Freshly showered and surprisingly relaxed, Spike walked down the hall to his
room, still thinking about the Slayer. HIS Slayer. He rubbed the towel over his
wet hair, thoughts of her careening around inside his head. < I can't believe
I told her that stuff, what the fuck is wrong with me? > Only Angelus had
known about his childhood; he'd never even told Dru. < Bad enough that Angel
knew, fuckin' wanker used it every chance he got. > All the Slayer had had to
do was ask, and he'd spilled his guts like one of those losers on Jerry
Springer. He still wasn't sure how he felt about it. Part of him was glad that
they'd shared something other than sex, while the rest of him wished he'd kept
his big mouth shut.
Spike turned his attention to the warning she'd given him as they'd said
goodbye. < Someone's making fledglings...interesting. > It wasn't against
the rules, per se, but it WAS proper etiquette to inform your Master, so that
the new vampire could be welcomed into the fold. Someone obviously had something
to hide. His money was on Darius, the sneaky little fuck. It was time to teach
the boy some manners.
He opened the door to his room and stopped short. < Well, well, well,
speak of the soon-to-be-dead little devil. > Darius sat sprawled in a chair,
looking for all the world like he belonged there. He looked up at Spike
defiantly, not even standing at his Master's approach.< KID'S shoved down his
throat. > Spike felt the familiar 'calm before the violence' settle over him,
the air going perfectly still as he stared at the insolent vampire. His eyes
glittered like chips of blue ice, every muscle tightly coiled to spring. When he
spoke, the words were uttered in a dangerously low voice, one that had struck
terror into countless hearts in the past undead as well as alive.
"You have thirty seconds to convince me not to rip out your throat."
Secretly, he'd always wanted to say that again; he hadn't had the patience to
enjoy it the first time around, when that annoying little friend of the Slayer's
had come calling. Spike watched as Darius squirmed and struggled to maintain his
composure. The younger vampire waited about fifteen seconds before replying.
"Mark overheard something tonight that I thought you should know about."
"And that something is? It had better be good, for you to have invaded my
"Mark heard the Slayer's friends talking about how she killed Angelus and
Drusilla. Several days ago, in the cemetery. I figured you'd want to hear about
it right away." Darius was eyeing Spike cautiously, an 'I told you so' look on
< FUCK! C'mon, Spike, make the save, burst the little shit's bubble-THINK,
you fucking wanker! >
"Yes, well, I already HAVE heard about it, earlier tonight. I was planning on
telling everyone myself tomorrow evening, IF the story is true."
"What do you mean, if? You don't believe that they're dead?"
"I find it hard to believe that the Slayer was able to get the drop on two
vampires as powerful as Angel and Dru. Especially if they were together. I'd
like to hear exactly how she did it." < Yeah, that's it, stall for time. >
Spike continued to stare down Darius, his face completely expressionless. He
pretty much knew that the jig was up and he'd have to show some anger sometime
soon. Darius would be expecting him to go ballistic.
Leaping to his feet in righteous anger, Darius began ranting. "If it's true,
then the Slayer will have to pay for what she's done! She can't be allowed to
live after this! I'll rip her still beating heart from her chest and make her
watch while I eat it."
< Melodramatic much? Good God, now I'm using her slang. > Spike almost
laughed, the whole thing was just too funny. Or would have been, if he wasn't so
pissed off about Darius being in his room. He let his demon out, summoning just
the right amount of rage. In two quick strides, he had Darius by the throat,
lifting him until he was completely suspended in the air.
"The Slayer's blood is MINE! As eldest childe and current Master, vengeance
is MY right...my responsibility. Anyone who usurps that right will answer to me.
Do I make myself clear?" In full vamp mode, Spike let Darius feel the vast
difference between a near fledgling and a two hundred year old Master, his power
filling the room and crackling in the tense air. With a look of indifference, he
dropped Darius to the floor.
"The Slayer will pay all right, but it will be at my hands. I'll have that
bitch on her knees before me, begging for mercy." The Slayer, on her knees,
begging. He had to force himself not to react to the arousing image that popped
into his head.
Darius was quiet now, his head bowed respectfully. Everything within him
balked at Spike's authority, but he wasn't stupid enough to show it. Spike could
see it, the anger coursing through the younger vampire's body, anger at having
to submit to someone else. If anything, he understood it, remembering his own
feelings toward Angelus. Yeah, well tough, that was the way things were and
Darius would just have to deal with it. Or he would cease to exist. It was as
simple as that. Spike looked at the vampire in front him, seeing the wasted
potential. It was a shame really; Darius was the only one left with half a
brain, and Spike hated to lose him. But he wouldn't think twice about taking him
out, if the need arose.
"Get out, Darius. We're finished here." Spike watched as the vampire
scrambled to his feet, letting him get to the door before adding, "By the way,
your little fledgling won't be coming home. The Slayer got him."
Darius froze, wondering how Spike knew. "I thought it would help, if we had
an increase in numbers." He was starting to feel actual fear. Why did Spike
always seem to be one step ahead of him?
"Always thinking, aren't you Darius? No matter. From now on, I'll do the
thinking for you. And if I ever catch you in my room again, you'll be wishing
for the Slayer's stake to end your suffering. Consider this your final
warning...I'll brook no more insolence from you. Understand?" The menace in
Spike's voice was plain. He savored the other vampire's distress, enjoying the
taste of fear that emanated from the cowed fledgling.
"Yes, Spike. It won't happen again." Darius quickly left the room, choking on
his fear and rage. He vowed to find a way to remove Spike as Master of
Sunnydale, even if it killed him.
Buffy slowly walked through the library doors, completely wrapped up in
thoughts of the night before...and Spike. Spike the man, not Spike the demon.
The man who laughed when she tickled him. The man who brushed rose petals over
her skin. The man who looked at her with so much desire in his eyes that it made
her knees go weak. The man who'd once been a scared little boy, fighting for his
life. It was getting easier to forget that the demon existed, now that she'd
experienced Spike's other side. Caught a glimpse of his heart, maybe even his
soul. Buffy had to believe that his humanity had survived the change intact; how
else to explain his capacity for tenderness, compassion, and...love. She had to
find out, had to know, now that she'd allowed herself to admit that she loved
"Giles? Are you here?"
Buffy walked over to the table and threw her books down. She turned to see
Giles coming out of his office, nose buried in a book. He looked up and adjusted
his glasses, squinting at the sunlight streaming through the windows.
"Ah, Buffy...I was just...researching our friend Spike. Not a lot written
about him, I'm afraid, although there are various accounts of mayhem during the
mid 1800's. Not surprisingly, Angelus is also mentioned quite frequently."
Buffy didn't want to hear horror stories about Spike, not now. She decided to
confront Giles with her questions about the whole soul thing. "Listen Giles,
about Angelus...something's been bothering me, and I wanted to ask you about
it." She sat down at the table and watched as he pulled up a chair.
"Go on." Giles looked at her expectantly, wondering what was on her mind.
"Giles, do you think that it's possible we're wrong, that a person's soul
doesn't leave when the demon moves in? That maybe the demon takes control, uses
a person's dark side, and enhances it?"
"I'm not sure what you mean." He was curious to see where she was going with
"Angelus was completely evil, right? Incapable of love. We just assumed it
was the demon, that he was soulless when he was Angelus. But what if that was
actually part of Angel's personality when he was human?"
Giles looked at her in shock. He couldn't imagine where this was coming from.
Angel had loved Buffy; it had shown in the way he looked at her, the way he
spoke about her, in everything he did. "W-Why would you think that Angel had
been incapable of feeling love as a human? He was capable of it when you were
together. It was only after...well, after he lost his soul that his ability to
love was taken away."
Buffy ran her fingers through her hair, trying to find a way to talk about
Spike without giving anything away.
"So, you're saying that it's the demon who's unable to feel human emotions.
Well, if a vampire is supposed to be incapable of love, then how do you explain
Spike? He's able to love...to care about someone other than himself. Why
"Buffy, we don't know that Spike is-"
"Yes, we do! We do so know it!" She forced herself to speak calmly,
rationally. "Giles, how long was Spike with Drusilla? A hundred years? Why would
a soulless demon hang around with one person that long, unless he really cared
"Buffy, have you forgotten what Spike has done since coming to Sunnydale?
Parent/Teacher Night, the Order of Taraka? All the times he's tried to kill you?
I sincerely doubt that Spike has a soul." "It was all done for Drusilla.
Everything he did was all for her, trying to cure her. Remember that whole thing
with Ford? The only way I was able to stop Spike that night was to point a stake
at his girlfriend's heart. Giles, he didn't even hesitate; he backed right off.
Spike loved her, I'm sure of it." Buffy got up and began to pace, trying to put
her thoughts into words.
Giles watched her with a frown. "All the more reason why I think that we
should be extremely cautious where Spike is concerned. And I still don't
understand what this has to do with Angel." "I'm getting to it, and don't worry
about Spike, I can handle him." She stopped pacing and took a deep breath.
"Okay, here's my theory- I think that the soul stays and the demon becomes the
dominant personality. But the person's identity is kept and the demon releases
their inhibitions. Everything that's dark or negative comes to the surface. A
weak or evil person just lets the demon do whatever it wants."
The researcher in Giles was intrigued now. And surprised at this very well
thought out hypothesis. He'd always suspected that Buffy was more intelligent
than she sometimes let on. "If what you're saying is true, then what about
Angel's curse? The curse was supposed to restore his soul; how could it, if he
never lost it?"
"I don't think it did." Buffy looked up at him with pain filled eyes.
"Angelus was completely devoid of humanity, and almost as crazy as Drusilla, in
some ways. I think the curse restored his sanity, his sense of right and wrong,
not his soul. Gave him a conscience, I guess. But I think that maybe his soul
was already poisoned...before he became a vamp."
Giles was stunned. He'd never once considered the possibility that Angel had
already been corrupted. He'd never seen any cruelty in him, until he became
"Think about it Giles. Angel drove Drusilla crazy before he made her a
vampire. And she stayed crazy afterward. If the demon was the sole personality,
why would it be insane? It could be anything, if it was only using the body as a
shell. And if it keeps the person's original identity, then why wouldn't Angelus
be capable of love? Unless Angel wasn't capable of it in the first place."
It hurt, to think that all along she'd been in love with someone who might
nothave been the person she thought he was. But she knew nothing of his past,
nothing of his mortal life. Spike, the supposed demon, had shared his human side
with her, while Angel, the soul-filled vampire, had neglected to tell her
anything at all.
"Giles, Angel never told me anything about his past. I have no idea what he
was like when he was human. If he really loved me, why didn't he share anything
with me? Maybe he didn't want me to know, because there wasn't anything good."
Buffy started to cry and Giles hurried to take her in his arms. He rubbed her
back while she sobbed, unsure of how to comfort her, but relieved that she was
finally dealing with her grief.
Thinking about what she had told him, he had to admit that it did sound
plausible. Of course, if it was true, much of what they'd relied on as fact
could be rendered useless. It was something he needed to look into, that was
certain. Buffy's tears were ceasing, and she pulled away, sniffling. Giles
handed her his handkerchief, studying her tear stained face.
"You've, ah, given rather a lot of thought to all of this, haven't you?"
"Yeah, well...not sleeping gives you a lot of time for thought. I don't know
how it all started, it's just that...Angelus was emotionally dead, you could see
it in his eyes. If he were human, he'd probably be one of those
"One of those. Anyway, I couldn't seem to stop comparing him to Spike.
Spike's a killer, he's destructive, but he's also rational. He goes after
something and finishes it. Spike isn't cruel and sadistic. He doesn't play with
his food, the way that Angel did." She looked up at Giles, hoping that he'd
understand without seeing too much. "I keep remembering how Angel was when
I...when he-" Her head turned away from him. "He was like a rabid dog, Giles.
When I killed him." Buffy met his eyes squarely, and once again Giles could see
the inner strength that enabled her to survive the many horrors that the
Hellmouth managed to cough up.
"I'll see what I can find, all right? But are you sure you want to know?
Wouldn't you rather remember him as the Angel you loved and...who loved you in
"I just need to know, Giles. I'm not exactly sure why." She turned and began
moving around the room restlessly, in an almost unconscious imitation of Spike.
There was just one more question, one more thing that she had wondered about.
"Has it ever happened before? A vampire and a Slayer?" Her voice was low and
hoarse from crying.
"You mean...like you...and Angel?"
< NO, a mistake. was Angel Angel. not > She looked up with a half smile
that was nearly a grimace. "Yeah, like me and Angel."
"I'm not sure, I-I do remember reading something...somewhere, perhaps in one
of the earliest Watcher diaries. It will take some digging, I suspect."
Buffy nodded. "Willow will want to help, I'm sure. You know how she loves a
good research party." She turned to look at him and they both grinned, thinking
of Willow's enthusiasm. Giles cleared his throat.
"Ready to train? We could try the swords today."
Buffy smiled brightly at him, glad for the chance think about something other
than the questions that had been puzzling her. There would be time later for
searching through boring, musty old books. Right now, all she wanted to do was
keep moving and hit a few things. It was what she did best.
I'm on a train, but there's no one at the helm
And there's a demon in my brain starts to overwhelm
And there it goes, my last chance for peace
I lay me down, but I get no release
Images burned behind closed eyelids, bringing with them feelings that
Spike thought had died with his mortal life. William, cowering in a corner of
the filthy room as blows from her hairbrush rained down on his thin body. His
mother's once beautiful face now ugly with anger and hatred. Pleading with her
to stop, please stop, he'd only meant to look- "I'LL TEACH YOU...FILTHY
BRAT...TOUCHING MY THINGS..." Each word punctuated by the sound of hard wood
smacking against flesh and bone.
I try to keep awake
I try to swim beneath
But I can feel this narcolepsy slide
Into another nightmare
Spike rolled, pulling the pillow over his head, trying to block out the
movie playing inside his brain, but the scenes kept coming...in technicolor.
Emma, puking all over the floor after one of her drinking binges. His own belt
being used to whip him, the buckle cutting into his skin. His grandmother had
given it to him- real leather, for wearing to church on Sundays. They didn't go
to church anymore; Emma was always too hungover. Will had tried to go by
himself, but Emma had caught him and used the belt on him, saying that bastards
didn't belong in church, they were evil and an affront to God. He had never gone
back, believing that God would strike him down if he did.
And I hold my breath 'til it's more than I can take
And I close my eyes and dream that I'm awake
The pain was sharp and insistent, stabbing through him like the knife
that had once felt so perfect in his hand. Tossing and turning, trapped between
waking and dreaming, Spike was powerless to stop the onslaught of memories. Ten
years old, waking up to find Emma drunk, touching his hair, stroking his cheek.
"Such a beautiful boy...Mum needs you to take care of her..." Her hand sliding
lower, reaching for him while he lay there frozen, unable to stop her, hating
himself and wishing her dead. Wanting to run away, but having no idea where to
I try to keep awake
I try to keep awake
After that he had begun spending more time in the streets, only going
home every few days to make sure that she hadn't choked on her own vomit.
Sleeping in the livery stable, armed with a knife taken off of one of his
'marks'. Drawing blood before his eleventh year, when one of the sailors tried
to rape him. He'd stabbed the man in the gut, knife sliding easily through vital
organs, feeling the hot blood pour over his hand. Horror and satisfaction
mingling until his own stomach churned before spilling its contents in the
gutter. William the Bloody, a nickname earned long before he ever became a
Cause my greatest fear is that sucking sound
And then I know that I will never get back out
The knife had felt like an extension of his hand, sliding into his palm
in a split second whenever needed. A small boy with a delicately pretty face and
cold eyes, attracting one perverted piece of scum after another, all of them
assuming him to be easy prey. All of them feeling the stinging lick of his blade
when they attempted to lay their hands on him. Their blood running in the street
as he watched, expressionless, before relieving them of what little money they
had. He never knew if any of them had died, not really caring one way or
another. Completely alone, trusting no one, always pretending to be something he
How'd you like to be alone and drowning
Existing one day to the next, growing older and more hardened each year.
Finding Emma, bloated with flies and maggots, still in the same filthy room
where they'd first settled. Dead several days and no one even noticing the stink
coming from her body. Finally free of her, only to end up feeling more lost than
before. Drifting aimlessly...whoring, stealing, fighting, too stubborn to just
give up and end it all. Meeting Angelus- so beautiful and seductive, promising
untold power and an end to the loneliness.
Realizing too late that Angel was the worst of the lot, worse than anything
he'd ever dreamt of as a child.
How'd you like to be alone and drowning
Spike's eyes flew open, unfocused for a moment as he came out of the
dream state. < Bloody hell, what was that all about? > Shaking and
sweating, he reached out for the Slayer before remembering that he was alone.
Disappointment flooded him; he wanted to feel her next to him, needed her warmth
to drive away the dreams. He couldn't get used to sleeping alone, not after over
a century of having someone beside him almost every night. Frustrated, he threw
the pillow across the room, knocking a lamp to the floor.
< Slayer, Slayer-what the fuck am I going to do about you? > How was he
supposed to deal with wanting her...needing her, even? He'd never needed anyone
before, except Drusilla, and look how badly that had finally turned out. Spike
groaned and flung an arm across his face, trying to dispell the memories that
wouldn't go away. They just kept on coming, flashing before his eyes like a bad
parody of This Is Your Life.
Remembering...remembering the nights washed in blood; blood that was no
longer spilled and wasted but swallowed hungrily, eagerly. Gradually sinking
deeper into his own personal hell as he became Angelus' pet; his humiliation
complete as he realized that some dark part of him liked being his Sire's
fucktoy. Giving the demon free rein in order not to feel anything except the
pleasure derived from feeding...and from being used.
Watching as Angelus became obsessed with Drusilla, driving her insane in
order to possess her. Secretly hating him for it, but wanting her with them so
badly that he did nothing to stop it. The three of them, a perfect triangle, a
family bound together by blood and lust and Angel's Svengali-like hold. His
hatred of Angelus growing along with his love for Drusilla. Finding ways to
undermine his sire, breaking free little by little, until the night that he'd
discovered the gypsy encampment.
He'd known that Angelus wouldn't be able to resist the girl. She was his
type; young, innocent, pure- all of the things that Angelus liked to corrupt.
Pointing her out had been easy and his Sire had taken the bait, just as Spike
had known he would. The gypsies hadn't disappointed him; their penchant for
revenge perfectly suiting Spike's needs. Drusilla had never known the part he'd
played in the disappearance of her precious "Daddy". All that had mattered was
that with Angel out of the picture, Drusilla was his and his alone. Until the
Slayer fucked the wrong guy and the prick came back into their lives as if he
had never left.
That had been the worst; stuck in that fucking wheelchair, powerless to
stop Drusilla from running back to Daddy. Choking on his hatred, biding his
time, when all he'd really wanted was to tear off Angel's genitals and ram them
down the bastard's throat. Fuck it; it was over now; both of them gone and he
was alone again. Except for the Slayer, and who knew how long that would last?
Spike didn't want to think about losing her already, not when they'd only just
started. How could he feel this strongly after only a few days of being with
her? It didn't make sense, it was too fucked up. When they were apart, he ached
from wanting her, could hardly think of anything else. She was screwing up his
concentration, something he barely had a grip on as it was.
Spike couldn't understand what was happening to him. Why the memories
hurt so much after all this time. It shouldn't be possible; not when he had the
demon to take it all away, like it had always done in the past. < What in the
bloody hell are you doing, sleeping on the fucking job? > He depended on the
demon to keep him sane, free from guilt and all that shit. If it had gone
underground he was well and truly fucked. How would he keep control of the
minions? How could he keep from loving the Slayer, keep from running after her
like some halfwit? His unlife was spiraling out of control and he couldn't stop
it. Wasn't even sure if he wanted to, if it meant giving up the Slayer. <
FuckFuckFuckFuckFuck... > The endless litany played inside his head as he lay
there, contemplating his own destruction.
And I can feel this narcolepsy slide...
Buffy could hear the phone ringing as she climbed the steps. Unlocking the
door, she threw her books down and ran to answer it, picking up the handset with
a breathless "Hello?"
At the sound of his voice, her stomach did a slow, lazy roll and a flush
spread over her skin. "Spike..." He'd never called her before. It felt wonderful
and strange all at the same time. "Where are you? Is it safe for you to call
"It's safe, ducks. Fledglings always sleep the whole day. Besides, I'm in my
car on a cellphone, so no one can listen in."
"What about you? Don't you sleep?"
She could see him in her mind, sprawled across the front seat of his car,
probably smoking because he couldn't keep still, hands tapping against the
steering wheel. Buffy smiled at the clear image, amazed at how well she felt she
knew his mannerisms after such a short time.
"Not much. Never have, actually. As I recall, you couldn't have gotten much
sleep this past week either."
"Goes with the job, remember? I'm used to walking around on autopilot. I
usually manage to grab catnaps here and there."
Spike was sitting in his car, exactly as she had pictured him. Unable to
sleep because of the nightmares and the memories that he didn't seem to be able
to turn off, he'd come down to the garage with his phone, fighting with himself
the whole time over whether or not it was wise to call. Just hearing her voice
was comforting in a way, although he would never admit it. He told himself that
he was bored, that was all.< YEAH, right. > "Listen, the reason I
called...word's out, luv. About you killing Angel." He didn't like to mention
Drusilla. He felt responsible for her, even though it was the Slayer who'd done
the actual deed.
"And the boys are out for your blood. I told them that the privilege of
killing you was mine, but- "
"Gee, thanks. I'm so flattered."
"Slayer, I'm serious. Just...watch your back...all right, pet?" Buffy gripped
the phone tighter and tried to keep her tone light. "You're not worried about
me, are you?"
Spike swallowed before answering, relying on his sarcasm to mask what he was
feeling. "Of course not, why should I be worried? You're the bloody Slayer,
aren't you? If you weren't around, I might get bored, is all. And the next
Slayer might not be as cute."
Buffy smiled. "So, you think I'm cute?"
He answered automatically, without thinking. "No, I think you're beautiful."
< Christ! Why am I always blurting things out like an awkward teenager around
her? > He rammed his head into the steering wheel, hoping to drive some sense
Positive that he could hear her heart pounding over the phone, Buffy tried to
think of something to say, anything at all, but her mind refused to cooperate.
His words kept replaying in her head-< watch your back, I think you're
beautiful >-words that she would never have expected to hear from him. Not
during the day, anyway.
"Listen, Slayer...I was thinking that maybe we should lay off for a few days.
Until I can figure something out. A few of the older ones would like nothing
better than to overthrow me and there's no fucking way I'm letting that happen.
I need to establish control before some other pillock decides he wants to be
Master of Sunnyhell."
She knew he was right; they did need to back off, if only so that she could
get a grip on her own life. Buffy had seen the strange looks that Willow was
giving her and Giles would become suspicious before too long. Still, the thought
of not seeing him was almost painful. She wondered if he felt the same way.
"Okay, Spike. We'll back off for now. I need to focus on slaying, anyway." It
took everything within her to sound casual about the whole thing. "So, I'll
probably see you around?"
"You'll see me, luv. Just don't stake me, all right?" He was already trying
to figure out how to get through the next few days without touching her. He'd
probably go mad, but there was no way around it. He had to do something about
Darius and the whole mess at the mansion.
"As long as you behave yourself, I won't have to."
"Behaving isn't my strong suit, pet."
Buffy sighed. "I know."
They reluctantly said goodbye, both of them dreading the days ahead and the
The days passed with agonizing slowness. Spike gave Darius permission to
create fledglings, then sat back and watched as the Slayer took them out, one by
one. It amused him no end, watching the younger vampire grow more angry and
frustrated with every defeat. The fact that Spike himself had added five new
minions to the family only served to heighten the tension and hostility between
the two of them.
Spike had broken his own rule about making 'children', the urgent need for
loyal minions overriding his distaste. He'd gone to neighboring towns and
searched out strong, athletic types, finally settling on three men and two women
who didn't appear to be too terribly stupid. It had been a time consuming
process, but at least it had kept his mind off of the Slayer for awhile. And it
had irked Darius, which only made it more satisfying.
The new fledglings were nothing special, but they seemed competent enough,
and they followed his orders without question. His nights at least, were busy
and full, teaching his new charges the ropes and pretending to be planning
revenge against the Slayer. The days, however, were another story. His dreams,
when he could sleep at all, were filled with her- her scent, her taste, the
incredible heat of her body- each one more vivid than the last. Her hair
trailing across his skin. Her hot mouth closing around his cock. Her arms and
legs wrapping around him as he sank into her heated depths. He could feel her
body twisting beneath him, hear her soft cries as they moved together.
Inevitably, he'd wake up spurting into nothingness, his cold semen spilling
across his abdomen onto the sheets.
The restlessness which followed the dreams was worse than before, leaving him
feeling trapped by the daylight. He tried calling the Slayer a few more times,
but it only aggravated the longing; her voice giving him painful hard-ons that
refused to go away. His hand was getting tired from jacking off all the time,
but he refused to use one of the females to relieve himself. He didn't want cold
flesh anymore, not after being touched by the sun. That was what she represented
to him; sunlight- bright, shining, golden. Warming everything around her...even
his cold, dead heart.
Without the Slayer to calm him, his agitation grew, manifesting itself in
outbursts of violence against Angel's minions. Since he was no longer interested
in killing the Slayer and was unable to fuck her for the time being, terrorizing
the minions seemed the next best thing for releasing pent up aggression. There
was nothing more satisfying than slamming someone headfirst into a wall, or
seeing the look on their face when he threatened to make them gargle with holy
His demon wallowed in their fear and Spike was only too happy to oblige him,
lashing out if anyone even looked at him wrong. Keeping the demon happy meant
keeping the memories at bay, something that Spike desperately needed to do. He
hated the way they made him feel; almost vulnerable, and he bloody well couldn't
allow that, now could he? So instead, he concentrated on inflicting pain
wherever he went, indulging the demon's thirst for bloodshed and brutality. It
He didn't seem to be able to disengage as completely as he once had. Bloody,
fucking nuisance, that. It was much easier to hurt and kill if you couldn't feel
anything, or better yet, if you could take pleasure in it. Spike didn't want to
think about what it all meant, hoping that if he ignored them, the feelings
would go away.
Things at the mansion were shaping up. The female fledglings were keeping the
boys happy and they made useful spies, telling Spike everything that Angel's
minions said about him. Darius was too busy with his little project to stir up
much trouble and didn't dare question Spike about his plans for the Slayer.
Everyone rushed to do his bidding, feared and respected his power; everything
was falling into place. Spike was in control again, just as he'd wanted. So why
wasn't he enjoying it?
Kick, spin, kick, punch- Buffy threw everything she had at the vampire, not
giving him a chance for retaliation. Another newbie, he didn't even know what
hit him as she flipped him to the ground and drove a stake through his heart.
"Another one bites the dust..." she sang as she stood up and looked around the
cemetary, hoping for some more action. *No such luck.*
Every night, a new vampire had risen which she had staked efficiently, but
she still felt restless. Not enough fight to burn off all of her excess energy
and no Spike to relieve her sexual tension. That was the worst part...no
Her whole body throbbed with need for the blond vampire and the few times
that he'd phoned had only made it worse, that sexy voice of his nearly driving
her insane with desire. She'd resorted to touching herself to try to relieve the
ache between her legs, but it wasn't the same. She needed to feel HIS hands on
her body, wanted to be ravished by his mouth, wanted...Buffy shook her head.
Didn't he have any idea what he was doing to her? Did he even care?
Her dreams were so vivid; she could feel him, taste him, smell him; always
waking up with his name on her lips, shuddering as she climaxed in her sleep.
She didn't think that she could go on like this much longer, gripped by a fever
that could only be broken by the coolness of his skin against hers. Walking
around like one giant nerve ending, like a stranger in her own skin. Was this
what love was supposed to be like? This aching, burning need? If so, then what
had she felt for Angel? Whatever it had been, it certainly hadn't felt this
intense, this desperate. Buffy sighed and began heading for home, purposely
avoiding the park...and the treehouse.
She'd gone there once, even went inside, some part of her hoping that he'd be
there. But the room was empty; the faint scent of candle wax the only evidence
of their night together. Her eyes had swept across the floor, catching sight of
a single rose petal lying discarded in the corner. It reminded her of how tender
Spike had been with her; how open and relaxed he'd seemed. How he'd bared his
soul, letting her see more than Angel ever had.
Two hundred years spent on this earth and he'd experienced the worst that
life had to offer, much of it occurring when he was still a child. And yet, he'd
survived with his sanity, his humor- and yes, his humanity, intact. Humanity, a
soul-whatever you wanted to call it, it was there. She had seen it in his face,
felt it in his touch, and she would prove its existence, no matter what the
The research wasn't going very well. Giles had already checked several
sources, trying to determine if it was possible for the soul to stay during the
change, but had come up empty handed. There seemed to be no evidence to support
her theory. Buffy refused to give up; she'd even offered to look through the
books herself, something she rarely, if ever, did.
Tonight, she had paced and hovered over everyone's shoulders, driving them
all crazy with her restless interference. Finally, Xander had had enough,
voicing what everyone had been thinking but didn't dare say.
"Geez, Buffy! Go out and slay something, would you? You're scarin' the
information right out of the books!" He'd shoved the one he'd been looking at
across the table in frustration. Buffy had been close to retaliating when she
realized that leaving would be best for everyone. Grabbing her jacket, she'd
stormed out of the library, hoping against hope that she'd run into Spike and be
able to relieve some of the agony that she was going through.
< Fat chance! > All she'd found was one pathetic little fledgling,
almost not worth the effort it took to stake him. Buffy never thought that she'd
actually wish for stronger vamps or new varieties of demons to come along. In
the past, she'd always been grateful for some downtime, in fact had tried to
weasel out of slaying more often than not. Now, all she wanted to do was hit
something until it was dead. Or fuck Spike until she couldn't see straight.
What was happening to her? Where had all of this aggression come from? These
feelings...they reminded her of how she felt after killing the Master. After
she'd returned from the dead. Were they a side affect of killing Angel? Or...did
they have more to do with Spike? Questions, always questions, but no
"SHIT!" Buffy's frustration echoed in the empty street as she headed home to
her equally empty bed.
Spike was bored. Nothing new there; he was always bored, but without the
Slayer, things were even more tedious that before. Even hunting was wearing
thin, his usual prey offering no challenge. He found himself stalking the
biggest, meanest, strongest looking males that he could find, thinking that
maybe it would be enough. His time was spent hanging out at sports bars, looking
for thick-necked former jocks and bullies. He did everything he could to provoke
them into fights, even pretending to be gay on occasion, just to stir them up
He should have known better. Humans were pathetic, the lot of them. Every one
of the supposed "tough guys" had crumbled like the nancyboys that they really
were, whimpering and pleading for their lives Christ! He'd killed women who'd
shown more spine. At least the women tried, clawing and scratching, going for
his balls. Deadlier than the male? Deadlier than the bunch around here, anyway.
His female fledglings were starting to show their mettle as well, knowing
that they had the males right where they wanted them. They had also made several
overtures toward him, but he'd always put them off. He couldn't even remember
their names half the time. Why would he even consider shagging them? He had
enough to deal with as it was; fucking his fledglings didn't even rate a mild
interest. There was only one person he wanted, one person who could calm the
storm that raged inside him.
Spike was sprawled across the hood of his car which was parked near the
school. He'd been out hunting with one of the new boys, testing the fledgling's
ability. They'd fed on two homeless men and now were "hanging out," for lack of
a better term. Spike leaned back against the windshield and stared up at the
stars while Dave? John? Joe? - whatever the fuck his name was - droned on about
his glory days as a college football star. Something interesting better bloody
well come along soon, or I'll lose my everlovin' mind. He sighed, unable to stop
the longing running through him. Slayer, where the fuck are you?