to brush the compact form of himself against her softness. God, he was hot. She burned him with her fire, with her purpose.

He was completely lost in her taste when his mind registered that her own tongue had taken up exploring his mouth. He moaned as she brushed against the soft padding of his inner cheeks. He could feel his cock hardening in response to her swipe against his teeth, the flicking over the shields of his fangs. Both arms were around him now, her tiny hands exploring his back underneath the cover of his T-shirt as her mouth told him how much he was hers. The stake seemed to have disappeared as nothing but tiny Slayer nails scraped over his skin, flooding his dick with blood.

He moaned in his throat as he pushed her against the wall, his kiss getting more passionate, searching, claiming. One leg curled around his and he caught her behind the knee, raising her leg to clamp around his hip. His hand followed the smooth surface of her leg to the raised covering of her skirt and let his fingers brush round the pantyline of her bum. He wanted so much to seek further, to let his fingers dive into hot gooey wetness until he had her writhing, but it was too fast and she wasn’t yet seventeen.

He forced his hand to remain immobile, moving no further to explore her mysteries. He stroked the line he had already claimed and let his lips do the talking. He drank her in, the taste of her making him giddy with adolescent type hormones and he felt the rush like nothing ever before.

Too soon he could tell that she was struggling to breathe and he released her lips with a little sucking pop. He rested his forehead against hers and copied her frantic intake of air, though his lungs weren’t as productive. He continued allowing his fingers to skim the succulent skin at her backside and prayed that the day when he could feel more of her to be extremely soon.

“I’ll prove to you that you can trust me,” he whispered to her, mindful of walls with ears. They pulled just far enough away for him to see the uncertainty in her eyes before offering her the most gentle, awe-filled smile of his existence. He reserved it for such occasions as sincerity made him lose his mind. Knocked down protective barriers. “I won’t disappoint you.” This time he bestowed upon her a cheeky wink and he revelled in her sudden flush.

As she became aware of her raised leg holding him so, so close to her lower body she eased it down and away from him, looking down in embarrassment.

“Um, that was a m…”

He put a finger across her lips, preventing her from finishing the first denial of this repeat of his past.

“None of that, pet. It was fantastic, wonderful, and beautiful. But it was no mistake.”

His fingers trailed away slowly, his eyes locked on the bruised red of the softest flesh he had ever known before lowering his own lips once again. The kiss was brief, to the point, a promise.

And even as hard as it was, he walked away to call back all his minions that hadn’t witnessed his defection. It was time he killed a little vamp child.

And proved, once and for all, his loyalty.

“What the hell?”

Buffy hadn’t moved even an inch from the spot where Spike had practically molested her. Well, molested in the sense that she totally gave in to it. She suddenly shook in disgust, completely ignoring the fact that her body was all tight and itchy, and God, was it hot in here? Disgusting vamp, with the wandering hands, and the…tasty …yummy lips. No, no yummy, no tasty, bad Buffy!

That was so not what she’d been expecting when Spike had come crashing through the window earlier. And if that’s how all his threats of “I’m going to kill you” go down, then he’d better stop with the whole evil vampire thing, cause confused much? He wasn’t fooling anyone. And just maybe Giles had looked up the wrong William the Bloody, and Angel for once didn’t have a clue what he was talking about. Cause that vampire? That was not an effort to slay a Slayer. At least, not an effort she was familiar with.

Angel had said that once Spike started something, he didn’t stop till he’d finished. Buffy felt her eyes widen almost painfully. What did that mean exactly? He’d started out trying to kill her, only to end up trying to seduce her. Okay, trying with a tiny bit of success. But that left her wondering what it was he wouldn’t stop till he’d finished. Killing her? Or having her in a more ‘get your clothes off and let me ravish you with my talented tongue’ way. Did she get to choose? And what was with those tingles that kept jerking down her spine?

Footsteps alerted her to a possible vamp around the corner… or a slightly bruised and power freaked Xander, if she’d like to look before making big with the assumptions. His frantic looks toward the library doors reminded her of the situation that was about ten minutes ago, and finally she convinced movement to flow to her feet. She felt kind of oogy, what with the inside of one thigh flashing heat straight to her inner panty line. Kinda lopsided bliss. Of the ‘raw, lusty, bad evil vampire got me all turned on then left before really touching anything but her mouth’ kind of bliss.

Xander flung open the library door and she banished her confused demon-wanting hormones back to somewhere a hell of a lot more appropriate when her mother’s life and sanity were at risk.

The first thing she saw was Giles frantically cleaning his glasses. The pace he had set was so rough and fast she almost giggled at the fully expected snap as they broke in half. He looked at them in complete shock before placing them on the table, patting the smooth wood beside while he seemed to search for courage. When he finally raised his eyes and sought out Buffy’s she knew that he must have seen something. Flushing red, she didn’t think he had seen too much because of the angle of the library window and the place she had occupied further down the same wall. Maybe he heard stuff.

“Buffy,” he paused, considering what words were best for him to use without the benefit of having glasses to distract himself with. “Did I hear Spike tell you he was going to kill the Annointed One for you?”

Ahh, she thought. He was going to go with the less inflammatory comments. Relief flooded through her at the not having to get into explanations with Xander about why she had been kissing another vampire that wasn’t Angel. And her mouth went dry. Oh crap! She’d been kissing another vamp whose hair so was not brown.

“Yup,” she answered, upbeat and full of teenage and Slayer adrenaline. She was feeling kind of eager to go home and consider what the hell just happened here tonight. Until the memory of her mother’s face after her illuminating talk with Snyder put a pout straight back on her lips. It got poutier when she added in the wounded, brooding expression of Angel’s face when he found out. Well, if he did. And he wasn’t gonna. No siree, Bob. Nothing to know, really.

“What do you think he was playing at, Buffy?”

Her attention snapped back to her watcher, torn away from the reliving of those smooth fingertips wandering lightly over her ass and his tongue making her body feel like it was struck by lightning. Yet, with that hair, maybe she had been. That these wierdo feelings were erupting within her because of a freakazoid with famine cheekbones and the name Spike did nothing to put an end to her sudden pantiness. The look on Giles’s face squashed her desire to giggle or swoon, though, and she put on her serious look.

“Not sure he was playing.”

He raised his eyebrows and she felt her cheeks flame with embarrassment.

“Did you get the impression he was genuine in his offer? What am I saying? He’s a vampire. As if he would actually go through with something he says he will. It must be a trick.” Giles hadn’t finished shaking his head with dashed hope when Angel flounced through the door and offered his two cents.

“That’s not Spike. If he says he’ll do something for you, you can guarantee it will get done. I just don’t understand what his motives could be.”

Buffy felt her cheeks turn fire engine red and wondered if she could pull an emergency alarm before the questions started coming.

Xander watched the interaction and felt his eyes settle on the supposedly souled vampire and felt fury burn a hole in his gut.

“You,” he raged before marching over and punching Angel in the cheek. “Ow,” he bounced around the floor as Angel continued to not even sway.

“I’m sorry,” Angel oozed. “Did you just tap me, boy?”

Three sets of eyes flew to him in astonishment, waiting for the harsh, almost evil inflection in his voice to disappear.

“Sorry,” Angel shrugged almost helplessly. “Must be seeing Spike again. Brings back a rush of family mem…” he tapered off when he took in the almost matching looks of horror fixed upon him. “Right,” he almost shouted. “Time to go,” and he was gone in his usual mysterious fashion.

“That was disturbing,” Xander offered, and Buffy was inclined to agree. But thoughts of her current vampire beau were suddenly eclipsed by other vampire experiences of the day.

Xander hadn’t finished. “And what was with the offering of my neck to the big evil vampire with even bigger and sharper teeth? Do I look like the kinda guy who runs around screaming ‘pick me…I wanna be vampire bait’? Cause I wanna clarify right here and now…Xander neck is no rack of lamb for any vampire. Right, Buff?”

“Right, Xan,” she nodded devotedly, trying to keep her snickers to herself till he had left the building.

“And that tone of voice…disturbing I tell you. With a heaping side dish of…well, more disturbing. With a splash of mash…cause I’m hungry. Aren’t you disturbed, Buffster?”

“I really, truly am. Gotta go find my mom, though. Will you guys be good here?” She saw the rising argument in Giles’s eye, the summoning of more delving questions regarding Buffy’s little vampire interlude with Spike, and she rushed out the door. Completely comfortable that she was leaving vampire bait and a Watcher with broken glasses defenseless in the library. She didn’t feel any more vamp tinglies, though, so was sure the building was now demon free. Thanks to the round-up of Spike.

She stopped still in her tracks, the thought of that kiss draining the blood from her limbs as it flooded to her face. She could feel the fire as it began to erupt along the skin of her leg again and was just about to immerse herself into a sea of imagery. Right up until she heard her mother call out and saw a crowd of disoriented and terrified parents milling about the front foyer. Thank God for moms and their forceful suggestions of everyone going home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~


Huh! Seemed her superhero kick cut her a little slack for once. She smiled gratefully as she climbed the stairs ten minutes later to her room. Her mother was actually grateful that she’d fought their way out of a very massacre type ending. Not that she really understood about the massacre thing. Her mom had totally bought into the ‘gangs on PCP’ thing Snyder was shovelling. Really, how could she help but be a fan when Buffy prevented the major spillage of blood and innards all over the school floor. Well, she would if she’d seen that, or knew how possible that outcome could have been? This whole secret identity thing sucked.

With a smile of satisfaction she fell backwards on her bed and just stared at the ceiling, the complete stillness a desperate requirement while she considered again the things that made her blood sing and cry for something she hadn’t known was missing. As she closed her eyes, all she could see was the smooth handsome face of her nemesis. Her enemy, with that cocky flirty smile, the glimmer in his eye and that unexplainable look of awe that flashed over his face while he studied hers. Okay, she’d boarded the ‘majorly wigged’ train and could only sigh as it roared out of the station. And truly, she was enjoying the trip, right up to the moment when Angel knocked on the glass of her window and she jumped back to reality with a guilty start.

Rushing over to the window, Buffy raised it and allowed Angel to climb gracefully through. She looked at his face and could feel a rush of longing flood her, but was briefly confused who it was she was longing for. She was just Lusty Buffy, that was it. Cued right in to the naughty things that she so wanted to try but Angel kept preventing. Though how he did that when he was always secretly crawling in her window was one for the surprise box.

“Hey,” she whispered seductively in hope. If she couldn’t get some lovin’ to stop this burn down deep inside her, she didn’t know if Angel would be leaving undusty.

In a move almost frantic she crushed her lips to his, moaning at the coldness that greeted her tongue. His lips didn’t part, though, but instead of being annoyed she set to inspiring them open. Her hands ghosted over his clothed chest, up over his shoulders before moving down his back to leave a subtle squeeze to his butt cheek.

In typical repressive Angel fashion, he grabbed her and held her arms length away.

“You smell like Spike,” he stated bluntly.

‘Well,’ Buffy thought pettily. ‘Don’t hold back on the sniffer, Angel, my love!’

“Well, yeah…he was at the school. You know, all with the fangy and the fighty, and the…the…killing…” she improvised before heaving a big sigh of relief and plastering a huge smile of seduction to her newly glossed lips.

“And why do you taste like him again?”

Her smile vanished as her mind worked frantically for plausible excuses.

“We fell?” She launched, then sped into a flimsy but somehow believable explanation to Angel as to why she had Spike lips. “Yeah, we fell, and he sort of got all mushed up against me for a second…until I so kicked his ass to other side of the school.”

She nodded, satisfied and struggling to keep it simple, to keep her mouth closed against the very desperate urge to begin rambling with innane reasons that would most likely be hurtful to Angel and confusing to herself. She could just tell Angel that Spike kissed her, groped her like the lecherous…sexy…pig that he was and Angel would just go and dust him.

That thought didn’t seem anywhere near as satisfying as having the white-haired vamp’s fingers on her body.

“So, whatcha doing?” Time for the uber distraction, she thought.

“I’ve just been out, wandering, thinking…”

And brooding, Buffy added silently to herself.

She gave him another sudden, almost robot-like sappy smile before suggesting that maybe they should go search out where this Spike guy was hanging his hat while he was in Sunnydale. That apparently greyish hat.

Angel looked pained. “Yeah, I guess I should have thought of that while I was out.”

He missed Buffy’s ‘duh’ eye rolling as he turned to climb back out the window.

They strolled around Sunnydale, holding hands and attacking any demon or vampire they came across until finally their forceful information gathering led them to the factory.

“This is just so totally lame. Don’t you guys go a little for the comfort? Why is it all with the falling down, dark, dingy factories?”

Angel stared at her as if she had just announced that demon snot was a part of her nightly beauty routine.

“You can’t exactly lay low in the posh suburbs, Buffy.”

Her pout was back and he lowered his eyes in apology.

“Yeah. Guess I should have realised that.”

They found a window and, climbing easily to perch just outside the ledge, prepared themselves for what they might be about to witness. A white blond helmet of hair caught Buffy’s eye almost the second she looked through the grimy window and she sucked in a breath as her heart started beating a crazy rhythm. Angel watched her watching the action, and wondered why her pulse had quickened. There was no danger, all the vampires being inside the factory and not outside where they were. Not that many were inside either. Seemed like Spike had managed to thin the numbers quite effectively.

Buffy leaned forward, pressing up against the glass and not at all worried that she could be seen from the inside. The inky blackness of night had her covered, and she just couldn’t help but drool. He’d lost the coat, and although she missed the seduction of all that leather slapping around his legs as he strutted, she suddenly couldn’t control the flood of want as she peaked at his really, really firm butt. NO! Why was she looking at his behind. ‘Must look at front’, she ordered herself and almost groaned out loud as he swiftly turned around. He must be ESPing. See, Evil…now her thoughts weren’t even her own. But her eyes were very definitely studying his front…and Holy Cow!

She felt her lips fall slack and drool pool in the corner as she focused entirely on his black clad body. Tight black fabric stretched over an undoubtedly firm and muscular chest, his arms showing the smoothness she would feel if she were close enough to touch, to trail just her pointy finger along the inside line of his forearm, to his bicep and then to his shoulder…and that thought set her nipples to tightening. As her body chemistry responded to that cool observation she let her eyes slip lower and felt her eyeballs freeze on his even tighter black clad lower half. Those jeans left nothing to the imagination, and he wasn’t even turned on.

She was so caught up in the divine tableau he offered her hungry gaze that she almost missed his actions entirely. A warning growl from Angel catapulted her overheating mind out of the gutter and back up to Spike’s face. He was vamped out, and unlike her usual reaction to your garden-variety vamp, she found him kind of cute. Not Angel cute, of course. That would be of the bad, and evil vampire…not cute.

Buffy almost rolled her eyes at her own ridiculous effort to cover up that she found this guy serious crush material…totally swoon worthy. But his lips were moving, and she licked her lips in remembered delight at how exactly those lips felt against hers. Oops, ‘not going there’ she decided as Angel growled again rather close to her ear.

There seemed to be some kind of commotion down below and Buffy squinted to try and see better through the gross window. Angel nudged her aside as he slowly lifted it so they could hear what was going on and not destroy their eyesight by trying to peer through something covered in dirt and grease. Buffy smiled her thanks to her boyfriend, and leaned just slightly into the building.

Spike was standing alone, ‘when along came a spider’ Buffy thought meanly as a dark-haired beautiful vampire sidled up to him and began to stroke his cheek. The Slayer almost cheered as she saw Spike stiffen then step casually away from the girl. He mumbled something to her and then strode forward to drop to his knees in front of a small child that reeked of authority. It was so overwhelmingly powerful that Buffy felt it from where she was, and she flinched, spooked about what fighting this child would mean for her.

As the sexy tenor of his voice passed through her and made her bones vibrate, she almost lost clarity for a moment as she felt moist heat gush between her legs. Feeling uncomfortable, she sat a little back so she could clench her legs together. Angel glanced at her in surprise, his nose still twitching from the unexpected burst of arousal. He gave her an encouraging smile and turned back to the scene playing out on the inside. Buffy shook her head. Completely clueless! She grinned her relief.

“You failed.” Buffy startled at the cool authority that dripped from the small one’s mouth, suddenly apprehensive about the power he wielded.

“I, uh…let me see if I can get this right…I offer penance?” Cocky Spike was full on confronting and Buffy suddenly felt concern flood through her and turn her blood cold. Her fingers became claw-like as they gripped the window frame and she leaned a little further in.

Angel gripped his fist in her top and pulled her hard backwards, tapping his nose and leaning in to sniff at her to indicate that the vampires inside would pick up her scent if she wasn’t careful. The irritation that had flashed in her eyes dimmed slightly as understanding dawned, but it didn’t disappear totally.

She turned her head back to the blond posturing in front of the special child and she rolled her eyes in sudden acknowledgement of his almost child-like exuberance at getting into the fight.

She jumped as another vampire entered the scene, hostility flowing off him and lying stagnant in the air.

“Penance,” she heard him almost bellow. “You should lay down your life. Our numbers have been depleted, the Feast of St. Vigeous is ruined because of your impatience.”

“I was rash,” Spike told them in a voice completely lacking in any degree of sincerity and Buffy almost giggled. She was completely enthralled with his ‘couldn’t give a crap’ attitude to danger, and she suddenly wondered if he fought as good as he kissed.

Her lips began to buzz from remembered passion and she almost succumbed to lusty daydreams when she heard his voice continue.

“And if I had to do it all over again…”

Buffy leaned forward again in anticipation and shivered from his almost jubilant burst of laughter.

“Who am I kidding?”

Her brow furrowed, tense waiting for his next move. Shock gripped her as she saw his body move toward the annoying child and grab for him.

“I would do it exactly the same, only I’d do this…” With the boy in his arms and shouts on the air, Buffy watch completely enraptured as Spike put the child in a cage, locking it all while kicking away the mocking vamp of earlier and laying him flat and unconscious in the background.

“First! From now on, we’re gonna have a little less ritual,” he started, interrupting his own speech by the effort of splashing the contents of a small canister of lighter fluid over the complaining child, and setting him alight, “and a little more fun around here.”

The high-pitched shrieking reverberated around the largely empty cavern of the factory, and Buffy remained stunned by the window. Despite his declarations to her amidst the heated kisses, she hadn’t really believed that he would get rid of the threat. Now she felt all hot and flushy that he did something so huge for her. And hey, big with the statement…and he called her baby, and why exactly was she crushing again on the evil vampire…with the evil hair?

The left over minions dispersed, and Buffy could automatically feel Angel tense at her side as the only vamps left in the room was the blonde babe and his ho-bag. The brunette was swaying and laughing, then she twirled around him as he tried to back away.

“It’s time for the celebration, my Spike. Our guests are just drifting on the outside, they don’t know yet to come in.” She suddenly stopped all movement as she turned to the window that Buffy was half hanging out of before quickly pulling back and ducking down.

“What is it, pet?”

The Slayer suddenly felt annoyed at that caring tone of voice, aimed at the fruit loop who had just given the insanity dance on the dirty cement floor. She lifted her head enough for her eyes to just see over the edge of the window as crazy vamp ho twirled back to look questioningly at Spike. Though her movements remained graceful, Buffy could see the frailty that clung like spider webbing to the other woman. The vampiress still staring intently at Spike. The bitch who was now touching his face.

Buffy had balled her fists in angered frustration when her ears picked up the beginning of more conversation, and as the words began to sink in, her eyes widened in surprise; all thought of Angel and his existence evaporated from her mind.

“You don’t love me anymore.”

Blue and green eyes pinned the suddenly morose female vampire to the spot. Her head waved from side to side like a snake uncoiling, and Buffy sucked in an expectant breath.

“You’ve switched your dark princess for white, and now all the lights will stay on. There’s nobody left for princess.”

Buffy leaned back, confounded. ‘Huh?’ What was with the freaky loony talk that only a fellow insane patient could decipher? She shook her head and smiled, convinced the nutbag was on her last leg anyway. But then the shocks kept a comin’ as she realised that Spike was answering as if he actually knew what the vamp had said, and she so needed to find out this loon’s name.

“Drusilla.” Angel released her name like a caressing whisper on the wind. Buffy watched him, noticing her lack of jealousy that he knew who this was, just accepting that she had a name for the one whom she’d run out of ‘bag’ terms to apply to her.

“I’m sorry, Dru,” continued the strange conversation on the factory floor. Buffy gave it her total focus, while suppressing the urge to growl. “But it’s true, luv…there’s someone…” His voice drifted into an uncomfortable silence as the brunette latched onto him, his chin held tightly while bringing his face closer to hers, her eyes seeking and clashing with his unwilling gaze. “Dru, don’t do this.”

“You’ve been keeping secrets, my Spike. You’ve moved on to where the sun is dimming. The rain is falling and sunshine is too afraid to play. But here she is all young and carefree…” Her aspect altered as she saw things in his eyes that caused Buffy to lean further in, trying to catch the meaning behind the uber weird display. The Slayer fell back, though, at an abrupt squeal of joy.

“Daddy is returning.” She stepped back from Spike and clapped her hands in obvious delight.

“No, Dru. It isn’t Daddy. You know it isn’t. He has a soul now, but he’ll come by an’ see you. Maybe he can help make you well again.”

Laughter echoed off the walls as dancing was once again the activity inside, and Buffy felt a burst of pure hilarity push to be released. She clapped a hand across her mouth to hold it in, and squeezed her eyes shut to the display. How anyone could put up with the loopy routine for long was anyone’s guess.

Then in a short amount of her inattention it became obvious that ‘Dru’ had retired to elsewhere for the night, leaving Spike all forlorn in his loneliness.

Angel pulled Buffy back from the window, but she didn’t release her claw-like grip, continuing that tenable connection to the goings on of inside. He jerked his head, indicating his desire to leave, but she waved him away.

“Just give me a minute,” she whispered to him and went back to watching alone. She didn’t need special hearing powers to hear his angry growl as he leapt down and stomped away from the building, but strangely she didn’t care.

She stayed focused and intent on the pacing form of her would be seducer of earlier in the night. Looking again at the cage, Buffy smiled happily at the destruction of the Annointed One. She almost wished the Master had been there to see it, but then that would be bad. She frowned.

“Bugger,” he was mumbling to himself. “Bugger, bugger, bollocks.”

His pacing picked up speed, his muscular legs stretching out in front of him as he ate up the ground in his anxiety.

“Bloody Dru!” She could hear his frustration and wondered what he was so upset about. From where she had been eavesdropping the female vamp had only spouted a heap of incomprehensible dribble.

He ran his hands through his hair and spun on his heel, heading back in her direction too fast for her to duck. In seconds their eyes clashed and held, time seeming to stop as something monumental seemed to slip in between them. Collective breaths were held, blood began to roar, and one heart started pounding a mad beat of syncopated rhythm. If she didn’t feel so suddenly alive, Buffy could have sworn she was dead.

He took one step toward her and her mouth went dry. Her eyes expressed her serious objection to his movement, her confused need to be closer to him rioting against her Slayer purpose of dusting him. One more step had her pushing away from the window, jumping to the ground and running after Angel.

She had never spent a night more wigged in her entire life!

Spike stood outside the door of the place he remembered was Angel’s, eyeing the open frame wryly. He waited, watching Angel as his grandsire stared back, both silent and uncooperative about beginning the greetings.

Eventually, Spike decided to give in to his more generous nature; after all, he knew Angel didn’t end up with the girl. Well, not completely anyway. He took a step forward, letting his lips part to form a sentence when he was stunned into immobility.

“What’s wrong with Dru?”

Spike leaned against the door jam, grateful that the start of this confrontation was with a topic that concerned them both.

“She’s weak. We were attacked…in Prague…she nearly didn’t make it out.”

Angel watched the younger vampire, the stirrings of familial loyalty becoming stronger the more time he allowed it.

“Maybe sire blood will help?” Spike prompted, and nearly fell over when Angel shared his agreement.

“I’ll come by to see her tomorrow night. What about you?” The big brooding brunette watched his grandchilde shrewdly, noticing the shift of his eye, the suddenly rigid body.

“What about me?” he stalled, not ready yet to tell any or all of his story. Besides the fact that he didn’t think the great poof would believe himparticularly if he shared the details about shagging Buffy he had the uneasy feeling that if his knowledge of the events of the future got into the wrong hands, he’d be buggered over yet again. And this time, the reward meant too much to him.

“Why aren’t you acting like the real Spike?”

Spike felt his spine stiffen and his hands clenched in irritation.

“And you would know who the real Spike is, how?” He raised his gaze, eyes burning bright and determined into the unsuspecting stare of his sire.

“I know you, Spike. I know who you are and I know what you are. You’re up to something.”

“That might be right on the money, Sire. But what I’m offering you right now is the chance to do Dru right. You owe ‘er. I’m not here to cause trouble.” ‘Well, not much,’ he justified to himself quietly.

“That’s too easy. I don’t believe you.”

Spike could feel the angry build up of rage and he grit his teeth hard to try and stem damning words from flowing spontaneously out his mouth.

“Since when ‘ave I been a liar?” The younger vampire existed now in a whirl of affronted rage, memories of being beaten for his honesty leaving smarting memories upon his dead flesh. He had the scintillating satisfaction of seeing Angel cringe.

“Okay.” The alpha vamp lowered his head, conceding defeat. “So you really want me to help Dru. What more are you trying to do?”

“I want you to take her on. Help her. You’re her sire. Time you did your job.”

Angel tried to hide his shock, but the request was so far out of left field that he found it impossible.

“What?”

Spike stood stubbornly silent, and Angel felt himself clawing the air for reasonable explanations to this. Dru was Spike’s world. He couldn’t understand what could have brought about such a sudden shift in the younger vamp’s focus.

And then little hints of the unease he had felt around Buffy tonight took on a shape that almost left him gasping.

“She said you fell on her.”

“That’s one way of tellin’ it, I s’pose.” Spike didn’t even pretend that he didn’t understand the sudden change in topic. He smirked, and laughed on the inside at the flash of pain in the older vamp’s chocolate eyes. The warmth abruptly turned arctic as Angel growled with anger.

“You’re after her, then? Buffy? Is this some new way you have of killing Slayers?”

Spike couldn’t help it. One minute he was still propped against the doorframe, and the next his fangs were slashing the air, fists making contact with bone and flesh. Angel flew from his seat and hit the wall behind, knocking over all that had been in his path.

“I won’t be killin’ ‘er!” Spike spat in a rage. “I won’ be hurtin’ ‘er. Which is more ‘an I can say about some.”

Angel jumped to his feet, his own fangs and ridges forming a possessive warning.

“You have nothing to offer her, Spike. And I don’t believe you for a second. Killing Slayers is what you do.” He’d formed fists, cocked ready should Spike launch himself into the fray once again.

It was obvious when the violence drained from Spike’s body, though, and a relaxed if not completely trustful air fell onto the room.

“I swear I’m not here to hurt ‘er. I only want to help.”

Jealousy flared and changed the rhythm between the two male vampires.

“She has me,” Angel almost snarled. “She doesn’t need you.”

Spike felt the confidence seep away for short moments, but flashes of memory dictated different truths to him.

“She needs someone who will always be lookin’ out for ‘er. That’s not you.”

Angel puzzled, trying to beat back the fuzz of unreality that had cloaked his whole night.

“But you can help--not that I believe for a second that you actually want to-- and still hang on to Dru. Why are you trying to pass her on to me?”

Spike felt the conversation veer dangerously close to dicey territory. He wasn’t ready to disclose-- refused to in fact. Why did he always let Angel rile him up so much that he lost his sense? He chose to tell the truth, or as veiled a version of the truth as he wanted the other to know.

“Dru has always been wantin’ to get back to Daddy. You’re ‘ere, so you can go to her. Our time is over an’ that’s all I’m sayin’ on the subject. Savvy?”

Not waiting for further bursts of argument, Spike turned on his heel and strode gracefully into the shadows of the night.

The air was brisk as it whooshed around him, and he felt a true smile tug at his lips for the first time since Buffy had shagged him rotten. Not that that occasion had remained light and carefree for long. Still, this was a rocking situation he found himself in, and he felt completely overwhelmed by the possibilities. He felt near paralyzed with how delicious everything was. Now he just had to stop and make a mental list of all the things he’d unintentionally bollocksed up--and the things that had been undoubtedly evil--and go about reversing them.

Yes, he could feel the spring return to his step, the joy re-enter his night as he pounded the pavement, not exactly sure where he was headed. He felt carefree, positive, and wholly whipped--but deliriously happy about it. Buffy had let him touch her, kiss her potent lips. Bloody hell, there was fire between them, even right back to this time. Why had he been such a clueless git to have not noticed? Or he had, but back then he’d preferred fighting to fucking. No, that wasn’t right either…loving. He loved her with everything he was and no way was he goin’ to screw this up again.

He knew that it was usually the outcome of such ill thought out wishes with vengeance demons to cause some God-awful consequence, and, as a rule, he was right behind the shunning of such a fool thing. In this instance, however, he couldn’t get the streaked blond beauty out of his head. She was pure ambrosia for the reforming devil. Her mouth could feed him for several lifetimes, and he had intimate knowledge of all the other delights she could offer him.

But he had to calm down. This Buffy was so young. Admittedly, she’d given it up for Angel not too far from now, but now that Spike was turning a new leaf, and giving the girl options, he could be sure that he could win her. She had choices now, and the risk of being sucked wholly and solely in by the big brooding brow was minimised. If he could play this right, he could be her first--her true love--and he could help her learn the truth about the difference between having and not having a soul and all the rubbish that came with the Watcher’s assumptions.

Speaking of, Spike felt none too startled to find himself outside the complex that housed Rupert’s pokey little flat. He stood at the entry, silently debating with himself about whether or not to risk going in to say hello. A playful smirk teased his lips, and, hands in jean pockets, he turned in the gate.

The unreality of it all bounced off him as he pounded on the Watcher’s door, wondering if the good little librarian actually hung out here much during Buffy’s school days. Spike knew that once his girl went to college, this was the Scooby centre of operations, but before that he pondered if the children had even seen the inside of where Rupert lived. He was pretty sure all the stories from this time focused around the school library.

The door opened and he found himself staring into the apprehensive eyes of his fellow Brit and one time landlord.

“Hullo, mate. Thought you might like to share a bottle of somethin’. Put on a few vinyl’s and we can have a chat.” Spike watched as anxiety and fear battled with interest, hoping that for once the old man would take a risk and give him the benefit of the doubt. Despite hoping for it, Spike nearly fell over in a dead faint when the Watcher stepped aside and held the door open.

“Come in…er…Spike, is it?” His namby pamby accent seemed to say the name with distaste and Spike determined that he and Giles were going to be well on the way to bosom buddies before the night was through. A good bottle of scotch could make comrades of the bitterest enemies.

Giles thought he had witnessed the glassiness of the vampire’s eyes, but then he shook his head and gave a thankful nod before walking through the held door and making his way further into the flat.

“Buffy told me you killed the Anointed One.” The statement was simple, factual and invited no further confirmation. He received a nod of acknowledgement before Spike flopped himself into a dining chair, rubbing his hand over the back.

“Ah, memories,” he reminisced and chuckled at the images of being tied loosely to the chair while the Slayer harped on about her commando and boyfriend issues. Well, there’d be none of that this time round. Little farmboy commando wasn’t getting a looksie if Spike could help it.

He jumped slightly when a full glass of amber liquid was placed directly in front of his hand and he reached for it gratefully.

“He was right annoying, that little one.”

“Is that why you killed him? Because he annoyed you?” Giles watched the vampire behind narrowed eyes, his hand resting rather heavily on a stake.

“I probably would have killed him eventually,” Spike joked, even if he was the only one he expected to get it. He sighed as the guarded expression remained prominent on Rupert’s face. “I did it for Buffy,” he clarified finally, enjoying the look of confusion the Watcher now sported.

“And why would you do that for Buffy?”

Spike considered his answer for long minutes, not sure what to say. He instinctively knew that if he admitted to the watcher that he was in love with Buffy that he might not make it out of the flat undusty. Although now he was pre-chip and he could at least defend himself, against Rupert he knew he wouldn’t.

When he finally raised his eyes they showed a sadness and dejection that he’d thought had been discarded the moment of demon girl’s spell; when he’d realised he had a second chance.

“Look, I can’t tell you. Just, things are not goin’ to go the way they could have. I’m not the bad guy here; I want to help Buffy stay alive. How can you knock that back?” He paused as he allowed a smirk to form on his plump pink lips. “’Sides, I’m better lookin’ than the poof, an’ I don’ brood. Not goin’ to leave her if the goin’ gets tough. I’ll be here and I’ll do everythin’ I can to prove to you an’ her that you can trust me.”

Giles seemed completely flummoxed and his hand wandered away from the stake, seemingly too entranced by the possibilities of a soulless demon offering hope.

“A-Are you seeking redemption?” he asked at last, his voice suffused with hints of disbelief.

Spike flinched, then flashed back upon a memory that had not been prominent in his past, but something he now found might be kind of relevant. A moment in his crypt, counting money as Giles offered the suggestion that his defanging with the chip could have been an impetus for something more for him. At the time, he’d fobbed off the possibility, but now he could see the roundabout journey of it all.

The chip had taken away his ability to hunt, though not to remain evil. In fact, in true evil demon fashion, he’d rebelled against his newly neutered state by trying to stir up trouble between Buffy and her mates, aligning himself with the true Big Bad of the moment: Adam. His plan had fallen through, pretty much like they’d always done. Still, at the end when he’d been betrayed himself by the half-human half-demon, he didn’t rush on out and find another way to survive. He’d hidden in the shadows and protected the Scoobies from attack. And further aligned himself with the Slayer.

A number of half-hearted efforts to return to his evil ways never fully panned out, and now he recognised the influence of Buffy on his actions. Her light overshadowed all his own personal dark, and he could see the lightening of Spike clearer now that he was away from the repressive violence of ‘resurrected Buffy’. If being in her light meant he could shine a little for her, then sure, redemption could be his new kick. If it really came down to it, he knew he would sacrifice his life to save the world if it meant she could live in it. He didn’t need a soul to tell him that.

Giles’s gaze had remained unrelenting for the period that Spike phased out, sifting through his thoughts and feelings till he felt comfortable with an answer.

“Not sure redemption is the right word,” he began, and frowned when he felt unusually tongue-tied. “Just want to make things right. Let her have an easier time of things. She’s got some hard roads to travel and she doesn’ need them to be impossible. If I can lighten’ the load, then I will. If I can help her save the world, I will. But I’m not gettin’ a soul, and I’m not gettin’ poofy hair or lifts.”

The room was loud in its silence as both reached the end of what logic pushed them to say. Giles was completely dumbfounded by the vampire’s words, and in complete disagreement with commonsense, his stake lay abandoned on the table as he stretched his legs and gathered together his bottled liquor.

“How did you go from being the killer of Slayers, to wanting to keep one alive?”

Spike felt strangely affected by the lack of venom in this human’s voice, completely unaccustomed to non-judgmental Giles. He was starting to curse the fact that he had so much history with these people and he was unable at this stage to reveal it all.

“I’ve jus’… been through some things,” he offered cryptically before suddenly grasping the wisdom of a change in topic.

“So, how much do you know about Angelus’s curse?”

If there was one thing Spike was beyond determined to achieve-- even if he completely turned everything arse over tit-- he would make sure Angel kept his slimy hands off Buffy and not risk losing his soul. He’d keep the chit from making the gelled one her one true love and destroying all hope for fellas pursuing her in the future. Not that there would be any: he’d be first in line.

An attack of nerves caught him unawares, and he felt his throat constrict at the sudden thought that repeated endlessly in his mind.

She had told him--on many more than one occasion--that she didn’t love him, could never love him. He’d thought coming back to when she was innocent, unhurt and devastated, that he could make her see how special the thing between them could be. But what if nothing changed? What if, even in this time, even if he’d not fought her and tried to kill her, she still felt no magic between them? What if he was destined to just love and never be loved in return?

So caught up in his fear, he didn’t hear Giles’s response to his question. Until he recognised the frown of annoyance and he made the effort to draw back from the nightmarish thoughts that could well destroy him.

“Sorry, mate. Got lost in somethin’ then. What were you sayin’?”

Giles began again, obvious in his interest of discovery. “We know next to nothing about his soul, I’m afraid. Do you have any information that could tell us more?”

Spike burned with the need to lay it all on the table, but they weren’t ready; didn’t trust him enough to take his word. And if he just came out and blurted the truth of the curse now, then it might push Buffy further into the brooding poof’s arms, and that wasn’t what he wanted at all.

“All’s I know it’s a curse, cast on ‘im when he ate a favourite gypsy girl.”

“A curse?” Giles whispered, his mind ticking over into research mode. “Of course, he told Buffy this last year. But to hear you say it--well, I’m a little embarrassed that I didn’t think there would be more to it. There are always ways to break a curse, aren’t there? To make him feel remorse for all the murder and torment he’d caused. Quite ingenuous. But surely the gypsies wouldn’t have left an opening for Angelus to return?” The little smile of academic interest and appreciation made Spike’s teeth feel on edge. And suddenly he could see his solution, could see a way to enlighten them, or at least set the ball rolling on discovering all Angel’s deep and dirty secrets. And this time, save lives and heartbreak. Preferably his.

“Not as simple as that, mate. Curses are usually a bugger to keep under control. Not sure exactly the wording but there could be consequences. And unleashing Angelus is not something you want to do. What you need is to investigate it and make sure it’s safe.” Spike sat back and waited for the incurable researcher to click in.

Giles sat in an agitated need for information, for knowledge.

“You could ask that gypsy bird at your school.” Spike had heard that the teacher had kept her identity a secret and it had caused a world of hurt in the end. As far as he was concerned, it was time for her to be outted. But he had to tread careful like, make sure he didn’t give too much away.

“I beg your pardon?” asked Giles in confusion.

“The teacher. The black-haired bird? Obviously gypsy.” Spike tried for an expression of unsure distraction. “Don’t you think?” and nearly fisted his hand in the air as he hooked Rupert to the possibility.

“Yes,” he said hesitantly, thoughtfully. “Yes, she does at that. I will be certain to have a chat to her tomorrow morning. Thank you, Spike, for pointing something out to me I should have noticed months ago.”

“No problem with that, Rupes. Now best be going. Might do a quick patrol before headin’ back under cover.” As Spike regained his feet, he was restrained by a hand on his arm.

“You are travelling with that female vampire? Drusilla? Is she of the same mind as you?”

Spike smiled sadly as he contemplated the mad, weak countenance of his true sire. He shook his head slowly.

“No, but I’m gettin’ Peaches to take on some of his clan responsibility. He’s leader and her sire, so he should be there to look out for her. It’s his call what should be done with her.” He turned quickly and walked to the door, missing the look of astonishment that flashed across Giles’s face.

“I thought she was your sire, your lover for over a century?”

The voice halted him with his hand circling the door handle. He didn’t turn back, didn’t reveal his anxious concerns regarding Angel’s decisions for Dru.

“She is my sire, but she isn’t my future.” And he swung the door inward and strode back out into the night.




He’d blinked and missed it. The entire bloody walk. He hadn’t meant to go to her house, but all things considered, he could hardly be surprised. He’d spent the better part of the past two years lurking under her tree, smoking himself more to death while he waited and watched for any sign of her. Just hoping for a show that she hadn’t ever given him.

Not once had he caught her disrobing in her room. Probably explained his risky excursions to her lingerie drawer. The mystery of it all had been too tantalising and being the evil git that he was, he couldn’t resist sneaking into her bedroom and lifting a couple of those secrets for his pleasure later at his crypt.

Now he stood under the tree and argued with himself about the wisdom of climbing it. One hand rested against the bark while he told himself he was risking everything by coming to her, but also wondering if his invite still existed, even though he’d gone back in time. Still busy contemplating, he didn’t hear the soft whisk of her bedroom window sliding up, nor hear her as she leaned out with a not too subtle ‘pssst’.

It was only at the dulled thump of her feet hitting the grass that he snapped out of his dejected decision to not go up to her. He blinked before offering her a wide ecstatic grin and lurched forward to sweep her into his arms.

“Evenin’, pet. How’d you know I was here?” He felt as giddy as a schoolboy as she rested her tiny but powerful palms against his chest. Until he noticed the slight pressure holding him back a little.

“Tinglies,” she offered simply, her head to the side as she contemplated him, and the streetlights bouncing off her shiny hair. “What are you doing here?” Her question brought a smile to his aching lips. He felt ready to die for the possibility of laying one on her, right here under the tree at her house. Nothing like being confronted with his straightforward no-nonsense Slayer to move his libido into top gear. His lips belonged on hers. It was pure agony to be distant.

“Couldn’t stay away from you, Goldilocks.”

She thrust him away, acting only a little concerned as his back slammed into the bark of the tree--though her frantic heartbeat betrayed her concern--and crossed her arms over her sublime yet perky breasts. His mouth watered at the thought of all he had tasted, and was finding he had to exert supervillain powers to control himself from pouncing on her and showing her all she could have.

“Less with the flirty and more with the talky,” she told him with an even greener tint to her emerald eyes. “Who’s Morticia?” And then her foot began to tap.

Spike was mesmerised, and seriously turned on. But then her words cut through the lust fog of his brain and he turned confused eyes to her.

“Who?” he asked, completely stumped. And then he remembered. She meant Drusilla, and her calling his ex-lover back to his mind was suddenly painful. He even felt a little guilty for forgetting about his dark princess for those moments.

“You know? Drusilla, the Wonder Loon.” Her voice was sharp with something he couldn’t dare to hope for, but reason had nothing on patience when he was dying for some sign that she could care for him.

His lips curled in a relieved, soft smile and he gazed upon her with warm, melting looks of affection.

“Dru is my sire, pet. I’ve been with her for over a hundred years.” He held a breath as Buffy’s eyes went wide, and her heartbeat picked up pace.

“You’ve been flirting, and making with the kissage, and you already have a girlfriend?” Her eyes shone with what almost looked like hurt and betrayal and he panicked.

“No!” he shouted and lunged forward to take her back in his arms. He crushed her to his chest and he breathed in the fruity fragrance of her hair.

“She’s not my girlfriend, Buffy. Not anymore. I’m gonna find a place, get out on my own. Time for me to be my own man. But Dru needs carin’. Peaches is gonna look after her now. It’s his place as head of the clan.”

Buffy could feel his lips lost in her hair, feel his hands as they rubbed subtle circles over her back, and as hard as she tried she couldn’t stop the huge sigh of relief that passed over her lips. And then his words meshed together and she found she didn’t understand everything.

“Who or what is Peaches?” she asked in that hoity-toity voice he loved so much. He grinned, feeling like a little evil payback was in order.

“That would be Angel, pet. You know, tall, dark and forehead? Your boyfriend?”

She had the decency to blush and Spike thought it was adorable. He couldn’t believe the fun he was having in getting to know teenage Buffy--girly Buffy. He’d been so intent on killing her back then that he hadn’t taken the time to see her. Sure, he’d noticed the innocent seduction of her body swaying to the music, got hard when he saw how her body stretched taut and strong each time he fought her. But he didn’t get into her head, didn’t listen to her quips, didn’t want to understand her teenage insecurity and boy traumas. Bloody hell, he’d missed too much.

Even worse than being evil, his demon was stubborn. But as usual, he found a way he could blame it all on Angelus. If the pansied git hadn’t told him about Slayers in the first place, he would never had sought them out for the fights of his unlife. Then again, he might never have taken her on, either. Right about now, he felt like holding prayer sessions to thank God for Vengeance Demons.

“He is so not my boyfriend,” Buffy denied forcefully, breaking through his preoccupied walk through history. “Well, not…really…” she muttered guiltily. “We’re not going steady or anything,” she finished on a wave of defiance. Her eyes were fixed on the grass; her foot kicking at innocent tufts that had the misfortune of being in line with her shoe.

“Guess that means you’re free as a bird, then,” he teased her. He laughed as he heard the blood rush to the surface of her skin. She looked at him through a curtain of finely blended blond highlights and he felt the tenderness for her well up inside of him.

It was all so different, yet the same. His feelings seemed so much more intense, though not stronger. He felt a freedom and an allowance to feel which he had never felt before. The encounters he’d had with the Slayer that allowed him to touch her-- emotionally and physically--had always been fraught with ill-disguised disgust. Every caress was under forbearance, and it hurt. Everything about his contact with Buffy hurt. Which was why he wanted a numbing spell in the first place, yeah?

And now he’d gone back. Back to the place where their history span together, twisted and intersected until it all got so confused. The hate and desire and lust, and later, the love. Every emotion he’d ever felt for the girl was extreme, was everything that he was. And right now, just checking out the prettiness of her youth, her happiness to be alive and so far untouched by grief, made his hard on pretty damn extreme.

It was difficult to trust, but his luck had seemingly changed for the better. He’d already kissed her, let his fingers glide against her skin like smooth cream, and created little waves of ‘maybes’ that had already inspired her to downplay her connection with the Grand one. Had allowed her to submit to the touch of an evil demon and enjoy it.

He felt the burn of her consideration, her eyes pinning him still.

“Wanna patrol?” Her voice was hesitant, but hopeful. Almost like she really wanted him to come and kill baddies with her.

Spike could feel himself light up, never having felt so ebullient in his life.

“I’ve a better idea, pet. Let’s spar.”

Before the words had fully left his mouth she was gone, sprinting across the lawn and road and taking a familiar path to the first cemetery in her path. His initial burst of speed in a run caught him up, but an evil grin consumed him and he took off in a flying leap, tackling her hard to the ground.

They rolled and struggled, until Buffy ended up wrestling with thin air. She blinked in surprise before springing to her feet. Her coat, a pale colour that was going to have obscene looking stains after their tussle, swished around her as she stalked the vampire. He brought his ridged face forward, mapped out her movement and calculated his plan of attack.

He had advantage, and he relished it. He knew exactly how she fought, and thanks to the chip giving him more worthy opponents than the occasional strong human, he was more a force to reckon with than when he originally went rounds with her. Still, once he pounced and began to land blows, he refused to hold back. He wanted her to know what kind of a threat he could have been to her.

He tossed her over his shoulder and she landed hard against a crypt wall, not even pausing as she made it back to her feet and swept the dust off her coat. The flash of the happy lips she tossed him made him feel light, awed, and very bloody horny.

The tempo of her heartbeat increased so much that he was using his fists in time to it. She caught almost all of them and he copped a kick or two to pay him back for the ones she missed. Then he could smell blood on the air, the crimson and sweet aroma of her blood and he froze. The power and strength caught him up in tendrils of exquisite wanting and he felt useless with numb limbs. His cock ached and pointed, wanting her so badly that he was nearly likely to juice up his pants. Not very gentleman-like.

But she seemed to notice the moment he stopped with the fight, her panting breaths coinciding with the blood pulsing to his cock, and finally his eyes fell upon the spill. A cut on her lip--the most erotic bleeding in history, he thought dumbly. She moved toward him, concern and confusion marring her pace, but eventually she was before him and he could smell her, could damn near taste her and all he wanted was to possess her. Mark her. Make her forever his.

His fangs disappeared, despite his urgent desire to bite her, and he watched her with lust-drugged eyes. He was almost too rigid to move; desperate for some contact with her that would prove to him that this new chance would be worth it. But the power of her blood, of his new circumstance held him to the spot, making him an easy mark for her.

And finally she was close enough to touch, though he still couldn’t move. Not that it made a difference because marking was the order of the day. She leapt forward and attacked his mouth and he sucked in that blissful taste of her blood and felt himself cum, his hips jerking with the pleasure of having her essence in his body. He felt her struggle back but he held her, dragging her body flush against his as he allowed his tongue to thrust into her mouth.

He felt the discomfort of the sliminess in his jeans, but he wasn’t embarrassed. He’d just experienced something so spontaneous, something so hot that he’d never had with his Buffy, and he wasn’t going to waste time with awkward apologies. His hands found her waist as he held her against him, moaning as he felt her raise a leg and clamp it around him.

His lips caressed hers, demanding to be allowed sanctuary and making promises he had every belief in. He’d made promises to her and he’d kept every one. As he tangled his hand in her hair, he promised to help her fight evil. As he licked her bottom lip before sucking it in between his teeth, he promised to help protect her family. As he cupped his hand around her bottom and pushed her further into his once again hardening cock, he promised to love her forever. As his hand found a path under her top to wander over her delicious skin, he promised to never leave her. And as he felt himself lose control and clamp around the soft but luscious skin of her breast, tweaking the nipple till she cried in exquisite torture, he promised her the world and everything he was.

So it came as a shock when he found himself slamming hard into the side of a mausoleum, watching in disbelief as her fist covered her raw and ravaged mouth.

“This…is wrong. You’re evil. A vampire. You have no soul.”

Spike could only stare at her in horrified stupefaction.

“Holy fucking hell,” he roared. His game face surged and his fangs were itching to sink into something soft. “That argument is really fucking old. And bloody redundant, and you, you are going to admit that one day if it bleeding well kills me. I ‘aven’t killed a human in almost three years. An’ now it’s through bloody choice, you stupid bint. I’ve taken out the little kiddy to spare you the trouble, promised your watcher I’ll look out for you, and holy fuck I get so hot around you I think I’ll combust. And you dive down my throat, suck up everything in me, and then decide it’s wrong. I don’t think you’ve got a handle on what’s wrong, sweetheart. I guess that bleeding parade with the trombones is still a long bloody way off. How fucking typical!”

His amber eyes flashed, his fists pumped at his sides and his fury seeped through his skin and voice till she felt scorched.

And all Buffy could do was watch as the hottest guy she knew abandoned her in the cemetery. She turned dejectedly on her heel, wondering about the explosive temper of the blonde vamp, and made her way home.

“What’s with the parade? And I hate trombones,” she muttered, and just walked while softly rubbing her lips with her finger. They were sore, sensitive…and bleeding she realised as her finger came away red.

Well, that explained the out of control passion on his part.

And despite it all, she smiled, and whooped as she took off at Slayer speed for home, and some rather nice dreams about sexiness in a slight but rather compact package.

And ewww…did he come in his pants?

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