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To Save a Lady banner by Selene

Title:  To Save a Lady

Author: Slaymesoftly

Rating: NC17 do I even remember HOW to write anything else?)

Word count: 77780

Season: Imaginary Season V

Disclaimer:  Joss never hired me, so obviously all the characters still belong to him.  No sense his suing me; he’s got way more money than I do, I’m sure.

Warnings – hints of non-consensual sex, hints of slash, and hints of torture. Nothing graphic, but there is a bit of each of those things in one chapter. Also, character deaths.

Many thanks to Oracle Holly for her read overs and suggestions as I struggled with how to get the story going. *hugs* Holly.  And to Always_jbj whose fic gave me the way to get Buffy out of the hole I was digging for her.  And to Megan, whose entertaining betas made all the difference.

The banners are by the wonderful Selene and the talented Bloodshedbaby .

This fic has won Best Long Fic, Best Claiming, Best Love Story Runner-up) and Best Written Runner-up) at the Lost in Spike Awards, round 7, as well as Best Time Travel and Best Saga at Round 1 of the Fang Fetish Awards and Judges Pick at the Blood Ties Awards. Many thanks to the wonderful readers who nominated it at those sites.

Author’s notes/summary:  Ok, here’s the sitch.   It’s early in a Season V that has been tweaked to suit my purposes.  Spike hasn’t had his little revelation about his feelings for Buffy, and she, of course, is clueless.  Riley has had his surgery and begun his macho identity crisis.  Dawn won’t be mentioned much because she isn’t part of this story. Riley has gone back to Iowa for an extended leave, partly to recover from his surgery and partly to figure out what he wants to do next.  He was apprehensive about being gone from Buffy for so long, and not at all reassured when she tells him she will take Spike with her for extra muscle if he’s so worried about her.  He reminds her of her words to him before he lost the enhancements that were killing him, when she told him that if she “wanted somebody with super powers, I’d be dating Spike!” She rolls her eyes at his implication and they do not part on the best of terms.

To Save a Lady

Prologue:

            “Hey, watch it, Slayer!  You almost got me with that thing.”  Spike growled and moved a little further away from Buffy and the axe she was carrying.

            “Don’t be such a baby, Spike.  I didn’t even come close to hitting you.  Did I, guys?”

            “Uh, actually, Buffster, you did kinda…” The look she sent him had Xander backpedaling quickly.  “…kinda go out of your way to miss him.  Yep, that’s what I saw.  You tried really hard to miss him.”

             He gave the glaring vampire an apologetic shrug as he retreated behind Giles until Buffy forgot about his almost-treason.  The ex-watcher just sighed and continued moving forward.

           “If you two can stop squabbling until we find something you actually need to fight, I might be able to do a better job of following this map of the facility.” 

            He had to bite his tongue to hold back what he wanted to say about the bickering. Giles knew that Buffy had argued with her current boyfriend about Spike, but as much as he disliked the man, he had to sympathize with him.  The only people who didn’t recognize the sexual tension between the two bickering super-beings were Buffy and Spike themselves. Everyone else was just waiting for the feelings simmering so blatantly between the Slayer and another master vampire to boil over.  Giles had already resigned himself to the inevitable, grateful that this vampire had no soul to lose and was restrained by a government chip that prevented him from harming humans.

             “Well, it’s boring in here, Giles,” Buffy almost whined.  “No left over demons to kill, no soldiers, and, apparently, no mystical books hidden away anywhere.”

            “I’m confident they are here.  We just have to locate Walsh’s office.  I cannot in good conscience leave knowledge like that lying around for anyone to find.”

         “Well, we’d better find them soon.  I’m getting hungry and it’s getting late. I was hoping to get some sleep tonight.”

          “Soldier boy been keeping you up too late with the boring shaggin’, Slayer?” Spike snarked, earning another glare and a raised axe.

         Before she could follow through on her implied threat, Xander moved off to peer into a small, metal room standing by itself in the middle of the larger area. 

           “Hey, I wonder what they did in here?” he said as he ran his flashlight around the bare interior.  “Look at all the fancy dials on the door.”

           Curiosity getting the best of them, Spike and Buffy both moved over to peer into the room with Xander.  They jostled each other good-naturedly to be the first to look in the room.  In spite of their constant arguing and insulting each other, the two had reluctantly formed a very powerful team against the constant influx of demons that the Hellmouth attracted to Sunnydale.  The weeks of fighting side by side had brought a grudging respect for each other’s abilities and courage and coming to the other’s aid if needed had become second nature to them both.

              While Xander wandered around the outside of the small, isolated room, admiring all the dials and switches, Buffy stepped inside and looked around for something of interest.  What she found was a floor that slanted toward the center and she was quickly sliding in further than she had intended.

          “Spike!” she yelled, reaching for his hand to stop her slide.  He immediately stepped into the doorway and grabbed her wrist, halting her precipitous slip towards the deceptively flat center of the room.  Just as Spike began to back out, pulling her with him, Xander completed his circuit of the exterior, coming around the outside corner and stumbling into the open door.  His stumble caused the heavy door to hit Spike in the back, propelling the vampire into Buffy and the dark room.

            “Whoops?” he said, as the door slammed closed on them, muffling their angry curses.  He reached for the handle, only to find the door was firmly locked.

            “Okay, not a big deal here.  All I have to do is find the right dial or switch and it’ll pop right open.  Looking for a switch that says, ‘Open, door’. How hard can that be?”

             He began to run his hands over the numerous buttons and switches on the outside of the door, mumbling to himself and trying to ignore the glare from Buffy’s watcher.  When Giles realized the boy was actually turning dials and pushing random buttons, he ran over and grabbed his hands.

            “What are you doing, you stupid git?  We have no idea what those dials are designed to do.” 

              Before he had even finished speaking, a humming noise began and a green glow permeated the walls of the room.  Xander frantically hit more buttons, trying to halt whatever process he’d started, but the humming just got louder and the glow brighter. 

             “Oh,oh.  Glowing. Humming.  Not of the good.  Giles, we may have a situation here!”

               A frustrated snort was the only reply from the older man as he grunted in effort, trying to get the door open.

             Inside the pitchblack room, Spike and Buffy were trying to stand up on the small center circle onto which they had slid when Xander slammed the door on them.  They were so busy calling Xander names that they failed to notice the hum and glow at first.  Not until they realized they could see each other again did they begin to worry about the noise and light.

            “This cannot possibly be a good thing,” Buffy moaned. 

            “You think?” he snarled, looking desperately around the smooth floor for something to use to pull himself back toward the door.

              “This is what you get for stepping inside instead of pulling me out!  This is all your fault, Spike.”

              “MY fault?  You’re the stupid bint that walked into the room and grabbed ME for a lifeline.  This is YOUR fault, Slayer.”

                Her automatic retaliatory remark died in her throat as the hum reached uncomfortable levels and she had to shut her eyes against the bright glowing walls.  Suddenly she felt like she was in a whirlpool as the wall spun around her and she felt herself being sucked into something large and empty.  At the last second she reached out for Spike, only to find his hand already reaching for hers.

             “Here we go, pet. Ready or not,” he growled as the room disappeared around them and it became very dark and quiet.  There was no sound from the Slayer, just a quick squeeze of his hand in acknowledgement before she gave herself up to whatever was happening to them.

~~~~~~~~~~

             Outside the room, there was an eerie silence as the glow faded from the walls and the humming stopped abruptly.  Two sets of eyes went to the door, now swinging slowly open all by itself. 

             “Bugger,” Giles said softly as he stared into the now nearly empty room.

             “I see your bugger, and I’ll raise you an ‘oh, shit,’ ” Xander gulped as he too took in the not quite empty space in front of them.  Sitting in the middle of floor, looking more than a little bewildered and snarling ferociously was an eerily familiar-looking vampire in 19th century clothing.

Chapter One                      

            Buffy landed hard, stumbling against Spike as her booted feet settled on a bumpy surface.  Automatically, he caught her and held her upright until she had her balance, taking advantage of the brief closeness to breathe in her scent and enjoy the feel of her strong little arms in his hands. 

          “Careful, pet. These cobblestones can be treacherous,” he said almost absently as he looked around and took in their surroundings.

            “Cobblestones?  How did we get on cobblestones?  There aren’t any cobblestone streets in Sunnydale.”

            “Don’t think we’re in Sunnydale anymore.”

              Buffy looked around at the darkened street, noting the lack of traffic sounds and lights.  “I…I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore either, Toto,” she said slowly.  “I have a bad feeling about this.”

              “Kansas?” the vampire gave her a confused look as he slipped into game face and began looking around.

               “Yeah, Dorothy? Toto?  Kansas? Oz?  Never mind,” she huffed, wondering why she’d been so sure Spike would be familiar with a 1939 children’s movie.

                He grinned behind his fangs and enjoyed the increase in her heart rate that anger at him always provoked.  As he used his vamp senses to try to figure out where they were, he wondered idly if she had any idea how often he deliberately riled her up just so he could enjoy the increase in blood temperature and heart beats that it evoked.  One of his primary regrets about having the chip – right after not being able to kill anyone, of course – was that he could no longer fight with Buffy and enjoy the heady scent of her arousal while she beat him up.

               Sighing for lost pleasures, he listened as hard as he could for sounds of traffic, cell phones, loud music – anything that would reassure him that they were still in 21st century California.  However, his enhanced ears picked up nothing but the soft clopping of horses’ hooves at the far end of the dark street upon which they had landed.

           He began walking towards the flickering street light at the end of the block, not looking back to see if the Slayer was following or not.  He heard her stumble and curse, quickly followed by an “ewww” as she realized what she had slipped in.

           Smothering the laugh he was afraid might get him staked, he came back to where she was shaking the horse manure off her boots and held out his arm to her.  She looked at him blankly for a moment, struggling to see his face in the still dim light of the poorly lit street.

           “What do you want?

           He gave a sigh of exasperation and offered his arm again.

           “I’m offering to help you walk around without ruining your fancy boots there.  Seein’ as how I’m the one with the good night vision an’ all.”

           “Oh.”

          “Yeah, oh.  Now do you want my help or not?”

          She tossed her head haughtily, catching herself just before the expected, “As if!” left her mouth. 

Until I know more about where we are and how to get out of here, I’d better not piss Spike off.  I might need him for something more important than keeping my boots clean.)

           Keeping her face carefully neutral, she wrapped one small warm hand around his muscular arm and stepped a little closer to his side.  Aside from the clasped hands a few minutes ago, it was the first time they had touched for more than a violent second or two since the end of Willow’s disastrous will-be-done spell of almost a year ago, and she found herself having to fight back the memories of what the rest of his body felt like under her hands.

            By silent, mutual, agreement, they had limited their physical contact since then to only what was necessary in the nightly dispatch of Buffy’s slaying duties.  If any of the Scoobies had tried to tell them they were not touching out of fear that they would find themselves unable to stop, they would have stomped away, empty threats of violence filling the air.

          As they got closer to the gaslight at the corner of the street, another couple passed them going the other way and Spike folded his free hand over hers and ducked his head down as though talking to her.  He nodded politely at the other man, still sheltering Buffy with his body.

          “Stay close and hope they don’t notice your short skirt,” he murmured, his cool breath stirring tendrils of hair around her face.  He’d felt her heart rate go up when she touched his arm and wondered about the cause, then felt it increase again as he leaned into her.

Probably just disgusted at having to touch me again) he thought angrily. Afraid she’ll soil those dainty little hands by touching the Big Bad with ‘em.)

         He shook her hand off as soon as they got close to the light, ignoring the bewildered look she sent him.

          “Sheesh! What’s your damage?” she growled, snatching her hand away.

          “Don’t want you getting Slayer sweat all over my good leather,” he grumbled, fumbling for an excuse for his sudden temper.

          “Oh, like I WANTED to be touching you!” she snapped back at him.  “And my hands are NOT sweating, bleach boy.”

          They stood under the flickering light glaring at each other until another horse drawn carriage approached and they had to admit they might have bigger problems than not wanting to be touching each other.  When Spike noticed the driver of the horse-drawn cab staring at Buffy’s booted legs and short skirt, he whipped off his coat and threw it around her shoulders.

           “What are you—?”

           “You’re gonna get arrested for indecent exposure if you don’t keep those legs covered up,” he hissed. “Now put this on and keep it closed until we get somewhere safe to hole up for the day.”

            “News flash, bloodsucker. I don’t have to hole up for the day.  I’m all about walking in the sunshine and finding out where we are.”

            He tilted his head and looked at her curiously.  “Are you just whistling in the dark or are you really that dumb, pet?  Cause, you HAVE noticed we’re not surrounded by all the comforts of modern technology haven’t you?”

            “I’m kinda picking up on that,” she grumbled.  “But we could be in, like, a theme park or something. You don’t know.”

            He tapped his nose and ears for emphasis as he said, “Vampire here, Slayer.  I haven’t smelled air like this in a hundred years.  And I can’t hear any trace of the sounds we’re used to.  No cars anywhere, no phones ringing, nothing but the sights and sounds of a long, long time ago.  So, it’s not so much WHERE we are, although I’ve got to admit I’m curious about why it looks so familiar, but WHEN we are that we should be worrying about.”

           “Fine, Mr. I’m-older-than-dirt.  Then you figure out when we are and find us a place to stay.  I’m tired and I want to get some sleep before we try to get home.”

            Spike looked around the intersection in all directions; finally, narrowing his eyes and absently taking her hand, he began pulling her down the side street.  Buffy left her hand in his cool grasp, fighting the urge to link her fingers with his.  To her surprise, Spike initiated a more intimate hold as he turned his hand and interlocked their fingers.  After they’d walked that way for a few blocks, she could see that he was heading toward a large house with darkened windows.

I know he’s just doing that so I don’t slow him down in the dark.  It’s not like he wants to be holding my hand.)

           Spike stopped in front of the big, empty seeming house and stared at it with a bemused expression on his face.  He listened carefully, but heard no heartbeats that would indicate there might be human beings inside.  He tilted his head at the puzzled Slayer, wondering if he wanted to share this much of himself with her.  The tingles on the back of his neck telling him the sun was coming up forced his hand, and he started through the open gate toward the empty building.

            He’d gone most of the way to the house before he noticed that she wasn’t with him and he turned around to say, “Come on, pet.  I need to get in before I fry.”

           “We can’t just walk into somebody’s house, Spike.  There are probably people sleeping in there.  And even if they aren’t home, you won’t be able to get in, anyway.”

           “Yes, I will,” he answered and turned back toward the path leading around to the back of the house.

“Spike!” she hissed, “You’re still a vampire.  We-you can’t go in without an invitation.”

“Don’t need one.  I know this house.”

“Why do you think you …Oh my god. Did you eat the owner?  That’s it, isn’t it?  You know where we are because you ate the owner of this house!”

“You’re partly right, Slayer,” he ground out through clenched teeth.  “I DO know where we are, I just don’t know when we are.  But if the house is empty…”

“If it’s empty, then it’s sometime after you ate the owner.”  Her voice was flat and dull as she was forcibly reminded of his violent past.  “You know you can go in because you know the owner is dead.”

She heaved a deep sigh; then raised her eyes to his in resignation. 

“It’s all right, Spike.  I know what you used to be.  I can’t help the owner now, so we might as well—“

The angry vampire cut her off explosively.

“Bloody hell, Slayer.  Would you stop your yammering long enough for me to get word in edgewise? I didn’t eat the bloody owner!”

“Then why do you think you can get in?  He IS dead, isn’t he?”

“Yes, he’s bloody well dead, if you must know.”

“Aha! And you know that…how?”  She stubbornly stood her ground in the front yard, refusing to follow him around the house.

“Because I AM the owner, you irritating bitch!”

Chapter Two

He turned his back on her and marched off around the corner of the house, leaving the astonished slayer staring after him with her mouth open.  As soon as she could no longer see or hear him, she realized how very silent the early morning darkness was and with a shiver she hurried after the muttering vampire.

By the time Buffy got around to the back of the house, Spike was rooting around under a large rock, clearly searching for something.  With a triumphant, “Ha!” he stood up, holding a large old-fashioned looking key in his hand.  Without looking at the semi-contrite Slayer, he walked up the steps of the back porch and inserted the key in the door.

He opened it with a flourish, pausing from force of habit to hold it open for the girl right behind him.  Buffy gave him a suspicious look, although she already knew from when they were “engaged” that Spike had manners he was usually careful to keep well-hidden.  She slipped past his outstretched hand just as he realized what he’d done and they both turned away to pretend it never happened.

The interior of the room they’d just stepped into was hidden from Buffy’s eyes.  Even with her Slayer enhancements, she couldn’t see in the nearly pitchblack room as well as Spike could.  He stayed in vamp mode as he looked around the kitchen, sniffing to see if anyone had been there recently.  All he could smell was a faint trace of Cook’s scent and another, less familiar one.  Neither one indicated a recent presence in the house, and he relaxed a bit.

Taking Buffy’s hand again, he led her into a hallway, stopping at a small table to use his lighter to fire up a kerosene lamp.  By the flickering light, he continued down the hall and into the front parlor, pausing and shutting his eyes briefly in pain when he saw the piano at which his mother had spent so much time before she became ill.

He set the lamp down and walked around the room, lighting a few others as he came to them.  He was pleased to see that all the lamps had oil and the wicks had been recently trimmed.  Turning to look at the Slayer, he saw that she was looking around with wide eyes.  She caught sight of the portrait over the fireplace and, picking up the lamp, she walked over closer to it to gaze up into a pair of blue eyes that mirrored those watching her so carefully.

She turned and asked softly, “Is that your mother?”

“Yes,” was the short reply.

“She’s…she was…very pretty,” Buffy offered somewhat timidly.

“Yes, she was,” he replied, doing nothing to encourage her line of questioning.

“When did she…I mean was it before you were turned?  Or did you…?”

“She had TB,” he said flatly.  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I’m sorry,” she amazed him by saying softly.  “I didn’t mean to bring up—“

“It’s fine. Just leave it, alright?”

With a last look at the sweet-looking woman in the portrait, she nodded and sat down in a wing chair.

“So, now what do we do?” she asked, casting another look around and noticing the lightening skies outside.

“Don’t know what you’re going to do,” he said impatiently.  “I’m going to find a room with heavy drapes and catch some kip.  Got a feeling it’s going to be a long day…or night.”

Buffy yawned in spite of herself.  “I guess I could use some sleep too,” she said hesitantly.  “Since you don’t think I can go out dressed like this.”

“You can’t,” he said, running his eyes up her bare legs appreciatively. “Not unless you’re planning to earn us some dosh the hard way.”

She blinked at him in confusion for a second; then flushed with anger and embarrassment.

“You are such a pig, Spike!”

“Oink, oink,” he agreed cheerfully, laughing as he caught the leather coat she’d shrugged off and thrown at him.

He picked up the lamp and nodded toward the double doors leading to the front hall.

“Come on, pet.  Let’s find a place to bed down for the day.”

She followed him meekly, telling herself she was not noticing how the muscles in his butt flexed as he took the stairs two at a time.

I am NOT watching Spike’s butt!  I’m just keeping my eye on him so he doesn’t leave me alone here in the dark.)

He stopped at the top of the stairs and looked at her speculatively for a minute before pointing toward the first bedroom.

“That was my mum’s room.  You can sleep there today.  And there should be some dresses in the wardrobe that might fit you.  Don’t go out until I’ve checked what you’re wearing – it’s important to have on the right kind of dress for the time of day.”

“I’m NOT an idiot, you know!” she huffed.  “I’ve been dressing myself for years.”

“ ’S why I mentioned it, luv,” he snickered, handing her the lamp and moving toward another door. “Been watchin’ you for years, haven’t I?  And I know Victorian England is not ready for Buffy Summers and her wardrobe.”

“Hmph!” she snorted, tossing her head and walking toward the closed door.  She stopped when she had her hand on the doorknob and asked, without turning around, “You’ve been watching me?”

“Well, yeah.  Had to know all about you if I was gonna kill you, didn’t I?”

“Oh.”  She tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice as she concentrated on opening the heavy door.

Spike’s deep rumble stopped her for a second.   “Wasn’t the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, pet.  Watchin’ you.”  He waited to see if she was going to look at him, but she just nodded her head and kept walking.  “I think you’re very watchable.”

She turned her head just enough that he could see the twitch of her lips as she tried not to smile.

“Well, it’s not like I actually care if you like watching me.” She tried to sound uninterested, but her accelerated heartbeat told him different.

“No, ‘course not,” he agreed.

“Just so we’re clear on that.”

“Got it, Slayer,” he said with a small smile as he opened the door to his bedroom.  “Sleep tight, pet”

“You too, Spike,” she said, closing the door softly and turning to look at the room his mother had used.

In addition to the beautiful four-poster bed and matching wardrobe and dresser, there was a small writing desk near the window and a comfortable looking chair and ottoman close to the fireplace.  The sheets on the bed had a musty odor from being unused and in a closed house for so long, but the mattress was comfortable and Buffy was soon asleep.

While she slept, she dreamed that she was running along a dark street, wearing a long dress that hampered her movement and slowed her down in a frustrating manner.   She became aware that she was being chased by someone or something and that it was rapidly gaining on her.  Picking up the impeding skirts, she pushed herself to a faster pace, rounding a corner only to find herself facing two familiar looking people also wearing 19th century dress. 

A closer look at the large man with the shoulder-length hair had her reeling back in surprise as he licked his lips and stared at her.

“Well, seems like Will has done something right for a change,” Angelus said with a leer.  “Drove this little darlin’ right to us, he did.”

The blonde woman at his side sneered and dismissed Buffy with a toss of her head.

“She’s hardly big enough to be a snack,” she sniffed. “Just kill her and be done with it.”

Buffy had just recognized Darla under the powder and hair when a slender brunette seemed to float out of the mist to join them.

“Oh no, Grandmummy. Daddy.  That is my William’s sunshine.  You mustn’t try to take it.  He will be very cross with you.”

“Shut up, Dru,” Angelus said absently.  “She’s mine if I want her.  Will has nothing to say about it.”

“You willin’ to argue that point, Angelus?” came a growl from the shadows as a Spike Buffy had never seen before stepped up beside her.  He was dressed in the same old fashioned clothing as the other vampires and his much longer hair was threatening to block his vision as soft, brown curls hung over his forehead. The sharp cheekbones and startlingly blue eyes were the same ones she saw every day, though and she had no trouble recognizing him.

Although she had been running from him at the beginning of the dream, Buffy realized that he was now the only thing standing between her and the rest of the Scourge of Europe.  Even as she chastised herself for behaving in such an un-slayerly fashion, she shrank into his side and allowed him to place a protective arm around her.

Angelus shook his head in mock dismay.  “Ah, Will, Will, Will.  Poor boyo.  You still don’t get it, do you?  If I want her, I’ll have her.  She’s mine. Always was, always will be.  They’re all mine,” he gestured expansively to include Darla and Dru.  “I only let you borrow them sometimes.”

“Not this one.  You don’t get to touch her.”  She could sense Spike shifting into game face as he pushed her behind him and challenged the much larger vampire.

Moving faster than the eye, Angelus was in front of them, holding Spike/William up by the collar.  “I take what’s mine, boyo.  You’ll want to be pickin’ your battles a little more carefully.  She’s not worth losing your unlife over.”

With a snarl, he tossed the smaller vampire into the street and turned to reach a hand toward a frozen Buffy.  Just as he was about to touch her breast, a growling blur flew into him and knocked him down.  Buffy watched in horror as the two vampires rolled around snarling and snapping, their claws rending and teeth tearing flesh.  The older, heavier vampire was soon on top and switching back to human guise, he began pounding William’s face with his fists, turning the beautiful human features into a mass of broken, bloody flesh.

When there was no longer any movement from the younger vampire, he rose to his feet and spat contemptuously on the inert body.

“I’ll be back for her, William.  And she WILL belong to me.”

With that, he offered his arms to the two waiting female vampires and they walked off as though they were strolling through the park.

Released from her immobility, Buffy fell to her knees beside the bloody, broken body of the only person she knew in this time and place.

“Spike?” she whispered softly, “Spike? Can you hear me?”  Her voice rose as there was no sign of life or movement from the vampire.  “Spike!  Spike!” She could feel herself almost screaming as she tried to revive the very dead-looking man on the ground.

Suddenly, she felt a gentle shaking on her shoulder and she woke up abruptly to find a concerned-looking Spike bending over her asking what was wrong.  Without thought, she threw herself at him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and sobbed into his chest.

After a startled second, he tentatively put his arms around her and began rubbing soothing circles on her back as he murmured comforting words in her ear.  He tried to ignore the effect her warm, barely covered body was having on him as she clung to his neck and repeated, “You’re ok, you’re ok,” over and over.

“It’s all right, pet.  It was just a nightmare.  I’m right here.  Spike’s got you, luv.  You’re all right.  Stop crying, Slayer.  It’s okay.”

As Buffy woke up more completely, she realized that not only was she completely overreacting to the dream, but she was pressed up against Spike’s body wearing nothing but a tee shirt and her underwear.  The vampire, she noticed with a blush, was only wearing a pair of jeans and the hard object pressing against her stomach told her he wasn’t wearing anything else.

The jeans were barely zipped, the top button undone, as though they’d been thrown on hastily.  As awareness came back to her, she realized that she must have been screaming in her sleep and awakened the vampire. Spike sleeps in the nude) irrelevantly crossed her mind as she somewhat reluctantly pushed herself back from his chest, and stopped crying.

“I…I’m sorry,” she hiccupped.  “I didn’t mean to wake you.  I was dreaming.”

“Yeah,” he said softly, letting his arms drop to his sides with a small sigh of regret. “I think I got that.  Must have been a really bad one to get you that upset that you’d be calling for me.”

She blinked at him in shock; then remembered her reaction when she’d seen him standing over her, alive and uninjured.  She blushed and ducked her head as she mumbled.  “In my dream I was afraid you were dead.”

“I am dead, luv,” he said gently.  “You already knew that.”

She rolled her eyes at his deliberate refusal to get what she was saying. “You know what I mean,” she grumbled.

He grinned at her and sat down cautiously on the side of the bed.  “So, then, pet.  Want to tell me about this dream of yours?  I mean, I’ve got to be curious when the Slayer has a dream and wakes up screaming my name…”

At the sight of her glare, he lost his grin and hastily added, “Not that I think you were screaming my name in anything but sheer terror.  Was I trying to kill you?”

“Yeah,” she growled, still glaring at him. “I was screaming in fear that you were killing me, that’s why the first thing I did when I woke up was give you my best octopus imitation.”

“Jus’ teasing, pet,” he said mildly.  “So, if I wasn’t killing you, and you weren’t in the throes of passion… were you?” he gave her a hopeful leer, causing even more eye rolling.

“You wish!” she huffed.

Remembering how it had felt to hold her warm, trembling body against him a few minutes ago, he was tempted to nod his head in agreement, but the expression on her face told him she was still too traumatized by her dream for that kind of revelation.

“So, what was it then, Buffy?” he asked seriously.  “What got you so upset about my possible demise?  ‘S not like you don’t threaten to dust me yourself every couple of days.”  He stared at her curiously, waiting for an explanation of her out-of-character behavior.

The Slayer started at his use of her name, but began to recount her dream in a shaky voice.  When she got to the point where Angelus said she was his, Spike’s eyes flashed amber for just a second.  He nodded at her to continue and she described the fight, ending with his lifeless-seeming body on the ground.

There was silence for a minute as he digested her story.  Skipping over, for the time being, the fact that she seemed so upset over his apparent death, he mulled over her words and tried to make some sense of it.  When Buffy shifted uncomfortably he looked over at her and asked, “Is there more?”

She twisted her hands together in her lap, drawing his eyes to where her tanned thighs disappeared under the hem of her tee shirt, and said slowly, “I think it might have been a slayer dream.”

“A what?”

“A slayer dream.  I have dreams sometimes… about things that are going to happen…or that might happen.  Sometimes…they’re hard to understand.  Giles usually has to help me figure them out.”

“Well, the watcher’s not here, is he?  So I guess we’ll have to suss this one out by ourselves.”  He looked at her worried face and before he could stop himself he ran a hand lightly up her cheek, pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“What’s got you so worked up, pet? Know it can’t be seeing my old body being abused like that.  You’ve done worse to me yourself.” 

She gave a ghost of a smile and looked up at him gratefully. 

“In my dream, I couldn’t move.  I was all…girly.  I hid behind you and then when Angelus came toward me I froze. I couldn’t defend myself and I couldn’t help you.  It was…I hate that.  I don’t like feeling helpless,” she finished in a rush.

He stood up, the filtered light from behind the curtains giving her a good look at his flat stomach and the line of soft brown curls that plunged into his precariously zipped pants.  She unconsciously licked her lips as her eyes traveled down his torso to the obvious bulge just behind his zipper. 

“You’re not helpless, pet.  Know that first-hand, don’t I?  An’ I’m not all beat up.  I’m my usual handsome self…” He deliberately ran his hand down his body, smiling as her eyes followed it to where he hooked it into the waistband of his jeans, causing them to open even further.

Terrified they were going to slide right off his narrow hips, Buffy squeaked out, “You need to zip your pants!”

“Sorry, pet.  Just had an armful of warm Slayer.   They’re just a mite too tight to fasten right now.”  The leering smirk he gave her said he wasn’t sorry at all and she jumped to her feet to glare at him.

“Have I mentioned lately what a pig you are?

“Not in the last couple of hours, no.”  He paused for effect, then added, “Course we’ve been asleep most of that time, so…”

“Well, you can go back to sleep now,” she said with asperity.  “Nightmare’s all gone.  No more screaming Buffy to keep you awake.”

She deliberately turned her back on him and got back into the warm bed, sliding under the covers and shutting her eyes against the morning light.  She kept her eyes squeezed tightly shut until she heard him give an exasperated sigh and the sound of the door shutting behind him, then she sat up and put her head in her hands.

“I’m in Victorian England, dreaming about Angelus trying to turn me and all I can think about is how sexy Spike looks without his shirt on.  This cannot be good.”

Giving up the idea of getting any more sleep that morning, she got out of bed and wandered around the room looking for a bathroom.  Buffy’s grasp of history in general was pretty shaky, and she had no idea whatsoever when the indoor toilet had been invented but she sincerely hoped it was before whatever time they were in.  When she found nothing in the bedroom, she ventured down the hall quietly opening and shutting doors.

She thought she was being very quiet about it, but an amused drawl behind her told her that she wasn’t.

“It’s the last door on the hallway, pet.  And there may or may not be water in the cistern for flushing.  It’s not like anyone’s been living here for the last several years.”

“Thank you,” she muttered, coloring with embarrassment at his having guessed what she was looking for.

“You’re welcome, pet.  Make yourself at home – jus’ don’t go outside without asking me first.”

Before she could expel the indignant response in her mouth, he shut the door to his room and went back to bed.  Buffy huffed silently and went into the surprisingly large bathroom at the end of the hall.  She looked longingly at the large, claw-footed bathtub, but remembering Spike’s warning about the water, she decided to skip the bath and just take care of her business.

When she found that there was water in the tank to flush the toilet, she took a chance and turned the tap, allowing a small amount of cool, not overly clean water to fill the sink.  One look at the greenish water and she decided to skip the face washing for the time being and went back to her room to look for something to wear.

She rummaged through the wardrobe and dresser, discarding undergarments that she had no idea how to wear, and examining the plain, but well-made dresses with a critical eye.  She pulled out a light green dress that looked like it would be appropriate for day time wear and shrugged out of her tee shirt.  She pulled the dress over her head, and buttoned the tiny pearls on the front as she walked toward the window.

She pulled the curtain back and looked out onto what was obviously a well-planned, but neglected garden.  Tiptoeing back out of the room, she listened for a second at Spike’s door, but when she didn’t hear anything, she went silently back down the stairs to the kitchen.

I don’t know what I thought I was going to hear. Vampires don’t breathe, so they obviously don’t snore.  And I doubt Spike ever wakes up screaming from nightmares.)

Chapter Three

Contrary to what Buffy was thinking, Spike WAS dreaming, although he was still wide-awake.  Lying on his bed, the one he hadn’t slept in for well over a hundred years, he couldn’t get the sight of Buffy in her tee shirt out of his mind. He could smell her scent all over him and if he shut his eyes, he could still feel her warmth as she pressed her body against his.

She was such an incredible combination of soft femininity and Slayer strength that his whole body ached to feel her against him again.  With his eyes shut, he could almost feel her as he inhaled her scent off his chest.  With a growl, he buried his head in his pillow, ordering his body to stop wanting what it couldn’t have.

His body wasn’t listening, though, and his throbbing cock told him he wouldn’t be getting any more sleep this morning.  He groaned and gave in to the demands, wrapping one of his large hands around the turgid shaft and pulling up and down.  With Buffy’s scent so heavy in his nostrils, and her heartbeat still audible as she went down the stairs, it didn’t take long before he was arching off the bed and spurting into the sheet he was holding in his other hand.

He gave a satisfied sigh, and turned over to try to catch some more sleep before tackling the problem of when they were and how they were going to get back.  Pulling the pillow into his chest, he dozed off with a small smile on his face and his arms wrapped around an imaginary Buffy.

Blissfully unaware of the effect she’d had on him, Buffy prowled around the lower floor of the house, lightly touching things that caught her attention and absorbing the feeling of the house.  It was pretty obvious that Spike’s whole “I’ve always been bad” persona was a sham.  The house definitely had an air of genteel poverty about it.  She could see that some of the furniture was worn in places and the clothes in his mother’s room were of good quality, but well-worn.

At the same time, the size of the house, the paintings and other art objects, and the tarnished silver tea set on the dining room buffet told her that they had obviously seen better times.  She wandered into the kitchen, her growling stomach reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since the previous night’s dinner. There was, of course, no refrigerator, although it took her a few minutes of searching to realize with an embarrassed flush that she was looking for an appliance that did not yet exist.

She was just starting out the door to the garden, hoping that there might be some fruit or vegetables ready for picking, when she was startled by the appearance of a portly middle-aged woman and a younger, but strongly built man.  With a “whoops!” Buffy retreated to the kitchen, closing the door quickly on the advancing couple.  She backed up to the far wall, hoping against hope that they weren’t planning to come in the house.

Damn Spike! I knew he was going to get us in trouble.  There are people living here and now we’re going to be arrested or thrown out, or something.)

When the door opened to admit the frowning woman and her companion, Buffy offered a tentative smile and small wave as she said brightly, “Uh, hi, there!”

The woman gave her a cold look, her frown deepening as her eyes ran over the dress Buffy was wearing and she recognized it as one she had seen before.

“Who are you and what are you doing in Mr. Sinclair’s house – and wearing poor Mrs., God rest her soul, Sinclair’s gown?”

The rather strong looking woman was advancing on her threateningly and Buffy was wondering if she should use her Slayer speed to escape or just wait and see if she would need it to keep from being thrown out the door bodily.

“It is quite alright, Cook,” she heard a familiar voice behind her, “This is my wife, the new Mrs. Sinclair.  She is wearing Mother’s gown because our luggage was stolen and we have nothing with us but what we had on our backs last night.”

Buffy turned around, knowing it was Spike speaking, but completely thrown by his accent and the explanation for her presence.  She gawked at the sight of him in tight fitting trousers and a loose shirt very similar to the clothing he’d been wearing in her dream.  Before she could respond, he took her arm in a very strong grip and turned her back toward the now smiling woman, putting his other arm around her shoulder as he introduced her.

“Darling, this is Mrs. Barstow, better known in the Sinclair household as “Cook”.  She has been with us since I was a small child.”

Inwardly seething at his easy familiarity, Buffy gritted her teeth and sputtered, “How nice to meet you.”

She tried to pull away from Spike’s iron grip, but he held on and squeezed her in warning. 

“Let me go, I’ll behave,” she hissed low enough for only his vampire hearing.  “You don’t have to hold on to me like I’m a possession.”

Spike let go of her arm with a low warning growl and edged his way into the kitchen, carefully avoiding the patches of sunlight coming in the windows.  He was suddenly very grateful for Victorian stuffiness as he realized that in any other time the old family servant would have been hugging him, and, as shrewd as Cook was, no doubt picking up on his lack of body heat and heart beat.   He nodded briefly when she introduced her grandson, saying he had seen the lights the night before and offered to accompany her to the house to be sure everything was all right.

“That was very thoughtful of you, George.  And we certainly do appreciate it.  I can see that you’ve taken your responsibilities quite seriously,” he added, turning to Cook with a smile.  “Everything looks just as I left it.”

“I’ve done my best, sir,” she said with a worried air.  “But if I had known you were coming…”

“It’s quite all right.  It was actually a rather spontaneous decision on my part.  I wanted Mrs. Sinclair to see my home country and the house in which I grew up.”

She turned to Buffy and looked her up and down with interest.

“You’re not from here, then?” she inquired politely.

Answering for Buffy, who was still somewhat thunderstruck by the whole conversation, he said, “No.  Buffy is from America.  This is her first trip out of her own country, so we must make some allowances for her and help her become accustomed to our ways.”

Mrs. Barstow nodded in understanding and immediately began thinking out loud.

“Well, then, she’ll need a lady’s maid, and of course a dressmaker if you’ve lost your luggage.  And I’ll need to get some girls in here to dust and air the house out.  It’s very stuffy from being closed for so long.  And, you’ll be needing some food….Oh my!  It’s almost noon and you’ve had nothing to eat!”

She bustled over to the table and began jotting down things she would need from the market, at the same time telling George to get some men to work out in the yard and garden.  Spike disappeared for a minute, coming back to hand George a couple of handwritten notes.

“Before you worry about the yard,” he said smoothly, “I will need for you to take these notes to my solicitor and to the bank.  Your grandmother will need money for all this food she is intending to purchase.”

“Yessir,” George replied, ducking his head in respect.  “I’ll take them right now.”

After answering Buffy’s timid question about whether there was anything edible growing in the garden, Mrs. Barstow hustled off to order the supplies she was going to need to feed them and to get some servants in to clean the house.

Once they were along again, Buffy whirled on the vampire to demand, “Wife?  You couldn’t come up with anything better than your WIFE?”

“No,” he growled. “I couldn’t.  Go pick yourself something to eat so you aren’t so cranky, and I’ll explain it to you.”

He turned and stomped back into the main part of the house, heading for the library, which he knew got no direct sun at any time of the day.  He slammed down into an overstuffed chair, wondering why he was so angry at Buffy’s reaction to having to pretend to be his wife.

“It’s not like I’m asking you to sleep in my bed,” he was growling when the flushed Slayer entered the room with a handful of small fruits.

“Really?” she asked in a chilly tone. “Exactly where will they be expecting your wife to sleep, then?”  The disbelief was clear in both her expression and her voice and only the knowledge that the chip would fry his brain kept him from smacking the look off her face.

Instead, he took a deep breath and said as calmly as he could, “This is Victorian England, pet.  No one has sex – not that they allow anyone to know about, anyway.  Should any of the servants be upstairs, they won’t blink an eye at your sleeping in another room.  They will just assume I visit you when I get the urge to assert my marriage rights.”

“Oh,” she said, somewhat deflated by his ready explanation.  “Well, I still don’t see why you had to call me your wife.  Couldn’t I be a distant cousin or something?”

“Again, you’re not understanding the times.  There is no way a young, unmarried woman could live in my house without a full-time chaperone. Nor could she go out and about in the city, as you will undoubtedly have to do at some point if we are to find a way back from here.  As my wife, you will be free to go places and conduct business for me during daylight hours.”

He glared at her challengingly and she finally shrugged and said more meekly than he’d expected, “Oh.  Well, okay, I guess that makes sense then.  But don’t expect to be exercising any rights around me!” she finished with what she hoped was a haughty glare.

“Don’t flatter yourself, pet.  If I want to get my rocks off, I know where to go around here.  I prefer my women skilled and willing.  Not ice queens.”

He stood up angrily and missed the startled, hurt look that crossed her face at his words.

“Well, as long as you know where to find the ho’s, then I guess you’ll be happy,” she snapped back, smothering the urge to pout at his angry dismissal.

“Know exactly where to find them,” he said, leaving the room and heading for his bedroom.  “I’m going back to sleep,” he threw down the stairs at her, as she followed him.  “Wake me up when George comes back with some money, or if the solicitor shows up.”

“I’m not your servant!” she yelled up at him.  “Wake yourself up!”

“You’re my wife, Slayer.  Same thing almost.”

His laughter echoed down the stairs as he closed the door to his bedroom, leaving her fuming with nobody to take it out on.

A long walk in the over grown garden, enjoying the warm sun, and she was much calmer about their situation.

“It’s not like we haven’t been close before,” she muttered to herself, taking a vicious swipe at a weed.  “I mean we were engaged, for cripe’s sake.  I can stand pretending to be Mrs. William the Bloody for a few days.”

She wandered back to the house to find that Cook had returned with several boys in tow, all laden with bags and boxes of food stuffs.  With nothing else to do, Buffy followed her around, watching as she put potatoes and onions in the cool root cellar, and flour and rice in the large canisters.  When she saw Buffy staring hungrily at the loaf of bread she’d brought in, she immediately insisted on cutting off several slices of both bread and cheese for her.

“You need to put some meat on those bones,” she said cheerfully, adding a glass of cool, clear water from the pump to the food.  “The master won’t want me to let you get any thinner than you already are.”

“The Master?” said Buffy with a squeak. Unpleasant memories of her first year in Sunnydale providing unbidden thoughts of master vampires and their minions.

“Yes,” the older woman answered with a puzzled frown.  “Young Mr. Sinclair.  He’s been the master of the household since his father died.  Whether he lives here or not, he is the master of this house.”

“Oh, yeah, I knew that,” Buffy agreed quickly, embarrassed at appearing so ignorant in front of the other woman.  Changing the subject, she asked quietly, “Tell me about Sp- er – William when he was a child.”

“Oh, such a sweet boy, he was…” The cook immediately began to reminisce about the days when Spike’s father and sister were still alive and the house rang with laughter.  “He was so naughty sometimes, but then he would look at you with those beautiful blue eyes and you just hated to scold him.  Of course, I would never tell him that,” she added with a conspirator’s wink.  “He was already his mother’s pride and joy.  It wouldn’t have done to let him know we all loved him as much as she did.”

Her face darkened and she frowned lightly as she continued, “Of course after the master died, things were harder.  William was too young to take his place in the business world and his mother so wanted him to complete his schooling.  If it weren’t for the scholarship, I’m afraid Oxford would have been out of the question.  As it was, things became more and more difficult for the Mrs. Then, when his sister died and his mother became ill, he had to give up his studies and come home to take care of her.  Quite a shame, it was. “

She shook her head, tsking in sympathetic distress and completely missing Buffy’s opened mouthed shock.

OXFORD? Spike? MY Spike went to Oxford? On a SCHOLARSHIP?)

She was saved from having to make an intelligible reply by a knocking on the kitchen door.  Mrs. Barstow opened it to admit a plump young woman with rosy cheeks and dancing eyes.

“Ah, there you are!” she exclaimed.  “It took you long enough.”

“I’m sorry, Auntie,” she said breathlessly.  “I came as soon as I could.”

“Mrs. Sinclair, this is my niece, Molly.  She has some limited experience as a lady’s maid and should be able to assist you until we can find someone more experienced.  At least you will have someone to help with your dress and your hair, as well as to accompany you shopping.”

“Shopping?” asked Buffy, picking up on the only familiar thing in the conversation.  “There’s shopping?”

“Well, yes, of course you’ll go shopping.  Mr. Sinclair indicating your luggage was lost, so you will have to replace everything.  Molly can show you to the better shops and help you find what you’ll like.”

Shopping.  With Sp – William’s money.  This could be more fun than I thought.)

Chapter Four

When Cook assured her that she would be able to charge to Mr. Sinclair’s account anything she needed to get that day, Buffy and Molly left the house and headed for the nearest shopping area.  In the daylight, the streets were much busier and more lively than they had been in the wee hours of the morning and Buffy gazed around with wonder and curiosity at the sight of late19th century London in full bustle.

She was enjoying all the attention she seemed to be drawing as people looked at her intently when she walked by with her free swinging stride and long, loose blond hair.  Just as she was basking in the frequent looks of male admiration she could feel, Molly stepped in front of her and placed her hands on her hips.  She had positioned herself between Buffy and a good-looking young man who was tipping his hat and clearly about to speak to her.

“Get away from my mistress,” she hissed.  “Master Sinclair would surely cane you if he saw your disrespectful behavior.”

The young man was somewhat taken back by her vehemence, and apologized immediately.

“I’m quite sorry,” he said hastily, eyeing Molly’s arms akimbo stance in front of Buffy with some trepidation.  “My mistake.  I assumed your mistress was…” Molly’s darkening face made it apparent that it would not be in his best interest to finish that statement, and with more mumbled apologies, he back away and went in another direction.

“What’s wrong, Molly?” Buffy asked in genuine confusion. “He was just going to talk to me.”

“He has no business talking to you on the street.  You are a respectable woman,” Molly huffed.

Buffy remembered how Spike had shielded her from the eyes of the cab driver the night before, and his comment about earning money with her short skirt. Flushing, she realized that her twenty-first century, southern California friendliness could be easily misunderstood in this extremely up-tight era and she looked at Molly gratefully.

“Thank you, Molly.  Things are very different here from the way they are in my…country.   I’m afraid you’re going to have to work very hard to keep me out of trouble.”

“That’s quite alright, Ma’am.  In spite of what my aunt said about my inexperience, I know what’s what, I do.”

“Ok then,” Buffy smiled at her.  “Let’s make a deal.  You keep me from embarrassing myself…and William…too badly, and I’ll tell your aunt you’re the best maid I ever had.”

Molly beamed with pride.  “It will be my pleasure, Ma’am.”

“All rightie, then.  Let’s go spend my husband’s money!”

Several hours and many pounds sterling later, the two laughing girls stumbled through the kitchen door, their arms laden with small packages.  They both sobered up when they caught Mrs. Barstow glaring at them, but collapsed in giggles again almost immediately.

Glaring at her niece, the cook shepherded Buffy out of the kitchen and toward the front of the house.

“I believe Mr. Sinclair would like to introduce you to his solicitor,” she said with a trace of disapproval in her tone.  “They have been waiting for you to get back.”

“Oh,” Buffy said meekly. “Where are they?”

Cook gestured toward the drawing room and then went back to scold her niece for keeping Buffy out so long.  Taking a deep breath, and practicing her newly learned Victorian expression of aloofness, Buffy swept into the room and went straight to Spike’s side.

‘Ah, there you are, darling,” he said, an angry glint in his eye that belied the light tone of voice.  “I was beginning to worry about you.”

“I’m so sorry, William, “ she shocked him by saying with a smile.  “I was having so much fun spending your money that I just lost track of the time.  Will you forgive me?” she asked with a wicked grin that only he could see, going up on her toes to kiss his cheek.

Buffy had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing in an unladylike fashion at the expression on Spike’s face, and she turned her own face into his shirt front until she had it under control.  While she was hiding her face in his chest, she couldn’t resist inhaling the unique scent that said “Spike” to her. Ever since the spell Willow had done the previous year, Buffy could not get the aroma of leather, tobacco, whiskey and an earthy scent all his own out of her mind.  She knew that she would know him anywhere, no matter how dark it might be, as long as she was close enough to smell him.

The curious expression on the solicitor’s face caught Spike’s eye and he forced himself to shake off the gobsmacked feeling Buffy’s kiss and closeness had caused.

“Darling, this is our solicitor, Mr. Saint-John.  He has been handling most of my personal affairs while I’ve been…away.  I was most negligent and had not told him about our marriage and he has been scolding me shamefully.”

It was Buffy’s turn to appear to have been smacked in the face with a cold fish as she gawked at the suddenly urbane, well-spoken man wearing Spike’s face.  If it weren’t for the tiny amount of platinum hair curling softly around the nape of his neck and the sardonically lifted eyebrow, she would have needed to be close enough to smell him to recognize him.

Recovering herself, she turned to greet the patiently waiting man in front of her.  Spike’s warning hand on her arm stopped her before she could extend her arm for the handshake she was expecting.  Pulling her arm back, she blushed and said softly, “How nice to meet you, Mr. Saint-John.  I hope my tardy return from shopping has not kept you here too long.”

.Ha! Put that in your stuffy pipe and smoke it, vampire!) she thought triumphantly as she felt Spike’s incredulous gaze on her.  The other man smiled warmly and insisted it had been no trouble at all, that he and her husband had caught up on many things while waiting.  He had risen to his feet as soon as Buffy entered the room, and continued standing, leaning down to pick up his briefcase and extending his hand to Spike.

“I will be getting to work on those things we discussed immediately, Mr. Sinclair.  I should be able to wrap it up and have the papers ready for you to sign by this time tomorrow.”

He turned to smile at Buffy again and said smoothly, “Let me be among the first to congratulate you on your happy union.  I would be very pleased if you and your husband would do me the favor of allowing me to host a small gathering to introduce his lovely bride to his…friends.”

A shadow crossed Spike’s face, but he said smoothly, “That would be extremely kind of you.  I’m sure Mrs. Sinclair would enjoy that thoroughly, wouldn’t you, Darling?”

“Huh? What?  Oh, a party?  Yes, that sounds like wonderful fun,” she stumbled back into her nineteenth century voice.  “We shall be looking forward to it.”

While Spike walked the man to the door, carefully avoiding the slanted rays of the waning sun, Buffy walked around the study.  She studied the well-worn books, noticed with curiosity the many pens, large supply of paper and bottles of ink spread around on the desk.  She was just picking up a sheet with what appeared to be lines of poetry on it when Spike came back in the room and snatched it out of her hand.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, looking more embarrassed than angry.

“I was just looking at it.  Sheesh! What’s wrong with you? You’d think it was something you’d written it or someth—“

She stared at the mortified vampire with her mouth open as he looked all around the room in an effort to avoid her eyes.  Buffy’s mouth gradually curved into a smile as Spike crumpled the paper and stuffed it in his pocket.

“Not a word, Slayer,” he snarled. “Not one bloody, fuckin’ word.”

In spite of the snarl, she could tell he was more embarrassed than angry and she moved closer to him and ran her hand playfully up his chest to play with the collar of his shirt.

“What’s the matter, Spikie? Don’t you want me to see your poem?  Are you afraid it isn’t good enough? Huh? Come on, Spikie, show your wife what you wrote.”

Spike was torn between the pants-tightening effects of having the Slayer pretending to be coquettish with him and his absolute determination that she never, ever read the half-written sonnet he’d been working on before the solicitor arrived.  Biting his lip, he grabbed her hands in his just before she was about to plunge one of them into his pocket to retrieve the paper.

“Much fun as I think it might be to have you rootin’ around in my pocket, luv, that’s private property there and I’m gonna have to tell you to keep your hot little hands to yourself.”

Buffy pretended to pout, leaving her hands in his as she batted her eyelashes at him.

“But I want to see the poem, William.  Please, show it to me.  Come on, pleeeeese.”

Spike blinked at her switch to his human name, frowning slightly at the uncharacteristic flirting behavior.  The Slayer he knew would have just twisted his arm until she wrenched it away from him.  When she moved even closer, her hands slowly pulling out of his to rest on his wrists, he was sure they had fallen into another alternate dimension.

“This is not negotiable, pet,” he groaned.  “Now stop that.  It’s cheating!”

As he spoke, he stood helplessly while she ran her hands up his arms to wrap around his neck, standing on tip toes to whisper in his ear.

“Mrs. Barstow is watching us, and I think she heard me call you Spike.”

“Bollocks!” he whispered back, putting his arms around her waist and pulling her closer.  “Do you think she heard me call you Slayer?”

Even as his mind raced frantically trying to recall if they’d said or done anything so out of character that the long-time family servant might suspect something awry, he couldn’t stop himself from taking advantage of the situation by inhaling the scent of warm blood, lavender soap, and Buffy’s own unique scent that he would recognize anywhere.

“I…I don’t know,” Buffy stammered, shocked at how overwhelmingly good it felt to be wrapped in Spike’s arms, his mouth ghosting over her ear as they kept on with their whispered conversation.  “May…maybe she’ll just think they’re pet names we have for each other when we…”

“Better make it look good then, luv,” he crooned in her ear just before he slid his lips over to capture hers in a chaste, but warm kiss.  When his cool, soft lips touched hers, Buffy couldn’t contain the small sigh that escaped her parted lips and he shuddered at the sensation caused by her warm breath in his mouth.

The presence of the older woman was forgotten as they used the excuse of her watchful eyes to prolong the tentative exploration going on between them. They’d kissed before, of course, during the previous year’s magical “engagement”, but those had been loud, ostentatious lip smackings – meant more to publicly demonstrate their feelings to others than to please each other.  Now, what had begun as another demonstration of a pretend relationship quickly deepened into something neither one wanted to examine too closely.

When Mrs. Barstow’s embarrassed throat clearing caused them to break apart, they could do nothing but stare at each other in shock and horror.  Tearing his eyes away from Buffy’s wide, green pools of confusion, Spike turned to the cook and said politely, “I’m sorry, Cook.  That was most unseemly of us.  Please forgive us and remember that we are newlyweds.”

“Yes sir, Master William.  I’m quite sure I didn’t see anything untoward.  I just wanted to know if you and Mrs. Sinclair would be having supper here tonight.”

“Yes, Cook.” Buffy spoke up briskly.  “I believe I’ve spent enough time out and about today and I would enjoy a quiet dinner at home with my husband.”

“Very good, Ma’am.  I will send someone to tell you when it’s ready.”

“Thank you, Cook,” Spike said quickly, “That will be most appreciated.”

When the older woman had turned and left the room and Spike’s enhanced senses told him she was safely away at the other end of the house, he moved even further away from Buffy, going behind the desk and studying the loose papers on it with great interest.

The Slayer stood where he’d left her, mentally trying to reconcile the tenderness of the kiss they’d just shared with the snarky vampire who annoyed her so often.  Ignoring her own, more than willing, participation in the kiss, she snapped at him, “What was that all about?”

Equally eager to forget the way she’d made him feel, and unaccountably angered by her question, Spike snapped back, “Jus’ got caught up in the moment.  Don’t be getting your knickers in a twist about it. Won’t be happening again, pet.  You can count on that!” 

“Oh, I know it won’t!   You just keep your lips to yourself there, William,” she emphasized his name with a sneer.

“Not a problem, pet.”  With a nonchalant shrug that belied the empty feeling causing his belly to clench up, he sat down at his desk and pulled a ledger out of drawer.  When she hadn’t moved to leave the room, he glanced up with a raised eyebrow, holding his place with his finger.

“Something else, Slayer?”

Buffy was at a loss for something to say.  She’d been gearing up for a good fight and instead, Spike was ignoring her and acting like he didn’t care what she did.  Her lower lip came out in an unintended pout as she tried to come up with a reason for still being where she clearly wasn’t wanted anymore.  She ran her eyes around the room, looking for an excuse to be there, thereby missing the look that flashed across Spike’s face when he saw that plump lip poking out.

“I just thought…maybe we need to start calling each other Buffy and William all the time.  Just in case…I mean, we don’t want this to happen again, do we?”  His eyes flew to hers as her voice faded from a firm suggestion to a hesitant question.

“I…I meant…almost getting caught fighting and saying things that…”

  “I know what you meant, pet,” he said gruffly.  He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes, sighing loudly.  “And you’re right.”  He ignored Buffy’s start of surprise.   “We’re going to have to be careful all the time, even if we’re alone. That way we won’t be as likely to slip up when someone’s watching.”

            “That…that sounds like a good idea.” 

            This time it was Spike’s turn to twitch in reaction to words he never expected to hear from the Slayer.  Putting on his unnecessary spectacles and looking back down at the ledger in front of him, he asked carefully,  “Is that all, luv?  Because I need to go over these books before I meet with the banker tomorrow.”

              Leaving the questions raised by Spike’s having a solicitor AND a banker at his beck and call, Buffy nodded silently and turned to leave the room.  His soft voice stopped her just outside the door and she couldn’t be sure if he was actually talking to her or just thinking out loud.

              “I’ll explain about the solicitor an’ all at supper, Buffy.”

              “ ‘K,” she replied so softly even his vampire hearing strained to hear her.

           She went back to the kitchen, only to find that Molly had already carried her purchases up to her room and was supervising the unpacking of the larger items that had been sent directly from the shops.  When the young maid insisted Buffy take a nap before dinner while she put things away, Buffy found herself thinking, I could get used to living like this. just before she closed her eyes and drifted off to the sound of rustling tissue paper.

           Chapter Five

             When she joined Spike in the dining room for a light supper, served by a silent, but attentive, young girl who had been brought in to help Molly around the house, Buffy was feeling quite rested and energetic.  As soon as the serving girl was out of earshot, she said quietly, “I’m getting antsy.  Do you think I should patrol tonight?  There must be vampires in a city this big.”

                “I don’t doubt there are, pet.  But I’m not sure you want to be drawing that kind of attention to yourself just now.  Not till we know what that dream was all about, anyway.”

            “You think Angelus is here?”  Buffy couldn’t control the way her voice rose anxiously at the thought.  “I never thought about that.  Angel doesn’t have his soul in this time, does he?”

             “Nope, the bloody great poof is his original sick, mind-fucking self right now.  And I don’t know exactly where he is.  Should be somewhere in mainland Europe, or even Asia, but I can’t be sure.”

            “Would—where do you think you are?  The other you, I mean.”

            He frowned and said honestly, “I don’t have any idea.  I feel like I’m me; but I know there’s got to be another me running around somewhere out there just beginning to scratch the surface of what it means to be a vampire.  And he’s not chipped.”

              He looked up at her abruptly and said, “You need to remember that, pet. Make sure I’m me before you let your guard down.  He’s not the fighter I am now, but if he catches you by surprise…”

             Buffy blinked at him, not sure how to react to his obvious concern for her well-being.

             “The Spike in my dream…he wasn’t you.  At least I don’t think he was. You would never have lost a fight to Angel that easily.  But he was still trying to protect me.”

            “He was trying to protect his PROPERTY, pet.  The demon was fighting Angelus for possession.  Doesn’t mean he didn’t intend to do you harm of some kind. Jus’ be careful, all right?”

           “All right,” she agreed softly, wondering at the sudden change from the cold shoulder he’d given her earlier.

              While they finished their meal, Spike filled Buffy in on how his solicitor - “that’s another word for lawyer, pet.  Means he handles my affairs for me when I’m not around or can’t go out because of the sun.”-  supervised the running of Spike’s various business interests and maintained his bank accounts for him.

              “So, you’re rich?  You have money in this time?”

            He grinned ruefully, “Yes, my poor father wanted so much for me to forget about my poe--other interests and go into business with him, but I wanted no part of it.  We used to fight about it all the time.  After he died and I had to make sure my mum was taken care of, I had to get involved.  It took awhile, but it turns out I’m pretty good at managing money – even if it did take me until I was a vampire to really make it work for me.”

           “What happened to it?”

            “What happened to what, pet?” he asked absently, toying with the very rare meat on his plate.  He realized he was going to have to find a way to get fresh blood delivered to the house without Mrs. Barstow finding out about it and was pondering that and not really paying attention to Buffy’s question.

            “Your money, this house,” she waved her hand around the room. “All this stuff.  Where did it go?”

           “Didn’t go anywhere – I still have it.  House is rented out in our time, but if I wanted to come back and live here, I could.”

           He still wasn’t paying attention to her and missed the looks of amazement, disbelief and anger that flew across her face.

            “You have MONEY?  In our time, you have money?  And you steal your cigarettes from the 7/11?  You charge us money for information?”  Her voice was rising and he gestured for her to keep it down.

             “Shhh, Buffy.  What happened to staying in character?”  He looked at her, completely puzzled by her surprise and anger.  “I haven’t asked any of you for money for a long time, pet,” he said mildly.  “You know that.”

              “Well…well, you steal!  And you…you live in a crypt.  With dead people.”

              “Now, darling, that’s not a very nice way to talk about our neighbors.  I know they aren’t very lively, but comparing them to corpses is just not sporting. And I do not steal.  I am merely a very good businessman.”

             Buffy didn’t need the warning jerk of his head to realize he had heard someone coming back toward the dining room, and she subsided immediately, only mumbling, “Well, I didn’t know you were rich.”

             “And that’s how I know you married me for my good looks and charm,” he said with a smile.  “None of this is anything you need to worry your pretty little head about, my love.  I just wanted you to know where to go for help if anything happened to me, and to have some idea to what you are entitled.  It was very difficult for my mother to deal with things after my father’s death because he had never told her anything about the family assets.  I do not want that to happen to you.”

            Buffy gawked at him momentarily, wondering briefly if this was how Spike would be treating a real wife if he had one.

            “Oh,” was the best response she could come up with immediately and she waited impatiently until the serving girl had returned to the kitchen to get their dessert before following up her original question.

            “So, if you still have all this stuff – why do you—“

           “Vampire.”

           “Where?”  She leaped to her feet, cursing the lack of a handy stake.

            Spike rolled his eyes at her.  “Here, you silly bint.  I’m a vampire. If we want things, we take them.  We’re evil, you know, or did the Council of Wankers forget to include that in your Slayer handbook?”

            Buffy glared at him, then, to his amazement, relaxed and laughed.

           “No, it was included.  I just forget sometimes that you’re still evil.”

           “Well, I am,” he huffed. “And don’t you forget it.

             She rolled her eyes, still laughing and snickered, “Ok, Big Bad.  I’ll remember.”

              “See that you do,” he growled, still feeling offended but happy to see her laughing and enjoying herself.

               When they had finished their meal and gone into the living room where Spike had an after-dinner brandy, Buffy repeated her remark from earlier in the day.  She settled back on the sofa and said with sincere appreciation, “I could sooo get used to this.”

             He cocked his head curiously and she elaborated, “No dishes to do, no cooking, no homework, somebody to pick my clothes up off the floor, somebody else’s money to spend…”

            “Speaking of that, pet, do you have any idea what you did spend today?”

            “Nope!” she replied cheerfully.  “Not a clue.  But I don’t think you’re as rich as you used to be.  Is that okay?” she added, less cheerfully as he growled and came over to sit at the other end of the sofa.

            “Guess it’ll have to be, won’t it?  What kind of husband would I be if I couldn’t keep my wife in frillies and baubles?”  He smiled over at her and toasted her silently with his brandy. 

             Buffy smiled back and leaned forward to delicately sniff the dark liquid in the glass.  She wrinkled her nose, inspiring a full belly laugh from the vampire when she said, “Ewww! It smells like cough syrup!”

             “It IS an acquired taste, I suppose,” he laughed. “But I like it. And it helps me relax so I’ll sleep tonight.  This being on the same schedule as you humans is going to kill me if I don’t start sleeping at night when you do.”

            His reminder of the differences between himself and humans reminded her abruptly of his eating habits and she gave a guilty start as she asked, “Where are you going to get blood?  I didn’t even think about it today, or I would have got you some when I was out.  I’m sorry, Spike,” she said, surprising him with her genuine sympathy,   “You must be really hungry by now.”

              Warmed by her apology and concern, he just shrugged and said, “I’ll be all right.  Mr. Saint-John is going to arrange for a regular delivery.  I just have figure out how to get it past Cook’s eagle eyes.”

              “Mr. Saint-John?  Your lawyer knows what you are?”

             “Well, yeah, pet. Wouldn’t be much use to me if I had to come up with reasons why I couldn’t be about in the daytime now, would he?”

             “But, but, his company…the people he works for…don’t they…how can…”

              “He works for a very unusual law firm, Buffy.  They’ve been handling my affairs for over a hundred years.”

              Their conversation was interrupted by a soft, “Excuse me,” from the doorway.  Mrs. Barstow stood there waiting patiently until they noticed her.

            “If it’s all right with you, sir, I’ll just be on my way home now.  Molly will stay here tonight to help Mrs. Sinclair and to get the fire going in the morning.”

            “Yes, thank you, Cook.  That’s quite all right.  Please do go home and get some rest.  You’ve done wonders today and you must accept my apology for not warning you about our arrival.”

            “That’s quite all right, sir.  I’ll just be off, then.  Goodnight, Master William, Mrs. Sinclair.”

             “Good night, Mrs. Barstow,” Buffy said politely. “Thank you for everything and please be careful going home.”

                With a nod, she left the room and they could hear the kitchen door shutting behind her.

              “Should we have gone with her?” Buffy worried.  “It’s dark out.”

               “This isn’t Sunnydale, pet.  She’ll be fine. I think the sight of either one of us skulking along in the shadows would bother her more than the walk by herself.”

               “I suppose you’re right,” she sighed doubtfully.  “I guess we – I’d better get to bed. I don’t think either one of us got much sleep today.”

             He rose easily to his feet and offered her his hand as he said, “Right you are, pet.  Between your nightmare and Cook’s arrival, I don’t think we got more than a couple of hours of kip.”

               Flushing, Buffy took the proffered hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet.  They stood, facing each other, her hand still in his, each of them remembering the kiss they’d shared earlier in the day.

               Simultaneously, they let go and turned away, neither one willing to revisit the afternoon’s events. Each equally sure the other was disgusted with their behavior.

             I’m sure he doesn’t want any reminders of what happened this afternoon.  It was just like that stupid spell of Willow’s.  For a minute it was so easy to believe we were…gah! What is wrong with me?)

     I’m sure she didn’t mean for that little performance to go as far as it did this afternoon.  It was almost like Red’s spell there for a minute.  Could almost believe we really…bloody hell! This is the Slayer, you stupid git. Get over it!)

When Buffy reached the top of the stairs, Molly was waiting for her and she gave Spike a quick peck good-night before turning to go into her own room.  She saw that Molly had laid out a soft, embroidered nightgown on the bed and had a basin and ewer of water on the dresser waiting for Buffy to wash her face and hands.

               She smiled her gratitude and turned so that Molly could undo the buttons on the back of the new dress she’d chosen to wear to dinner. She asked about bathing arrangements and when Molly assured her she could take a bath anytime she wanted to, as long as she let her know in time to heat the water, she breathed a sigh of relief. 

            “How about tomorrow morning?” she said with an apologetic smile.  “I feel so grubby from the trip.”

             Molly assured her that tomorrow would be fine, that she would have the bath ready by the time Buffy awoke.  With a sly smile, she told Buffy that she would be sleeping downstairs in a small room off the kitchen where she probably wouldn’t be able to hear Buffy if she called her. She showed her the bell rope that she could pull if she needed to wake Molly up for something.

            Blushing just like the new bride she was pretending to be, Buffy nodded vigorously, forcing herself to sound unembarrassed as she assured the girl that she would be fine and that if she needed anything, William would be close by and could undoubtedly take care of her.

            She then blushed even more as Molly couldn’t smother a giggle and an eye roll.  When the girl stopped giggling long enough to agree that “Master William” should be able to take care of anything she needed, they both collapsed onto the bed giggling like schoolgirls.

          ‘I’m sorry, Ma’am,” Molly gasped.  “Please don’t tell my aunt. She’d let me go for sure if she knew I was behaving like this.  I’m just so pleased that Master William has come home and that he has you.  He was so lonely before, and those other girls were so mean to him.  I was only small when he left, but I can remember how unhappy he was that he didn’t have anyone and I could never understand why someone so handsome and nice couldn’t fall in love with someone who would love him back.”

           Buffy smothered a twinge of guilt at deceiving this friendly and caring girl, but played her role as best she could and sent Molly off to bed convinced that her “Master William” had made a love match.

Chapter Six

She slipped into the freshly made bed, enjoying the fresh sunshine smell of the new sheets and vowing to get up early and get to work on figuring out how to get home before she became completely spoiled.

            A few hours later, she was tossing and moaning as she was immersed in another Slayer dream.  This time, she and Spike were walking through a park in the moonlight when suddenly Angelus, Darla and Dru appeared in front of them.  Once again, Angelus threw Spike away from her, and once again she could do nothing but shrink away in fear as he ran his hands over her body and licked his lips.

           While Drusilla and Darla kept a raging Spike from reaching them, she cowered and cried while Angelus touched her all over and whispered in her ear all the things he was going to do to her.  When he lifted the hem of her long gown and slid a hand up her leg, she screamed for Spike, squirming to get away while the vampire struggled with his sire and great grandsire.

          She was still screaming, “No, no, Spike, help me!” when she realized that she was still in her bed and the vampire in question was holding her tightly and trying to wake her up.

          When she relaxed and slumped into his arms, he loosened his hold and began rubbing small, soothing circles on her back.  As soon as he was sure she was awake and under control, he reluctantly let his arms slide down and off, moving off the bed to give her some space.

          “You alright, pet?” he asked softly.

          Buffy nodded tiredly.  “Yes, I’m fine now.  Thank you,” she added softly, looking up at his concerned face gratefully.  “I don’t know what’s going on.”

            “Was it the same dream?’

            “Not exactly, but it was the same situation – I couldn’t do anything to defend myself, you were trying to help me but you couldn’t get to me…” She stopped and looked up at him.   “Spike, I need to go kill something.  I need to know I’m still the Slayer, not some fragile little girl that...”

            He stroked her hair tenderly, confusing them both, then said, “You’re still the Slayer, pet. I’d bet on it.  Here, why don’t you hit me?” he asked, only half joking.  “I’ll tell you if it feels like a Slayer’s punch or like a little girl’s.”

          “I don’t want to hit you,” she said wearily, causing him to put his hand on her forehead in a mock attempt to take her temperature.  “Very funny,” she growled, shoving him away hard enough to put him on the floor.

           “Oops?” she said meekly as he glared up at her from several feet away.

            He stood up and shook himself, growling softly, “I guess we can agree you’re still the Slayer, strength an’ all.”

            Buffy looked up at him apologetically.  “I’m sorry, Spike. Really I am.  And I’m sorry I woke you up again.  I’ll be fine now.  You can go back to sleep.”

             She slid back into the bed and pulled the covers up to her chin.

           “See? All tucked in and ready for non-dreamy sleep.”

          He shook his head with a soft laugh and said, “Ok, luv, but if Angelus comes around this time, how about if you put a stake through his miserable heart, yeah?”

          “K,” she said with a smile.  “One dusty Angelus coming up.”

           In spite of her brave words to Spike, she didn’t close her eyes for a long time, only shutting them when exhaustion forced her into another troubled sleep.  Before long she was moaning and crying again as she found herself held immobile by some force that left her unable to move but wide awake.  When she realized she was naked, her heartbeat went up as fear seized her body.  There was no surprise this time when Angelus stepped out of the shadows and leered at her frozen face and the panicked eyes looking back at him.

          “What do you think, Will?” he threw over his shoulder.  “Looks right tasty all spread out like that doesn’t she?”

            Buffy’s eyes followed his voice to the other side of the room where a battered and bleeding Spike was chained to the wall, his demon snarling in impotent rage.  Angelus laughed at his grandchilde, then moved toward the bed, beckoning Darla and Drusilla forward as he did so.

            “I guess Will doesn’t want to play,” he said, laughing cruelly.  “But he can watch us.”

            Dru moved closer to Buffy, meeting the Slayer’s frightened eyes with an almost lucid gaze.  She leaned in and whispered in Buffy’s ear, “Don’t worry, Sunshine.  William takes good care of his things.  He won’t let Daddy have you.  You just have to tell him—“ She stopped abruptly as Angelus yanked her away.

          “Quit babbling nonsense, Dru,” he growled, backhanding her across the room to crumple beside Spike’s struggling body.  “The chit is mine and after I get tired of fucking her unconscious, I’m going to turn her and add her to our little family.  William will just have to get used to it.”

            Darla had been running her sharp claws down Buffy’s body while Angelus was disciplining Dru. Buffy hissed at the pain as the vampire left bloody trails from Buffy’s nipples to her knees.  She leaned over and ran her tongue up from Buffy’s knee to her breast, licking the blood as she went.  Angelus moved to the other side, applying his own tongue to the bloody line on that side and moving up to her bleeding breast.  He ran his tongue around her nipple, then suddenly sank his fangs into it causing Buffy to scream in fear and pain.

              She could hear Spike raging against the chains holding him while Dru rocked herself and sang about Sunshine and Slayers.  It briefly crossed Buffy’s mind that if Dru actually wanted to be helpful, she could let Spike loose, but she knew the dark-haired vampire would never disobey her “daddy” no matter how insane she might be.

             When Angelus stood up and undid his pants, allowing Buffy a glimpse of his rather modestly-sized cock, she began to scream in earnest, tears of fear and frustration pouring down her face as she fought whatever drug or magic was keeping her from moving.  The big vampire leered at her and knelt between her knees, forcing her to look at him as he stroked himself and stared at her exposed sex.

             Spike burst into the room just as Buffy’s screams were reaching a crescendo, picking her immobile body up and speaking into her ear, “Slayer!  Buffy!  Come on, luv.  Come back to me.  Wake up, Buffy.  Wake up.  I’m here. I’ve got you, luv.  Spike’s got you, pet.  Come on,” he pleaded as she continued to cry and moan.  “Wake up, luv, Please.  Wake up for me.”

            Buffy’s heart was beating so fast he was afraid it was going to break out of her chest and he tried frantically to bring her back from whatever was frightening her so badly.  Where once, the smell of fear on this slayer would have made his mouth water, now he just wanted to make it go away.

            Afraid that her screams would awaken Molly, Spike sought for a way to smother her cries before he had to deal with more explanations than he cared to.  Finally, frustration took over and he fastened his mouth on hers, swallowing the sounds she was making and willing her to calm down.  To his surprise, her lips began to respond to the cool pressure he was exerting and the terrible sounds tapered off to soft moans.

             He felt her body shudder and then go limp in his arms as her lips continued to press back against his.  He softened his mouth, no longer feeling the need to swallow her cries, and began kissing her gently, murmuring soothing things to her in between light kisses.  When she began to stir and he felt the light flutter of her eyelids, he pulled his mouth away and looked down at her carefully.

             “Slayer?  Buffy?  Are you back with me, luv?  Gave me quite a scare there, you did.”

              “Spike?” Buffy’s voice was raw and scratchy, her expression disoriented. “Are you really here?”

              “Course I’m here, pet.  Where else would I be?  Wouldn’t leave you there, luv.”

              Buffy slumped against him, not caring that she was wearing nothing but a light muslin nightgown that was twisted around her hips.  She briefly noted that he was not wearing his jeans, but seemed to be wearing a large shirt made out of the same fabric as her gown.  She spent several minutes just basking in the safe feeling she got with his strong arms around her and letting her heart rate go back to normal.  When she felt more like herself, she took note of the fact that he was rubbing her back soothingly with one hand, while he cradled her in his other arm and dusted light kisses all over her closed eyelids, nose and cheeks.  All the while, murmuring reassurances to her that he was there and nothing was going to hurt her.

             As wonderful and safe as it felt, now that the dream was fading she was ashamed of her reaction and she struggled to sit up straight and look in control of things.  Which did her no good at all, as the vampire took her by the shoulders and forced her to look at him.  In the dim light all she could see was the amber glow of his eyes as he used his vampire senses to check her over.

           “Now, Slayer,” he growled, giving her a little shake, “You’re going to tell me everything about these soddin’ dreams you’re having.  I want to know what can turn the strongest, bravest Slayer I’ve ever met into a…a…”

           “Crybaby?” Buffy suggested wearily.

           “Wasn’t going to say that, pet,” he said gruffly, “but, yeah, what’s with all the waterworks and screaming?  Was it Angelus again?”

            She nodded dumbly, unwilling to even say the name.  “And Dru and Darla.”

           “What was he doing to you?  Was the bastard torturing you? Did he kill you? Turn you?”

            “He hadn’t quite got to that part of his plan yet,” she answered dully, looking away from his probing stare.  She really didn’t want to tell Spike what Angel had been doing to her, but he wasn’t giving up.

            “Tell me,” he said grimly, his voice suddenly hard and cold. He had a pretty good idea what he was going to hear, but he wanted to hear it just the same.

           “It didn’t happen.  It was just a dream.  Let’s just drop it.”

          “Let’s not and say we did,” he said firmly.  “I want you to tell me what was going on – in both dreams.”  He titled her chin up to look into her eyes. “And I want to know everything, every bloody detail.  If these dreams are prophetic, we need to suss out what they’re trying to tell you.”

           “I really don’t want to talk about this,” she said, trying to move away from him.

           “Don’t care,” he said stubbornly.

            Buffy took a deep breath and in a flat, uninflected voice she recited the two dreams, even including Dru’s cryptic whisper in her ear before Darla and Angelus went at her.  When she got to Angelus opening his pants a guttural snarl was ripped from Spike’s throat and she almost flinched away from him in fear before she realized it wasn’t her he was snarling at.

            “Where the bleedin’ hell was I?” he demanded, his voice almost shaking with emotion.

           “You were chained to the wall.  You couldn’t get loose and I couldn’t move anything except my face.  I don’t think I’ve ever felt so helpless – and then he…and I screamed and then you were here and I was awake and….oh, Spike, he was going to…going to rape me and then turn me. And I couldn’t do anything about it.”

           As she finished speaking, she began trembling and he immediately pulled her back into his lap, doing his best to soothe her while his demon was screaming to be let out to kill something. Flashbacks to tales of how Angelus had tortured Drusilla for months before finally turning her, made him tremble in fear for the slight figure in his arms. 

           The feel of Spike’s arms and the surprisingly reassuring rumble of the low growls coming from his chest soon calmed Buffy down and she pushed herself away again.

            “What the hell is wrong with me?  I’m the Slayer.  I’ve been stabbed, bitten, tortured… hell, I’ve even been dead for a few minutes.  Why is this dream scaring me so badly?”

            “Because it’s the poof?” Spike ventured.  “And because you think it might be a warning.”

              “I guess,” she sighed.  “I wish Giles was here to help me figure out what the dream is trying to tell me,” she grumbled.  “I’m all action girl; he’s all researchy guy.”

              She peered up at Spike from under the curtain of hair hanging in her face.  “What do you think they mean?”

              “That you have bleedin’ awful taste in boyfriends?” he teased, pleased to see the tiny smile she couldn’t hide.

              “Well, then, what does that say about you, husband?” she teased back, beginning to feel more like herself with every second.

              “Clearly, it says that your taste has improved tremendously in the past few days.”

              They smiled at each other for a few seconds; then Spike pushed her gently back down on the bed.  When he covered her up, then laid himself down beside her she frowned and, in a much squeakier voice than she intended, asked, “What are you doing?”

              “Saving m’self another sprint from my room to yours, is what, pet.  Now close your eyes and let’s try to salvage something from what’s left of this night.”

              He extended his left arm and pulled her against chest ignoring the stiffening of her body.  When she realized he was only trying to provide a sense of security for her while she slept, Buffy relaxed against him.  She was quickly lulled to sleep by the soft purring sounds coming from the vampire’s chest and spent the rest of the night in a restful and dreamless sleep.

Chapter Seven

When Buffy awoke much later in the morning, her bed was empty and she had to smother a small pang of regret when she realized Spike had gone back to his own room.  She stretched, knowing from the way the sun was coming in that she had slept quite late.  A soft knock on the door and Molly stuck her head in to ask if Buffy was ready for her bath.  She gave an eager nod and jumped out of the bed to follow the cheerful servant girl down the hall to where the bathtub had been filled with clean, steaming water.

          After thanking Molly effusively, Buffy sank into the warm water, sighing in satisfaction.  She tilted her head back to wet her hair and began the process of cleaning off the grime of the past two days. 

          When she emerged from the bathroom sometime later, wrapped from head to toe in fluffy towels, she was startled to find Spike heading in her direction. His warning frown told her Molly was somewhere nearby and she bit back the question she was going to ask him as he headed into the bathroom.

         Molly was waiting in her room, holding up some complicated-looking undergarments and one of the floral gowns Buffy had purchased the day before.  In spite of Buffy’s insistence that in her “country” she didn’t have to wear such confining things under her dresses, Molly was quite firm that she had to have the proper underwear on in order not to embarrass her husband.  With much grumbling, Buffy allowed the giggling girl to dress her in a tight-fitting corset that pushed her breasts up into plump mounds and huge bloomers that covered her from waist to knees.

           Putting her foot down, Buffy refused to put on the stockings and garters until she was actually leaving the house, and Molly reluctantly gave in and allowed her to put on the dress and go downstairs barefoot.  As she enjoyed the delicious and filling breakfast Mrs. Barstow had made for them, Buffy remembered that Spike had not had any blood since they left Sunnydale and she worried about how she was going to get it for him.

           The problem was taken out of her hands when an errand boy showed up at the kitchen door saying he had a package for the Mr. Sinclair from the solicitor.  Mrs. Barstow tried to take it from him, but he stubbornly insisted that he was told to give it only to Mr. Sinclair’s hand.  Buffy heard Spike’s footsteps coming down the stairs and quickly intervened saying, “I’m Mrs. Sinclair. You can give the package to me and I will see that he gets it.  Tell Mr. Saint-John that we are most grateful.”

           She gave him her most dazzling smile and took the package out of his hand while he was busy staring in awe at the blonde goddess who was speaking to him.  She went into the hallway and intercepted Spike before he got to the kitchen, saying loudly enough for the other humans to hear, “William, Darling, here is the package you’ve been expecting from Mr. Saint-John.”

           Giving her a grateful smile, Spike took the package into his study and placed in a locking drawer of his desk.  Then he rejoined Buffy and they went back to the kitchen where he pretended to eat breakfast with her.

            When Mrs. Barstow and Molly had left to go to the market, after being assured that Spike and Buffy would be perfectly all right by themselves, he carried a large glass into his study and poured the newly arrived blood into it. Buffy watched curiously as he drained it quickly, an expression of pure delight on his face as the still-warm liquid slid over his tongue and down his throat. After watching him lean back and close his eyes, rubbing his newly filled stomach, Buffy suddenly realized why he looked so satiated.

              “Oh my God!  That was human blood, wasn’t it?  He sent you human blood!”

           The vampire opened one eye and looked at her happily.

           “Yes, it was human.  First I’ve had in a very long time, I might add. And it was wonderful.”

           “I’ll find a butcher shop tomorrow,” Buffy vowed, ignoring his pained expression.

           “Buffy-” he started.

             “Spike! You cannot drink human blood!  I can’t just sit here and let you—“

          “Bloody hell, Slayer!  It’s not like I went out and killed somebody for it!  And if I ask for pig’s blood, Saint-John is going to wonder what’s going on.  Don’t forget, in this time I’m part of the Scourge of Europe.  I don’t drink pigs’ blood.  I don’t even usually have to buy it.  He’s probably wondering why I don’t just go out and get my own every night.”

           Their eyes met and held as they silently battled to a standstill.  Buffy realized Spike was not going to yield on this issue and she surprised both herself and him by, after several minutes, nodding her head in agreement and saying, “I guess you’re right.  I’ll just have to hope the donors were willing.”

          He tilted his head and studied her for a few seconds, then said simply, “Thank you.”

          Buffy blushed slightly under his lengthy look and said sternly, “Well, don’t think I’m going to let you get away with that when we get home, though!”

He laughed, causing her to stick her lip out in a pout.

           “I mean it!”

           “Know you do, pet.  I was just laughing because I’m not sure we SHOULD go back to Sunnyhell.”

            “What?”

           “Think about it, luv.  You like being rich and waited on, I like having human blood delivered to my door….”

            “You are SOOOO evil!” She couldn’t stop the grin that accompanied her words and he laughed again.

               “Does that mean you’re tempted?”

             Buffy sobered and said softly, “Not if it means I’ve got to have those dreams every night.”

             “You didn’t have another one after I went back to my room, did you?” he asked anxiously.  “I waited as long as I could, but the curtains aren’t heavy in that room and I didn’t think you’d feature waking up next to a pile of dust.”

            “No,” she blushed again, “I was fine even after you…left.  But I don’t know what will happen tonight…each one has been worse than the one before…”

           “Got to be a warning, pet.  We jus’ need to figure out what it’s warning you about.”

          “I guess so.  In the meantime, maybe we could sleep with the doors open…?” She looked away from Spike as she said it, so that she wouldn’t have to see if he hated the idea, but he just said calmly, “Sure, pet.  That sounds like a plan.”

            Her look of relief tugged at him briefly and he vowed to do what he could to prevent any more of the frightening dreams about his vampire family.

             Buffy spent the rest of the day wandering around the garden and trying to read, but she found the few Victorian novels William had in his library to be hard going and wordy.  By the time evening had come around and they had eaten another delicious meal, she was pacing from room to room with barely disguised impatience.

            In spite of the way he laughed at her attempts to hide her desire for physical activity under a veil of lady-like behavior, Spike was getting as restless as she was for some kind of release for his pent up energy.  When Molly had retreated to her bedroom and her rhythmic breathing told Spike she was asleep, he peered into Buffy’s room to find her staring out the window and bouncing on her toes.

           “Fancy a spot of violence tonight, luv?” he asked teasingly, knowing she was not used to the kind of inactivity that was the lot of well-to-do Victorian women.

           “Do you think we could find some?” she asked hopefully, turning around to face him.

             “I’m sure we can find something or someone to beat up on, Slayer.  Get out of that oversized nightie and let’s go find something to slay.”

             Grabbing her least restrictive dress and her own boots, Buffy ran behind the dressing screen and quickly got ready to go out.  Spike fought down the urge to peek behind the screen and waited patiently for her near the door.

           Buffy quickly came out from behind the screen, cursing the way the long dress wrapped around her legs when she tried to walk fast.

            “I have got to find a way to get some pants to wear slaying,” she grumbled, twitching the hem of the skirt to make it hang straight.

             “Leave it to me to marry a woman who wants to scandalize the entire population of London,” he laughed. 

            “I mean it, Spike!  Surely the current slayer doesn’t try to fight in an outfit like this?”

            “Don’t know pet, this was a little before my ‘slay the slayers’ phase.  The Chinese girl was wearing pants, but that’s what the women wear in that country. Kinda like pajamas, they were…” His reminiscing trailed off as he caught a look at Buffy’s face and realized he had just blown two nights of good will by reminding her of his past activities.

            “Bollocks,” he muttered as she stormed past him and down the stairs, her good mood completely forgotten.

           They went quietly out the front door of the house so as not to awaken Molly, walking in tense silence for several blocks before Spike touched her arm gently to stop her and said, “Buffy, I’m sor-“

           She shook her head, interrupting his attempt to apologize.  “No, Spike, I’m sorry.  I know what you are and what you’ve done.  It’s my fault for letting myself forget that sometimes. It’s me I’m mad at, not you.”

          She shrugged and continued walking, slower this time as she began to cast her senses around for any trace of demons or vampires. Spike stood staring after her for a few seconds; then hastened to catch up.

          “If that was supposed to make me feel better, luv, it didn’t quite get the job done,” he said quietly once he was even with her again.  “I’m not that same vampire, Buffy.  You know I’m not.  I’m changing – don’t know if it’s the chip or if it’s being around you so much, but whichever it is, I’ve got a different outlook about Slayers now.”

          “Which would be?” She stubbornly refused to look at him until he stepped in front of her, forcing her to halt or run into his chest.

           “Which would be that I could no more think about killing you than dusting myself.” 

            The complete seriousness of his expression and the words she knew in her heart were true, ratcheted the tension back up several notches.  Her heart rate accelerated and her breathing became faster as she tried to deny the bolt of happiness that had gone through her at his words.

           “Is that so?” she snarked in an effort to break the tension and put them back on a more normal footing.

           “Well,” he said, just as glad as she was to drop the subject, “it would be a lie to say I never THINK about killing you.  You are a really irritating bint sometimes.  But I wouldn’t do it.  Would make my life too boring.”

          “Right back at you, fangface,” she answered with a small smile.  “Now, can we go find something we DO want to kill?”

          “Think it might be on its way, Slayer,” his voice had changed tone and he was staring up the street to where several young men loitered under a gas lamp.

          Buffy looked at the small group and raised her eyebrows.  “Are they vampires?”

         “No, they’re human enough, but the excitement I sensed when they saw us coming tells me they see us as easy victims for them.  I won’t be able to do much, pet, so I guess you get to take out your extra energy all by yourself.”

              “Pooh!” Buffy pouted, “I really wanted to be able to slay something.”

Chapter Eight

               As the men approached and surrounded them, she shrugged and said, “I guess I’ll have to settle for beating something up.”

              Spike laughed as he ducked a blackjack that had been intended for his head.  “Guess so, pet. Have fun.”

              After the man had ducked and twisted away from them so many times that they had decided to forget about him, the gang of muggers focused on the small woman who was watching Spike’s dodging and weaving with admiring interest.  Since the man had made no attempt to hit anyone, and seemed unconcerned with the girl’s safety, they concluded he was a coward and would not interfere with their plans.

             The leader of the small group reached out a hand to tug on Buffy’s long hair, using it to pull her toward him.

             “Ow!” she complained loudly.  “Did anyone ever tell you, you fight like a girl?”

              Instead of pulling away as the man expected, she stepped in closer and grabbed his belt in one tiny hand, using it to lift him up in the air until his feet were off the ground.  She could hear Spikes snort of laughter behind her as the man’s eyes bugged out when he realized what was happening to him.  To his credit, he recovered quickly and threw a punch at Buffy’s face.

             Compared to being hit be a vampire or demon, the punch really didn’t amount to much, but it did split Buffy’s lip and she heard Spike growl behind her at the scent of her blood.

             “Ok, NOW, I’m mad,” she said angrily as she dropped the man to the ground.  “That was not very nice.”

            While his gang members looked back and forth in confusion between the tiny, angry blonde girl and the laughing man leaning against the lamp post, the leader threw another punch at Buffy only to find it blocked very effectively by the still annoyed looking girl.  He tried two more times, finding each one blocked with a speed he couldn’t even follow with his eyes. Then he found himself flying backwards to land in the street, his jaw aching and his arse in a fresh pile of manure.

            With a snarl, he leaped to his feet and charged the eager-looking girl, waving at his men to get behind her.  As he reached Buffy, intending to carry her to the ground with his greater weight, he was once again propelled through the air, this time over her shoulder and into two of his advancing cronies.  Buffy shifted her weight, intending to land a roundhouse kick on the other men quickly moving in to the fray, only to find her kick impeded by the voluminous skirt she was wearing.  Instead of knocking the remaining footpads out of the picture, she found herself off balance and unable to stop her momentum as she stumbled and tripped on the long dress. 

           With a triumphant shout, her intended victim brought his black jack down on her head.  If he was surprised that the blow that would have killed most people only stunned the surprisingly aggressive woman, he didn’t let it slow him down as he advanced for the killing blow.

            Suddenly he was being held up in the air by her previously forgotten escort who was snarling in his face, “You really didn’t want to do that, mate.”

            When Spike’s face shifted and the men got a look at the monster they’d discounted as a factor in the assault, anyone not currently suspended in midair with a master vampire’s hand around his throat took to his heels, leaving the hapless blackjack wielder behind.  Spike was squeezing the man’s neck, waiting for the chip to kick in and stop him, when he realized that the silent mugger was almost dead.

            He quickly dropped the unconscious man on the street and backed away. He was still waiting for the pain to hit him as he checked the man’s vital signs, breathing a sigh of relief when he found the heart beat to be fairly strong and heard the man gasping in much-needed gulps of air.

            Leaving the would-be murderer on the ground, he went over to where Buffy was sitting up and rubbing the back of her head.  She was swearing a blue streak and Spike had to grin at the look on the man’s face when he focused his bleary eyes on the sweet looking little girl that had almost single-handedly wiped out his whole gang and realized that the words were coming from her mouth. 

            Spike helped Buffy to her feet, ignoring the man trying to scuttle away without being noticed by the now human-looking monster.  The vampire leaned in without thinking and gingerly licked the blood off her rapidly-swelling lip.  Not having realized what he was about to do, Buffy’s own tongue was coming out to lick off her lip and she froze when she realized why there was no blood left to lick. The tip of her tongue just brushed Spike’s before he withdrew with a gasp and looked at her apologetically.

           “ ‘M sorry, pet,” he whispered, resisting the temptation to run his tongue lightly over her lip again.  “It’s the best way I know to stop the bleeding.  Should have warned you what I was gonna do, I guess.”

           “Ye-  yes, warning would have been good.  Then I wouldn’t have put my tongue out there and your tongue and my tongue…oh, God…”

            Before they could follow up on the way their bodies were leaning toward each other, the potential mugger/rapist/murderer made a noise as he got to his feet and tried to run away.  Spike was in front of him before he had gone three steps and he whimpered in fear, turning to go the other way, only to find himself facing the girl he’d tried to kill.

            Buffy hiked her skirt up around her waist, freeing up her lower legs, and swept her leg around toward his face in the kick she’d intended to take in the first place.  The man’s head snapped back and his eyes crossed as he flew backwards and landed in the gutter.  When it was clear that he was down for the count, Buffy released her breath in a relieved “whoosh.” 

              “I feel much better now,” she said brightly, dropping her skirts and shaking them out.  “Let’s go find something else to fight.”

               Spike was staring at her with glazed eyes and she walked up to him, waving her hand in front of his face.

              “Spike?  William? Are you in there?”

             He blinked a couple of times and then gave her a slow, lip-licking smile.

           “You do know you aren’t wearing any knickers under there, don’t you, Slayer?”

          “What?  That’s crazy!  Of course I’m wearing…knick- whatever.  I distinctly remember…remember…remember deciding I didn’t want to wear those ridiculous bloomers and getting my own…own…oh…my…god.  I forgot my underwear.  I’m naked under here!” 

           She clutched her skirts tightly around her and tried not to notice the way Spike’s eyes lasered in on her crotch as though he could see through the layers of fabric. One look at his face and she knew she’d said the wrong thing.

           “I…we…need to go home now,” she said in a small, squeaky voice.

           “Oh, I don’t think so,” he replied, licking his lips again and moving closer to her.  “I thought you wanted to slay something.”

            “If you don’t get that look off your face, it’s going to be you,” she said as firmly as she could while she backed away slowly.  Her heart was beating like a trip hammer and she could feel moisture seeping from her as the vampire continued to advance, still boring holes in her with his darkened eyes.  She suddenly felt more naked wearing the modest, ankle-length dress than she did in her smallest bikini.

             Who knew not wearing underwear could feel so…so…sexy. No! Not sexy.  So freeing.  That’s it.  It’s freeing.  I’m free to….to kick people and flash the sexy vampire.  No, no flashing the vampire. Bad Buffy!)

               “Oh, look!  I think I see a vampire!  I’ll beat you to him!”

               With a frightened squeal, Buffy took off running just before Spike’s reaching hands could touch her shoulders.  She threw a look over her shoulder to see him glaring after her with a frustrated look on his face.  Laughing, she shouted, “If you’re just going to stand there, you’ll miss the show when I kick this one.”

              She heard him growl and sped up, hiking up her skirt just enough to give her some freedom of movement.  She could hear his pounding feet behind her and knew she wasn’t going to be able to stay ahead of him dressed the way she was.  The vampire, though, had stopped growling and was laughing himself as he chased her, staying close enough to keep her running, but not so close as to end the chase.

             After a couple days spent in enforced lassitude, Buffy was reveling in the feeling of the wind in her face and the comfortable stretching and flexing of her muscles.  She had given up the pretense that she was chasing a vampire and was just enjoying the run through the velvety night when the nagging thought occurred to her that they were mimicking the scene in her first dream.

             No sooner had she had that thought and begun to slow down, then she felt the tingles that told her there was a vampire near-by.  She was so used to Spike’s signature, that she easily discounted it coming from behind her and focused on what was in front of her.  She slowed even more, waiting for Spike to catch up to her before going into a fighting stance. 

            She could sense that he was in game face, and knew he was feeling the same thing she was.  Just as she was pulling the stake from the deep pocket in her dress, he grabbed her arm and said, “No, Buffy. Not this time.”

           Frowning at him in confusion and anger, she asked, “What do you mean, not this time?  There are vampires ahead and I’m the Slayer.”

            “I can feel the vamplres, pet.  They’re family.  MY family. And you’re not dressed to take them on, even if you do have me to help you.”

              “Family?  You mean…” Her head spun back toward the shadows ahead of them, her eyes frantically searching for any sign of Angelus or the two female vampires she knew would be with him.  She was seized with a sudden fear that left her almost hyperventilating as she flashed back to her dream and her helplessness.

              “My dream,” she whispered, backing up behind Spike just as she had in the dream.

               “Hiding behind Will isn’t going to help you, little girl,” came an eerily familiar, yet cold and cruel voice from the shadows.

              “Wrong again, Peaches,” Spike snarled, placing himself between Buffy and the now visible vampires ahead of them.

             Angelus stopped in confusion, taken back both by the nickname and the completely defiant and unafraid stance of the vampire in front of him.  Drusilla drifted up beside him to coo, “Ooooh, it’s my darling William, all grown up.  How delicious he looks.”

           “Time to go, pet,” Spike whispered, taking her hand and backing away.

          Although Buffy was furious at herself, she knew that he was right. She was in no shape, mentally or physically to take on three fourths of the Scourge of Europe.  And she had no idea where the fourth member might be.

           She yanked her dress up again, not caring if she flashed all of London, and flew off behind Spike, sprinting until they were back in a busier part of the city and among crowds.  As soon as they could sense there was no pursuit, Buffy dropped her skirts and ran as best she could with the long dress flapping around her legs and tangling between her knees.

            When they had reached the relative safety of a populated area and mingled with the crowds leaving nearby theatres and bars, they slowed to a brisk walk.  Spike didn’t drop her hand and Buffy found herself grateful for the continued physical contact as she tried to deal with the terror she’d felt when pieces of her dream seemed to be happening in front of her.

           They walked slowly back toward the residential area, hands still linked. When passers-by gave shocked glances at the young couple strolling along hand in hand, one flash of Spike’s true face was enough to make them avert their eyes quickly and find something else to be shocked about.

            They reached the house and let themselves back in quietly. When Buffy went to speak, Spike squeezed her hand for silence while he listened carefully to be sure Molly was still asleep.  Nodding his head in satisfaction when he heard her rhythmic breathing and steady heartbeat, he reluctantly released Buffy’s hand and gestured toward the stairs.

           As soon as they were safely in her room, Buffy threw herself back on the bed, exclaiming, “Well, that wasn’t exactly how I hoped the night would go, but at least we’re safe from them now.”

           Spike looked at her, lying spread across the bed, her arms out in a gesture of relief and wondered when and how this slip of a woman became so important to him.

          “Wish you were right, pet,” he said slowly, taking a hard look around the room.

        She sat up abruptly, glaring at him.

        “What do you mean, you wish I was right?  We’re inside, they’re outside, they can’t get in without an invita-  oh, shit.” 

          She threw herself back on the bed in disgust.

          “The house’s owner is a dead man.  They don’t need an invitation, do they?”

          “Fraid not, luv. Not at the moment, anyway.  Gonna fix that tomorrow, but for now, want you to sleep downstairs so I can watch over both you and Molly for the rest of the night.”

           “How are you going to fix it?” she asked, picking up her nightgown and going behind the screen.

           “Don’t you worry about it; I’ve got it figured out.  Just can’t do anything about it until tomorrow.”

            She frowned at him curiously, but didn’t press the issue.  She changed quickly and, carrying her pillow and a blanket as well as a couple of stakes, she followed him downstairs to the study. 

            “This ought to do it,” he said, looking around at the leather couch by the window.  “Although I think I’d be more comfortable if that was over here.”  As he spoke, he was moving the couch effortlessly into the middle of the room in front of his desk.

             “What are you going to do while I’m sleeping?” Buffy inquired softly as she settled herself on the old, but comfortable couch.

              “I’ve got some paperwork to keep me busy.  You just get some kip.” He came over to the make-shift bed and knelt down beside her, stroking her hair softly.  “And how about no more dreams about the great Poof until we suss out what’s going on?”

          “You don’t think I LIKE being terrified every night, do you?” she demanded indignantly.  “Maybe I should just stay awake with you – no sleep means no more Slayer dreams and…oh god, it almost happened.  They ARE Slayer dreams.”

With a groan, she dropped her head onto the cool hand still touching her hair.  After a second’s hesitation, Spike began to rub his thumb in gentle circles on her cheek as he tried to reassure her.

          “Seems like,” he agreed, “but it didn’t go like your dream, did it, pet?  You didn’t go all catatonic on me, and I’m not all beat up and what not.  We got away without any damage, so that’s all good, yeah?”

           “That’s the thing about Slayer dreams,” she grumbled, still leaning into his caressing hand.  “You never know what parts are real and what parts are just embellishment to confuse you!”

          He grinned at her pouting tone and stood up after giving her one last lingering caress.  In spite of the danger they were in, her nearness was having it’s usual effect on his libido and he needed to get behind his desk before he was tempted to follow up his reassuring touches with something less reassuring and more demanding.

Chapter Nine

            Buffy settled down on the sofa, giving Spike a grateful look when he dimmed the lamp for her.  In spite of her determination to stay awake, she fell into a restless, but dream-free sleep, while Spike pulled some papers from his desk and began writing out letters and instructions.

           Sometime before dawn, he realized that the tempo of Molly’s heartbeat had changed and he leaped to his feet, heading for the kitchen and the small servant’s room just off the hall.  In spite of his vampire stealth, his movement woke Buffy and she grabbed her stakes and slipped down the hall after him.

           When they saw the kitchen door swinging on it’s hinges, both leapt toward the door of Molly’s room, only to find it opening onto a frightening sight.

           Molly was standing in the center of the small room, staring mindlessly ahead, while Drusilla walked around her, lightly running her claws around the immobile girl’s throat, leaving thin trails of blood behind. 

             “Please tell me I’m having another dream,” Buffy said softly as she watched the insane vampire licking the blood off her fingers.

               “Sorry, Slayer,” Spike breathed softly, “Looks like we have the real thing here.  He held out his arm when Buffy went to rush past him, saying quietly, “She’ll be dead before you get there, pet.”

          Remembering Kendra’s slit throat caused by those same talons, Buffy stopped beside him, her body trembling with the need to destroy the vampire dancing around the servant girl she was coming to like so much.   Drusilla cocked her head at them, her claws never leaving their position over Molly’s jugular and said sadly, “It’s true, isn’t it, my grown-up William?  You don’t love your dark princess anymore.  You want to bask in the sunshine.  I should be very cross with you.”

           “No need to be cross with me, luv.  You know you’ll always be my ripe, wicked plum.  But we’ve moved on, we have.  You left me, Dru.  Left me for your ‘daddy’ and then for a chaos demon.  A vamp’s got his limits, pet.”

           Dru switched her gaze to Buffy’s cold, angry face and cocked her head in sudden understanding.  “Oooh, Daddy’s going to get a surprise from this one,” she said with delight.  “You must be careful, William.  He will not want you to have her.”

          “Not his choice,” he said flatly.  “You’ll be wanting to stay out of it, Dru.  Jus’ telling you that for old times’ sake.  Now why don’t you be a good girl and let the chit go?”

         The former seer cocked her head again and hummed to herself.  “If I kill the girl, your sunshine will stake me, won’t she?”

         “Most likely,” he agreed, still holding Buffy back.

         “All right, my love,” she said, stepping away from Molly’s swaying body.  “But Angelus is not going to be so kind.”

          “You let us worry about the big poof, Dru.  Just get yourself out of here.”

          Buffy glared at him in fury as he backed away to let the brunette vampire out of the room.  Her body thrummed with the need to plunge her stake into the other vampire’s heart and she couldn’t believe Spike was standing between them. 

           “What are you doing?” she hissed furiously, trying to get around him.  “I’m not letting her walk out of here!  Look what she did to Molly!”

           “Molly’s alive, Slayer,” he said in a flat, cold voice that she hadn’t heard from him in years.  “Let it go.”

           By the time Buffy had shoved him away, Drusilla was out of the room and out of the house.  Buffy whirled toward Spike, ready to beat him to a pulp for denying her the kill, when she saw him gently laying Molly down on her bed.  He bent over the girl and quickly ran his tongue around the bleeding marks on her neck.  Before Buffy could scream at him for taking advantage of the unconscious girl, she remembered how he’d stopped her lip from bleeding and saw that the very shallow cuts on Molly’s neck were no longer oozing blood. 

           She watched in barely restrained anger as he wrapped the girl in her blanket and carried her carefully into the study, laying her down at the opposite end of the couch from where Buffy had been sleeping.  He didn’t even acknowledge Buffy’s presence until Molly was sleeping peacefully on her side.  When he was sure she was as comfortable as he could make her, he stood up and took a deep, unnecessary breath before turning to face the still angry Slayer.

           “Do you want to hear my reasons before you start hitting me? Or shall we just go right to the beat-down and get it out of the way?”

           With a shaky sigh, Buffy relaxed and dropped the stake still clenched in her hand.  “I’ll listen,” she said tightly, “But they’d better be damn good ones.”

           Holding up a slender, yet powerful hand, he bent one finger down as he said with no inflection, “Number one - we don’t know whether we are back in time in our universe, or if we have been sent to another dimension.  So anything we do here can have permanent repercussions back in Sunnydale.  That includes killing Dru, or Angelus or anybody else whose absence might have an effect down the road.  Number two – if you remember your dreams, Dru never touched you; in fact she tried to warn you in some of them.  Seems to me, if those Slayer dreams are gonna start coming true, it might be useful to have somebody on our side.  Number three – if she’d wanted Molly dead, she could have done it long before we got here.  She had her in thrall, all she would have had to do is walk out the door with her.  I don’t think she was planning to kill her, I think she was trying to make a point.”

             “Which would be?”

             “That Angelus can get to us whenever he wants to.  That we’re not safe here.”

             “Anything else?” Buffy asked with the beginnings of a pout at being presented with such good reasons, none of which she’d thought of in her desire to dust the insane vampire.

             He tilted his head at her and said quietly, “And I could no more stand by and watch you dust Dru than I could let her kill you.   I’m sorry, luv, that’s just the way it is.”

               Choosing to ignore the second part of his remarks as not fitting her preferred world-view, Buffy said haughtily, “I guess that’s all I can expect of a vampire, chipped or not.”

              She saw the pain flash across Spike’s face, but before she could apologize he said coldly, “Right, Slayer. That’s all you can expect.”

               He turned his back on her and walked to his desk, sitting down heavily and slumping back against the chair.  He didn’t look up as he growled,  “So then, I suppose that means if you get a chance to stake the big poof, possibly preventing him from ever finding his way to Sunnyhell and into your virginal little knickers, you’ll do it.  Is that right?”

               Buffy stood still; scenes of long, yearning kisses in the graveyard, fighting side by side against the Mayor’s minions, Giles’ devastation after finding Jenny’s body, memories of her one night of passion with Angel that ended so badly all flowing through her head.  It occurred to her that not having Angel in Sunnydale or her life wouldn’t necessarily be such a bad thing.  Then she realized that no Angel probably meant no truce with Spike; perhaps no Spike at all, and she opened her mouth to say so, only to discover she was too late.

               His head was thrown back, his eyes squeezed shut as he gritted out between clenched teeth, “Yeah, that’s what I thought, Slayer.  Makes a difference if it’s somebody YOU love.”

              She wanted to blurt out that he was a soulless demon and couldn’t love, but she knew in her heart that was a lie.  He’d loved and cared for Drusilla for over a hundred years, and he obviously still loved his long-dead mother.  Then anger took over again as she realized he thought she wouldn’t stake Angel only because she loved him when she was sixteen.

             Stomping over to where he sat leaning back in his chair with his eyes still closed and a sad look on his face, she stood in front of him tapping her foot until he opened his eyes and glared at her.

          “What? You aren’t done yet?”

          “No, I’m not done yet.  I didn’t answer you right away because I was thinking about it.  About all the things that would and wouldn’t happen if there was no Angel.  And I decided that –“

            “And you decided that it was important to have the great brooding one in your life.  Yeah, I got the picture.”

             “No you didn’t, you moron.”   She was so angry her cheeks were bright red and her chest was heaving as she breathed in and out.  Spike was so distracted by the way she looked, he almost missed it when she said in a growl that would have done credit to a vampire, “I don’t want there to be no Angel, because then you would never have come to Sunnydale and made that truce with me, and you wouldn’t be here with me now, and I…”

            “And you what?” he asked carefully, sitting up straighter in his chair.

            “AndIwouldmissyou,” she muttered quickly, turning away with a flushed face.  She stamped back over to the couch and curled up at the end away from Molly, refusing to look at him anymore.

             The vampire stared at her flaming face in astonishment for several minutes, then gradually relaxed back into his chair, a slow smile spreading across his face. “All right, then,” he said softly.

               With the coming of dawn, Spike knew they were safe for the day and he allowed himself to drift off to sleep as well as he could in his less than comfortable chair.  When he woke up, it was to see Buffy shepherding a puzzled Molly back to her room with an explanation of how some animal got in her room last night and they couldn’t wake her up so they put her with them to keep her safe.   

             The confused girl nodded her head as though she knew what Buffy was talking about, and went in to her room to dress.  She gave a little shriek when she saw the blood stains on her night gown and Buffy hastened in to show her how the scratches were already healing and that the blood made it look worse than it was.  She could see from the girl’s worried frown that bits and pieces of the past night were flitting through her head and she hoped they could convince her she’d had a bad dream brought on by the “animal attack”.

             Buffy said “good morning” to Mrs. Barstow as she bustled in the door preparing to start breakfast and then went back to the study to check on Spike.  She could feel the older woman’s eyes on her back as she walked away, her nightgown swirling about her ankles.  She giggled to herself at the idea of the woman spotting Spike sitting at his desk with nothing on but his own nightshirt, and determined to send him upstairs to sleep before he shocked his old family cook.

               To her surprise, he was awake and yawning when she entered the study and they both looked away uncomfortably, neither one sure what to say about the night’s events.  Finally, Spike picked up some notes he’d been working on and gave them to Buffy saying, “Give these to the boy who brings my blood and tell him to take them to Mr. Saint-John immediately.  We need to get this situation fixed before sunset.”

               Buffy wasn’t sure what Mr. Saint-John was going to be able to do to remedy their problem, but she nodded and took the notes back into the kitchen, repeating the message to Molly and Mrs. Barstow in case she wasn’t back down from getting dressed before the boy arrived.

                 When she was ready to go back downstairs, having managed to dress herself except for buttoning up the back of her dress, she ran into Spike as he came out of his room tucking a shirt into his unfastened pants.  She resolutely turned her eyes away from the bulge in the front of his pants, thereby allowing him to see that her dress was not buttoned.

             “Come here, pet,” he said with a sigh.  “You can’t go downstairs like that.”

            When she walked over to him obediently, he turned her around and began the tedious process of buttoning all the tiny pearls running up the back of her gown.

            “Bloody brilliant, he was,” he growled, trying to fit his large fingers around the small buttons.

            “Who was?”

            “The bloke who invented zippers, that’s who.”

             Buffy giggled and tipped her head back to look at him over her shoulder.  “You don’t have to do this, you know.  Molly’s right downstairs.  She can do it for me.”

             “I don’t mind,” he mumbled.  “I kinda like it.”  He brushed a chaste kiss across her lips, startling them both with its tenderness.  To save face, he immediately leered at her and said boldly, “Course, I’d rather be undoing them…”

              “You are such a pig,” she breathed in a voice that made it sound more like she’d just told him he was a hero.

               “That I am, luv,” he answered, equally softly.  “I truly am.”

                “Okay then.  Just so you know.” She blushed and moved away from the cool hands that had remained resting lightly on her shoulders.  He shook himself and went back to fastening his pants.

                  “I’ll be down in a few minutes, pet.”

                “Why don’t you stay up here and sleep?” she asked with uncharacteristic concern.  “You were up all night.”

                 “’S’allright, luv.  Got a lot to do this morning.  I’ll catch a nap this afternoon if we’re done with everything.”

                  By the time Buffy got downstairs, the delivery boy had been and gone with the messages and Spike’s package containing his blood was sitting on the hall table.  Buffy picked it up quickly and carried it into his study, putting it away in the drawer he’d used the day before.

                 While Molly and her aunt worked on preparing the evening meal, and the other girl went around dusting and polishing the pieces of furniture that hadn’t been cleaned yet, Buffy walked out into the garden.  She sat on a bench for a while, almost falling asleep in the warm sunshine as she basked in the warm day that Spike assured her was not typical of London’s weather. 

                She didn’t see the shadow staring out at her from the upstairs window; the shadow that watched her hair glowing in the sunlight and remembered Dru’s “your sunshine”.   He watched her basking in the light, head back and eyes shut as she absorbed the warmth and wondered what he was thinking, hoping she would want to spend time in the dark with him.

Chapter Ten

              When Buffy came back into the house carrying an armful of freshly cut flowers, she found that Mr. Saint-John had arrived and she was needed in the study.  She gave the flowers to Molly to arrange, taking just one long stemmed aster with her into the study.  She smiled politely at the solicitor, not too sure how a slayer should feel about meeting someone whose law firm apparently did business with vampires and demons.  He smiled tightly back at her and she got the impression that he and Spike had been arguing before she came in.  She walked over to Spike, tickling his ear with the flower in her hand and greeting him softly.

               “Look what I found in the garden, William.  Just like we have at home.”

             “Very pretty, pet,” he said, sliding an arm around her waist.  “Mr. Saint-John has some papers for you to sign.  They are quite important,” he said, emphasizing the “quite important” so she wouldn’t argue.  Buffy frowned at him for a second, but was unable to think of any way her signing anything in an alternate dimension London or generations in her past could impact her life in twenty-first century Sunnydale.  She leaned over the desk and took the pen Spike handed her, glancing over the papers in front of her.  She could see where William James Sinclair had already affixed his signature and the date – 1898 – she noticed. 

             The attorney pointed to the places she needed to sign and offered to read the document for her.  She gave him a glare and said, “I can read just fine, thank you.”  However, after spending long minutes trying to decipher the archaic legal terms, she gave up and looked at Spike helplessly.

             “It just says, darling, that I am making you the owner of the house.  All you have to do is sign where you’re shown and it will be all yours.  Just put your full signature, Buffy Anne Summers Sinclair,” he emphasized in case she should forget that they were supposed to be married.

              Buffy’s mouth fell open and she looked at the vampire in shock.  “Wha-? William, I can’t do this.  It’s your home…” 

               He interrupted her and said to the attorney, “Would you be so kind as to let me have a moment alone with my wife?”

                As soon as the man left the room, he turned to a still-protesting Buffy and grabbed her shoulders.  “You have to do this, pet.  If it’s your house, no vampires can get in.  As long as it’s mine, there’s nothing to stop them.  I’m quite fond of Mrs. Barstow and Molly and I have no desire to leave them at the mercy of Angelus.  Not to mention, I don’t fancy having to play guard dog all night every night to keep you safe.”

                ‘But, but…it’s your HOME,” she almost wailed.  “You shouldn’t have to give it away.”

                “I shouldn’t have to be talking you into taking possession of a very nice house in a good area of modern London, either, but here I am.  Now when you get called on the carpet by the Council of Wankers you can have your own place to stay.”

               “I’ll sign it,” she said seriously,  “But it will always be your house, Spike. I wouldn’t take it from you.”

             “No, luv, it’s yours.  There can’t be any caveats or half-measures.  Anything less and it won’t serve its purpose.”

            “Well, go me. I’m a homeowner!” she said in a somewhat subdued voice.

             “Will be as soon as you put your dainty little autograph there,” he agreed, going to the door and inviting the lawyer back into the room.

               Once Buffy had signed her name, Spike and Mr. Saint-John concluded their business and the man left for his office, the transfer papers tucked in his briefcase.

               “Oh, by the way, Slayer,” he said offhandedly tossing her a package. “He brought something else for you.”

                 Buffy turned the soft parcel over in her hands, finally ripping off the paper to find a pair of boy’s trousers.  She held them up to her waist, saw that they were just the right length and ran over to Spike to hug him and kiss his cheek.  “You have no idea how glad I am to have these!” she said, kissing him again for emphasis.

               “Daft bint,” he chuckled. “I give you a house and you want to argue. Buy you a pair of cheap pants and you get all girly on me.”

                “I’m sorry,” she said, blushing for her enthusiasm.  “I just hated not being able to fight well last night.  I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

                “Didn’t say I didn’t like it, luv,” he rumbled, pulling her into another hug.  ”Jus’ caught me by surprise is all.”  When she didn’t pull away, he nuzzled her ear, inhaling the scent of sun-warmed skin still coming off her body.  They remained like that – neither one willing to admit they wanted more and neither one wanting it to end – until Molly came in to announce luncheon in the dining room.

               After Buffy had eaten a light lunch, and Spike had gulped down his blood in the privacy of his study, the night’s activities began to catch up with them and Buffy couldn’t stop yawning while Spike appeared to be falling asleep at his desk again.  If the servants wondered why he spent so much time in the darkened study, they didn’t say and Buffy concluded that their ability to ignore what they didn’t want to know would have made them excellent denizens of Sunnydale.

              Finally they gave up pretending they were anything but exhausted and Buffy went to the kitchen to tell Molly that she and William were going to take naps for a couple of hours and would be back down in time for supper.

             Molly gave her a surreptitious wink when her aunt wasn’t looking and Buffy blushed as though caught out.  As she followed Spike upstairs, her heart rate went up as she wondered where he was planning to sleep.  She knew her room was too bright for the vampire to come into safely in the daytime, but she didn’t want to alarm the rest of the household if she had one of her dreams of Angelus during her nap.

             As though he’d read her mind, Spike said softly, “Put something more comfortable on, pet and come in my room to sleep.  I don’t fancy going up in flames if you start screaming again.”

            She nodded her head silently and turned to go into her room, stopping with a gasp as she felt a cool hand on her neck.

           “Let me get those for you, first,” he said in a low rumble as he began to unbutton the dress he’d buttoned for her earlier in the day.  By the time his fingers had undone the first four buttons, Buffy was sure that she was going to melt into a puddle before he was finished.  She thought the slow process of unbuttoning her dress was the most erotic thing she’d ever been part of; and yet, Spike had done nothing overtly sexual.  All he did was undo each button one at a time, very slowly.  Each undone button exposed a little more of the skin on her back to his cool breath and she shivered in response to that and to his touch barely skimming her exposed skin.

             Spike found himself mesmerized by the tan skin being bared in front of him.  He was taking deep, unneeded breaths that were matching the Slayer’s heavier inhalations breath for breath. When he felt her shiver as his hand grazed her back, he bit back a groan, his engorged cock throbbing from the close proximity.  When he smelled the arousal she couldn’t hide, he gave in to his body’s demands and leaned down to run his lips along her exposed shoulders.

            Buffy’s whimper at the touch of his mouth emboldened him and he slid his hands into the partially unfastened dress, running his cool fingers around her ribs to just below her breasts. 

            “St…stop,” she whispered, as she leaned back against him.  “We have to stop…”

           “Can’t,” he said shortly, stroking the bottom of her breasts with his thumbs.  “You’ll have to stop me, Slayer.”

            “I…I don’t want to…ah!” Buffy arched into his hands as he finally cupped her breasts and began rolling her nipples between his fingers until they were hard little knots aching for more.

            Spike’s mouth was running freely from one ear lobe down the column of her neck to where her dress was just barely clinging to her shoulder, then across her upper back to the other shoulder and back up to the other ear.  As he left wet, open mouthed kisses over her heated skin, he was murmuring about what the feel and scent of her skin was doing to him and Buffy lost herself in the sensual pleasure of letting his voice wash over her while his lips coaxed goosebumps from her flesh and moisture from her throbbing center.

          She was almost swooning from the need to feel more of the vampire than the parts currently pressing against her back and she let her knees buckle, somehow knowing that he would catch her.  When his strong arms picked her up and carried her into his room she gave up any pretense that she didn’t want him as much as he wanted her.  She squirmed around until she could reach his mouth with hers, fastening her lips on the soft coolness that had been teasing her neck and back.

                When Spike’s tongue came out to lick her lower lip, she met it eagerly, swirling her own tongue around it and pulling it into her mouth to suck on it.  Without breaking the kiss that was fueling the heat they were both feeling, he carried her to the bed and set her on her feet beside it just long enough to push the dress off her shoulders to pool at her feet on the floor.  Which left Buffy standing there clad in nothing but the voluminous bloomers that passed for underwear in that era.  She was covered from waist to knees in baggy underwear and he couldn’t control the snort of laughter that escaped his lips.

               Buffy put her hands on her hips indignantly, then looked down at herself and smiled ruefully.  “A real mood-killer, huh?”

              He shook his head, the heat from his eyes making her skin burn everywhere they landed.  “Not possible, luv.  Not bloody possible,” he growled as he ripped off his shirt and pulled her against his bare chest.  With her overheated skin pressing against his cool body she was surprised not to see steam pouring out between them.  She melted into him as he captured her mouth in another searing kiss, his cool temperature the perfect compliment for the heat coming off her body.  Her hands were running over the muscles in his back, enjoying the way they rippled under her hands as he moved his own arms around her body.

             With a guttural growl, he twisted, falling back on the bed with the Slayer on top of him, their mouths devouring each other and her soaked sex pressing against the bulge trying to burst from his pants.  He groaned aloud at the heat he could feel through the layers of cloth.  He wanted to feel that heat all around him and pushed his hips up against hers with a whimpering growl.  Without removing his mouth, he shoved the unflattering underwear down her hips and groaned again when she shimmied it down her legs to where she could push it off with her toes.

            Buffy’s whimpers as she ground her pelvis against his were making him babble incoherently as he reveled in the scents and sounds coming from her.  When he could feel her building toward a release that was going to leave him still pressed against her through a layer of cloth, he summoned up the will power to push her away with one hand while the other frantically ripped open his pants and shoved them down his hips.

            Buffy’s whimpers turned to angry moans as she was denied the release she had been seeking and she clawed at him, trying to reestablish the contact she needed.

            “Easy, pet, easy, know you think I quit on you, but I didn’t.  Just want to feel you around me the first time you come for me.  Want to make it good for you, luv, want you to feel me inside you…”

            Flipping them over, he poised himself over her still moving hips, marveling at the way she looked with her head thrashing from side to side, mouth twisted in determination as she tried to pull him down.  Giving in to her demands, he slid inside her, shuddering all over as her heat enveloped him.  He tried to hold still for a minute, wanting to make it last, but Buffy was so intent on continuing the build up they’d begun while they were still half dressed that she began moving immediately, wrapping her legs around his waist to pull him in tighter.

            Even as she tried to pull him in deeper, Buffy was gasping at the way he filled her up, touching places she hadn’t even known wanted touching until his cool cock reached her innermost parts.  Slowing down her frantic pursuit of the orgasm she’d thought he was trying to cheat her out of, she relaxed and allowed him to establish a rhythm for them that soon had her climbing back up to the peak she was seeking.

           Spike could feel her walls beginning to clench around him and knew he wouldn’t last.  “That’s it, luv.  Squeeze me, make me come with you, let me fill you up. Want to make you scream, baby.  Scream for me, Buffy.”  He pistoned his hips harder, making sure he was hitting the little internal bundle of nerves he was seeking with every thrust.  He could feel the tension building in the strong, supple body beneath him and he was ready when she began to shudder around him, capturing her mouth and swallowing the scream of release just as he’d swallowed her screams when she’d been dreaming.

           As her body arched up into his, shaking with the force of her orgasm, her vaginal muscles tightening down until the point of pain, he found his own release.  His hips continued to jerk in reflexive motion long after he was spent, responding to her continued trembling.  Gradually, they stilled, both gasping for air and shaken to their cores by the power of their combined release.

           “That was….I never…nobody else…never…” Buffy gasped out unfinished phrases, trying to express her reaction to the experience.

            “Me too, luv.  Never.  Only you, Buffy, only you.”  Although the vampire was more coherent, the basic awe-struck tone in his voice was the same as hers. 

               Spike pushed his pants the rest of the way off and sprawled on his back next to the equally spent Slayer.  Although they were lying spread-eagled side-by-side, they weren’t touching anywhere but their two hands lying on the bed between them.  He linked his fingers with hers, bringing them to his lips to kiss her hand reverently before dropping it back down between them.

               As exhaustion took over, they both drifted off to sleep, lying naked on the top of the bed covers, hands firmly clasped together.

Chapter Eleven

             Sometime during the course of their rather lengthy nap, the two had curled up together, the Slayer tucked inside the embrace of the vampire who had killed two of her sisters.  When Spike awoke enough to feel Buffy shivering, he pulled the bedspread over them and pulled her closer, regretting for the first time in over a hundred years his lack of body heat.

              A timid knock on the door, followed by a slightly louder knock when there was no response, finally penetrated Buffy’s restful sleep and she murmured without thinking, “Yes?”

              Molly’s bright red face appeared briefly in the doorway as she hastily mumbled that supper would be ready soon.  She looked everywhere but toward the bed, trying not to see her obviously naked mistress peering over the body of the man she’d known since she was a little girl.  Spike couldn’t resist a smirk when Buffy’s face colored to match Molly’s as she woke up enough to realize what sort of picture they made.

               With Molly’s quick departure, Buffy dropped back down onto her back, groaning with embarrassment.  She could feel Spike’s body shaking with laughter and she leaned up on her elbow to glare at him.

              “What are you laughing at?  We’ve probably traumatized her for life!”

             “She’ll be all right, love.  I don’t think the serving classes are as uptight as my tight-assed social circle.  She’s probably downstairs wishing she had a boyfriend to go home to right about now.”

              “You’re not a boyfriend,” Buffy said with the beginnings of a pout.  “You’re my husband.  That’s different.  I don’t have a boyfriend. I—oh my god!” her eyes flew open wide as realization set in.    “I DO have a boyfriend.  Riley!  I forgot about Riley.  I just cheated on my boyfriend – with a vampire. With the vampire he thinks I-- Oh, this is sooo not going to help his inferiority complex.”

              She dropped her head onto Spike’s chest in mock despair, thereby missing the amber flashes in his eyes at the mention of the man she’d been dating back in Sunnydale.  He silently cursed himself for opening his mouth and reminding her of someone she hadn’t mentioned the whole time they’d been in London.

            “You’re planning to tell him?” he asked carefully, lightly running a hand up and down her arm as he pretended to be only mildly curious.  Buffy shivered slightly, but didn’t move away.  With her face pressed up against his muscular chest, and his hand stroking her arm sensuously, she was finding it hard to worry about Riley and Sunnydale.

            She shook her head slowly, unconsciously rubbing her cheek against his cool skin as she did so.

             “I don’t know what I’m going to do.  I don’t…I’m not that kind of girl. I don’t cheat on the men I…” She struggled to say the word love, but just couldn’t make it fit the way she was feeling.  “…the men I’m dating,” she finished lamely.

            Spike picked up on her choice of words and used his free hand to turn her chin so that he could look her in the eye.

             “How about the man you’re married to?  Would you cheat on him?”

             Buffy lost herself in the seemingly bottomless blue pools staring at her.  His question had been asked so quietly she wouldn’t have heard it if she hadn’t been facing him from a few inches away.  She stammered, unable to look away from the emotions laid bare in those beautiful eyes.

             “We…we’re…we’re only pretending to be married.”

             “Right you are, pet,” he agreed, hiding his disappointment.  “We’re just play acting.  I almost forgot - we gave such a bloody good performance.”

             He wriggled his eyebrows at her lasciviously and she giggled in agreement.

             “Yeah, we were pretty…” She stopped, at a loss for words to describe the incredible passion and heat of their lovemaking.

             “Amazing?  Wonderful?  Bloody brilliant?  Stop me when I get to something that doesn’t fit, Slayer.”

               “We were very good together,” she said primly, sitting up and clutching the bed spread in front of her.  “And now we have to get dressed and go downstairs and behave like a proper married Victorian couple so we don’t frighten the servants.”

              “Wouldn’t want to frighten the servants,” he said with a sigh, sitting up and grinning as her eyes went immediately to where the cover was tented over his pelvic area.  She licked her lips as she ran her eyes up his taut abdomen to his smooth, pale chest and back down to where the bedspread barely covered the light brown curls at the base of his shaft.

             “You…you can’t go downstairs like that! “ she squeaked, pointing at him as he stood up and let the bedcover fall.

             “News flash, pet.  That’s what I’m like most of the time around you.  Don’t worry about it, I’ll tuck it away so nobody notices.  Gotten bloody good at that over the last few months, I have.”

             He held out his hand to help her up, rolling his eyes when she blushed and clutched the bedcover more tightly.

             “What’s this now?  All of a sudden you’re getting shy on me? Is this the same woman who almost strangled me with her—“

             “Do NOT finish that sentence!”  Eyes flashing, Buffy raised her chin and stood up quickly, trying not to cringe away from his eyes as they ran over her body from head to toe.  Her anger faded immediately as she took in the awed look on his face and heard his barely whispered, “Most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen…”

            She blushed again, this time embarrassed not by her nudity, but by his unabashed admiration of it.  When she ducked her head and refused to look at him, he moved closer, saying softly,  “Com’ere, Buffy.”

             Hesitantly, she stepped closer, stopping before the bobbing cock between them could brush her stomach.  He tipped her chin up and kissed her with the tenderness that caught her by surprise every time he showed it.

            “You’re bloody gorgeous, Buffy, and you should never be ashamed to let me see your body. There isn’t a single inch of it I don’t want to worship with my mouth and hands every day for the rest of my un-life.”

             While Buffy gaped at him, he turned her around and gave her a gentle push toward her dress, saying casually,  “Of course, if you let anybody else see it, I’ll have to bite ‘em.”  He emphasized his point by planting a sharp slap on her ass as she bent over to pick up her bloomers, earning himself a look that made him laugh and put some distance between them at the same time.

             When he had pulled on his trousers and tucked his shirt back in, he calmly walked over and began re-buttoning Buffy’s dress for her.  When he had it completely fastened, he rested his hands on her shoulders briefly before sliding them down her arms to link their hands.  He leaned over her, enjoying the sound of blood rushing through her veins as he took her ear lobe in his blunt teeth and worried it briefly.

             “Now lets get downstairs before we scandalize the servants by missing supper completely.”

            “Hey, I’m not the one nibbling on body parts instead of walking out the door,” she complained, even as she leaned back into him and shut her eyes.  She tilted her head up and back, unconsciously baring her throat to his mouth and making him groan against her skin.

            “Ah, Slayer, you don’t know what that does to me,” he almost gasped, running his tongue up the side of her throat, pressing it against the pulse he found pounding there.  He fought his demon down as his fangs threatened to drop into the buttery skin under his lips and his mouth began to water.

           He pushed her away almost roughly, ignoring the hurt look on her face while he grappled with his desire to make her completely his.  Buffy looked at him with hurt confusion, then turned and headed for the door.  “I’m sorry,” she snapped.  “I thought you might like it. I didn’t realize it would make you think I was food!”

          He was in front of her before she could turn the knob, holding her stiff angry arms while he tried to explain.

          “The demon wasn’t thinking food, luv.  He was thinking, Mate.   Seems like he wants you just as much as I do – or more.”

          “Mate?” she squeaked.  “What do you mean, ‘mate’?”

          He sighed and opened the door, gesturing for her to precede him through it.  “So, your watcher never told you about vampire claiming rituals?”

          “Uh, no.  Guess the subject just never came up – what with me more interested in slaying them than …anything else.”  She stopped and frowned in confusion for a second.  “Although, come to think of it, he did say something about you and Drusilla when you first came to Sunnydale….” She turned and looked at him, her face unreadable.  “Aren’t you already…mated?”

            “No,” he said tightly in a voice that left no doubt that he wasn’t saying any more about it.

           She studied his closed face for a few seconds, but he didn’t change expression or offer any more information.  Spurred by an impulse she didn’t want to examine too closely, she reached up and placed a soft kiss on his tightly shut mouth.  She was just pulling away when his arms went around her and she found herself being held so tightly she knew a normal human girl would have had broken ribs.

           “Uh, Spike?  Air?  I need it to live.”

           “Sorry, luv,” he said, nuzzling the side of her face and loosening his grip.  “Didn’t’ mean to hurt you.”

            “I know,” she agreed, squeezing him back gently before dropping her arms and continuing down the stairs.  “I guess your chip must have known you weren’t trying to hurt me too, since it didn’t fire.”

              If the vampire hadn’t already been so pale, he would have blanched at her casual remark.  Suddenly the lack of pain from the chip the night before loomed larger in his thoughts than it had at the time.  And the slap he’d just planted on her backside, while not intended to injure, had certainly hurt her.

Alright, once is an aberration, twice is a coincidence…three times and I’m in big trouble.  Got to find a way to test this out without Buffy knowing why I’m worried.)

               Vowing to find a way to test out the chip’s status, he followed Buffy down the stairs and in to the dining room where they enjoyed another of Mrs. Barstow’s fine meals.  Spike looked around the newly cleaned and polished room with satisfaction, almost glad that he’d had this opportunity to fix up the things that had been allowed to slide when money was so tight.

               When dinner was over and they had supposedly retired for the night, Buffy slipped into the pants Spike had bought her and prepared to go out again.  When she emerged from her room, tight pants hugging her feminine hips and a loose shirt hiding her other curves, she crossed to Spike’s room and knocked hesitantly on the door.

            It opened immediately and she could see that the vampire was ready to go out for evening’s slaying.  He was dressed in dark brown casual trousers and his own black tee shirt.  He looked at her approvingly, turning her around and cocking his head speculatively.

           “What?” she demanded. “I did the best I could.  It’s not pretty, but…”

           “Doesn’t need to be pretty, pet.  In fact….” He walked away from her and rummaged in a drawer, emerging with a wool cap in his hand.  “If we can fit all your hair under this hat, you might pass for a boy.  A very pretty boy,” he added with a smile.  “But that won’t be a problem unless we run into a bunch of poofters.”

            Buffy quickly ran to the mirror and stuffed her hair under the knitted cap. She studied her reflection and nodded in satisfaction.

            “It might work,” she said.  “At least I won’t be scandalizing the neighbors every night.  Although,” she raised her eyebrow in a good imitation of his own trademark smirk, “they might begin to wonder about your sexual orientation.”

           “Let ‘m wonder, pet.  We know the truth, don’t we,” he smirked, stepping up behind her and reaching around to cup her breasts. 

           Buffy watching with interest as her shirt moved around seemingly of its own accord as Spike’s hands moved over her nipples and massaged her breasts.

            “That’s kind of cool-looking,” she mused to herself.

            “If you think that’s interesting, wait until we get home tonight and see what else I can do in a mirror.”  He slid his hands down into the pockets of the pants and stroked the insides of her thighs.

             Buffy giggled, grabbing his wrists and moving them away from her rapidly heating up body.  She pirouetted away from his pouting mouth and ran to the door.

            “Come on, William.  Let’s go find something to slay.”

Chapter Twelve

             Buffy’s disguise worked well as long as they didn’t get too close to people in well-lit areas.  And in this day of gas and oil lamps, they found that not difficult.  When Buffy insisted on looking for something to slay, Spike took her on a tour of the nearest cemeteries, warning her they would be nothing like what she was used to in Sunnydale.

Buffy was completely awed by the age and size of London’s graveyards.  Although Sunnydale had an unusually large number of cemeteries for such a small city, none were more than 150 years old, at most.  Here, some of the graves she saw were so old it was impossible to read the dates on the tombstones.  When Spike told her that they dated back to the 10th century, she became less of a Slayer and more of a tourist, walking through the empty, quiet grounds and shivering at the history she could almost feel in her bones.

            With not having vampires and demons popping up every few feet the way they would have at home, Buffy felt free to look around and Spike became her tour guide as he showed her around the rest of 1890’s London.  He walked her by the museums and historic buildings, assuring her that she could come back in the daytime to look inside.

             “I wish I could take you myself, pet,” he said wistfully.

              “So do I,” she admitted softly.  “It would be fun.”

               She had found that Spike was full of historical information as well as less well-known facts about much of the city, and she found herself enjoying what she would have been sure, had Giles suggested it, would be an incredibly boring time.  The night flew by and in what seemed like a very short amount of time, he was steering her back toward their house, saying, “Time to get back, luv, or we’ll be having to sneak past Cook to get upstairs.”

               “But we haven’t been everywhere, yet,” she pouted in mock disappointment.

               “True enough,” he whispered in her ear, his cool breath causing her to shiver in anticipation.  “But I have something else in mind for the rest of the night. There are other places I want to be…”

              As they neared the dark, silent house, they saw a light in the front parlor.  The light from the inside cast a glow onto the front porch – just enough of a glow that they could see a figure standing there knocking on the door.

              The light from inside the house was nearing the door as Spike’s feet hit the porch steps and a fledgling vampire whirled to snarl at them, not recognizing quickly enough what sort of beings had come up behind him so rapidly.  Buffy raised her stake as she came up the stairs behind Spike, but before she could plunge it into the unsuspecting vamp’s heart, he grabbed her wrist.

              “Hold up a minute, pet.  I don’t think this is a coincidence.”

              The unwary fledgling charged the two people in front of him, forgetting completely about the bewildered maid now opening the front door.  Spike quickly pinned the surprised vamp to the floor, holding him there while Buffy perched on his chest, her stake poised over his heart.  When Molly started to open the door, Spike shouted at her to “Shut that bloody thing, now!” frightening the poor girl into almost dropping her lamp in her haste to obey.

                “What are you doing here?”  Buffy demanded, pressing down until a drop of blood leaked through his shirt.

                 “Looking for an easy meal,” he snarled, still not fully aware of his danger. “They told me this house didn’t need an invite and there were a couple of juicy women there for the taking. Couldn’t get in, though, so I thought I’d see if I could get one ‘em to come out.”

               “Who told you?”  Spike’s voice was cold and deadly and for the first time the pinned vampire got an inkling that he was not being accosted by humans. He could hear the girl’s heartbeat and knew she was human, but was confused by her lack of fear. Not to mention the stake she held at his heart.  As the fact that he could only hear one heartbeat began to sink in, he asked, “Are you him?”

             “Am I who, wanker?”

              “They told me a vamp owned the house, but they said he wasn’t much older than me and wouldn’t be a problem if he was home.”  The fear on his face indicated how quickly he was realizing he’d been lied to.

              “WHO told you?” Spike and Buffy snarled together, although they were both sure they knew the answer.

               “Big Irish guy – had a blond with him.  They were old, both of them. Told me after I ate to come back and tell them what I found. I wasn’t going to argue with them – just did what I was told.”

                “Angelus,” Buffy breathed, her stomach clenching in fear.  The vamp she was sitting on misunderstood her fear and smiled in satisfaction as he thought she’d finally realized the danger she was in.  The smile was still on his face when he turned to dust under Buffy’s stake.  She hadn’t even bothered to look at him as she thrust it home, her eyes were on Spike who was in game face, looking around and sniffing the air.

                “Let’s get inside, pet,” he growled.  “I don’t feel them anywhere, but I think he’d want to watch and see if his minion made it inside.”

                  She stood up, nodding her head, ashamed of her willingness to get to safety when there were vampires about.  Just before they opened the door, she ran her hand along his forehead ridges, smiling slightly as she said, “You might want to lose your wrinkles before we go in or Molly’s going to have a whole new understanding of the word ‘master’.”

               As soon as her hand touched his face, he was slipping back into his beautiful human features and by the time she was finished speaking William Sinclair was looking back at her.

               Spike opened the door, holding it for Buffy and snatching the cap off her head as she went in ahead of him.  Just before he stepped in behind her, he felt the presence of his vampire family and whirled to stare into the night, cursing Molly’s presence, which kept him in his less perceptive human state.  He could feel Buffy stiffen beside him and knew she had sensed them too.

               He forced himself to turn around casually and pull the door shut behind him, giving Buffy a little nudge to move her forward.  The fact that the minion had not been able to get in, told him the barrier was probably working and he mentally thanked Stuart Saint-John for his efficiency.

               Molly was staring at the two blonds with an open mouth – looking back and forth from Spike’s tight tee shirt to Buffy’s tight pants.

               “Uh, uh, Sir?  Who was that man pounding on the door and where did he go?”

              “I believe he was someone who meant to do us harm, Molly.  He was knocking in hopes you would let him in.”

                Spike looked at her intently.  “It is extremely important that no one invite any strangers into the house after dark.  Or during daylight, for that matter,” he added quickly at Buffy’s frown.  “Is that clear, Molly?  It is most important that you take me seriously.”

“Ye-yes sir.  I understand, Sir.”

              “Good girl.  Well, then, we’ll let you get back to sleep.  I’m sorry that you had to be awakened so rudely.”

                Molly knew a dismissal when she heard one, and she bit back the questions she wanted to ask about their clothing and what they’d been doing out in the wee hours of the morning.  She retreated to her room and, after checking that the tiny window was fastened, she blew out the lamp and went back to sleep.

            As soon as Molly was out of sight and hearing, Buffy turned to Spike and said anxiously, “You felt them too, didn’t you?”

             “Yes, love, I did.  But if the minion couldn’t break in through a window or a door, then the barrier is up and they can’t get in here.  We’ll just have to be sure the entire staff is careful about who they invite into the house.  Have to come up with some sort of story…I’ll work on that tomorrow.”

             Buffy nodded and turned to walk toward the stairs.  She stopped when she realized Spike was not behind her, and turned to look at him anxiously.

            “Spike?”

            “Call me William, pet,” he answered absently, turning to lock the front door.

             “Are you coming upstairs, William?” she asked in a much less sure tone that she wanted.

             He looked at her in surprise, noting her hesitance to go up by herself.

           “Are you all right, Buffy?”

           “I’m fine.  I just wondered when--if you were coming to bed.”

            He rolled his eyes at her and winked lasciviously.  “Oh yes, love.  You can count on it.  Just as soon as I check that the downstairs is all locked up and secure.  Wouldn’t put it past that wanker to send humans to do his dirty work for him if he felt he needed to.”

            “That’s stupid. He can’t know about your chip.  He would have no reason to think humans would have a prayer against you.  Not to mention me.”

             “The great poof doesn’t always think things through.  I’m just saying he might try that, just to get someone inside the house.  And I’m pretty sure he hasn’t noticed that you’re a slayer yet.  Dru picked up on it right away, but Angelus is a little dense sometimes.”

             “He doesn’t recognize slayers when he sees them?”

            “He stays away from any country where there is known to be a slayer.  Doesn’t seek ‘em out like some vamps do.”

             “cough, Spike, cough”

           “I’m gonna be seeking a Slayer in just a few minutes when I get done down here – and she’d better be naked when I find her,” he threatened with a leer, grateful for the change of subject.

          “Or what?” Buffy challenged, starting up the stairs with an exaggerated sway of her tightly clothed hips.

          “Or we’ll have to be asking old Saint-John to be sending us another pair of trousers,” he growled, showing her his claws for just a second.

           “Promises, promises,” she giggled, running up the stairs and into her room.

           “That it was, pet,” he chuckled softly. “That it was.”

             When Spike had made a complete circuit of the downstairs and ensured that all windows were closed and locked, he headed for the back stairs.  With his foot on the first riser, he froze, feeling once again, the presence of his grandsire.  No sooner had he felt Angelus presence, than he heard Buffy’s heart rate go up and she gasped loudly enough to be heard in the kitchen.

            He took the stairs in two leaps, hit the floor at the top and raced to her room to find her clutching her shirt to her chest and staring at the window fearfully.  Spike followed her frozen gaze to see his grandsire’s grinning face peering in the open window.  As Spike walked toward him, Angelus licked his lips and growled softly at Buffy.  Instead of rushing the window and pushing him off the small ledge he was standing on, the Slayer remained frozen in place, her fear plain to see.  The older vampire laughed and leaped to the ground a scant second before Spike slammed the window down and pulled the curtains.

Buffy’s color went from white to bright red as she recovered herself and began cursing Angelus and his sire in amazingly colorful terms. Spike beamed at her proudly as she threw in a few “Bloody’s” and “soddin’s” along with the all-American “mother-fucking sonofabitch!”

When she stopped for air, he applauded softly and walked toward her laughing.

“Well that would have blown your well-brought-up lady disguise right out of the water,” he laughed. “What brought all that on? Didn’t like Peaches playing peeping Tom at you?”

Buffy shuddered briefly, bringing another smile to the vampire’s face, then said with a grimace, “I’m mad at myself for letting him get to me again. It’s just like in my dreams. I see him and I freeze. Dammit!”

“Come on, love,” he said, stroking her hair soothingly, “You couldn’t have done anything without risking being pulled out the window. So, standing still and covering up those perky little breasts was probably your best move. He’s trying to rattle you and now he thinks it’s working. Bloody wanker’s still too stupid to recognize a slayer when he sees one.”

“Probably because I’m not acting like one,” she grumbled. “Why would he be afraid of me when all I’ve done so far is run from him and squeal like a little girl?” She began to put her shirt down and undo her pants when movement at one of the uncovered windows caught her eye and she froze again. She automatically started to cover her breasts, her heart pounding in fear, when she heard Spike growling and saw him move toward the window. She shook herself and said in trembling voice, “No, wait. Let me. What’s the British version of the finger?”

She stood up proudly, allowing the watching vampire outside a good look at her slim, muscular, but very feminine, body before she walked over to the window, held up her two fingers in an obscene salute and casually pulled the curtains closed.

She turned triumphantly and smiled at Spike. “There! That was more like it!”

“Yes, it was, Slayer,” he agreed with a grin. “I’ll bet he won’t be bragging about that response anytime soon.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Xander,” Giles spoke softly, but firmly, “Would you be so good as to hand me one of those tasers, please?” He held his hand out behind him for the device, never taking his eyes off the confused vampire crouching on the floor of the room.

“Uh, okay, but wouldn’t a stake be more useful? Just saying...”

“Until we know where Buffy and Spike have gone, and why this—“ he stopped speaking when the vampire jumped to his feet at hearing Spike’s name and snarled again. “Oh, dear Lord,” he breathed as he studied the figure in front of him.

The vampire glared back at him, gradually relaxing his tense posture and assuming a very familiar spread-legged posture. As his face faded back into his human features, the young man peering over Giles’ shoulder choked back a gasp when he saw the curly haired vampire’s face.

“It’s...it’s Spike!” he squeaked.

“Heard of me, have you?” the young vampire asked, swaggering a little.

“You might say that,” Giles responded, relaxing a little when the vampire made no attempt to attack. As soon as the youthful Spike saw the watcher drop his arms, he charged the door, only to find himself unable to get enough traction to climb up.

The two humans had jumped back at the attempted attack and were studying the vampire from outside the room.

“What are we going to do with him?” Xander asked. “He’s obviously gone nuts and reverted to his old evil self. Not to mention, he’s done something with Buffy.”

“I don’t think so,” Giles muttered, looking around for some restraints.

When he glanced back at the vampire, he could see him crouching to leap and shouted for Xander to take the other side of the door. As Spike’s leap carried him close enough to grab the sides of the door, Giles hit the hand closest to him with the taser while Xander did the same on the other side. Rather than allowing the vampire to fall back into the room, the older man grabbed the immobilized arm and yanked him out on to the floor where he could put the taser on a more central part of his body.

He winced in sympathy as the vampire trembled and convulsed under the taser’s touch. When Giles felt sure he had rendered this younger version of Spike out for the count, he lifted his arm and stepped back, motioning for Xander to bring the restraints he’d found in another part of the facility. They quickly chained Spike up, fastening the chains to a metal pole in the middle of the room.

The vampire came to slowly, opening only his eyes until he noticed the chains, then leaping up with a roar and pulling on them with all his strength. He raged and yanked on the unyielding restraints until he was exhausted, then slumped back against the pole to glare at his captors.

“Where am I?” he growled. “And who the bloody hell are you?”

“Well, actually, Spike, that’s an interesting story...”

Chapter Thirteen

Buffy quickly changed into her nightgown and followed Spike across the hall into his room. The drapes in that room were already closed tightly as Buffy had told Molly and Mrs. Barstow that they were to be kept closed at all times unless she or Spike opened them themselves.

“You all right, pet?” he inquired as casually as he could. He didn’t look at her while he asked, just went about taking off his shirt and pants. When he was naked, he picked up his nightshirt and threw it across the bottom of the bed.

“Uh, Spike? Aren’t you supposed to actually WEAR that?” She hoped her snarky question would make him forget about his.

For a minute she thought it had worked, as he leered at her and moved closer. “ ‘S long as it’s where I can grab it if I need it, that’s good enough. Haven’t slept any way but naked for well over a hundred years and I don’t plan to start now when I have a beautiful woman in my bed.”

“Oh,” she said softly. “You think I’m beautiful?”

“You know I do, love.” He ran his hand through her rumpled hair, combing it with his long slender fingers. “Think you’re beautiful, and brave, and strong, and sexy...” His hand left her hair to trace a path along her collarbone and dip into the front of her gown. “And wearing an excessive amount of clothing,” he continued with William’s accent as he lightly stroked the tops of her breasts. Buffy didn’t respond as he expected; instead looking around the room and asking apprehensively, “Do...do you think Angelus is still outside? Listening to us?”

“Bloody hell, I hope so!” Spike laughed. “Maybe I can teach the old wanker a thing or two.”

He reached for Buffy, only to find her backing away stammering, “What! You think I’m going to...while Angel is...that we...oh, no, mister. There will be no teaching of...of anything.”

“Come on, love,” he said, still laughing. “You can’t seriously care if that wanker hears us...”

When her expression didn’t change, Spike realized she was serious and threw himself on the bed, growling in frustration. He tried to ignore her slip, calling Anglelus “Angel”, but it bothered him more than he cared to admit.

“Fine, Slayer,” he huffed, turning down the covers and grabbing his night shirt. “You stay on that side and I’ll stay over her. Heaven forbid we should upset the great poof by letting him overhear you shaggin’ somebody else.”

He started to put the shirt on, then growled and tossed it on the floor. Turning his back to the confused slayer, he squirmed around until he was comfortable and shut his eyes firmly.

Buffy stared at his rigid back, knowing that she’d somehow angered him all out of proportion to the situation, but bewildered and confused about what she might have done. Responding in what seemed to her the most appropriate way, she snapped at his unresponsive back, “Well, I guess that tells me what you’re really interested in, doesn’t it? Just forget it. I’ll sleep in my own bed.”

She whirled and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind her angrily. As she entered her own room, she heard a noise from outside the window. With anger fueling her determination, she continued her angry march in that direction, pausing only to grab a stake from the pants on the floor. She yanked the curtains open to find Angelus’ surprised face looking back at her.

He licked his lips, allowing his fangs to show as he leered at her, expecting the frightened girl he’d seen before. When, instead of screaming or crying she glared at him and raised the stake threateningly, snarling, “Get the hell off my roof!” he flinched back, losing his balance and falling to the ground. Buffy laughed delightedly and saluted him appropriately – sure that he would get her message even if he did have to wait until he came to America to understand it fully. She allowed the curtain to fall back into place and walked toward the bed, satisfied that she’d ruined at least one vampire’s night.

She crawled into her own bed and pulled the covers up, keeping her stake beside her just in case, and resolutely shutting her eyes.

I don’t need to be with him to sleep. I’ll be just fine by myself. Stupid vampire.)

After a good bit of tossing, turning, muttering and struggling to resist the urge to slink back across the hall to the security of Spike’s bed, Buffy finally fell into a restless sleep. Once again, her sleep was troubled by the vivid, very real-seeming pictures of a Slayer dream. And once again, in her dream she was at the mercy of Angleus and Darla, now wearing modern dress and hair styles. She could see Drusilla dancing in the back ground, humming to herself and seemingly oblivious of the activities.

She looked around for Spike, since his presence had been part of all her other dreams, but couldn’t see him anywhere. Her fear, already close to paralyzing her, escalated when her frantic search of the area didn’t show any trace of the blond vampire.

Angelus moved closer to her immobile body, stalking around her and sniffing.

“What’s the matter, lover? I don’t smell your guardian vampire on you anymore – did you finally give him the boot?” He moved in closer and ran his tongue up one side of her neck, lingering over the artery through which her blood was rushing in such delicious panic.

“I guess he realized you wanted a real vampire; not that pitiful excuse for a demon Dru created.”

Buffy’s eyes flew to the insane vampire who had drifted closer to them while Angelus talked to her. The willowy brunette shook her head sadly, saying softly, “I tried to tell you, Slayer, if you wanted to be William’s sunshine you had to tell him so. My sweet William doesn’t think he’s worthy – he’s gone away to cry for you. Poor sad William...poor foolish Slayer.”

She danced away again, avoided the large fist that Angelus had thrown toward her face and laughing at his anger. “Daddy doesn’t like to hear that you might have chosen William if you could. He will punish you for wanting our sweet boy...You should have—“

Her voice was cut off by Angelus’ large hand grasping her throat. “I’ve heard just about enough from you about that traitorous childe of yours. You’ll stop it now or the Slayer won’t be the only one being punished.”

“Spike?” Buffy’s tried to shout for the missing vampire, but her voice box was as frozen as the rest of her and nothing came out but a slight squeak. Which was enough to attract Angelus’ attention back to her and he dropped Dru to the floor.

“You would still call for him?” he snarled. “He can’t protect you now – you’re going to be mine, in every possible way, now and forever.”

While she silently screamed and tried to fight the fear that was holding her immobile, the big vampire systematically stripped off her clothes and unzipped his pants. Once again, she found herself faced with the prospect of being raped by her former lover, but unlike the Angelus of long ago,it was obvious this one knew who she was and remembered their time together.

The fangs visible behind his lips and the hungry look in his yellow eyes made it impossible not to understand his true intentions and she struggled with her last ounce of courage to throw off the paralyzing fear holding her prisoner.

When the vampire lunged for her throat at the same time as he knocked her to the ground and prepared to enter her, she could feel the tears sliding down her cheeks at the knowledge that her worst nightmare was going to come true. Mentally bracing herself for the pain, she was shocked when the vampire reared back from her neck snarling in rage.

“He DARED!” he roared. “That arrogant bastard...I’ll kill him!”

Completely bewildered, Buffy lay where he’d dropped her, grateful for the reprieve, but at a loss as to what had caused him to back off. Suddenly, through the signatures of the other vampires in the room, she felt Spike’s presence and closed her eyes in relief.

He came for me. He always comes for me. He won’t let Angelus have his one good day.)

She sat up, having gained some small amount of control over her muscles now that she knew Spike was there. Darla was snarling toward the dark entrance and she quickly moved to stand beside Angelus and glare at the blond lounging with deceiving casualness in the doorway.

“Hi, luv. Did you miss me or were you having too much fun with Peaches to notice I wasn’t here?”

His eyes belied his casual words as they ran over her body quickly to assess any injuries and he visibly relaxed when he saw that she was relatively unharmed.

He gestured at her to come to him, and she scuttled across the floor quickly, grabbing her clothes as she did so. Just as she went to join Spike in the doorway, a large, meaty hand flashed out and grabbed her arm.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Angelus snarled. “I’m not done with you yet. Soon as I kill my annoying grandchilde, that protection you’re wearing will be gone and I’ll finish what I started.”

He tossed her toward Darla who punched Buffy in the temple, knocking her to the floor stunned and helpless. The snarling blond then went to join Angelus in attacking the youngest member of their family.

As Buffy watched in dazed horror, the two older vampires began to push Spike from the room, using their fangs and claws to rip and tear at his body until he was bleeding from a hundred places and his flesh was hanging in strips. He cast a look at the sobbing, but still immobile, Slayer on the floor and cried out, “Buffy! You have to help me, Slayer. Buffy, come to me, love – I need you. Buffy!”

Buffy woke up suddenly, gasping through her tears and staring with wide eyes at Spike’s worried face. When she realized she’d been dreaming again and that she’d heard him calling her because he was trying to wake her up, she threw her arms around his neck in a repeat of her actions after the first Slayer dream.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” she chanted over and over as she ran her hands over his naked body, assuring herself that he was in one piece and not bleeding to death in front of her. She clutched him so hard he was very grateful that breathing was an option for him rather than a necessity.

“Shhh, love, Shhhh. I’m right here. All undead and in one piece. It was just another dream. ‘S my fault for getting mad and leaving you by yourself. I’m sorry, Buffy, so sorry. I’ll never leave you alone again, I promise.”

Gradually calming down under the soothing influence of Spike’s rich baritone, she eventually stopped crying and rested her head on his chest, secure again within the cool circle of his arms.

As she fought her way back to reality, Spike’s words began to sink in and she pushed herself away from him far enough to look into his eyes.

“You didn’t leave me, Spike. I left the room under my own power, and I was too proud and stubborn to come back when I wanted to.”

“That makes two of us, then, pet,” he said ruefully, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “Wanted you back in my bed so bad – but I was too stubborn to come and apologize for being such a stupid git. Can you forgive me, love?”

“Guess we could both use some anger management help, huh?” She smiled tentatively at him, relieved when he dropped a kiss on her forehead and answered, “If we weren’t fightin’ about something, we wouldn’t be us, now would we?”

Buffy laughed softly - then perked up. “Hey! On the plus side, I was so mad at you, I scared the hell out of Angelus.”

“You what?” He immediately looked at the windows, growling softly.

“Relax,” she said, tugging his attention back to her, “He was so surprised to see me waving a stake at him, he fell off the roof. I can be pretty scary when I’m mad, you know,” she finished with a sideways look at him.

Spike laughed out loud, taking several seconds to get himself under control enough to sputter, “That you can, love. I wish I’d seen ole Angelus’ face when he saw a brassed off slayer looking at him instead of a scared little girl.”

“Maybe he’ll leave us alone for awhile, now,” Buffy muttered. “If he’s as big a coward as you say he is...”

“Oh, the poof’s not really a coward, pet. He just doesn’t like to take chances or make waves. I can’t see him going out of his way to keep bothering you now that he knows what you are. With a little luck, he’ll send some more minions after you and once he sees what happens to them, he’ll be on the next boat to France. I’d lay odds on it.”

“I wish I could get him out of my head that easily,” she sighed, curling back up inside Spike’s comforting embrace.

“I really am sorry, love. You have no idea.” His voice was rough with pain and regret. “I am a bloody selfish wanker and you should drive a stake through my...well, maybe not my heart, but maybe a hand, or a foot, or...”

“Shut up,” she said, pulling his mouth down for a lingering kiss.

“Whatever you say, Slayer,” he agreed, slanting his head to deepen the kiss. His tongue swirled around hers, sucking it gently back into his mouth where he could nibble on it with his blunt human teeth.

“Mmmmmmmmm” Buffy’s moan of pleasure caught him by surprise and he broke the kiss to look at her in wonder.

“You liked that, pet? You liked my teeth on you?”

“Oh yeah,” she breathed, leaning into his neck and taking the skin gently between her teeth. “Do you?”

When her elbow bumped against his rock hard erection poking up between them, she giggled. “I guess that’s a yes?”

With a guttural growl, the vampire stood up, still holding her in his arms and whirled toward his own bedroom. He crossed the hall in a one stride and had her on the bed and underneath him before she could blink. With his cool length pressed against her body from their toes to the hands he was holding over her head, she went from mildly interested to desperate for more touching in a heartbeat.

When she squirmed under him, trying to get her hands free, he let go with one of his hands, using the other to push her nightgown up over her face. When he dropped his head to take one hard, rosy nipple in his mouth, she pulled free and yanked the nightgown the rest of the way off. While she was doing that, Spike was sliding down her body, leaving a wet trail of kisses as he worked his way down to his objective.

When he reached the source of the rich scent of her arousal and began to lick from her opening to the little pink nubbin standing up and begging for attention, he was surprised when she touched his head and said shyly, “You don’t have to do that, Spike. It’s okay.”

“Not doing it because I have to, pet.” He frowned up at her before dropping his head back down and nuzzling her curls. “Doin’ it because I want to.” He pressed his tongue against her clit, smiling when she moaned and her hips arched off the bed. “Why would you think otherwise, luv? Don’t tell me nobody ever...”

He looked up at her bright red face and after planting a light kiss on the inside of her thigh, he crawled back up to where he could see her eyes better. The blush was rapidly spreading down her neck and onto her breasts as he continued to stare at her in amazement.

“Your juices are like ambrosia to me, Buffy. The scent, the taste of you, the way you feel, they’re all part of the package – part of the wonderful,” he kissed the tip of one nipple, “amazing,” he took the hard little pebble in his teeth and gently pulled on it, “sexy,” he sucked the nipple into his mouth and listened to her whimpers with satisfaction, “woman that is Buffy Summers.”

He released her nipple with an audible pop. “So whatever wanker told you he was doing you a favor by pleasuring you the way you deserve, was either incredibly stupid or lying in his teeth.”

“You...you mean you don’t mind...” At Spike’s growl, she amended quickly, “You actually want to?”

“You have no idea, luv. No idea at all, but ‘m going to show you how much,” he said as he kissed his way back down her body.

It took him only a minute of careful attention to her clit to have her whimpering and pleading with him – for what she wasn’t sure, but the words, “Spike, please, Spike!” continued to fall out of her mouth.

“Tell me what you want, love,” he murmured, pulling the swollen nubbin into his mouth and sucking on it gently. Instead of speaking, she grabbed his hair and pushed his face against her grinding pubic bone, gasping whimpers indicating how close she was to the release she wanted. When he bit down lightly, she screamed and shuddered around him, clenching his head so tightly with her thighs he was afraid she was going to decapitate him.

Just as he was sure he was going to have to pull her legs apart, she relaxed and he was able to lift his face to smile at her. She looked down at his smirking expression and at her hands buried in his curly hair and blushed again in shame.

“Oh, I can’t believe I did that to you. I am so sorry, I don’t know what—“

“You did what felt right, pet. No shame in that. When I’ve learned to read you better, you won’t have to take control like that – unless I’m teasing you on purpose, of course and you get tired of it....”

“But...but I...you...”

He crawled back up until he was face to face with her, the head of his cock just brushing her wet entrance.

“You let me get you off. ’S all you did, love. Bloody made my day, it did, seeing you respond to me like that. You have no idea how good it feels to pleasure you. Could do it all day long. Would, if you’d let me.”

Buffy looked into his earnest eyes in amazement. Never had a man suggested that giving her pleasure could make him feel good. Riley treated giving her an orgasm as a job to be accomplished before he was allowed his reward, and she could tell he sometimes got impatient with what he was expected to do to make it happen. And here was Spike, an evil vampire, telling her he actually enjoyed doing things to her.

“You...you would?” Her disbelief was tinged with just a trace of wistfulness, and his expression softened even more as he began kissing her gently.

“Could, would, will if you let me. Every day for the rest of your life. Love to see you like that. Love to feel you comin’ for me, on me, around me.”

While he was speaking in between kisses, he was sliding slowly into her warm depths, fighting for control as her heat enveloped him and she unconsciously squeezed him until he groaned.

When he was sure he had himself under control again, he began a slow, steady rhythm of thrusts, ending each one with a slight twist that hit nerves Buffy hadn’t even known were there. Her fingernails dug bloody furrows in his smooth, pale back as she gave herself up to the sensations the vampire was creating. His thrusts came faster and harder as she moved her hips to meet his, her Slayer strength an easy match for his own supernatural power.

“Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god,” she chanted over and over as the pressure built and she felt herself on the verge of shattering into a thousand pieces. Spike’s guttural growls, interspersed with flowery endearments that came perilously close to William’s poetry, indicated he was rapidly approaching his own release.

When she felt the world explode around her, colors exploding behind her eyes, her whole body quaking in ecstasy, she clutched him as though he was the only thing holding her on the earth and gripped his shoulder with her blunt teeth in an effort to smother the scream leaving her throat.

The vampire’s own release began the instant he felt her convulse around him and his hips jerked frantically as he emptied himself into her body. When Buffy’s teeth sank into his flesh, the demon could not be denied and his fangs slid into the creamy skin on her throat, just barely piercing the skin. He let her powerful blood flow over his tongue as his hips continued to spasm long after he had nothing left to spend.

Chapter Fourteen

For long seconds, they remained still, joined not only by their still-linked bodies, but by the teeth holding on to each other’s flesh. Spike was the first to move, gently removing his fangs from her neck and running his tongue over the small wounds he left. Buffy unclenched her jaw and let go of his shoulder, kissing the bloody bruise left there by her human teeth.

When Spike pushed himself up on his arms to look down at her and she could see the mark she’d made, she gasped and began, “Oh, Spike, I—“

The vampire shook his head, gazing down at her with wonder in his eyes.

“If you’re going to apologize for biting me, pet, please don’t. Don’t want you to be sorry about it.” He ducked his head a little and peered at her from under his thick lashes, “Anyway, I think you need to take a look at your own neck first.”

“But...but... that had to hurt you! It looks awful.”

“Biting and pain are part of love-making for a vampire, Slayer. You couldn’t have done anything more erotic and...lo- affectionate...if you’d wanted to. I’m just sorry I couldn’t control the demon enough to prevent him from biting you back.”

“It didn’t hurt,” she said softly, not meeting his eyes. “It felt kind of...” She paused and looked up at him questioningly, “It felt good. Does that make me a bad Slayer? Shouldn’t I be more wigged out about it?”

“Wasn’t meant to hurt you. Pet. That bite had nothing to do with the kind of bites you’re dodging while you’re doin’ your job, and everything to do with how I feel about you. On some level, the Slayer in you recognized that.”

“Just like your chip did, I guess,” she mused, missing the almost invisible flinch when she mentioned his chip. He didn’t answer her, just rolled to his side bringing her with him. She shuddered briefly when he slipped out of her and couldn’t suppress a whimper at the loss of his presence inside her body. He pulled the covers up and wrapped his arms back around her to enjoy the body heat trapped under there.

There was a long, comfortable silence as they basked in the afterglow of their love-making, and Buffy was just drifting off to sleep when Spike spoke softly.

“I don’t think the chip is working, Buffy,” he said without inflection. He felt her grow rigid in his arms and cursed himself for a fool. He waited, neither removing his arms from around her body, nor trying to pull her closer. He waited patiently for her to make a decision, his lack of breathing and heart beat enabling him to hide the fear that was making his stomach hurt.

Just as he was sure she was going to stake him, he felt her body relax against his and he gasped in relief when she placed a light kiss on his bare chest.

“So,” she began conversationally, “what makes you think so?”

In a flat voice, Spike recited the recent incidents that caused him to wonder about the chip’s functionality.

“Does this mean you could be out there eating people again?” she asked, her tone giving him no hint what she was thinking.

“I guess it does. Haven’t tried it.”

She nodded against his chest, tracing her finger lightly around one of his nipples and watching as it hardened immediately.

“Why not?” she asked in a deceptively mild tone of voice.

He sat up and gaped at her. “Why not? In case you hadn’t noticed, luv, I’m living with the bloody Slayer. Thought you might have a little problem with it,” he finished sarcastically, as he flopped back down beside her.

“So, if I wasn’t here, you would be? Finding happy meals on legs, I mean.”

She kept her voice carefully controlled so that he wouldn’t know how badly she wanted to pretend he’d never said anything about it.

I’ve got to think like the Slayer, not like Buffy. If Spike is dangerous again, I have to do something about it. That’s my job. It’s who I am.)

Buffy had forgotten that she was lying next to a master vampire and that just keeping her voice even and steady wasn’t enough to prevent him from realizing she was upset. Her increased breathing, accelerated heart rate, and the faintest smell of tears told him his next words were going to be vitally important to both of them.

“I...I don’t know if I can give you an honest answer to that, pet. You ARE here. Being with you...it colors everything I do. Has done for a long time. If you’re asking do I still want to feed, to hunt, to kill, to feel fresh warm blood filled with fear slidin’ down my throat – then, yeah, I don’t think that will ever go away. It’s what I am, luv. I’m sure, if you could get Peaches to give you an honest answer, he’d tell you that even the soul doesn’t make that craving go away. It just allows him to be ashamed of it.”

He felt Buffy stiffen again, and he knew she wanted to pull away from him. He tightened his arm around her almost imperceptibly, mentally willing her to let him explain.

“Hear me out, love… please. I’m trying to be as honest with you as I can and that means I have to own up to my nature. I can’t pretend it doesn’t exist.”

Buffy struggled weakly, more as though she thought she should move away than because she really wanted to and Spike loosened his arm, trying to hide the fear her withdrawal was feeding.

“And I can’t pretend I’m unhappy that the chip is out. That soddin’ bugger the other night would have split your pretty little head open if I hadn’t stopped him. So, I’m not sorry I can hurt humans again. Won’t pretend I am.” He touched her cheek lightly, turning her to look at his pleading eyes. “But, I can promise you, I won’t do anything that would make you have to stake me. I can control myself – all the chip did was give me a reason to do it. It didn’t stop me from trying to kill. I did that myself when I realized I was gonna fry my brain if I kept it up.”

“But your reason’s gone now,” she responded, fighting the urge to soothe the worried look off his face.

Spike shook his head, never taking his eyes off hers.

“I’ve got a better one, now,” he said softly, his eyes searching for some glimmer of understanding and acceptance. “A much better one,” he added in a whisper, daring to lean in and brush his lips over hers.

Buffy didn’t try to pretend she didn’t understand what he was saying, just gave in to the relief his words inspired. She closed her eyes to keep the tears in and fell back against his chest, sighing when his arms went around her again. She didn’t want to admit, even to herself, the fear that had gripped her when she thought she might be faced once again with slaying a vampire she cared about.

While Spike sprinkled soft kisses over her head and face, she wrapped herself around his comforting body and let herself fall into an exhausted sleep, knowing there would be no more dreams that night.

~~~~~~~~~~~

While the suspicious vampire watched carefully, Xander walked around the large area waving a stake in the air and asking plaintively, “But, WHY can’t I stake him? This isn’t our Spike – and I sooo did not mean that the way it sounded!” he blurted when Giles raised a curious eyebrow at him. “This is evil, unchipped William the Bloody, before he has killed two Slayers. I’d be doing the world a favor.”

“Or,” Giles said mildly, continuing to go through the instruction manuals he’d found in a nearby desk, “you could change the world completely, including ensuring that our Buffy was never called.”

“Oh,” Xander said in a subdued voice. “I didn’t think about that.”

He turned to glare at the puzzled vampire and waved his stake for emphasis. “Don’t think that means we’re going to be best buds, Deadboy, Jr. One funny move....”

The vampire sneered in derision. “I don’t MAKE ‘funny moves’, you walking meal,” he snarled back. “Which you will find out the instant I get out of these irons.”

In the few days since Buffy and Spike had gone away, leaving the unchipped, nineteenth century version in their place, Xander and the vampire had fallen into the same sort of mutual insulting relationship that had existed between him and the “real” Spike, as he preferred to think of him.

While the younger man spent his time mocking the chained vampire for his accent and clothing, the Watcher had actually managed to have a few conversations with him and had reached some understanding of where and when Buffy and Spike had probably been sent. However, long days and nights of poring over the technical books he’d found had not given him the information he needed to go about bringing them back and his frustration was growing with every day they were missing.

“Hi, guys!” Willow’s perky voice echoed in the large open space as she and Tara walked up.

“Got your blood here, Sp- uh, William. Sorry I can’t warm it up, but...”

“That’s quite alright, Ms. Rosenberg,” the vamp’s face relaxed into a smile. “I quite appreciate it. Especially since the cretin won’t step close enough for me to have some of the real thing.”

He sent a glare in Xander’s direction; then turned his smile back on the two witches. One glimpse of what the two girls were capable of together, and he had quickly determined that it was in his best interests to be charming to them rather than threatening. He still shuddered slightly when he thought about the ball of fire they’d sent in his direction the first time he lunged at them. Since then, he’d gone out of his way to be polite and friendly – or as friendly as a fledgling vampire could be when surrounded by food sources he was unable to reach.

Willow smiled and poured the blood into a mug then walked closer to the vampire, halting just out of reach. Rolling his eyes in irritation, the younger version of Spike retreated to the other side of the pole he was chained to, following the protocol that had been worked out for feeding him. Giving him an apologetic smile, Willow quickly moved forward and deposited the mug on the floor where he could reach it. When she had scooted back out of arm’s reach, Spike swaggered back and picked up the mug.

“I’m not stupid enough to eat the person who feeds me, you know,” he grumbled as he sipped the pigs blood and made his usual face at it.

At Xander’s loud scoff, he grinned and admitted, “At least not while I remain chained up in this unpleasant place.”

Willow walked back over to where Giles was thumbing through the many manuals he’d found to ask, “Have you found anything that will help us get Buffy and Spike back yet?”

The older man shook his head and took off his glasses to rub his eyes wearily.

“No, my knowledge of technology is sadly lacking when it comes to the sort of physics that seems to be involved here. I think I may have narrowed down the number of manuals that apply to that device, but they are not clear about how one is to use it. I’m afraid we are not going to be able to do anything until Riley gets back in town.”

“Can I look at them?” Willow asked. Where a couple of years ago, she would have hesitated to question an adult, the confidence she’d gained through her relationship with Tara and their advancing skills with magic left her more than willing to show off her own knowledge of physics and technology and she reached eagerly for the books.

Giles started to frown at her, then remembered that the pretty redhead in front of him had almost perfect SATs and had been offered scholarships to several top universities as well as a post high school position with a major computer firm. He nodded his head and pushed the ones he’d identified as pertaining to the machine in her direction.

“By all means, Willow. Please see if you can decipher these and find some operating instructions. In the meantime, I will try to contact Riley and see if he can return sooner than expected.”

Leaving the books to the witches, he stretched and walked around the large area, finding his way back to the empty room into which his slayer and her vampire slaying partner had vanished. He was turning away when something caught his eye and he looked intently into the dark room struggling to see the glinting object. When he located it, he grabbed a nearby push broom and extended it into the room, hooking the object on the bristles and pulling it up the slippery metal floor until he could safely reach it.

When he realized what he was holding in his hand, he blanched and turned back to the computer expert at the desk.

“Willow,” he asked, holding out his hand, “what does this appear to be?”

“Um,” she glanced casually at his hand and then away, “it’s some kind of a chip, Giles. There are probably lots of them around here. What’s so special about this one?”

“The fact that I found it on the floor of the room where we last saw Spike and Buffy,” he said, closing his hand around it tightly.

“Oh, well, then, it’s probably just Spi—oh my God!” Her wide eyes flew to meet the watcher’s. “It’s probably Spike’s!”

Xander rushed to the desk to look at the innocuous looking piece of silicone and metal in Giles’ hand.

“Spike is chipless? Buffy is trapped somewhere with Spike and he can kill again? This is soooo not of the good,” he groaned.

“You don’t think he’ll...hurt...her, do you, Giles?” Willow asked anxiously. “I mean I know he’s evil and all that, but...it’s Buffy...and...Spike...and they...”

“They fight like cats and dogs, Will,” Xander said.

“He isn’t going to harm Buffy,” Giles said firmly. “I don’t believe that and neither do either of you.”

Willow and Tara nodded their heads, unable to disagree with the watcher’s assessment. They would have had to be blind not to recognize the tension between the two blonds that they channeled into their constant bickering and sarcasm.

“I don’t see how you can say that,” Xander began indignantly. “He’s a vampire, she’s the Slayer, they hate each other and they....” He gave in with a sigh. “Oh shit, who am I kidding? He won’t hurt her. I just hope she doesn’t stake him when she finds out.”

“What?” he blustered when Willow and Tara looked at him, smiling. “For Buffy’s sake! It’s not like I care if the bleached wonder never makes it back. I just don’t want Buffy to have to go through...”

His voice trailed off as he realized no one was listening to him anymore. He turned away muttering to himself about vampires and slayers and things that were never meant to be. When he saw the chained vamp looking at him with curiosity, he stopped muttering and really studied him.

“So, Deadboy, Jr.,” he said, moving a little closer to the wary vamp, “You’re still all about the evil insane one right now, huh?”

Spike snarled and glared at him. “If you are referring to my dark princess, she is everything to me. My salvation, the fount of my existence. I cannot imagine what could possibly have made me leave her side for this ‘Buffy’ person you seem to think the Spike you know would not kill if he could.”

“Well, probably that Chaos demon she—“

“Xander!” Giles’ voice thundered across the room and the boy jumped guiltily. The watcher had made it very clear that they were not to tell this younger version of Spike any more than they absolutely had to about where and when he was – and nothing about his future beyond what he could surmise from their original unguarded conversations about Spike and Buffy.

Giles was clinging to a faint hope that they could get Buffy and Spike back from where they were with a minimum of disruption to their time line, and sending Spike back ignorant of his future was an important part of that plan. They still had no idea if he had come from another dimension or from their own 19^th century past and therefore no idea how or if his presence was going to change their own lives.

“What Chaos demon?” the vampire demanded, rising to his feet with his fists clenched. He always forgave Drusilla her infidelity with Angelus, knowing the sire/childe bond was one in which he should not interfere no matter how angry it made him. But to hear the irritating human imply that his ripe, wicked plum would be so cruel as to...

When Xander just shrugged and walked away, Spike sat back down telling himself the human was just looking for a way to provoke him. As much as he wanted to know more about his future, and the world he was in now, he was perfectly happy to leave that particular line of questioning completely alone.

Chapter Fifteen

Buffy awoke to the feel of Spike’s cool fingers gently stroking the skin on her arm and she opened her eyes to see him staring at the ceiling, not even aware of what he was doing. That he would touch her in such a gentle, absent-minded way when he was obviously thinking about something else, and when he thought she was asleep and unaware of it, told her all she needed to know about her safety around him.

Although, the fact that I woke up all alive and breathing after sleeping in his arms, pretty much says he meant what he said about never hurting me. If he wanted to kill me, while I was sleeping on top of him would have been a good time for it.

“Good morning,” she said softly, so as not to startle him out of his deep thoughts.

He immediately turned his head to smile at her and drop a kiss on her forehead.

“Good morning, love. No more dreams?”

“Nope, not a one. Not even one about Brad Pitt, damn it...”

Spike’s growl made her giggle and poke him.

“Not much for humor in the morning, are you?” she teased.

“Didn’t hear anything particularly funny, Slayer,” he rumbled, but the faint smile on his face told her he knew she was kidding. “But I’ve got to say, if it’s a choice between Angelus and that wimpy movie whelp, I guess I’d rather you were dreaming about a willing shag with him than a....” He stopped and glanced down at her again.

“That WAS what last night’s dream was about again, wasn’t it?” He frowned down at her. “I want to hear it, Buffy. We’ve got to suss this out. I need to know how much danger you might be in-“

“Hey! My dreams to the contrary, I AM a fully functional slayer. I’ve kicked Angelus’ ass before, and I’ll do it again if I have to.”

“Didn’t mean to imply you couldn’t or wouldn’t, Slayer,” he said in a placating manner. “Just want to have your back and to do that I need to know what I’m dealing with.”

Buffy sat up, blushing at his smile of approval when she didn’t try to pull the sheet up to cover herself. Starting at the beginning, when she couldn’t sense him anywhere and admitting, shame-faced, how terrifying that was, she recited the whole nightmare. When she got to the part where Angelus flinched back from her neck and roared his displeasure about whatever prevented him from biting her, she was surprised to see Spike’s eyes widen in shock. She stopped and looked at him questioningly, but he shook his head and gestured for her to continue.

She tried to remember Angelus’ exact words as he faced his grandchilde, holding a naked Buffy by the arm. When she came to Darla’s flinging her aside and her inability to come to his aid as they ripped into him, tears filled her eyes and she stopped to throw her arms around him again and whisper apologetically, “I couldn’t move, Spike. I wanted to help you and I couldn’t move again. I’m s-so sorry.”

He wrapped his arms around her, murmuring soothingly, “Shh, pet. It’s okay. It was just a dream. Know that’s not you, don’t I? Know you’d never leave a...friend...like that. Not my Slayer. It didn’t happen, sweetheart, and I can’t imagine it ever will. You’re getting yourself all wound up about nothing.”

When Buffy had stopped sniffling and sat up straight again, he looked at her sternly.

“That doesn’t mean we don’t need to suss out why you keep dreaming that you can’t fight Angelus off, or even why the miserable bastard is around again. Did you say in the latest dream we were back in our time?”

Buffy nodded her head. “Yes, we were definitely us. They were wearing modern clothes, and Angelus knew who I was and he...he called me ‘lover’ like he did before when he lost his soul. But Darla was there, and she’s been dust for almost four years!”

“Let’s leave the tart out of it for a minute, and concentrate on the other two. You say Dru was there again? What did she do?”

“Just danced around babbling about how I didn’t tell you something or other and you went away because you thought I didn’t...oh, who knows? She was wrong, anyway, because you did come for me.”

“Always will, love,” he said almost absently as he mulled over her words. “And the big poof said as soon as he killed me, he could have you? Is that right?”

“Yeah – he was all ‘you won’t be protected anymore’ or something like that. Do you know what it means?”

“Maybe,” was the careful reply. “That’s not the important thing right now. We need to concentrate on the things that have been the same in every dream.”

He ticked them off on his fingers, “Peaches without his soul, Dru drifting around but not doing anything but talking to you about me, the whore somehow back in the mix, and you not able to move to defend yourself. That about it?”

“That and the fact that Angelus apparently plans to rape and turn me – although so far, that hasn’t happened. You always seem to show up and get yourself trashed trying to save me.”

She smiled at him with gratitude, then frowned and added, “Which, I would not like to have happen, by the way. I’m just beginning to appreciate this body; I really don’t want it all torn up.”

She grinned wickedly and ran a hand down his muscular chest to his flat abdomen, giggling at the tent that immediately rose in the sheet covering his hips and legs.

He grabbed her hand and put it on his covered erection, growling softly, “Neither do I, love. But just in case, feel free to start appreciating it right now...”

Buffy gave him a little squeeze, which brought a groan and caused the vampire’s eyes to darken as he reached for her. Before they could take it any further, they heard Molly knocking on Buffy’s door, then opening it and entering the room. With a sigh, Spike released her hand and kissed her quickly.

“Bloody servants, thinking they know when we should be getting out of bed,” he grumbled, tossing Buffy’s nightgown to her and pulling his own shirt over his head quickly.

By the time Molly left Buffy’s empty bedroom and knocked timidly on the door to Spike’s, they were both covered and Buffy was out of bed. With another quick kiss, Buffy walked to the door and opened it, joining the startled girl in the hallway.

“Good morning, Molly,” she said cheerfully. “Did we oversleep again? I think we’ll just leave William to nap a little longer while you and I plan our day.”

As she spoke, she was leading a confused Molly back to her own room and pulling open the curtains to let in the late morning sunshine. She distracted the girl with a flurry of questions about what she was going to wear and where she might be going that afternoon until the servant almost forgot that the master of the house was sound asleep in a dark room at 10:30 in the morning.

Spike slept until the early afternoon, joining Buffy then for an early supper and wandering freely around the east side of the house where there were no rays of sunshine to worry about. He spent the rest of the afternoon setting the groundwork for any possible sudden disappearances by the newly married couple, knowing that Buffy’s watcher would be doing whatever he could to bring them back to their own time.

He also made sure that Mrs. Barstow and the solicitor had met and that she understood that he would be handling the household finances in Spike’s absence.

“So, I’m to understand that you and Mrs. Sinclair do not intend to remain in this house for long?” Cook inquired with a trace of disapproval.

“No, I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Cook,” William replied. “While I certainly appreciate your coming out of retirement to take care of us, I do not want to impose on you any longer than necessary. When we leave, it will be just as it was before. I would like you to check on the house occasionally, perhaps have George send a crew to keep the gardens tidy, and see that it is kept in good repair.

“Mr. Saint-John will see that there are always funds available for upkeep and to repay you for your time and efforts. The house will remain in our possession, but we may, at some future time, rent it out, in which case Mr. Saint- John will find a rental agent to handle things and you may retire completely.”

“Very good, master William. We will be sorry to see you go – especially Molly. She has become quite fond of your bride.”

“She’s a good girl, Cook. Buffy is very fond of her also. If it were possible to take her with us when we leave, I am sure she would want to do so. However, our lives are somewhat... unconventional, and it would not be in Molly’s best interest for us to take her. Please be sure she understands that, if we, for some reason, do not have a chance to say our farewells to her.”

“And why would that be?” Cook took advantage of her position as someone who had known him since he was a child to tap her foot and demand an explanation for such a potential lack of courtesy.

William shook his head, wishing he’d thought a little further ahead before beginning the conversation.

“I don’t know that it will. Certainly I would hope that we would have time before we have to leave to do it in a proper manner. But, the possibility exists that we may find ourselves leaving quite suddenly, with little time for packing or saying good-byes and if that happens, I want you to be prepared for the possibility. I have left letters with Mr. St. John for each of you, which he will distribute if it should happen that Mrs. Sinclair and I find ourselves unable to pay our respects before returning to her country.”

He could tell the old family retainer wanted to ask more questions, but her respect for their respective social positions kept her from pursuing the strange conversation and she simply nodded her head and went back to work preparing their supper.

When Mrs. Barstow had left for the evening, taking Molly with her for a night off, Buffy and Spike quickly changed into their patrolling clothes and slipped out of the house. They strolled through several cemeteries, dusting one newly risen fledgling before he even had time to figure out what he was. They were starting toward home when Spike hissed and touched Buffy’s arm.

“They’re around somewhere, pet,” he whispered.

“I feel him,” she said shortly, casting her Slayers senses around trying to find the location from which Angelus’ signature was coming.

“Not close by,” Spike said softly, “but somewhere around.”

“That’s not all I feel,” Buffy growled. “You need to give me some room – I think I’m about to get some exercise.”

“Got your back, Slayer. Have fun.”

Spike faded into the shadows as Buffy waited for the vampires she could feel approaching. He smiled as she rolled her shoulders and stretched while waiting for the first vampire to step forward.

“So, dead and smelly, are we going to do this?”

The vampire stared at her in confusion. “Do what? I’m a vampire, you’re food. Food doesn’t talk, it screams.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Buffy. The Vampire Slayer? And you are....dust!” she finished as the onrushing vampire impaled himself on her stake.

The other newly-made minions that were with him, paused and looked at each other in confusion. No one had told them about Slayers – the two older vamps who’d sired them simply told them to go find the two people they described, and to kill or capture the girl. Deciding their companion’s dusting was an accident, they rushed the petite woman facing them, only to be met with a whirling dervish whose feet and fists caused damage all out of proportion to her size.

Spike watched in admiration as she whirled, punched, kicked, staked and spun her way through the small group of vampires. When the last one was dust floating away from the point of her stake, she finally stood still and looked in the direction from which the minions had come.

“Hey, Angelus,” she shouted, “I hear Paris is very nice this time of year. You should think about it.”

The trace of Angel’s signature that she’d felt before was gone so quickly she wasn’t sure she hadn’t imagined it was there. She turned to Spike for confirmation and he was laughing so hard he couldn’t talk to her at first.

“What?” Buffy asked innocently. “Was I too subtle?”

“You were amazing, pet,” he gasped, picking her up and twirling her around. “Damn, I love you!”

The minute the words left his lips, he wanted to bite them back; the shocked expression on her face telling him more than he wanted to know about her reaction.

“You...you what me?” Her voice was barely a squeak as she stared down at his mortified face.

“Just a heat of the moment outburst, Slayer,” he backpedaled quickly, setting her back down on the ground and moving away. “Doesn’t really mean anything. Jus’ got a little over-excited by the way you handled the situation.”

“Oh,” she said, smothering the disappointment she didn’t want to acknowledge feeling. “Well, it’s nice to know you enjoyed the show.”

They began walking again, maintaining a physical distance that was as uncomfortable as was the silence between them.

Bollocks! Not that I’m not sure it’s probably true, but it’s too soon to let her know. Now I’ve scared her. I’ll never learn to keep my big mouth shut.

Okay, he says he didn’t mean it. Of course he didn’t mean it! Vampire, evil, - okay, not so evil anymore, but still...Can’t love without a soul, right? That’s what Angel told me. But Spike loved Drusilla. Still does apparently. Enough not to let me slay her. So, if he loved Drusilla, he could love me. But he took it back. Said he didn’t mean it. But he acts like he loves me. Most of the time, anyway. What if he does love me? Do I want him to love me? In my dreams he must love me or he wouldn’t keep getting himself beat up for me. Is that what the dreams are telling me? That Spike loves me?)

The longer Buffy trudged along in silence, the more Spike cursed himself for blurting out what he now had to admit was probably the truth. He did love her. He just hadn’t realized how much until they’d fallen into his bed and become lost in each other.

The question is, mate, how does she feel about you? Poor little chit’s never had a real man make love to her. Could be all she’s feeling is normal, healthy lust. Just cause she’s enjoying some new experiences doesn’t mean she’s gonna forget what I am or what happened to her the last time she loved a vampire.)

They were still lost in their own thoughts when Spike realized they were approaching the spot where they were deposited so unceremoniously several nights before. He touched Buffy’s arm briefly and when she turned to see what he wanted, he said, “This is the place we landed, pet. You know your watcher’s doing what he can to get us back...well, to get you back, anyway,” he grimaced.

“We should probably check here every night, just in case we have to be standing in the same spot or something like that.”

Buffy nodded her head in understanding. “You’re probably right. If we came through a portal of some sort, it makes sense it would re-open in the same place. We should check for it as often as we can, just so we don’t miss it.”

“Alright, then. That’s our new evening agenda. Go out, check portal, patrol, check portal, go home. Maybe we can find some layabout to pay to keep an eye on the spot for us in the daytime. Have to talk to George about that tomorrow.”

By the time they reached the house, they were almost comfortable with each other again, and both were hoping the awkwardness between them was gone for good. Those hopeful thoughts lasted until they had made their way upstairs and found themselves standing irresolutely between the two bedrooms.

“Buffy-“

“Spike-“

They laughed nervously, and looked away from each other like shy teenagers.

“Bloody hell!” Spike’s explosive epithet broke the impasse. “I don’t want you to sleep alone tonight, Buffy. I can’t take back what I said. It’s out there and you heard it. But if it’s going to keep you away from me...”

“I...I don’t want to sleep alone,” she said softly.

“Then why are we standing in the hall here like idiots? Grab that ridiculous nightie and get your delectable arse in my room. I’ll give you five minutes.”

“Or what?” she challenged.

“Or...or...or I’ll have to wait longer for you, I guess,” he admitted with a resigned shrug.

When Buffy appeared in his doorway several minutes later, hairbrush in hand and voluminous nightgown on, he shook his head at her and said casually, “When we get back, I’m taking you lingerie shopping. I don’t ever want to see that tent again.”

Silence fell between them again as each thought back to their lives in Sunnydale and wondered how they were going to reconcile their new relationship with the expectations waiting for them there. Buffy winced as she remembered that she actually already had a boyfriend. One who, she was sure, was not going to take very well the news that she’d been living with Spike. Spike remembered the same boyfriend, and her demon-hating friends and wondered what she was going to tell them about their stay in merry old England.

Shaking off his fears as something to worry about if and when it appeared that they were on their way back, he walked over to her and took the hairbrush. He gently pushed her down on the bed, got behind her, and began carefully brushing her silky hair. Buffy sighed and relaxed into the sensually soothing motions. When she leaned back against his chest, he dropped the brush and began to nuzzle her neck.

“Mmmmmmm” she murmured, turning her head around so he could kiss her more easily. He put his arms around her and pulled her into his lap where she could feel his growing erection against her cheeks. Sliding his hand under the gown and into her warmth, he noticed that she was already wet. He groaned in wonder at her responsiveness.

“You are so hot, baby. So wonderfully warm and tight. Want you so much,” he breathed into her ear as he teased her with his fingers. “Love the way you get wet for me. Need to feel you...” Without turning her around, he lifted her up and brought her down carefully onto his waiting shaft.

“Is that alright, love?” he murmured in to her ear, running his hands up to cup her breasts. “Doesn’t hurt you like this, does it?”

Lost in the multiple sensations of his fingers working her breasts and clit at the same time and his thick shaft filling her channel, Buffy could only shake her head and whimper. Spike pulled the nightgown over her head and rested his chin on her shoulder. He felt her muscles tighten around him as his attention to her clit brought her quickly to an edge. With nowhere to put her hands in that position, she reached behind and wrapped them around Spike’s head, playing with the soft curls at the nape of his neck. She arched her body as he began to move his hips gently, nudging her toward her first orgasm of the night.

“Open your eyes, love,” he whispered in her ear and she obeyed to find herself reflected in the mirror. Her eyes were glazed with lust and her body was arching backwards as she spread her legs to allow Spike greater access.

“Look how pretty you are, sweetheart. Like little rosy petals, all open for me. Look at yourself, Buffy. You’re beautiful.”

Buffy was torn between embarrassment and fascination as he urged her to watch herself having sex with an invisible man. She could see her rosy little nubbin flatten out, then spring up again as his fingers manipulated it. She tried to watch her face as she fell over the edge into a shuddering orgasm, but her eyes went shut of their own volition as though her body refused to be distracted from the sensations ripping through her body.

Without withdrawing from her clenching walls, Spike managed to turn her around so that he could lay her down on the bed and cover her with his own body. She immediately wrapped her arms and legs around him, holding his emotion-filled eyes with hers as she let her body say the words she couldn’t allow herself to think.

Before she had completely recovered from the first orgasm, Buffy found herself spiraling up again to join him as he pounded into her until his own release left him shaking and clinging to the girl beneath him. The hope inspired by the look in her eyes as she clung to him lent another level of intensity to the powerful feelings sweeping through him as he emptied himself into her welcoming depths.

When he had stopped shaking with the intensity of his orgasm, and Buffy was breathing almost normally again, he reluctantly rolled off of her and reached for the bedding. He covered them up and pulled her into his arms, curling himself around her warm body and purring as he let sleep take him.

Chapter Sixteen

“H—Hi, Riley,” Tara stammered as the big ex-soldier stormed into the make-shift research area the Scoobies had set up near the mysterious little room.

“Where are they?” he demanded, glaring around to emphasize his displeasure with being left out of the loop for so many days. “Are they back yet?”

As soon as Giles had reached him in Iowa to say that Buffy was missing due to a mishap at the Initiative, he had promised to come back and offer whatever assistance he could. When, at the conclusion of the conversation, he’d overheard Willow in the background talking about Spike and Buffy’s whereabouts, he demanded Giles tell him the whole story. In less than an hour, he was headed back to Sunnydale, having talked his way onto an army transport plane heading west.

Riley looked around the large, hanger-like area. He vaguely recognized it as one of the experimental rooms, but it had not been part of his operation so he wasn’t really sure what he was seeing. He walked around the room/device into which Buffy had disappeared, trying to remember what he’d heard about its purpose and abilities.

Eventually, he spotted the chained vampire leaning against his pole and walked over to stare at him. In spite of the light brown curls and unusual clothes, recognition soon filled his eyes and he reached for a nearby stake.

“Whoa there, big guy!” Xander grabbed his arm. “What’re you doing?”

“What’s it look like I’m doing? I’m going to make this... thing... tell us where Buffy is.”

Spike had risen to his feet, a gleam in his eye as he realized the newly arrived human might actually be stupid enough to step close to him. He bounced on his toes, completely unconcerned about the man’s size or the wood in his hand.

“Uh, Riley, that’s not Spike. I mean, it IS Spike, but it’s not our Spike. This one isn’t chipped and he’s already told us what we need to know about where Buffy is. We just don’t know how to get her back.”

“Then why is he still here? If he’s served his purpose, there is no reason to keep him around...unless you are planning to bring Spike back with Buffy?” His tone expressed his opinion of that idea.

“That was the plan,” Giles said dryly. “They were pulled into the portal together, I would assume it is important that they come back that way. Hence the presence of our less-than-pleasant friend over there.”

“I beg your pardon!” Spike complained loudly, “I’ve been more than pleasant. For a vampire who’s been chained up and fed pig slop by a secretive bunch of wankers who won’t answer any of MY questions, I think I’ve been a paragon of pleasantness!”

“What’s with the accent?” Riley asked, glaring at the young vamp glowering back at him.

“It seems like old Spikie wasn’t quite the bad boy he told us he was before he was turned. According to Giles, William here is a veddy upper crusty Englishman. What our Spike would call a ‘nancy-boy’.”

“Take these chains off and I’ll show you a ‘nancy-boy’,” Spike muttered, not really expecting Xander to acknowledge the threat. To his surprise, the new arrival stepped closer, saying, “Bring it on, William the Bloody. I’d like nothing better than a good excuse to kick your ass.”

Spike snarled and leaped to the end of his chain, narrowly missing Riley’s face with his claws as he slipped into game face. In spite of himself, the larger man flinched back in the face of an enraged, fully functional vampire. The possibly bloody or dusty ending to the situation was averted by the Watcher’s dry tones from the research area.

“As entertaining as baiting the vampire may be, it might be more useful if Riley were to help us wade through the manuals for the instructions to this device.”

“Of course,” Riley was immediately contrite. “The important thing is to get Buffy back, we can dispose of the vampires later.”

Tara and Willow exchanged raised eyebrows at the ex-commando’s terminology and his use of the plural, but they didn’t say anything, just moved over to make room for him around the large table.

With Riley and Willow discussing the physics involved in transporting living things through time and space, and Giles filling him in on what they had determined about the probable date and time to which Buffy and Spike had been sent, Xander and Tara were left to their own devices. Xander went off to look for more discarded weapons. He was having a wonderful time using his army memories from an earlier Halloween to identify the guns he was accumulating.

Tara walked closer to the now-quiet vampire and smiled timidly at him.

“It’s alright, pretty lady,” he said calmly, “I’m not going to bite you. I don’t fancy having your fiery-haired friend turn me into a toad or something equally disgusting.”

Tara smiled again apologetically. “It’s just...it’s hard to remember sometimes that we have to stay away from you, you know? You are so much like our Spike in some ways, and so not like him in others.”

“So, what does ‘your Spike’ think of that wanker?” he asked, nodding toward the large man leaning over the table of books. “Don’t tell me they’re friends too?”

“Uh, no. I’m pretty sure they don’t like each other very much ...I mean what with the whole Buffy and Spike being engaged thing, and--”

“Engaged? I get engaged to a Slayer!” The vampire’s horror was palpable and Tara giggled before she answered.

“Well, not really, it was just a spell. Only lasted a day or so. But...”

“But?”

“But I think Spike is...very fond...of Buffy now. And she...she depends on him for...stuff. Stuff that Riley can’t do anymore. So, it’s kind of uncomfortable for everybody when they...”

The vampire smiled in genuine delight.

“So the overgrown constable is jealous of me? That’s just delicious.”

He sank back against his pole, smiling happily to himself as he watched the humans poring over the manuals.

“I-it probably wouldn’t be a g-good idea to mention that in front of Riley,” Tara stammered. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Spike blinked at her in amazement, tilting his head to study her blushing face.

“I’m not him, you know,” he said quietly.

“I know, but you will be. And he’s...he’s my friend.”

“I’m sure he is, pet. If I wasn’t evil and hungry, I might be your friend too.”

Tara smiled at him softly. “I can’t do anything about your evilness, but I could get you a mug of blood if you’re hungry.”

“I’d appreciate that, luv.”

******************

The time passed quickly for Buffy and Spike, now that they had settled into a routine. Buffy passed lazy days reading in the garden when London’s less than sunny climate permitted it; shopping for dresses she doubted she would have the time to wear before going back to Sunnydale, and taking Molly with her so that she could roam London during the day and visit some of the places Spike took her to at night.

In the evenings, after enjoying one of Mrs. Barstow’s good meals, they waited for Molly to fall asleep, or to leave with her aunt if it was her night off, and then changed into patrolling clothes to go out on the dark streets and search for something to keep Buffy’s skills sharp and Spike’s need for violence satisfied. They finished each patrol with a walk to the spot they hoped to see a portal open and after waiting impatiently for a while, continued home to end the night with creative and passionate lovemaking.

Spike never bit her after his unintentional lapse the first time. Although Buffy secretly nurtured the hope that he would forget himself and do it again, he was carefully to remain in his human face and limit his biting to nibbles of her lower lip and neck. Neither of them mentioned his slip of the tongue when he said he loved her, tacitly agreeing to pretend it never happened.

Angelus made no more appearances, and Buffy hoped he’d taken her advice and gone to another country, taking his two consorts with him. A week or more of the routine nights and days, uninterrupted by Slayer dreams or actual visits from the older vampires allowed Buffy to become so comfortable with their new life that she began to wonder if she really wanted to go back to Sunnydale and her responsibilities there.

As she prepared to sleep after another night of prowling London’s cemeteries, followed by a bout of mind-blowing sex with Spike, she mentally scolded herself for not being more concerned about her Watcher and friends and family back in Sunnydale. With a sigh, she resigned herself to the importance of getting back home and letting Giles figure out the meaning of the dreams. She snuggled in next to Spike, grateful for his comforting presence that seemed to be keeping them at bay and vowed to make more visits to the portal site.

Buffy woke up wondering what time it was and why Molly hadn’t come to wake her up yet. Even with the heavy drapes pulled, she could tell it was well into the day. She turned her head and nuzzled the velvety skin on Spike chest, marveling at how soft it felt over the hard muscle beneath. She stuck out her tongue and ran it lightly around the flat nipple in front of her face, smiling when it hardened into a point.

Glancing down the bed, she could see the sheet tented over Spike’s morning erection and, after sneaking a look at his face to see if he was still asleep, she slowly moved the sheet aside until she could see the cool pale column rising over his stomach. She wriggled down the bed until she was facing the object of her curiosity.

Taking another quick glance at the sleeping vampire’s face, she ran her tongue up the length of him, then around the tip. She giggled softly when his hips arched up and he moaned under his breath. She teased him some more, running her tongue under his foreskin and dipping it into the tiny opening there, tasting him and planting open-mouthed kisses on it.

She felt the vampire shudder and suddenly his hand was on her head as he said, “Don’t be startin’ something you’re not planning to finish there, pet.”

Startled, she sat up quickly, blushing all over.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I thought you were asleep!”

“You expected me to sleep through that? What the hell do you think I am, woman? I’m dead – not buried. And what do you mean, you’re sorry?”

“I don’t...I mean, I know, I shouldn’t...and I’m not very good at...I just wanted to...I thought I’d try...”

Buffy stopped, blushing so hard he was afraid she would burst a blood vessel.

“If you want to, love, do it. Not going to hear any objections from me. DO you want to, Buffy?” he asked curiously.

“Well, I don’t really know how...I mean I tried once, but Riley told me I wasn’t doing it right.” At Spike’s gobsmacked expression, she hastily went on, “But he said it was okay that I didn’t know how to do it because only...only a whore would actually WANT to do that. And he didn’t expect me to be very good at it and I—“

Spike’s snarl split the morning air, and she flinched back from the flashing amber eyes. She watched in fascination as the vampire visibly forced himself to calm down. When his beautiful human face was back and William was looking at her with sad eyes, she finally let out the breath she’d been unconsciously holding.

“I’m sorry, love,” he said gently, touching her face with his fingers. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I just can’t believe that bloody fool would say something like that to you.”

“I’m sure he was just trying to make me feel better about it,” she said in defense of her boyfriend.

“Stupid git,” he muttered. “Is offered a gift and doesn’t know what to do with it. “

“That’s why I thought I’d just...when you were asleep...so you wouldn’t know I was...I mean, not that you’d care if I’m not a nice girl. I mean, evil vampire and all, but...am I babbling again?”

“Yes, you are, darlin’. But it’s adorable. Now look at me and listen carefully.” He took her chin in his hand and looked into her worried eyes.

“There is nothing two people do together, or do to or for each other, that is wrong or dirty or evil or any other adjective that arse might have used to try to smother the wonderful passion you have inside you. Not if they’re both willing and nobody’s bein’ hurt by it.

“Don’t ever be afraid to ask me if you want to try something new or different. And if you think for one minute that wakin’ up to find your hot little mouth on me is something you need to apologize for...” He shook his head, completely lost for words to express the insanity of that idea.

“So,” she said, recovering her usual cheekiness, “you don’t mind if I practice on you?”

He laughed and dropped back onto the bed. “Practice away, pet. I’ll let you know when you get to perfect.”

He smothered a grin at the determined look on her face as she said, “I’m going to learn to do this right, if it kills me. You’ll tell me if I’m doing it right, won’t you?”

“I’m pretty sure you can count on that, love. I’m not known for being silent when—ahhh!” He stopped talking when her soft, heated lips closed over the head of his cock and she swirled her tongue around it. Encouraged by the involuntary movement of his hips, she moved her mouth down the shaft as far as she could without triggering her gag reflex.

Spike’s gasps, hisses and moans were all the encouragement she needed to begin an inexpert, but enthusiastic bobbing up and down on him, sucking in her cheeks as she came up each time. By the time she had established a good rhythm, the vampire was babbling a stream of praise and encouragement for her efforts and she concluded that the only thing wrong with her performance with Riley was the object of her attentions.

“Oh god, baby, like that, yessss, oh jesus, don’t stop, love, please baby, oh god, sweet jesus, bloody buggering fuck!” When she opened her throat and took him all the way in, he surged off the bed chanting her name over and over. “Buffy, Buffy, Buffy....”

She was holding his balls in one hand as she supported his cock with the other and she felt them tighten under her hand. Correctly assuming he was about to explode, she shook her head when he frantically tried to pull her off, redoubling her efforts until she heard him roar her name and felt his milky spendings hit the back of her throat. She swallowed quickly, the flexing of her throat muscles pulling even more from the incoherent vampire as he continued to arch into her mouth until he collapsed on the bed.

Buffy felt a jolt of purely feminine pride when she took in the euphoric look on his slack face and she sat up with a smile.

Take that, Riley Finn!) she thought with satisfaction as one sparkling blue eye came open and looked at her with adoration.

“Come here, you,” he growled softly, pulling her into his arms and burying his face in her neck. Her long hair tickled his nose as he breathed in and out, inhaling her scent and enjoying the feel of her warm body on his.

“You know that was absolutely amazing, don’t you?” he asked when he could talk again. “I don’t know who that bleeding idiot was talking about, but it sure as hell wasn’t you.”

“So, it was ok?” she inquired teasingly. “I did it right?”

“Think you could say that, love. I don’t want to call you a liar, but there’s no way you--”

“I think I was inspired,” she whispered into his neck, embarrassed to let him see her face as she admitted how much she enjoyed knowing she was giving him that much pleasure.

He couldn’t speak. He wrapped both arms around her tightly and hoped some of what he was feeling would be understandable from the way he was clinging to her. He knew if he opened his mouth, “I love you” was going to fall out of it again and he didn’t want to ruin the moment.

They lay together like that for a long time, the temporarily satiated vampire holding her tightly and lightly caressing her back; the vampire slayer draped over his body, her face buried in his neck. She wrinkled her nose as the smell of the shoe polish he’d been using to tone down his platinum hair competed with his own unique scent.

Eventually, nature called and Buffy reluctantly squirmed until he let go of her so that she could sit up.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he growled.

“I’m going to pee,” she said primly, standing up and grabbing her nightgown. “And then I’m going to go look for Molly. It’s got to be late and I don’t understand why she didn’t come and wake me. She knows I’ve got a lot to do today to get ready for that party tonight.”

Spike gave a groan at the reminder that they were expected at the Saint-John residence that evening for a social event.

“Should never have told that bloody wanker he could throw a party for us,” he grumbled. “If I wanted to see any of those people again, I’d of turned ‘em and let them be minions.”

“Don’t you want to show off your new wife?” she asked tossing her head? “Or are you ashamed of me?”

He was off the bed so fast she was very grateful he wasn’t still planning to kill her.

“There isn’t one of those overfed snobs that can hold a candle to you. And don’t you forget it, missy.”

“Okaaay. Hit a nerve there. Should be a fun evening. I can’t wait.”

Spike snorted, “Oh yeah, lot’s of fun.”

By the time Buffy had finished in the bathroom, Spike was already downstairs drinking his blood in the study and frowning in thought.

“What’s up?” she asked, coming up behind him to run her tongue into his ear and to suck on his earlobe.

“What’s usually up when you start doing things like that,” he grinned at her, jarred out of his thoughts.

At Buffy’s, “Have you seen Molly?” his frown came back and he shook his head.

“No, and neither has Mrs. Barstow. No one has seen her since she went out with her girlfriend last night. The other girl is missing too.”

Buffy blanched. “You don’t think...?”

“I don’t think anything, pet,” he tried to soothe her. “She’s young and you’ve been letting her be more of a friend than a servant. She’ll know her aunt will be furious, but she probably thinks you won’t say anything. Maybe they met a couple of attractive blokes and are afraid to come home after staying out all night. Mrs. Barstow has someone else coming in to help you get dressed for tonight. After the party, we’ll go looking for Molly if she hasn’t turned up by then.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, love, I promise. Now go do whatever it is women do to get ready for parties that don’t start for hours.”

“Yes sir, hubby, sir,” she giggled at him as she saluted in mock obedience.

“Don’t get smart with me, woman,” he glowered back at her. “Don’t forget in this era you’re just another one of my possessions.”

“Is that so?” she asked saucily. “So I’m yours, huh? Hah! You wish!”

She flounced out of the room, not seeing the look on his face as he whispered, “You have no idea how much I wish that were true, Buffy. No idea at all.”

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

Between Willow’s brains and Riley’s knowledge of the Initiative and its projects, they were finally able to narrow down the manuals to the one with the instructions for the “matter transferring” device, as it was referred to. Hours and days of reading through and comparing possible ways of interpreting the technical jargon later, and they felt they were ready for a trial run.

It was Tara who suggested they try sending back something Spike or Buffy would recognize if they happened to be nearby when it came through. But it was the vampire chained away from the group who said calmly, “Why don’t you send them a message? Tell them when you will be turning it on again so they can be ready.”

All eyes turned to him in astonishment.

“What? You think I WANT to stay here in this underground hell-hole, chained up, fed cold, disgusting animal blood, and not knowing where or when my dark princess is? I’m just saying...”

“Actually, William, that is quite a good idea,” Giles said quickly before anyone could tell the vampire to shut up.

He immediately tore a large sheet of paper off the flip chart they’d been tracking their ideas on and wrote in large letters, “24 hours. Be ready.” Willow took the marker from his hand and added underneath, “We miss you.” She blushed and said, “Well, it’s true isn’t it? They might be having a good time and not want to come home. I just thought I’d remind them they have friends here.”

“Would you quit referring to Buffy and that vampire as ‘they’!” Riley growled. “We’re getting Buffy back – if the neutered monster has to come with her...well, there’s always a down side. It doesn’t mean anybody misses him.”

The Scoobies exchanged looks, but no one bothered to contradict the already annoyed man. They just shrugged and made plans to send the message so it would arrive in London sometime during the night.

Chapter Seventeen

As Buffy descended the stairs, Spike stared at the woman he was escorting to the party that evening and marveled. The maid that Cook had managed to find on short notice was a former personal maid to a member of the peerage and she knew exactly how to get the most out of the few dressy items that Buffy had purchased.

Her golden hair was piled on top of her head, with just a few curly tendrils framing her face and drawing attention to her graceful neck. The dress was a soft moss green that went beautifully with the gold of her hair and her brilliant green eyes. Although Buffy still felt naked without her usual make-up, the maid had assured her that anything more than a touch of color on her cheeks would be “cheap” and she had to settle for biting her lips to make them pink and being grateful for her naturally dark eyelashes.

The only thing missing was any trace of jewelry. Since Buffy had been technically “working” when they’d been sucked back to this time, she had none of her own with her, and she was reluctant to dip into the few pieces belonging to Spike’s mother without his permission. As soon as the maid mentioned jewels, definitely implying that he was falling down on his responsibilities to see that his wife was properly attired, Spike pressed some coins into her hand, thanked her for her efforts, and pushed her out the door.

While Buffy stared at him in confusion, he went into his study and opened the locking drawer where he kept his blood. He stared into the drawer for a minute, then pulled out a velvet box and held it out to Buffy.

“Here,” he said gruffly, “see if you can find something you like.”

Buffy frowned at him, taking the box and turning it around before releasing the clasp. When it popped open, she gasped and almost dropped it. Sparkling on the silken lining were small, delicate diamond earrings, a silver chain with a small diamond-encrusted locket, and a set of rings, one clearly an engagement ring and the other a simple band with small diamonds across the top.

“Wha-? Where? Who? Oh my god, they’re beautiful, Spike. Where did you get them?”

“They were my mother’s,” he said quietly. “I think she would be happy to have you wear them. Even if it is only temporary,” he concluded, looking away from her awed face.

Buffy put the earrings on, then held the locket out to Spike and asked softly, “Would you put this on for me, please, William?”

With trembling hands, he fastened the necklace around her neck, leaning down to kiss her bare shoulder when he was done.

“They look lovely on you, pet. Mother would be pleased.”

Buffy stood there, awkwardly holding the box that still contained the two rings, not sure what she should do with them. The vampire noticed her confusion and took the rings out, reaching for her hand.

“Everyone is going to expect you to have a wedding ring, love. You don’t mind, do you?” he asked as he slipped the rings on her finger. The fit was perfect and their eyes met briefly as he held on to her hand long enough to plant a light kiss on her knuckles.

“There you are, Mrs. Sinclair. All properly decked out to show everybody why you married me.”

Buffy reached up and stroked his sharp cheekbones, then ran her finger over his soft lower lip. Even with his toned down hair and unneeded glasses, he cut a fine figure in his tailor-made suit that showed off his muscular legs and broad shoulders.

“I think it should be pretty obvious why I married you,” she said softly, blushing slightly.

He cupped her hand in his, turning his head to plant a kiss in her palm, smiling when her heart rate went up.

“If we don’t leave now, pet, you’re not going to make it out the door in that dress,” he growled.

Placing a light shawl on her shoulders, he put his hand in her back and guided her to the carriage waiting outside.

After an hour of smiling politely as she was introduced to men and women who were as insincere as they were boring, Buffy was ready to leave the party and go slay something. She could tell the women were eyeing her dress for any trace of cheapness, and she caught the looks at her rings when they thought she wasn’t looking.

One dark-haired matron with a gigantic chest shoved up to almost spill out of her dress, insisted on following Buffy around and asking her pointed questions about where she met William, what she knew about him, how much money he had, and, finally, asking if he ever mentioned her.

“Cecily? Cecily? No, I don’t believe he has,” Buffy responded cheerfully. “Should he have?”

“Oh,” she said with some disappointment. “Well I guess it’s understandable. I did break his heart, after all. I presume it is still painful for him.”

She beamed at Buffy, clearly expecting her to cringe at the thought that her husband might have loved someone else. She frowned when Buffy laughed merrily and said, “If I had a penny for every woman who thought my William was in love with her -- But if it makes you happy to remember it that way...” She waved her hand airily and moved off to link her arms with Spike’s and smile up at him adoringly.

“What are you up to, pet?” he whispered. “That bitch wasn’t giving you a hard time, was she?”

Buffy tossed her head. “Puleeeese! “ she sniffed. “I went to high school with Cordelia Chase. I can’t be bothered trading barbs with amateurs.”

His rich laugh and the possessive arm he wrapped around Buffy spoke more loudly than anything they could have said to convince most of those watching that William had made a love match. The only ones not convinced, were the few men left alive of those that had been particularly unkind to the younger, meeker William.

While it wasn’t lost on any of the women present that William had matured while he was away and become a self-confident, attractive man, his former tormentors refused to see him as anything but the gentle poet they were accustomed to pushing around. As the evening went on and more alcohol was imbibed, old habits took over and they were soon badgering William for a poetry reading.

“You did know your husband was known as William, the Bloody Awful Poet, didn’t you, Mrs. Sinclair?” one of them asked. Buffy’s shocked look told them she didn’t, although they had no idea the real reason she looked so flabbergasted.

One look at Spike’s face told her the old insult – which it clearly was – still hurt and she found herself stepping in front of him to look up at the laughing man.

“I cannot imagine how someone with William’s gift for writing lovely sonnets could have earned a title like that. Surely you have confused my husband with someone else – perhaps someone like yourself with no appreciation for beautiful things?” She looked pointedly at the man’s jewel covered, but extremely plain wife.

“Feisty, isn’t she?” snarked a recovered Spike as he put an arm around her waist. “In addition to being drop-dead gorgeous, of course.”

While the other man’s face darkened in anger, Spike steered Buffy toward their host and hostess, telling them that they had thoroughly enjoyed themselves, but, being newlyweds, they were more than ready to go home for the evening.

Mr. Saint-John looked wistfully at Buffy as he nodded his understanding and wished them a safe ride home. He had no idea why the vampire he knew as a member of the Scourge of Europe was spending his time with a human woman, but he had to admit the man had excellent taste. During the course of the evening, Spike had mentioned to the solicitor that he might be leaving soon and explained what he wanted done with the house and his retainers.

The man wisely didn’t remind him that he’d given the house to the girl at his side, just nodded and promised to continue handling Spike’s affairs as he had been before. He assumed the vampire was tiring of playing at being married to the woman and was planning to kill her or turn her and go back to his life as a vampire. He hadn’t worked for Wolfram and Hart all these years not to know when to look the other way and keep his questions to himself.

Spike left Buffy standing on the large front porch while he went to fetch their carriage, not doubting that the Slayer could take care of herself if necessary. She cast her senses around for vampires or demons, never noticing the drunk men behind her until one of them wrapped an arm around her shoulders and breathing his whiskey-soaked breath in her face said, “Fess up now, Missy. Where did William pick you up? How much is he paying you to pretend you’re married to him? I’ll match it for a couple of hours of your time,” he added, leering at her cleavage.

Buffy threw off his arm with an ease that the would-be accoster was too drunk to notice and shoved him back toward his friends.

“If I were you, I’d get lost before William gets back,” she gritted out through clenched teeth. As much as she wanted to punch the man’s face in, she knew that was completely beyond the pall for Victorian ladies and she really didn’t want to embarrass Spike in front of these bullies.

The angry man, charged toward her, his weight carrying them both into the railing and sending Buffy’s good intentions right out the window. Bringing her knee up, she sent him gasping to the floor. She was just reaching for him, preparing to throw him over the railing and into the street when a voice she hadn’t heard in years said, “No, Slayer. This one’s mine.”

There was no sign of the gentle man she had learned lay beneath the vampire’s hard exterior. Facing the gasping bully was the Spike she hadn’t seen since he attacked her high school. With one hand he picked the whimpering man up and shook him. His vampire hearing had picked up every word of the conversation, including Buffy’s attempt to handle it without giving away how different she was from the other women at the party.

“You dare to touch my wife?” he said in a voice all the more frightening for its even, cold tone. The man he was holding forgot completely about his aching balls as he stared death in the face. Sudden realization hit him as he remembered the strange and violent deaths that had decimated their social set shortly after William’s disappearance several years ago. Even as he contemplated his own demise, he understood why the frightening deaths had happened to the most egregious bullies in their set.

While his friends wondered if they dared challenge the monster holding their companion, and if his life was worth the risk, the small blonde woman stepped forward and put a slim hand on his arm.

“Spike, please?” was all she said, but the monster’s features faded back to his human visage and he sighed regretfully, lowering the crying man to the floor.

“He insulted you,” he grumbled, letting go and watching dispassionately as the man fell to the floor and curled into a frightened ball. The acrid smell of urine was in the air and Spike sniffed appreciatively.

“I can take care of myself, remember?” she said gently.

“Yes, pet.” He sighed again, rolling his eyes. “I remember. Just had a Victorian moment there. I’m sorry,” he added, sticking his lower lip out. “Forgive me?”

In front of the forgotten drunk’s staring cronies, she stood on her tiptoes and grabbed his lower lip with her teeth and shook it gently.

“Are you going to make it worth my while, husband?” she purred.

“Count on it, you little minx,” he answered, lifting her up and kissing her thoroughly.

“Okay, let’s go then,” she chirped, turning to wave at the still immobilized party-goers. “Bye, guys!”

They managed to get all the way into the carriage before collapsing in each other’s arms laughing uncontrollably.

“Bloody hell, Slayer, I hope your watcher gets us home soon. We won’t be able to show our faces around here anywhere for months!”

Spike had already given the driver instructions to swing by the street upon which their adventure had begun, and Buffy peered out the window looking for any sign of the green glow that had brought them there. She was just slumping back in disappointment when a fluttering caught her eye and she yelled for the driver to stop. Before the carriage had come to a complete halt, she was out the door and snatching at the large piece of paper drifting on the slight breeze.

Her face lit up when she saw the message and she whirled to show it to Spike, her smile fading when she saw his face.

“So, twenty-four hours,” he said noncommittally.

“I thought you wanted to go back,” she asked, confused at his lack of enthusiasm.

“I do, pet. Just caught me by surprise, that’s all.” He made an effort to look happy and gave her an encouraging hug. “Wasn’t really expecting them to figure it out so fast.”

“Oh, well,” she said, turning away to look at the message again, “They probably called Riley to come back and help them figure it out. Hey, do you think we can find something to write with? Just in case we can send it back?”

Spike’s stomach clenched at her casual mention of her boyfriend having participated in the retrieval. He’d hoped to have a week or two to sort out where they stood with each other before having to deal with another man in the picture.

Fortunately, he was spared having to say anything by a tiny green glow that began in the middle of the street and grew. Buffy grabbed some mud from the gutter and quickly wrote, “We’ll be here” before throwing the paper into the rapidly expanding portal. They stood, side-by-side, watching the paper disappear into thin air and then the glow was gone and they were alone except for the impatient cab driver.

Spike was uncharacteristically quiet on the way home, silently paying the driver and following Buffy toward the house. His ears picked up the sobbing minutes before she did and he was already running toward the house right in front of the Slayer.

They reached the porch to find a sobbing Molly waiting for them. Buffy flew up the steps and put her arms around the hysterical girl, asking, “Molly? What’s wrong? Did something happen to your aunt? Did someone hurt you?”

Before Spike could stop her, she opened the door and said, “Come on in, Molly. Tell us what happened to you. We’ve been so worried. Get in here where I can see you,” she finished, pushing open the door and helping the sobbing girl through it.

When they got inside, she could see that Molly was covered in blood and she gasped as she began to examine the girl for wounds.

“What happened? Who hurt you? Tell us, we’ll...”

Molly turned to look at Buffy and with a sly smile she said, “He said to tell you he was going to go, but he was leaving you a going-away present.”

“Who was going away? And what present?”

“Me,” said Molly as she shifted into her demon face and lunged for the stricken Slayer. She turned to dust before Buffy’s eyes; dust through which Buffy could barely see Spike and the stake he’d used. Tears of rage and grief filled her eyes as she began cursing Angelus.

“That son of a bitch!” she ground out. “He couldn’t come after me – he had to pick on a defenseless girl!”

“That’s his way of coming after you, love. You should know that from before. He’s a sick fuck and he gets his kicks from making women cry – not from an honest fight or a clean kill. I’m sorry, love,” he added, wanting to comfort her, but wary of touching an angry Slayer. “I liked the girl too.”

“She died because of me. Because I taunted him instead of doing my job,” she said dully.

“She died because Angelus is a miserable bastard. Has nothing to do with you, Buffy. It could have and probably would have happened whether you were here or not. Maybe he wouldn’t have bothered to turn her, but if he was hungry she’d be just as dead.”

Without answering, Buffy turned away and headed for the stairs, her head down and tears still running down her cheeks. She quietly changed out of her now-blood stained dress and into the nightgown Molly had been so insistent that she wear even though they both knew it wasn’t going to stay on very long. She gently stroked the nightgown, vowing to make Angelus pay somehow.

She was still wearing the diamond jewelry as she turned to go into Spike’s room, turning silently so that he could undo the locket.

“You’ll have to remember to lock them back up tomorrow,” she said as he removed the locket and set it on the table. She reached up to undo the earrings, but he stopped her with a gentle hand.

“Leave them on for awhile, pet. They look beautiful on you.”

She nodded, then looked at her hand and the two rings resting there.

“Those too,” he said, gently turning her around to face him. “We’ve got one more night of being Mr. And Mrs. Sinclair. Might as well keep the perks while you’ve got them.”

Buffy smiled slightly, closing her hand around the rings.

“One more day,” she agreed. “Then it’s back to homework and dirty laundry and crowded dorm rooms for Buffy. Bye-bye rich, pampered wife of William Sinclair and back to the boring life of a college girl.”

“Who just happens to be the Slayer,” he reminded her gently.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Who just happens to be the Slayer,” she agreed. “A Slayer who needs to tell her watcher about all those dreams before I forget important details. Giles is very big on the details in Slayer dreams.”

“Come on, love. Let’s get some sleep. Who knows what time that paper was sent through tonight. We’ll have to camp out near the portal all night tomorrow so we don’t miss it.”

Buffy allowed him to steer her to the bed and settle her under the covers. She was almost asleep when she realized he wasn’t there with her. Her eyes flew open and she sat up, her heart thudding.

“Spike? Aren’t you coming to bed?”

“I’ll be there shortly, sweetheart,” he replied absently. “I want to check the downstairs again, just in case.”

“They can’t get in,” Buffy said. “If they could, Molly would have been able to get in before we got home. The only vampire that can get in here without an invitation is you.” She frowned at him, suddenly remembering his pushing her in the door the week before. “Why didn’t I need to invite you in?”

“I suspect it’s because I was already in the house when I transferred it to you. Invitation by implication, I guess. I dunno.” He shrugged, clearly not interested in why he remained able to come and go in his own house.

“I guess that makes sense,” she yawned, snuggling down in the bed. “Hurry back up, ‘k?”

“I’ll be back before you can fall asleep, pet.”

Leaving the room, he went silently back down to the foyer and stared at the small pile of dust that was all that was left of a girl he remembered chasing around her aunt’s kitchen when she was a child. A girl whose sparkling eyes and saucy mouth had kept Buffy from feeling alone and alienated in this time so different from her own.

With a sigh, he went to the kitchen for a broom and dustpan, determined to remove the reminder before Buffy came down in the morning. He swept it up quickly and walked back into the kitchen. As he opened the door to toss the pan of dust into the garden, movement caught his eye and he looked up to see a white shadow swaying on the path.

“What do you want, Dru?” he asked through tightly clenched teeth. He knew she hadn’t been the one responsible for Molly’s death, but she was a part of Angelus’ family.

“I want MY Spike back,” she surprised him by saying with perfect clarity. “You are not my sweet William anymore.”

“No, I’m not. Don’t know where your Spike is, but if he’s gone because of me, he should be back tomorrow night. Not promising, mind you, but that’d be my guess.”

“Daddy and Grandmother left tonight. They were angry that I didn’t go with them, but I said I had to wait for William. He’s been a bad boy and I will have to punish him for going away.”

“You do that, pet. Punish him all you want – probably make you both happy. Now get off our property.” He turned his back and went into the house, closing the door firmly behind him and taking the back stairs up to his room.

He smelled her tears as soon as he entered the room and knew instinctively that they weren’t the angry, frustrated tears of the Slayer, but the grieving tears of a young girl who had just lost a new friend. With a sigh he shrugged off his clothes and slid into the bed behind her, pulling her into his arms and nuzzling her neck.

When she turned to face him, he licked the tears off and kissed her gently.

“I’m sorry, Buffy. I know she was a good friend to you. I liked her too.”

Buffy sniffled and nodded, grateful that he wasn’t trying to cheer her up with platitudes. It occurred to her that Spike never tried to convince her things were anything but what they really were. He always told her the truth, even when he knew she didn’t want to hear it.

She was suddenly filled with fear that what they had between them, whatever it was – and she really didn’t want to examine it too closely – wouldn’t be able to stand up to the return to Sunnydale and the obvious problems waiting for them there. She buried her head in his neck, wrapped her arms around him and whispered, “Make love to me, William, please.”

“It would be my pleasure, sweetheart,” he whispered back as he began kissing his way from her ear to her mouth.

Teasing her lips open with his tongue, he gently ran it over her teeth, stroking them until her own came out to join his in a sensual dance that was all the more erotic for its lack of urgency. For long minutes they remained holding each other, allowing their lips and tongues to gradually build the need for more contact.

Slowly, his hands began to stroke her silky skin, reveling in the warmth of her body and the way her breathing quickened under his hands. When she sent her own hands moving around his torso with heated caresses, his response was immediate and impossible to miss.

With a sigh, Buffy ran one hand down to stroke his erection, lightly touching him just enough to cause him to push his hips toward her seeking more contact. He slid one hand down to cup her full ass and pull her closer to him, murmuring his approval when she threw one leg over his hip, allowing the head of his cock to rub along her already damp slit.

Buffy gasped as he used the tip of it to spread moisture along the length of her sex, unable to suppress a shudder when he touched her sensitive clit. For as long as he could stand it, he teased her with light touches and strokes that never left his hard length in one place long enough to do anything but make her crave more.

When her moans turned to whimpers and she pushed her hips against his seeking more, he gently rolled her onto her back, following over so that he was on top of her, his cool, smooth skin caressing her warm body everywhere they were touching. He positioned himself at her opening, nudging gently without actually penetrating her willing entrance.

“Invite me in, love,” he pleaded softly. “Tell me you want me to come in.”

Startled by his uncharacteristic reluctance to take what he wanted, but oddly moved by his willingness to wait for her permission, she nodded slightly and whispered, “Come in, Spike. Be inside me, please. I want you to be in me.”

With a shuddering groan, he slowly slid into her waiting velvet moistness, pausing when he was fully in to allow her to get used to him. As he felt her relax around him, he began to move his hips slowly, setting up a gentle rhythm that was as soothing as it was erotic. Buffy gave a contented sigh and began to move with him in gentle syncopation.

She marveled at how good it felt to have this vampire, this slayer of slayers, joined so intimately with her body and how right it seemed to have him there. She struggled to think of a word to describe how she felt about it and finally decided that it made her feel completed. With his cool, thick cock inside her, she felt like together they were a complete person.

She didn’t realize she’d said the word aloud until Spike paused and asked, “What’s that, pet?”

She bit her lip, then blurted. “I said ‘complete’, you make me feel complete. When you’re inside me. That’s how it feels.” She blushed and shut her eyes in case he was going to laugh at her. Instead, she felt him rest his forehead gently against hers as he choked out, “I love you so bloody much, Buffy. You have to know how much I love you.”

Her heart rate sped up and she turned her head, terrified of what she would see if she allowed herself to meet the eyes she could feel burning a hole in her own.

“Look at me, love,” he said softly. “Please, Buffy, just look at me.”

She turned frightened eyes back to meet his unwavering gaze and remained caught there in his darkened eyes as he told her, “That was just a statement of fact, love. It had to be said again, and this seemed the right time and place. Wasn’t a question, or a demand for a response; doesn’t mean you need to say anything in return. I don’t want anything from you – know I’m beneath you; that you can’t love a soulless monster. Just needed you to know it for sure. Love you. Think I always have at some level, and know I always will. I’m yours for as long as you’ll have me. Longer, probably.”

“Mine,” she said slowly, reaching up to touch his face gently.

“Yours,” he agreed, dropping his head to kiss her sweetly. His hips maintained their easy movements, neither of them feeling any reason to rush the release gradually building in their joined bodies.

Spike felt he could remain like they were forever, just allowing the heat of her body to warm his own and letting himself drown in the sensation of being surrounded by everything Buffy. He poured everything he was feeling into his lips, hands and hips as he tried to physically demonstrate what she meant to him.

Buffy clutched the vampire with her arms and legs, trying to use her body to say the words she wouldn’t allow to leave her lips.

I can’t love another vampire. No matter how much I want to, I’m the Slayer and it’s wrong. This one doesn’t even have a soul. I can’t do it.)

As the inevitable release neither one was really seeking approached, tears leaked from Buffy’s eyes at the thought of losing the intimate contact that was all she would allow herself to feel from this vampire. Even as the tension built up until she was screaming Spike’s name when she fell over the edge into shuddering ecstasy, the tears continued to slid down her cheeks, silent testimony to the emotion to which she refused to admit.

Spike felt her strong walls clenching as she shuddered underneath him, arching up and screaming his name and he allowed his demon out to add his heightened vampire senses to the spasms shaking his body as it emptied itself into her depths.

Buffy’s slayer senses somehow knew when Spike changed and she threw her head back, offering her throat to the demon with complete fearlessness. The tiny pain of his fangs sliding into her throat was immediately banished when the strong pulls of her blood sent her shuddering into another, more powerful orgasm. The demon pulled on her blood while her supernaturally strong muscles squeezed his cock until there was nothing left but the satisfying pain/pleasure.

When their bodies had experienced as much sensation as they could without losing consciousness, they gradually subsided into trembling gasps for air. The vampire carefully licked his bite until it was closed and healing, He began to reluctantly pull away from the Slayer, but she held tightly with her legs and said simply, “No”.

He nodded his understanding, saying gently, “Just going to shift us, love, so you can breathe a little easier.”

He carefully rolled onto his back, bringing her with him so that she was draped over his body, his limp cock still buried inside her. Reaching with one hand, he grabbed the covers and pulled them back up over her shoulders, smiling as she murmured her thanks.

“You’re welcome, my love,” he whispered, knowing from her even breathing that she was already asleep.

Throughout the night, they remained intimately joined, waking enough to make slow, sensual love again two more times, before they allowed their bodies to finally slide apart.

Chapter Eighteen

They woke up to make achingly sweet love one more time before getting up to prepare for the return to their lives in the future Sunnydale, California. No words were exchanged, but there was now another aspect to the sex that left them both feeling satisfied on more than a physical level. It was also tinged with a trace of sadness about their uncertain future.

When Buffy got downstairs, she was surprised not to find Mrs. Barstow there, but she went about getting herself breakfast in the kitchen she was now comfortable finding her way around. She took Spike’s blood from the delivery boy, thanking him warmly and taking it right to the study where she found Spike scribbling notes, his glasses perched on his nose.

“Why do you wear those when you don’t need them anymore?” she asked idly, handing him a mug full of blood.

“Goes with the look, pet.”

She cocked her head to the side in an unconscious imitation of him.

“You know, maybe you should bring them back with you. I think they’re kind of sexy – in an intellectual kind of way.”

“If you think I’m gonna let the whelp see me like this....”

She giggled and climbed onto his lap, pushing the chair away from the desk as she did so.

“You could wear them when he’s not around...” she murmured, running her fingers up to play with his shirt collar. “We could play Mr and Mrs Sinclair...”

“If it’s games you want, pet, I can come up with lots more interesting ones than that,” he leered at her suggestively.

“I like this one,” she said softly, all teasing gone from her tone. “We’ve been happy here – mostly, anyway,” she added, suddenly remembering Molly.

“That we have, love,” he agreed, pulling her against his chest. “You don’t think we can be happy back in Sunnyhell?” he asked carefully, trying to hide the fear that filled him.

“I think it’s going to be a lot harder, don’t you?” She looked up at him quickly enough to see the pain in his eyes.

Before he could answer her, they heard the kitchen door open and Buffy jumped up, closely followed by Spike. Instead of Mrs. Barstow, they saw George. The look on his face told them he knew something about Molly.

He gave a half-bow in their direction and then launched into his explanation for his grandmother’s absence. He explained that while they had not found Molly, they had found the body of her friend with her throat torn out and covered with too much blood to be all hers. They feared the worst, and Mrs. Barstow was staying with Molly’s mother until they knew something for sure.

Buffy and Spike exchanged looks, knowing there was nothing they could say to give the family answers without revealing too much. Buffy’s obvious distress didn’t register on George as anything other than the same fear his relatives were feeling. He was grateful for the tears in her eyes, as he knew Molly was very fond of her mistress and he felt somewhat comforted, knowing it was reciprocated.

Spike went back to the study and returned with several of the notes he’d been writing, telling George to assure Mrs. Barstow that she wasn’t needed and was to stay as long as she needed to. He gave him a note to her, explaining that he expected to be leaving again that night and she was to follow up on his instructions from earlier in the week.

He ran through the same instructions for George, asking him to take the other notes to the bank and to Mr. Saint-John’s office telling them the same thing. He assured Mr. Saint-John that it was his wish that the house remain in Buffy’s name, although in the event of her death it was to revert to him. He asked Buffy to sign that section of the note, and she looked at him oddly before doing as he asked.

With many thanks for the way his family had made them comfortable during their visit, and false assurances that Molly would be found alive and well, they bade the young man good day and Buffy closed the door against the rays of the sun slanting into the room.

When she followed Spike back into the study, Buffy spotted the velvet box that the jewels had been in and flinched as she realized she was still wearing the rings and earrings. She said, “I forgot to take these off. Let me just go get the locket and you can put them away...” She turned to go up stairs.

“Buffy.” His voice stopped her and he stepped up behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders. “I want you to keep them, love. They aren’t doing anyone any good locked up in a drawer. Go get the locket and put it on.”

She looked back over her shoulder at him, twisting the rings on her fingers.

“But, Spike, I can’t...we aren’t really...”

She winced at the pained look that crossed his face and turned all the way around to wrap her arms around his waist and press her face into his chest.

“Except for the nightmares and Molly, this has been like the perfect vacation. A nice house, good food, lots of pampering, unlimited shopping, a little slaying…” She raised her head and looked into his downcast eyes. “…and a wonderful man to share it with.” She willed him to understand what she was trying to say. “But we both know it’s coming to an end. We aren’t really married, and when we get back to Sunnydale—“

“So, you’re kicking me to the curb then?” His face shuttered as he hid what he was feeling behind the cold mask of a dead man.

“No!” She shook him hard, startling him out of his self-induced pain. “I’m not saying that at all! I’m just saying it’s going to be different there. There are going to be complications – friends to explain things to, boyfriends to break up with, a watcher to calm down. We can’t just show up and say, “Hi everybody! Guess what, we’re back and we’re in love.”

“We’re in what?”

Buffy’s eyes took on the trapped look of a deer caught in a poacher’s searchlight as she realized what she’d said. She started shaking her head rapidly, trying to back away from the suddenly predatory vampire stalking her around the desk.

“Nothing. I didn’t say that. I didn’t mean—mmmph!”

The vampire in question captured her mouth in a bone-melting kiss, effectively cutting off her denials. He continued the kiss until she gave in and responded, curling her arms around his neck and allowing him to support her body as it molded itself to his. When she was about to pass out from sheer lust as well as the lack of air, he raised his head and looked at her with awe and gratitude.

“You’re not going to take that back now, are you?” he asked with some trepidation.

“Like you did, you mean?” she teased.

“Didn’t want to scare you off,” he muttered. “Was too soon – just barely knew it myself then.”

“Hey, news flash, vampire. I’m the Slayer. I don’t scare that easily.”

“I guess not,” he grinned happily, picking her up and squeezing hard enough to injury a normal girl. “Lucky me.”

He tilted his head at her and asked seriously, “So what’s the plan then, love? Tell me how you want to play it and I’ll follow your lead.”

“I don’t know. We’ll just have to see what the sitch is when we get home. Who’s there, what’s gone on while we were away. The most important thing is to give Giles our notes and try to figure out these dreams...”

“You already know what the common theme is, pet. Don’t try to pretend you don’t. You have to be ready to deal with Angelus if that’s what we’re coming home to.”

She sighed and nodded her head. “I know. That’s the obvious message – well, that and that you’ll do anything to protect me.” She flashed him a grateful smile and he responded, “Always,” before she went on. “But then there’s the whole Darla thing – why would a pile of dust be in it? And Dru with her cryptic little warnings and scoldings about telling you...oh my god! Do you think that’s what she wants me to tell you?”

“What?” he asked with an innocent look.

“You know,” she said looking uncomfortable. “What I said – almost said – whatever.”

“I know,” he grinned. “Just want to hear you say it again.”

“Don’t push your luck, vampire.” She tried to look intimidating but only managed embarrassed and annoyed.

“Feeling pretty lucky today, pet,” he said softly, moving closer again. “And newsflash for you, Slayer. In spite of what Dru said? I will always come for you. Wouldn’t matter if you loved me or not – I’ll dust ten times over if it will keep you alive and away from Angelus.”

She studied him for a minute, then asked lightly, “You don’t have to answer this, but...which is more important – alive or away from Angel?” She deliberately used her souled ex’s name, noticing the slight flinch that Spike gave at hearing it. To her surprise he answered her with complete honesty.

“To the demon, keeping you away from the great poofter is the most important thing. He doesn’t care if you’re alive or undead, as long as you’re his...” He looked at her with a certain amount of shame, but she nodded encouragingly and he went on, “But me, the part of me that’s still a man, wants you alive and breathing, even if it means...” He couldn’t finish the sentence, wanting to tell her he was fine with it even if she wasn’t with him, but he couldn’t choke out the lie.

“Well, I’m going to vote for alive AND yours, if that’s ok with you and your demon,” she said briskly. “Now let’s get ourselves ready to catch that portal when it gets here.”

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

Giles walked toward the waiting vampire, the key to the chains in one hand and the taser in the other. Behind him Willow and Tara looked at Spike sympathetically. He cocked his head at the watcher and then at the two witches.

“What’s this, then? The tooth rattler isn’t enough, you want to mojo me too? I told you I want to go back. What makes you think you need any of that?”

He managed to look disgruntled and innocent at the same time, causing the girls to smile.

“I do not think it is in anyone’s best interest for you to have any memories of us or this place. Willow and Tara will make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“They’re going to interfere with my mind?” The vampire rose to his feet, snarling and causing the witches to flinch away.

“W—we—we’re really sorry, Spike,” Tara stammered. “I hate this, I really do. But if we let you go back, knowing—“

“We can’t take a chance on your knowledge of the future doing any—“ Giles began pedantically.

“I could change it,” he interrupted with a resigned sigh. “I get that, Watcher. I’m not stupid, you know.”

“Yes, I know,” the man answered. “If there were another way...”

“Alright, fine. Let’s get it over with. Let me get back to my unlife and you’ll have your precious slayer back.”

He stood up and held out his hands. “If you hold off the mojo till I’m in the time machine there, you won’t need that thing. I’ll go willingly and I promise not to eat anybody on the way there.”

Just then, Riley and Xander came into view, obviously arguing about something and the vampire stiffened. “Never mind,” he growled, “I can’t keep that promise.”

“You could if you wanted to,” Willow scolded.

“Don’t want to,” he muttered, glaring at the approaching ex-commando. “I don’t know why I dislike that oafish git so much, but I would eat him in a second if I had a chance.”

“Your honesty is commendable, William. Unfortunately, you realize it leaves me no choice?”

“Yeah, yeah, just get on with it, Watcher. I want out of this place. Need to get back to my ripe wicked plum and the rest of my bloody family.”

He presented his muscular back to the other Englishman and waited to be zapped. Making a small face of discomfort, Giles quickly pressed the taser against the surface presented and held it until the convulsing vampire fell to the floor unconscious. He knelt quickly and unlocked the manacles, nodding to Xander and Riley to pick up the surprisingly small body.

The two young men grabbed the vampire’s shoulders and feet, carrying him to the room and tossing him in the door. Riley watched dispassionately as the unconscious man slid down onto the center pad. He moved to one side as Tara and Willow stepped to the door, preparing to do their spell wiping all memories of his time with them. At a nod from Giles, they cast some powder toward the vampire, who was just beginning to stir, and began their chant.

Spike managed to wink at them just before the spell took hold and all trace of recognition left his now-demonic face. As soon as they finished the chant, they stepped back and Xander slammed the door, wincing when he heard the lock click shut.

“At least this time I did it on purpose,” he muttered, stepping away so that Riley and Willow could set the controls the way they needed to.

Once again, a humming sound filled the space and the room began to glow green. They could hear the vampire snarling inside as he reacted to the feeling of his atoms being separated and put back together for the second time.

Outside the small room, a tense group waited anxiously for the humming to stop and the door to open. As the green glow faded and the door tumblers could be heard falling into place, there was a collective intake of breath from the small group of humans. Tara and Willow clutched each other’s hands tightly as they waited to see what they would find behind the slowly opening door.

Chapter Nineteen

The sun was dropping down behind the nearby buildings when Spike and Buffy took a last look around the house, preparing to leave and spend the evening waiting for the portal to open again. While Spike went through his desk, making sure he hadn’t left any future-altering information behind, Buffy went back upstairs to look around. She was dressed in her usual nighttime outfit of boy’s trousers and a boy’s shirt; her own clothes stuffed into a rucksack that Spike had found for her.

On a whim, she grabbed her nightgown and stuffed it into the sack with her skirt and blouse. She ran her hands over a few of her favorite dresses, sighing as she left them hanging in the closet. She also placed the box in which her diamonds would be stored into the pack, knowing she wouldn’t be wearing them after she got home.

After one last, lingering kiss at the front door, the two predators slipped out into the night to find their way back to their own time and place. Spike pulled the door shut behind him, waiting until he heard the lock click into place before joining Buffy on the front lawn. With one last look at the house in which she’d been a spoiled and well-loved rich man’s wife, if for such a short time, Buffy squared her shoulders and walked off in the direction of the portal, rucksack slung over her shoulder and cap pulled down to hide her blond locks and feminine features.

They quickly reached the general area in which they had been deposited the night they arrived and spent several minutes arguing about the exact location of the portal.

“It was right here,” Buffy insisted, kicking at a pile of horse manure. “I’m sure this was it. There’s the bush that the message was caught on last night. See?”

“Just because the bloody piece of paper was blown over to a bush, doesn’t mean that’s where it came in. When we sent it back, it was right over here.” Spike stood in the middle of the street, pointing to the ground for emphasis.

Buffy opened her mouth to argue, then suddenly stiffened and reached for the stake in her back pocket. She crouched, extending her senses, trying to identify the direction from which the vampire presence was strongest. She turned slowly, straightening up, but continuing to hold her stake as Drusilla stepped out of the shadows.

“Where is he?” She ignored the Slayer and spoke directly to Spike. “Where is my William?”

“I told you Dru. If it’s anything to do with us, he’ll be back here when we’re gone. Don’t know exactly when that will be.”

“I’ll wait,” she said quietly, moving back into the shadows.

“Oh great,” Buffy grumbled. “Not only do I have to stand around in the middle of a street all night, I have to do it with Miss Looney Tunes watching me.”

“She’s just waiting for her Spike to come back, Slayer. Ease up.”

“Ease up? Tell me something, William.” Her voice dragged his name out in anger, “How many children is she going to eat between now and our time because I’m leaving her unstaked? How many, huh?”

“I don’t know, pet, but they’re already dead, so all you’d be doing here is mucking up the whole thing. Who knows what kind of world we’d go back to if you changed something that major.”

“I know,” she admitted with a sigh. “It’s just really hard not to do what my Slayer side is screaming at me I should be doing.”

After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Spike said quietly, “I’m going to go talk to her for a minute – are you alright with that?”

Buffy waved her hand airily. “Go ahead. No sense in both of us being bored. Just don’t go too far away in case we have to jump.”

“Don’t worry, love. Not letting you out of my sight.”

Buffy rolled her eyes as he walked toward the shadows in which his insane ex was hiding, wondering what he could possibly have to talk to her about. She tried to smother the pang of jealousy she felt when he didn’t even look back, but strode eagerly toward the woman he’d loved for over a hundred years.

I guess that’s a positive thing to know. That he can love somebody for over 100 years – and still care about them even after they dump him for a slimy demon. Of course the chance that I’ll be around 100 years from now is somewhere between slim and none, so I guess that’s not a worry for either one of us...)

While Buffy stood impatiently tapping her foot on the curb, Spike made his way into the shadow where Dru was pacing anxiously.

“You might as well relax, Princess,” he said soothingly. “We don’t know what time it’s going to happen. Could be a long wait.”

She cocked her head at him, seemingly sane again for a few moments.

“What could have happened to my William to turn him into the Slayer’s doggie? And what kind of a slayer wants a vampire in her bed?”

“I’m not your average vampire, pet. And that,” he nodded in Buffy’s direction, “is definitely not your average slayer. You’d do well to remember that,” he added as she made a face.

“Daddy is going to be so angry with you.” She changed the subject abruptly. “I will have to tell him I punished you severely for leaving us or he will discipline us both.”

“Yeah, your precious ‘daddy’ always was big with the discipline,” he snarled. “One of his more endearing traits.”

Spike reached in the pocket of his duster and pulled out one of his few remaining cigarettes. He took his time lighting it with a match, rather than the Zippo in his pocket, and blowing the smoke into the air.

“What are you planning to tell him, Dru? About where William’s been and what he’s been doing?”

She waved her hand around vaguely. “I’ll just tell him, and grandmother, that you wanted to take your time killing the little girl and that I’ve punished you for allowing her to take you away from us. It will be alright.”

“He knows she’s a slayer, pet. He watched her in action.”

“He’ll forget about all that,” she said confidently. “He will think you were just using her to fool some more of those nasty people you used to care about. I’ll tell him how you ripped and tore, and drank until you were sick and they were all gone. And he won’t remember that the little girl was a slayer.”

She spoke with such confidence that Spike was seized with a sudden suspicion.

“You’re going to thrall him? You’re going to take your precious ‘daddy’s” memories and twist them?”

The brunette vampire ignored his question, just humming and twirling to music only she could hear. After a few seconds of watching her spinning and humming, he shrugged and walked back toward the street.

“So,” Buffy couldn’t keep the jealous edge out of her voice as he approached, “how are things in la-la land?”

“They’ll be better when we’re out of here. I hope I’m right and that her Spike is back in Sunnyhell waiting to be switched for me, although I don’t know why I wouldn’t remember something like tha--.”

“How is that something to hope for?” she asked, her voice rising. “You were a stone cold killer! No chip, no Buffy. What’s going to keep you-him from killing everybody?”

“Dunno, love, but obviously something has or we wouldn’t be standing here waitin’ to catch the next bus that glows and hums. Speaking of which....”

Buffy whirled in the direction he was facing and saw the telltale green glow of the portal beginning to show. They watched closely as it gradually enlarged until the opening was big enough for them to step into.

“Alright then, Slayer, this is it. Vacation fun is over.”

Buffy reached for his hand, only to find it already linking to hers just as when they had come through the first time. He gave her a wink and squeezed her hand, then stepped toward the open space pulling her with him. They stepped through together, moving into each other’s arms for a final kiss before they felt themselves being pulled away.

The transition from the dark London street to an equally dark metal room was as sudden as before, but his time they both landed off balance and fell to the floor. Spike twisted so as to land on the bottom with Buffy sprawled over him.

“Thought you wanted to break the news gently, pet,” he teased as the door flew open and all the Scoobies and Riley peered in at them lying on the floor. He felt Buffy’s body stiffen when Riley shouted, “Buffy! Are you alright? What are you doing on top of Spike? Do you want me to throw you a stake?”

With a sigh and an apologetic smile, she pushed herself off the vampire and stood up.

“I don’t need a stake, Riley. We just fell when we landed and Spike caught me. I’m fine. We’re BOTH fine,” she added for emphasis.

Spike kipped to his feet, grabbed the rope Giles tossed down to them, and handed it to Buffy. She took it from him, taking the time to look into his eyes and begin, “Spike, I...it might...”

“Whenever you’re ready, love,” he said, reading her mind. “I’ll wait. Not patiently, mind you, but I’ll wait.”

She gave him a grateful smile and pulled herself up the rope, quickly tossing it back down to him before Riley could get any ideas about shutting the door on Spike. Using the rope only for leverage, he was up and out the door, standing beside Buffy in one leap. He edged away from the door and stood off to the side while Buffy was engulfed in welcoming hugs from her watcher and friends. He smiled indulgently until Riley picked Buffy up in an extended hug, which he tried to accompany with a kiss that she was able to dodge smoothly. The sight of the big man holding the woman he’d finally admitted to loving brought yellow flashes to his eyes and he felt his gums itch as his fangs tried to let down.

“Now is not the time,” came a quiet, but very firm voice beside him and he whirled to stare at the watcher in surprise. Their eyes met for several seconds before Spike nodded abruptly and shook off his demon.

“Soon as all the welcome back hoopla is over, we need to talk,” Spike said. “She was havin’ Slayer dreams the whole time we were gone.”

Giles nodded and gestured toward the table they’d been using for research.

“We might as well do it now, while we’re all here. If she’s been having them this whole time, It must be urgent.”

“Oh, it’s urgent alright, Watcher. You can count on it.”

Buffy was in the middle of an animated conversation with Willow and Tara about her experiences in nineteenth century London and theirs with fledgling Spike, when Giles interrupted to suggest they sit down so that she could fill them in on the whole experience. He emphasized “whole” and Buffy shot Spike a look before realizing he was talking about her dreams. She blushed when Spike leered at her, clearly guessing where her mind had gone at first.

“Let’s start with the dreams, Buffy. What were they about?”

“Well, they were about...um...vampires,” she started, looking at Riley and wondering how he would react to hearing than Angelus was planning to rape and turn her. She stalled for time, beginning by saying, “But Dru was in them and she’s in South America, and Darla, but she’s dust and-“

“Wolfram and Hart resurrected Darla somehow, and Dru is with her,” Giles said quietly. “Wesley called last night to warn us.”

Buffy and Spike exchanged a frightened look that was not lost on anyone in the room. “Then Peaches’ soul has gone walkabout,” the vampire said without inflection as he turned away from the table with his hands in his pockets.

No one questioned what he said, except Riley who sputtered and insisted there was no way for Spike to know that. Everyone ignored him, looking at Buffy and waiting for the explanation. She sighed and said, “Bring out your notes, Spike.”

Giles took the sheaf of papers that Spike silently handed him, scanning them quickly. His “Dear Lord,” and the look he shot at Spike told him the Watcher had come to the part where Angelus had abruptly stopped his assault on Buffy. Buffy may not have known the significance of those actions and words, but it was clear that her watcher did. Giles continued reading through the carefully written notes about each dream, glancing at Spike again when he came to another reference to the “protection” Buffy somehow had obtained from the vampire.

He stared hard at Spike and for just a second the Ripper was very visible as he asked, “Did you?”

Spike shook his head “no”, adding, “I haven’t even told her about it.”

He somehow managed to imply that the watcher had failed in his duties to his slayer, if she didn’t know what could have stopped a vampire attack that quickly.

Giles glared back at him, than said with a sigh, “I just never thought it would be important. It seemed better that she not know that...”

“That the creatures she slays every night could care about each other that much?” Spike challenged the man’s glare with a cold stare of his own, until Giles dropped his eyes and nodded.

“It seemed best.”

By this time, Buffy was staring back and forth between the two, her irritation obvious and growing.

“Anything you’d like to share with the class?” she huffed, turning her head to glare at Spike. When she turned her head, Giles could see the small, healed marks on her neck and frowned at the vampire again.

Again, Spike shook his head “no”. “Didn’t. Wouldn’t without her permission.”

“But...?” He gestured subtly toward Buffy’s neck, making sure Riley didn’t notice.

“Heat of the moment. Not the same thing at all,” he growled, moving to stand behind Buffy.

“Okay, that’s it with the cryptic! I want to know what you two are talking about and I want to know now!”

Rather than answer her, Giles spoke to an increasingly annoyed Riley. “Riley, I think it best if you move away from the table for a little while. Perhaps you and Xander could go look for more weapons? It appears we may need them soon.”

The big man started to object, but at a pleading look from Buffy, Xander stepped up beside him and said, “Great idea, G-man. Come on, Riley, let’s leave the strategizing to the...the strategizers and go find us some more cool things to blow stuff up with.”

“Please, Riley,” Buffy added. “Giles and I need to talk about my dreams and I would prefer to do it in private.”

The ex-commando glared pointedly at the vampire lounging behind her chair and growled, “And he’s here because...?”

“He’s here because I want him to be here,” Buffy said in a tone that brooked no argument. “He’s a part of this. You’re not.” She winced when she saw the pain flash across her boyfriend’s face, but gazed at him steadfastly until he nodded and turned away.

As soon as Xander and Riley were out of sight, Spike moved closer to Buffy’s chair, resting his hands lightly on her shoulders and squeezing reassuringly. She reached up with one hand and touched him lightly, leaving her hand resting on his as she looked back at Giles and waited for his answer.

Giles watched them and heaved a large sigh.

“Shall I assume from your behavior, that while you were gone you two figured out that which has been obvious to the rest of us for some time?”

“Wha-?:

“Bloody hell!”

Buffy tilted her head up to look at Spike. “We were obvious? Why didn’t we know?”

He shrugged and pulled out the chair next to her, sitting down and linking his hand with hers. “Guess we’re a little slow, pet,” he said with a smile.

“Speak for yourself,” she grumbled. “I’m all with the quick knowing, and...”

“Could we get back to Angelus and leave the discussion of your mutual ability to live in denial until later?”

Her watcher’s voice brought them back to the subject at hand and Buffy leaned forward urgently.

“Okay, so if Darla’s back and Dru is with her, then Angel either has or is about to lose his soul. The question is, in my dreams why can’t I move when he’s around? Why am I so afraid of him? And,” she shot a ‘don’t-think-I’ve-forgotten-about-this’ look at her Watcher and the vampire, “what is keeping him from killing me and what does it have to do with Spike?”

“You tell her, Spike,” Giles said firmly. “You probably should have explained it as soon as she told you the dream. It may well be important.” His tone made it obvious that he would prefer not to be having this conversation at all.

“Yes, tell me, Spike. What do you think you did in my dreams that kept Angelus from killing me?” She looked at him with suspicious eyes. She’d known he knew something about what was going on, but hadn’t realized it might be important until she saw Giles’ reaction.

Spike squirmed uncomfortably for a minute, releasing her hand to play with his lighter, before looking her in the eye to say quietly, “Apparently I claimed you. That would be the only thing that would make him back off like that when he started to bite you - and that dusting me would remove.”

“Claimed? What do you mean, claimed? Like a piece of luggage?” Buffy’s indignant tone made it clear what she thought of being anyone’s possession, even his.

Giles took up the explanation while the vampire tried very hard to look as though he found the idea more shocking than desirable.

“If Spike was to say the necessary words while biting you, and if you were to give the appropriate acceptance, you would be marked as his...property. No vampire would be permitted to bite you as long as Spike was alive—er, undead. Even the attempt at rape would be out of the question. Angelus’ responses in your dreams indicate that you belonged to Spike.”

“Because he bit me? So Angel – Angelus won’t be able to bite me now?

“He could do it now, pet. Those little nips aren’t claiming bites. If he even noticed them, they wouldn’t stop him.”

Giles looked as though he had a bad taste in his mouth as he spoke slowly. “As unhappy as I am that you have put your teeth on Buffy at all,” he said with another glare at the unconcerned vampire, “I suppose we will have to take into consideration the fact that you could offer her an additional measure of protection if it appears she could need it.”

“So, in my dreams, Angelus stopped because I was marked as yours? That’s why he was so determined to kill you?”

“You’re not as dumb as you look, Slayer,” he said, trying to lighten the mood.

“Shut up, Spike,” she answered automatically, thinking hard for a minute. “Maybe you should do it, then,” she said finally. “I probably wouldn’t freeze if I knew he couldn’t touch me. That’s what we should do then. Here!” she added, tilting her neck at him.

She frowned when Spike almost fell off his chair recoiling from her offered neck. Her watcher’s red face, coughing, and vigorous polishing of his glasses told her she must still be missing important information about claiming.

“What’s the matter with you?” she asked the still shocked vampire. “Don’t you want to claim me?”

When he saw the pain in her eyes that she tried to hide with anger, he moved back to her side quickly and, forgetting about the other people at the table, cupped her cheek with his hand as he said, “Nothing I’d like more, sweetheart. But it’s not something to be taken lightly. There’s a little more to it than your watcher said, and it’s definitely not something we would be doing in front of other people.”

He rolled his eyes at the still blushing older man and the two curious wiccas sitting at the table with them. Buffy blushed herself as she figured out some of what he was not saying, and although she leaned into his palm briefly before sitting up straight again, she nodded her agreement before she turned back to Giles.

“All right. So dis-invites for Angel all around, and Willow will work on the re-ensouling spell in case she gets a chance to use it. Spike and I will patrol every night, looking for any sign of the evil threesome---”

Giles looked at his surrogate daughter with admiration and some concern.

“Buffy, perhaps it would be wise for you to remain indoors where it is safe until we come up with an explanation for the immobility Angelus seemed to inspire in your dreams.”

She glared at the older man. “I am NOT going to hide from him!” she growled. “I’ve already proved to myself that I can scare him more than he scares me, so I know the dreams aren’t a hundred percent prophetic. The best thing I could do is to take it to him, not cower in my room.”

“Proved it how?” Willow asked curiously. “I thought these were just dreams.”

Buffy exchanged a look with Spike, then ducked her head and mumbled, “Lots of things happened while we were gone. It’ll take a while to tell you about all of them.”

“I feel confident that there are some things about which we have no need to know more,” Giles said dryly as Buffy blushed and the vampire smirked at him. “Please spare us.”

“I don’t want to be spared!” Willow whined. “I want to know everything.”

While Spike laughed and Tara whispered in Willow’s ear, Buffy huffed, “I MEANT that Angelus was there, with us, and I acted all scaredy-rabbit like in my dreams.”

“And yet, here you are, so clearly he did not attack you.”

“No, Spike was always there to keep him away. So, you see, that’s not like my dreams either. Cause in the dreams? Spike was always getting beaten, or ripped to shreds, or...”

“Hey!” The vampire’s indignant interruption brought attention back to him and Buffy smiled up at him. She surprised both the vampire and her friends when she stood up and wrapped her arms around him.

“I’m just saying, in my dreams we’re always losing, but in real life, we chased him away.”

“Thought you wanted to take this slowly, pet?” he asked softly as he put his arms around her and whispered in her ear.

“They already know. So, they might as well start getting used to us now. Except Riley. I’m going to have to break up with him, and I don’t think it’s fair to do it in front of everybody, so...”

“Got it, pet. Better start now, then,” he said, dropping his hands and stepping away from her.

Buffy blinked at him in surprise, then noticed what he’d already sensed; that Xander and Riley were striding back into the room, arms full of various implements of vampire control. She nodded gratefully and sat back down at the table.

“How did you gather the courage to chase him away then, Buffy?” Giles brought the attention back to the subject at hand. “It may be important that we understand the mechanism.”

“IgotmadatSpike,” she mumbled quickly.

“You what?”

Xander and Riley approached the table in time to hear the question and Xander added his comments.

“She said she got mad at Spike. So what else is new? What difference did that make, Buffy?” he asked, turning to her curiously. “And, by the way, what are we talking about?”

“We’re talking about the fact that in my dreams, I couldn’t move anytime Angelus was around. I was paralyzed with fear. And, the first few times we saw him while we were back in time, the same thing happened. I was all, ‘eek, a vampire!’ girl instead of a slayer.”

“So, getting mad at Captain Peroxide was the cure? Let’s hear it for irritating vampires.” Xander gave Spike a thumbs-up, causing Riley to glare at him angrily.

Buffy rolled her eyes while Spike smirked again and deliberately sat down beside her. Riley stomped to the table and yanked out the chair across from them, dropping into it heavily and planting his elbows on the table. He stared hard at the vampire sitting so close to his girlfriend and asked coldly, “What did he do to make you mad? And why did it help you?”

Buffy got her “Gah! Headlights!” look again as she remembered what the fight was about. “I...I...don’t...I mean, we...”

“Wasn’t important, GI Joe. Jus’ me shooting off my mouth when I shouldn’t have. Important thing is, she was so mad at me she went right back into her room and knocked the big poof off the roof.”

While Xander and Willow cheered, “Go, Buffy!” and “Way to go, Buffster!” Riley’s eyes narrowed and he said quietly, “Back to HER room? Where, exactly, were you two for the past several weeks?”

While the vampire cursed under his breath, and Buffy continued to look like she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, Giles stepped in and answered calmly, “We have yet to get into a discussion of exactly where they were or how they managed. It is of much more importance that we evaluate the potential danger to her now and take steps to correct it.”

Buffy sent him a grateful look, nodding her head and adding, “We need to figure out if the soul is gone yet. And we need to warn Wesley and Cordelia, and the rest of Angel’s friends in LA. If they know about Darla and Dru...”

“I will call Wesley as soon as I get home,” Giles said, standing up. “I suggest we all get some place safe and rest for what may well be a trying time.”

Everyone who was around the last time Angelus made an appearance, shuddered and nodded, while Riley looked at them in confusion.

“What’s the big deal?” he asked angrily. “He’s just another vampire, Buffy.”

“Not to me, he isn’t,” she responded quietly, gathering up her rucksack and preparing to leave with everyone else. She missed the black looks that went across the faces of both her current and soon-to-be ex boyfriends.

The group started toward the exit, everyone more than happy to see the last of the underground lab. Xander and Riley had large backpacks full of the weapons they’d collected and Willow and Tara were walking with Spike when he saw Riley reach for Buffy’s hand.

Willow flinched at his snarl and her eyes widened in fear when his face changed briefly. He cocked his head at her and asked with a puzzled face, “What’s the matter, Red? You know I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Right,” she said quickly, glancing at Riley who was holding on to Buffy but staring at them. “Cause you’re all with the chip and stuff, and not about the hurting humans...” Willow babbled, caught between her worry that Riley would figure out the chip was gone and her fear of a chipless Spike.

“Wouldn’t hurt you, or your bird, either way,” he said quietly. “You know that.”

Willow smile at him apologetically. “I know that, Spike. I’m sorry. It’s just been a long time since I’ve seen you go all ‘grrrr’, you know?”

“Better get used to it, pet,” he said, staring at the big man still clinging to Buffy’s reluctant hand.

He forced himself to relax and trust her to handle the situation in her own way, in spite of his demon’s demands that he tear the man’s hand off for daring to touch her. Letting Willow and Tara go ahead of him, he waited for Giles and walked out with him, bringing up the rear of the little group.

Chapter Twenty

The walk out of the labyrinth that was the old Initiative complex was quiet and uncomfortable for both Buffy and Riley. She tried very hard to get him to release her hand without actually yanking it away and he tried very hard to ignore her lack of response when he laced his large fingers through her tiny ones. When he had to use both hands to open the door to the outside, she moved quickly away far enough that he couldn’t pick her hand back up easily.

Before he could do or say anything, Buffy turned to face the rest of the group and went into complete Slayer mode.

“Okay, here’s the sitch. We don’t know if Anglelus is back yet or if it’s still just a possibility. But we do know that Darla is back and that Dru is with her, so nobody goes anywhere unarmed or alone. Holy water, crosses, stakes, the whole enchilada. Spike and I will walk everybody in tonight and check the house before we leave you there. Willow will do a dis-invite anywhere Angel has been. Any questions?”

“Why Spike?” Riley asked quietly. His unspoken, “Why not me?” lingered in the air.

Still in Slayer mode, Buffy didn’t concern herself with his feelings as she snapped, “Because they’re his family. He’ll feel them if they’re anywhere around. Probably before I do. And because he’s got a better shot at standing up to them than anyone else besides me. Or have you forgotten that he’s almost as strong as I am? If my dreams are right, this is our fight – you aren’t a part of it. None of you are,” she added almost apologetically as she included her watcher and friends. “The most important thing to me is just to see that you are all safe somewhere before we go looking for Angel and his bloodthirsty harem.”

“To which we sincerely hope he will not be adding you,” Giles said dryly.

“Exactly!” Buffy said at the same time as Spike growled, “Not going to happen. I’ll dust first.”

“Whoa! Wait. Did I miss something while I was helping Riley collect new and awesomely manly toys? What’s this about adding Buffy to a harem?”

She rolled her eyes at Giles before saying calmly, “In the dreams, Angelus is trying to...to rape, drain and turn me. Not a fun experience. Spike is trying to save me, but he’s always chained or unconscious or something and I’m all pathetic, scared girl who doesn’t fight back. Now you know as much about the situation as we do, can we go now?”

Angry at having revealed so much of her dreams in front of Riley, she turned and began stamping toward the parking lot where she could see Giles’ car and Riley’s SUV.

“So, Big Bad, you’re more of a rescuee than a rescuer, huh?” Xander snarked. He flinched when Spike turned amber eyes at him. Eyes that managed to look dangerous and devastated at the same time. He said nothing, just glared at the young man for a second, then turned away, his shoulders hunched.

Buffy had already reached the cars and waited impatiently for everyone else to get there. It was obvious that they could not all fit into Giles’ small car and she reluctantly asked Riley, “Do you think you could give us a ride to my house? I want Willow to do the dis-invite there first, and I need to warn my mom. Once we’ve done that and Giles has dropped Willow and Tara off at the dorm, we can ride with him and you can go home.”

“Where are you going?” he asked suspiciously.

“Oh,” she waved her hand airily, “I’ll probably go back to my mom’s after Giles calls Wesley and we find out what’s going on in LA. But we...I can walk from there home, so you don’t need to—“

Spike touched her arm lightly. “Tell you what, pet. Why don’t I get to your house under my own power? Give you and Captain Cardboard here a chance to catch up?” His message was unmistakable – he was giving her an opportunity to tell Riley it was over between them before things could become really awkward.

“Sounds like a good idea,” Riley agreed quickly, opening the door for Buffy. With a little luck, he figured they would be there and done before the vampire showed up.

Buffy met Spike’s eyes and smiled softly. “Okay,” she said as she got into the big vehicle, “I’ll see you at my house.”

Spike had vanished into the shadows before Riley even noticed he was leaving. “Well, that was easier than I thought it would be,” he said in a puzzled tone. “I thought we’d have a hard time getting rid of him.”

He pulled the car out after Giles; then passed the smaller vehicle to head for Revello Drive. Buffy put a tentative hand on his arm. “Riley, the idea is to stay with them so that I know they’re okay.”

“Oh,” he said, slowing down and checking the rear view mirror. “But aren’t you worried about your mother too?”

“Spike will take care of Mom,” she said dismissively. “That’s why he went on foot.”

“Oh,” the ex-commando said again. “I should have known he wasn’t really giving me some time alone with you.”

“Actually, he was doing that too...” She took a deep breath and with an apology inherent in her voice, she began, “There’s something I have to tell you.”

“Is this where you tell me you want to stay friends? Cause, I’ve got to tell you, I prefer my friends not sneak around behind my back.”

She blinked, realizing that, just like everyone else, Riley had also seen the feelings building between the Slayer and the vampire. She sighed heavily.

“I really like you, Riley. And I’m very sorry if I’ve hurt you. I never intended to do that. And I did NOT sneak anywhere,” she said indignantly. “We fell into one of your old bosses’ secret weapons. We’ve been stuck in the past with nobody to depend on but each other. We just had the time and...opportunity...to realize what everybody - except us apparently - already knew.”

“And that would be?” She was a little surprised by the nastiness in his voice, but attributed it to the pain she was causing him.

“That we love each other,” she said simply. “I’m sorry, Riley. I truly am, but—“

“But all that stuff about not feeling any differently about me when I was a normal man was just a crock,” he said bitterly. “As soon as I couldn’t keep up with you, you ran off to fuck another vampire.”

Buffy smothered the hurt and anger she was feeling, and replied sadly, “Riley, this has nothing to do with how strong you are. It has to do with how Spike and I feel about each other. I’m sorry that I’m hurting you, but—“

“Spare me,” he snarled as he swung into the driveway. “And get the hell out of my car.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated softly as she got down. “Be careful. Angelus knows who you are too.”

“I’m touched by your concern, but I’ll be fine.”

She opened her mouth to apologize again, but shut it without saying anything as Giles pulled up beside the car. As soon as she was out the door and had closed it carefully behind her, Riley threw the big vehicle into reverse and backed into the street, leaving black streaks as he accelerated away from the home in which he’d never really felt welcomed.

Obviously Xander had been filled in on Spike and Buffy’s new relationship, as his only comment on the abrupt departure was, “Good to know he’s taking it so well.”

Buffy sighed and walked toward the porch. “I hope he doesn’t do anything stupid – like go looking for Angelus or something like that. The funny thing is, he wasn’t surprised – just mad.”

When she pushed the door open, Buffy wasn’t surprised to find Spike in the kitchen already, watching her mother make hot chocolate for him. Joyce glanced up at the people crowding into her kitchen and went to the refrigerator for more milk. She also got out her teapot and put water on to boil for Giles, earning herself a grateful smile.

Willow and Tara went immediately to work on the dis-invite spell, while Buffy and Spike double checked the house to be sure Angelus wasn’t already in there. Satisfied that he wasn’t, and confident that he could no longer get in without an invitation, they relaxed for a few minutes over their hot chocolate.

The diamonds Buffy had forgotten to take off yet caught Joyce’s eye and pointing to the rings she said playfully, “Is there something you want to tell me, Buffy?”

“Uh, I thought we already did. Angel lost his soul, don’t let him in. Don’t go out after dark without me, don’t invite any blonde or brunette women you don’t know in—“ Then she realized what her mother was looking at, and blushed.

“Oh! I forgot to take these off. I...we were...I had to...Spike gave...his mother...they’re not...” Taking pity on her babbling, Spike interrupted.

“We explained Buffy’s presence by saying she was my American wife and I gave her those to wear to a party so she’d look like a proper Victorian matron.”

“So, you WERE in the past, then,” Giles said as he walked into the room. “We had assumed so, but...”

Buffy gave a shortened version of where they were, promising to fill in the details when the current crisis was over. Spike leaned over and whispered into her ear, “Gonna give them ALL the details, pet?” causing her to blush and smack him on the chest.

“No!” she hissed, “and if you try to, they’re going to hear all about your poetry.”

“You wouldn’t!” he said out loud.

“Watch me,” she replied smugly.

Drinks consumed and wards up, Buffy reluctantly hugged her mother, repeated her instructions to be careful, and followed Spike out the door to meet Giles and the witches at the dorm. A quick check of the room indicated no sign of Angel, and she left them to create their own protective barrier. With space in the car, they joined Giles and Xander as they dropped him off at his house.

In spite of his insistence that “Deadboy” had never been to his house, let alone allowed in, Buffy and Spike gave it a quick once over before saying good-night. As Buffy went to join Giles in the car, Xander stopped Spike with a hand on his arm.

“Is it safe to assume you aren’t going to lose your soul and go all evil on her like her last undead boyfriend?” he asked, only half joking.

“Already evil,” Spike folded down one finger. “Don’t have a soul to lose.” he folded down another finger, “And would never do anything to hurt her.” He folded down the last finger, leaving only one sticking up in the boy’s face.

“All right, all right, sheesh! No sense of humor at all...” he grumbled, batting away the obscene gesture in front of him. “I was just saying...”

“You were saying you care about what happens to her. I get that, Harris.” He turned to go, then said over his shoulder, “Your parents. They need to know not to—“

“My parents were born and raised in Sunnydale. They’re drunks, but they aren’t stupid. Nobody gets invited in here unless they’re standing in full sun and basking.”

The vampire nodded and ran to get in the small car. The trip to Giles’ apartment was very quick and in a few minutes they were walking toward the door, only to find it standing open. His skin crawled as Giles remembered coming home another time when Angelus was loose, finding the woman he loved laid out on his bed with a broken neck. He closed his eyes in pain as he flashed back to the horrifying scene.

Spike went into game face, snarling as he caught the scent of his grandsire. He ran toward the open door as Buffy pulled a stake from her waistband and, ordering Giles to stay close, followed the vampire through the doorway.

A quick check showed that Angelus had been there and gone. Buffy felt no trace of the tell-tale tingle that indicated the presence of a powerful vampire, and Spike could only find a scent that was hours old. With much trepidation, the three crept up the stairs and hesitantly approached Giles bedroom.

“I’ll look,” Spike said abruptly, having smelled blood and wishing to spare Giles and Buffy a repeat of the horror of several years ago. He looked into the room and shook his head in disgust. Lying on the ex-watcher’s bed was the body of a pretty, dark haired woman. She didn’t really look a great deal like Jenny Calendar, but at a quick glance the scene was close enough to have provided Giles with an unpleasant shock.

Spike held up his hand to stop the two humans behind him, saying, “I’ll get this. You go back downstairs and start the dis-invite.”

Buffy turned Giles around, pushing his unwilling body until he shook himself and started down the stairs on his own. He quickly gathered his materials and began his own version of a vampire dis-invite spell.

Upstairs, Spike quickly rolled the body up in the bedspread and put it over his shoulder. He took a slow look around the room to be sure he wasn’t missing some other nasty surprise left by his grandsire, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. He carried the body down the stairs and out the door, taking it far enough way that it wouldn’t be connected to the apartment complex before setting it down gently in a parking lot.

He carefully unrolled the ruined bedspread and took it with him to the nearest dumpster, correctly assuming that Giles would not want it back on his bed. There were no worries that the Sunnydale police were going to be investigating the latest murder all that carefully that they would be checking dumpsters for evidence.

By the time he returned, the dis-invite had been done and Giles had to ask him in again; a necessary task that the older man did immediately. Spike wondered if the man would be as accommodating if he knew about the chip’s malfunction.

“I presume that bundle you carried out the door was not my dirty linen,” the ex-watcher said wryly. He walked to a cupboard and took out a bottle of scotch. While he waited for Spike to answer, he got out two glasses and poured a substantial amount of the amber liquid in each one.

He held one out, holding on to it and waiting for his answer.

Spike shrugged and said quietly, “No, wasn’t your dirty laundry. It was, without a doubt, Angelus’ work.” He took the drink with a nod of thanks and sprawled in the big chair. Buffy walked over and sat on his lap, sniffing his glass curiously and making a face that brought a smile to the faces of both men.

“What did he leave me this time?” Giles’ weary voice was evidence of how little he expected to hear anything encouraging.

“It’s gone. Don’t worry about it,” Spike said gruffly. “Nothing any of us could have done.”

Giles closed his eyes and tilted his head back, swallowing his drink and setting down the glass. “Let me guess,” he said flatly. “You found a young, beautiful woman, possibly Hispanic or...or gypsy heritage, lying on my bed with her neck broken.”

“I’m sorry, Rupert,” the vampire said quietly, astonishing the other man with the sincerity of his reply.

Giles waved his hand dismissively.

“Thank you for sparing me that sight. Once in a lifetime is more than enough.”

Giles fixed a distressed-looking Buffy with a hard eye as he said, “I expect you to rid the world of that scourge at the first opportunity. Is that clear?”

“But, Giles...if Willow can do the spe—“

He threw his glass across the room, shattering it against the wall. “Forget the bloody spell! Clearly the soul is unstable and you need to do your duty this time.”

The implication brought tears to Buffy’s eyes and she jumped off Spike’s lap and ran out of the room. They heard the door to the bathroom slam shut with enough force to crack the wall nearby and both men flinched at the sound.

“That was uncalled for, Watcher,” the vampire said mildly, but Giles could see the amber flashes in his eyes and knew that his words to Buffy were both unfair and dangerous. He nodded his head in recognition of the truth of Spike’s words and sighed heavily.

“You are quite right, Spike. It was wrong of me to speak to her like that, or to suggest that Jenny’s death was in any way her fault. But the thought of that monster being back among us has—“

“Right there with you, mate,” Spike growled. “If she doesn’t dust the bloody wanker, I will. If it’s the last thing I do.”

“I suspect you will have your own problems to worry about for awhile. From the way her former boyfriend left tonight, I would assume she told him about the change in your relationship?”

“Dunno what she told him,” he said with a glance toward the bathroom. “But with Angelus about, neither one of us needs to waste time worrying about him. I hope he just accepts it and leaves her alone.”

“And if he doesn’t?” The older man looked at him intently.

Spike shrugged and decided now was as good a time as any for the conversation he’d been avoiding.

“I’m not quite the pushover I was when we left,” he said obliquely.

“Which would, I presume, have something to do with this?” As he spoke, Giles pulled his hand from his pocket and held it out toward the vampire. Lying in his palm was a small piece of plastic and metal.

Spike’s hand went to his head automatically, feeling the scar left by the chip’s insertion.

“You knew?”

Giles nodded. “I found it on the floor of the room when you were gone. Willow recognized it immediately as a computer chip and...well, let’s just say we were all very grateful that you no longer seemed interested in Buffy’s death.”

“I love her, Rupert. Wouldn’t hurt her, or anyone she cares about.”

The ex-watcher stared at the quiet vampire for several minutes, then shook his head as he muttered to himself.

“Another vampire in love with a slayer. And this one with no soul. They just never covered anything like this in Watcher Training.”

Spike’s faced had darkened at the reminder of Angel’s relationship with Buffy.

“I don’t need a bloody soul to love her. And neither would Angelus if he wasn’t such a sick, sadistic bastard. She deserves better than that. She’s too good for either one of us.”

“And don’t you forget it,” Giles said in his best Ripper voice. “I want you to understand completely that, while I am accepting this...relationship, I am in no way happy about it. Nor,” he added, with a hard look, “am I happy about the new marks on my slayer’s neck.”

Meeting the other man’s stare, hard eye to hard eye, he answered, “Not concerned with your happiness, Rupert. As long as Buffy’s okay with it, that’s all that matters to me.”

“And is she? All right with it?”

The vampire tilted his head to one side, exposing the mouth-shaped bruise on the side of his own throat.

“Seems to be,” he said mildly, waiting for a response.

Giles blanched slightly and reached for his scotch bottle. He shook his head and sat down again.

“I don’t understand...” he muttered. “I’ve not taught her anything about vampire mating habits. Why would she...”

“Some things you don’t have to be taught, Watcher. Buffy didn’t. She knew what she wanted to do and the demon responded. Not saying she expected it the first time, but she didn’t stake me for it either. The next time was all her idea.”

“You drank from my slayer.”

“Get over it. This wasn’t about feeding and you bloody well know it. And it was more than mutual. If it bothers you, I suggest you look into what the Council of Wankers’ predecessors used to create these teen-age killers they’re so fond of ordering around.”

Leaving that unsettling thought for another day, the suddenly old-feeling man got up and walked to the bathroom. He knocked lightly on the door and when there was no response, he sighed and said sadly, “Buffy, please come out so that I can make my apology in person.”

Very slowly, the door opened and Buffy edged out into the hall, keeping her distance from her surrogate father. She gave him a hurt, angry look and walked back to the living room and Spike’s lap. Giles followed her and knelt down on one knee in front of her.

“I am truly sorry, Buffy. The evening has brought some very unpleasant memories to the surface, and in my sadness and frustration I said something I didn’t mean. I regretted it as soon as the words left my mouth. Please believe me that I do not in any way hold you responsible for Jenny’s death. And I am very aware that you did send Angelus – Angel to hell when you had to do so in order to save the world. Please accept my apology and forgive my thoughtless words.”

The sincerity of his words was clear, in spite of their pompousness, and Buffy softened her look and nodded her forgiveness as she snuggled back into her new vampire’s embrace. All three were silent for several minutes, each lost in his/her own thoughts about the return of Angelus and what it might mean for the future.

~~~~~~~~

Riley sped away from Revello Drive, jealousy and anger churning his gut as he contemplated Buffy’s words. He guided the large vehicle to the warehouse district, pulling up behind an apparently empty building with an unusual number of cars near it. A quick knock on the door, a muttered word, and he was admitted to the place that had become his refuge before he left for Iowa.

A thin brunette stood up from her place on the couch and moved toward him slowly, smiling warmly.

“You’re back. I thought you might have decided you didn’t like it as much as you seemed to.”

“Let’s go,” he answered abruptly, pulling her by the hand toward the stairs.

To his surprise, she shook her head and said, “Why don’t we go somewhere more private instead? I have my own place now. We could be alone there...”

Too angry at Buffy to exert his usual caution, he nodded and allowed her to lead him out the door and into the alley. When she started walking instead of getting in his car, he hurried to catch up. Without even the smallest hint of suspicion, asking, “How far is it? Shouldn’t we drive?”

“It’s not far,” she said lightly. “I fixed myself a couple of rooms in a building right over there.” She gestured down the darkened alley and kept walking. When he didn’t immediately follow her, she paused and asked, “You’re not afraid of me, are you? You know I won’t hurt you. No more than you want me to,” she added, licking her lips.

“I’m not afraid on any bloodsucker on earth,” he blustered, hurrying to catch up with her. “Least of all a $10.00 whore.”

He missed the angry pain on her face as he marched beside her, anxious to get some relief for his damaged self-esteem and aching cock. He followed her into a dilapidated building that was surprisingly well furnished on the inside. She guided him into a small apartment and led him straight into the bedroom where he immediately stripped off his shirt and unzipped his pants in preparation for the exchange of services about to take place.

The skinny vampire dropped her skirt and underwear on the floor, letting her demon out as she walked toward the waiting man with swaying hips. Just as he reached for her to pull her on to the bed with him, she exploded in his hands, her dust floating around his puzzled face.

When he had stopped coughing and could see again, he was surprised to find himself looking at not one, but two beautiful women – both looking at him as though he was something good to eat.

He grabbed his pants, attempting to pull them closed as he stared at the two giggling women. Before he could do anything, the blonde was beside him, her cool hand on his cock as she cooed, “Oh, don’t put that away big boy. We can still have some fun with it.”

The brunette was moving toward him, humming to herself as she got behind him on the bed and sniffed at his neck.

“Do you think Daddy will be angry if we take a little taste?” she asked in a childish voice, running her tongue up the suddenly frightened man’s neck.

“Y...you...wouldn’t want to make your daddy mad,” Riley gasped out as the two vampires forced him down onto the bed.

“It’s all right. I don’t care what they do to you, as long as they leave you alive for awhile.”

The deep, amused voice was vaguely familiar and sent a cold shiver through his body as Riley attempted to raise his head and look toward the door.

“Bad boy to try to look at Daddy,” Drusilla purred, effortlessly holding his hands over his head while Darla pulled his pants and shoes off. “He says we can have you to play with so you need to look at us.”

Obediently he looked at the two beautiful women holding him down without any apparent effort. He shuddered as their faces slipped from human to demon and they lay down beside him, one on each side. Darla ran a sharp nail down his torso, following the bloody trail left there with her tongue, while Dru sank her fangs into his wrist, pulling several deep draughts of his blood into her mouth.

Suddenly there was a large man standing over him and looking on with satisfaction. Recognition hit and Riley gasped, “I know you. You’re Angel.”

“You don’t know me at all, boy,” Angelus said with a toothy smile. “But you’re going to before I’m done. You’re going to know me very well.” He began to unbuckle his pants and Riley’s eyes got big as he began to struggle in earnest against the two powerful vampires holding him down.

He’d known about that strange connection between pleasure and pain from his increasingly frequent visits to vamp whores. But now he learned more. Not all vampires were the same. Not all of them offered more than pain.

Warning – this chapter contains some non-graphic but clear non-consensual sex, slash and torture. If that squicks you out, you might want to skip the last section.

Chapter Twenty-One

“Are you going home tonight, Buffy?”

Giles’ sudden question brought them all out of their solitary thoughts and she shifted uncomfortably on Spike’s lap.

“I…I don’t know. I…we…I mean, for the past few weeks…”

She looked to Spike for help, but he just squeezed her reassuringly and waited to hear what she had to say. Biting her lip, Buffy took a deep breath and said quickly, “I don’t want to sleep without Spike. He keeps the dreams away.”

“If the dreams are truly prophetic, I don’t know that keeping them away is a very good idea,” Giles said apologetically. “It might be best if you left yourself…open to them.”

With a growl, the vampire leaned forward to glare at the other man.

“You don’t know what they were doing to her. Or how real they were for her. We know what we need to know. The poof has lost his soul again, the whore is back with him, and apparently so is Dru. And he wants to add Buffy to his unholy harem. The only thing left to figure out is why she goes all catatonic around him. Got to be magic. No way is this Slayer afraid of that wanker.”

He sat back, hoping sincerely that he’d spoken the truth when he said Buffy wasn’t afraid of his grandsire. It bothered him to hear her admit that it was because he kept Angelus out of her dreams that she didn’t want to sleep without him and he tried to smother the pang that went through him at the implication.

Is that all I am to her? A security blanket against bad dreams?)

As though she had read his mind, Buffy tilted her head back to nuzzle the side of his neck reassuringly. She hadn’t missed the way he stilled when she said he kept the dreams away and she correctly guessed what was wrong. She turned and fixed her surrogate father with a hard eye.

“Giles, I’ve been living as Mrs. William Sinclair for almost a month. In every way,” she added, just in case he missed her meaning. “I’m not ready to give that up just yet.”

The older man took off his glasses and polished them vigorously, clearing his throat and trying not to see the smirk on the vampire’s face as he looked at him over Buffy’s head.

“Yes, quite. More than I wanted to know, I am sure.” He grimaced and put his glasses back on. “So, then. Where ARE you planning to spend the rest of the night? As understanding as your mother may be, I do not see Joyce welcoming Spike into your bedroom.”

Buffy sighed and nodded her head. “Neither do I. I guess we’ll just stay at Spike’s cryp—“

“NO!” Spike’s outburst had them both staring at him in surprise.

“It’s not safe, love. Remember finding Dru in Molly’s room?”

Ignoring Giles’ stangled, “Dru? Molly?” Buffy nodded and said with a sigh, “I forgot. Don’t suppose you’d like to give me your crypt too?” She smiled at him impishly and he laughed, kissing the tip of her nose as he answered, “I’m beginning to think you married me for my money, love.”

“You know I didn’t. Although got to say – I really like my diamonds,” she teased, holding her hand out to let the light catch on her rings.

Still not getting any answers to his questions, Giles continued to mutter to himself, “Give me your crypt TOO? Married? Money? Diamonds?” While Spike and Buffy took advantage of his distraction to indulge in some noisy kissing.

“Oh dear lord,” he finally interrupted them. “It’s going to be just like Willow’s spell again, isn’t it? Could you two keep your lips…and other body parts off each other long enough to decide what you’re going to do for the night. While you’ve been vacationing in the old country, I’ve been working around the clock to get you back here and I’d like to get to sleep at some point.”

“I’m sorry, Giles,” Buffy apologized with a rueful smile. “I know you have and I…we are very grateful. We’ll just get out of here and let you get some sleep. We’ll figure out where we’re going to sleep later.”

“Yeah, sorry, Watcher,” Spike surprised him by saying with apparent sincerity. “We got used to not thinkin’ about anybody but ourselves for awhile there. Guess we’re still not back mentally.”

Since their primary actions once they’d returned had been to see to the safety of everyone they thought might be in danger, Giles knew that wasn’t true, but he nodded and graciously accepted the vampire’s apology.

Clearing his throat carefully, he ventured, “I do have a guest room. If you promise not to keep me awake doing things I would rather not imagine,” he shot a hard look at the vampire before continuing, “you are more than welcome to stay here for the rest of the night. That will give you all day tomorrow to work out a more permanent arrangement.”

Spike and Buffy exchanged looks of silent communication, then turned back to the waiting man.

“That’s very…understanding of you Giles. We appreciate it. And I promise, we’ll be out of your hair as soon as we find a place to live.”

Giles nodded wearily and swayed to his feet. He started to leave, then stopped and turned back to look at his Slayer.

“You are planning to continue to live together then?” he asked as calmly as possible.

“Well…I didn’t mean…I…we…” She floundered for an answer and looked up into Spike’s curious eyes.

“Whatever you want, love,” he said softly, determined not to push her into anything she would regret.

“I thought I understood you to say you were merely pretending to be married, Buffy. I do not believe the state of California considers diamond rings, however lovely they may be, as substitute for a wedding license.

Buffy blushed and got off Spike’s lap to open her rucksack. She took out the box that the diamonds belonged in as she grumbled, “It was just force of habit, Giles. I’m used to thinking of myself as half of a married couple. It might take a while to stop saying ‘we’.”

She missed the wince from the vampire when she referred to her use of “we” as a habit. Giles, however, didn’t miss the pain that flashed across Spike’s face when she pulled the diamond studs out of her ears and the rings off her fingers. He watched with great curiosity as William the Bloody appeared to be struggling to hold back tears when Buffy presented him with her neck, lifting her hair so that he could unfasten the locket.

Surprising himself with his desire to give the vampire some privacy, he turned away with a quiet, “You both know where the spare room is. I’ll leave you to find it and say ‘good-night’ then.”

Spike didn’t look up from his concentration on the back of Buffy’s neck as she gave Giles a wave of her hand. When she didn’t feel the locket being lifted off her neck, she looked back over her shoulder and caught the unhappiness on his face.

“Hey,” she said softly as she turned around so that his hands were encircling her shoulders and she was facing him. “I have to take them off, you know. I don’t want anything to happen to them while I’m slaying. Anyway, they’re a little dressy for jeans and sweats, don’t you think?” She tried to get a smile out of him and he obliged with a half-hearted smirk.

“No worse than half the other stuff you wear, pet.”

“Are you insulting my wardrobe, vampire?” she mock growled as she poked him in the chest.

“Nope, I’m insultin’ your taste in clothes.” He gave her a genuine smile, the familiar banter easing his fears that she might be putting him off with the rings.

“No worse than my taste in men,” she laughed as he growled at her. She spun away from him and carried the bag into the bathroom, telling him she’d be out in a minute.

Shaking his head and growling at himself for being so insecure, Didn’t take much to turn you back into poncy William, did it?) Spike went into the spare room and shrugged off his duster. He removed his boots, pants and shirt and slid between the crisp sheets. When he heard Buffy open the bathroom door he glanced up expecting to see her in her tee shirt again. Instead, she came into the room hesitantly, her voluminous nightgown sweeping the floor.

The vampire stared at her open-mouthed as she slowly approached the bed. She looked at him anxiously, wondering if he would understand what she was trying to get across. When his shocked look gave way to a happy smile and he held out his hand to her, she knew he had understood.

“This your way of telling me we’re still Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair when we’re in the bedroom, pet?” he asked, pulling her gently onto the bed and into his arms. “Cause I’ve got to tell you, that’s the only reason I’m not ripping this tent to shreds.”

“I…I don’t want you to tear it up,” she said shyly.

“Why not? I’ll get you something from Victoria’s Secret. Hell, I’ll get you a closet full of nighties. Soon as we send the bloody poofter back where he belongs.”

“I want to keep it. It reminds of a time when…when I was really happy.”

She raised her eyes to see to see a mixture of fear and happiness in the depths of his blue stare.

“You still don’t think we can be happy here, love?” He touched her face lightly with his free hand, stroking his knuckles down her soft cheek.

Her heart lurched at the pained acceptance in his voice, and she quickly turned her head to kiss his knuckles reassuringly.

“I…” She dropped her eyes, not sure how or even if she should say what she was thinking. “I think I could be happy almost anywhere, if you were there with me,” she said softly. “But it isn’t going to be the same here. I know it and you know it. Giles was right. We’re not really married. To everybody here, we’re just two friends who happened to get stuck in the past together for a while. We can’t just start living together. This is real life, not make believe. I’m just afraid…”

“You’ve got nothing to be afraid of, Buffy,” he said with a tremor in his voice. “I’m here and I will always be here as long as you want me around. We may not be the happily married couple we were back in London, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be together in some way. Not leaving you, pet. Not for all the ex-watchers and axe-wielding mums in the world.”

“Ugh! Mom. You had to remind me,” she grimaced. “I can’t wait for that conversation.”

He laughed lightly and kissed the tip of her nose. “I think your mum might surprise you, love. She’s a smart woman. I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t know exactly how I feel about you. Probably knew it before I did.”

“Yeah, she’s got that whole I’m-the-mom-and-I-see-right-through-you thing going for her,” Buffy admitted with a rueful smile.

“So, let’s not worry about right now, alright? Just get some sleep and tomorrow we’ll suss out who and what we are now.”

He fell back onto the bed, pulling her with him and spooning himself behind her warm body. Buffy sighed contentedly at the familiar feeling of his arms around her and began to drift off for a few hours of much-needed sleep. Spike lay awake for much longer, storing up the memory of her sleeping in his arms in case it was the last time for a while.

He awoke from the doze he’d finally fallen into to find Buffy muttering and tossing the nightgown wrapped tightly around her kicking legs. Remembering that she wanted to keep the gown and knowing that her powerful kicks were going to rip it sooner or later, he tried to untangle it without waking her and without catching a powerful slayer foot in his face.

He finally worked it loose from where it was caught and began easing it up her legs away from her still restless feet. When his hands brushed against her thighs as he pulled the gown up, her muttering turned to a breathy sigh and she stretched her body out completely.

Unable to resist, he lowered his head and kissed the now bare thigh, moving up until his mouth was just resting over the pulse in her femoral artery. He could feel saliva pooling in his mouth as his demon struggled to taste the rich blood flowing so tantalizingly close.

With a groan, he pulled back from her body only to be stopped by a strong hand on the back of his head.

“Do it,” she said, her voice still rough with sleep. “You haven’t had anything to eat since before we left London.”

“Won’t,” he said firmly. “You’re not a bloody meal to me. Just need a second to calm down the demon and I’ll be fine.”

Buffy sat up and pulled the gown the rest of the way off, leaving her as naked as he and just as wanting.

“It doesn’t have to be about having a meal,” she said, shocked at her own boldness. “That could just be a bonus effect.”

When he just stared at her, she moved closer and pulled his head down to her neck gently.

“Or, you could do that claimy thing now.”

“Buffy, my love, sweetheart, darlin’, you really don’t know what you’re asking for.”