Title – Once In A Lifetime


Author – Dramagirl42


Rating – PG-13, for violence and sensuality in later chapters


Spoilers – Possible S6 later on, but if you're caught up through S5 it should be okay. This story takes place immediately after "Becoming." Dru and Spike went to Brazil and things got ugly.


Disclaimer – All "Buffy" and "Angel" characters belong solely to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, the WB and UPN networks, Fox Broadcasting, and any number of other affiliates bound together by paperwork. Also, if you see a line, phrase, or lyric and you say "Hey, I know who said that," you are probably right and it obviously isn't mine. Because I plan on using a lot of outside, "real world" influences on the characters there is no way to disclaim them all. Just know that I mean no disrespect, only homage and don't be mad if I've got your stuff. If you are, let me know and I'll take it off.

Feedback – Yes please! This is my first FF and I need to see if it works at all. :-) Post reviews or e-mail me at ImYourTeacher@yahoo.com If you would like to be added to the update list, e-mail me as well.

Much love to my super betas, buzz and 1istner

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The voices kept coming as Spike floated through the blackness of unconscious. The taunts, the hideous memories of his past, recent and decades old, haunted his fitful nonconsensual sleep. The voices of those he knew, those he loved and hated the most, kept playing out and beating him down.

Dru. Slayer. Angel. Angelus. Blood. Hate. Love.

"I can see her floating all around you…you taste like ashes…"

"Sorry we didn't save any for you Spike, maybe next time…"

"I don't ever want to see you again after this Spike! If Giles dies, so does she."

Somehow through the dark veil drawn across his mind by the past he felt other presences, someone new, nearer than before, grappling with the familiar phantom voices reaching to him out of the ether.

"…would not, could not in a house. I would not, could not with a mouse…"

"Ooo Spike! Look at the wonderful mess you've made…"

"No, he's not awake yet…he's healing well, but I just don't know…"

"If I can't teach you, maybe someday an angry crowd will. That…or the Slayer."

Suddenly the voices stopped and he was stuck in the same nightmare that he had been floating in and out of since he'd lost consciousness in an ally behind a demon bar in Rio. He was chained to a wall in the courtyard of the layer he had shared with Dru and Angelus before leaving Sunnydale. Being helpless against the rising sun was torment enough, but what made this relentless saga unbearable was the fact that no matter how he twisted or tried to clench his eyes together, he was unable to escape the image of Angelus cavorting with Dru and Buffy, in mockery of the once great master vampire.

"Look William," sneered Angelus. "The only women you've ever been passionate about in the whole of your pathetic unlife…all mine!"

As he said this the reality of his statement played out; Dru, chattering about petticoats and toadstools, clung to Angelus' left arm as though she would fall through the floor if she let go, while the Slayer pressed her lithe form against his hips as he clung to her like a lascivious rag doll.

"My poor little Spike," Dru prattled. "All he wanted was a little bit of happiness and a way to put out the fires in his pockets."

"What's the matter Spike?" taunted Buffy. "Oh I know. You can't decide what's worse; not being able to kill the Slayer or not being able to kill one of Angels' girls."

"That's what it boils down to, isn't it old man?" Angelus left the girls behind him and in full game face sauntered up to the raging, yet still restrained, Spike and whispered in his ear. "Everything you've ever had or ever been comes back to me…to what I gave you."

This time around the taunts were too much for Spike to bear. With one last roar of defiance he lunged against the chains and sunk his teeth deep into Angelus' neck.

Suddenly, mid bite, his eyes were wide open and he found himself gazing into a set of wide, clear, gold flecked hazels, belonging to a girl that he had never seen before, and lying in a yellow, sun filled room he didn't remember arriving in.

"Where in bloody hell am I?" he asked, shooting upright to shield himself from the sunlight creeping up the green velvet couch he occupied, never quite managing to tear his eyes away from the radiant pools that had greeted him. "Why am I not dust?"

The owner of the eyes held his gaze in silence for an eternity of a few seconds, in which Spike felt more exposed than he had since the night Dru had sired him. She just sat next to him, perched on the edge of the cushions, staring at him. Just as he thought he would snap from the unexpected feelings of vulnerability, trepidation, and wonder, she reached out, stroked his cheek and lit up a smile so full of love that it put the loftiest machinations of Cupid to shame.

"How now mad spirit! Wither wander you?" She spoke as though she had been waiting for him in that moment for the whole of existence. "You've been out for a long time, I'm so glad you're awake again."

"I…that is…who…oh bugger" he stammered, trying to find a coherent anything in the flood of sensual input swirling through his body and mind.

"Hi William," she said as if she were greeting a long lost friend. "I'm Lydia."

"Who are you?" he sputtered. "I mean…okay, we've covered the 'you're Lydia' bit, but who are you, how do you know who I am, where are we, and is this going to melt away in a minute and be another bloody Angel vs. Spike dream montage?"

Much to his chagrin, Lydia threw her head back and warm, sweet peals of laughter, the sort of pure, joyful, unabashed laughter Spike hadn't heard in decades, filled his cold, dead ears. He inhaled deeply as her scent drifted across the couch and nearly knocked him out with its purity and intensity. She smelled like a sunrise over the city, like heat lightning that holds back summer rains, like a primal, insatiable, animal life force and like something else that was strangely familiar, yet in his daze Spike couldn't quite place it.

"And to think we were worried you wouldn't want to chat" she said through ebbing giggles and bringing Spike back to the present. "Don't sweat it babe. All you need to know right now is that you're safe and as soon as everyone gets home, you'll be surrounded with people who can help you with…well, with whatever it may be that you need help with."

"Wha…?" Spike sat dumbfounded, partially because he still had no idea where he or for that matter Dru was, but mostly because he realized he had been lying with more than half his body covered in sunlight for who knows how long and he was still in one piece. "How long have I been laying…the sun…why?"

"Why hasn't it dusted you, you mean?

"Uh, yeah…thought had crossed my mind." He was beginning to regain his undead bearings and was naturally growing suspicious of the girl who seemed to know more about him than was comfortable.

"All the windows in the house have a sort of filter between the layers of glass, "she explained. "It blocks out the UV rays and splits the light in a way that it comes into the house as safe as a street lamp. We did it when Moira moved in…okay, I can see that I'm getting way ahead of myself." She smiled at the perplexed expression in Spike's swirling eyes.

"You'll meet her tonight and by then you'll know the score a bit better than you do right now," her soft, understanding smile made the promise better than her words ever could. "In the mean time, take it on faith than the sunny beams that make it inside my house won't hurt you."

He looked at her almost pleadingly and she realized that he was lost in every sense of the word. He had just lost his sire and only love in the same night; that sort of adjustment would be hard enough without the scare of waking up 5000 miles away from where you went to sleep.

"I know this is majorly weird and you probably don't have a ton of experience in the trust department, but you have to have some for now." She gave his hand a squeeze as she stood up and moved behind the couch. Much to the surprise of them both, Spike made no effort to recoil from her touch. "Besides, you must have figured out already that if we wanted to stake you we would've done it back when we found you in Brazil."

"But where…" he protested.

"Enough talk for now O bleached one," she said leaning over the back of the couch to speak face to face with Spike. "I know you haven't fed since we found you…my gosh…at least a week…you poor thing…you must be starving! I'll make a nice hot bit of something for you."

Up until she mentioned it, Spike hadn't really taken the time to notice his demon churning around inside, aching for blood. Now that he had he was ravenous.

"Now that you mention it, I could do with a spot of something." As he spoke he found himself eyeing Lydia as she walked around the counter denoting the start of the kitchen and, despite the dozen or so more important questions he needed answered, pondering her choice of outerwear.

"Bloody hell," he thought to himself. "If she knows I'm a hungry vamp she should know better than to wear something that low cut and…look at that neck! She'd make a tasty comeback meal…so vibrant…pulsing…"

"What am I saying?!? Don't know her; don't know where I am…best not to eat the only present source of information. 'Sides, anyone who starts a conversation with Shakespeare is not to be dispatched too rashly." He quickly, and a little bit guiltily, turned away from the pulsing jugular a mere 20 feet away and tried to focus on the vase of roses on the counter.

His concentration was broken by another fit of giggles in the kitchen.

"What's so funny?" Spike said, not a little indignantly.

"You!" Lydia shot back. "I never thought I'd see a master vampire feeling guilty for looking at me the way I look at the cows when I'm hungry."

"Sod it all, I was not!" Why on earth should he care what this stupid bint thought? He was William the bloody Bloody! Why was she acting as though this were a perfectly normal conversation? Why was she so familiar? Thoughts swirled in and out of his mind as he tried to focus on just one concept he could work with.

"You were so, I know that look better than you'd think," she said with a cryptic smile. "In any case there is no reason to feel bad. I am what's on the menu after all."

This was too much for Spike to deal with: the days missing from his memory, unfamiliar surroundings, not knowing what had happened to Dru, and worst of all the feeling of nakedness forced upon him by this…what was she really? By all outward appearances she was human, a child even, no more than sixteen he reckoned. Her body was soft with the still developing curves of womanhood yet her eyes held a gleam of wisdom that had no place in one so young. It made him too uneasy, as though he were on the brink of something going horribly wrong.

He leapt off the couch and stormed into the kitchen with the express purpose of tying her down, finding out exactly what games were being played and by who…maybe even a snack since she seemed to be planning on that anyway. Should be fun.

"Look here pet, I don't know what you think you know, but I want answers now," he said grabbing her by the back of the neck. "I'm only gonna…oh bloody ow!"

Spike's tirade was cut short the instant his fingers tightened around her throat. Faster than he had ever seen anyone move, save the Slayer, Lydia had somehow taken him down from behind with a hook kick. She was presently kneeling between his shoulder blades, twisting his left arm against his back in a vice grip with one hand and with the other, pressing the knife she had been using to open a blood bag against his already bruised neckline.

"Dude, weak," she said in a playfully exasperated tone. "Were you just completely not paying attention when I said I was making breakfast for you? You were beaten within an inch of your unlife less than eight days ago! Vamp or not, you still count as an invalid and I'm not going to repair any more unnecessary damage you happen to get inflicted on yourself."

He was too stunned to fight back, against her physical presence or her words. Never before had he felt such power and precision from a human who wasn't a Slayer. His demon roared with the potential of a new challenge. More intense than the reaction of his demon was that of everything masculine or warrior-like in his being, suddenly ablaze with a fire he had never felt. He had never been dispatched so effortlessly and never by an ordinary human. He was further taken aback when he realized that her pulse had remained steady throughout the entire exchange and he couldn't detect even the faintest trace of fear on her.

"What are you?" he snarled incredulously, turning to meet her eyes while avoiding the edge of the blade still poised against him. "How do you even have the ability to bend for a kick like that?"

The gentle vibrations of Lydia's brewing laughter took Spike off guard. He had expected violence, a physical attack, at the very least a cutting comment in response. He had expected a Slayer's response and he didn't know why it wasn't forthcoming.

"Oi! Stop laughing! For the love of…oh come on!"

As she released his arm and gently turned him over to face her, Spike made the choice that would define the rest of his existence, though at the time he had no way of knowing.

"Well mate, this is a new experience," he thought to himself as he looked up into her eyes. "Bird could've killed me twice and didn't. Dru tried, Slayer tried, maybe three times a charm…Alright, I'm as helpless as I've ever been, don't have a home to go back to, Dru loathes me, no minions, she's got blood and she smells…well…intriguing and invigorating. "

She was still sitting on him; only she had shifted onto the balls of her feet so she was delicately resting on his stomach. Her laughter grew in its intensity until it tickled Spike fiercely and sealed his decision.

"Oh bugger! You've got me," he said, allowing a broad, happy smile of resignation to spread across his face for the first time since he'd met the Slayer. The past year had been physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausting. If he was going to be offed, he thought, he might as well go out relaxed and enjoying himself.

"See? That wasn't as hard as you thought it would be, was it?"

"S'pose not…I mean, you don't have the strength of the Slayer, but you still pack a wallop."

"That's not what I meant, but thanks all the same." Was she actually blushing?

"Come on sweets," she said, rising and offering Spike a hand up. "You need to eat and I don't think you've taken the time to notice how beaten up you are. You had three cracked ribs! …geez I hope I didn't fracture them again…I did the best I could, but even with the super guy, quick healing thing, you're still in less than your prime. Besides, I still owe you a heap of explaining."

"Right. Also, I believe you promised me a meal and since I've not been allowed near your neck, that sack of blood on the counter must be for me."

"Well aren't you witty when you're not sucking people dry?"

"Look pet, I am a very old, very confused, very battered, very hungry vampire who is feeling all of these things more than he ever has in over than a century of unlife. I'm going along with your little 'trust me' thing and I'm sure once we have a chat I'll feel more like myself, but right now I just want to feed and get my bleedin' head straight."

"I can dig it," she said with an understanding nod. "Make yourself comfortable at the table. The bottle warmer will only take a few minutes to heat up the blood."

Spike sat down in a yellow cushioned dining chair when Lydia directed him to the breakfast nook across the room and for the first time since he regained consciousness became fully aware of his surroundings.

He had been lying on a large, over stuffed green velvet couch in what seemed to be a living room of sorts. Everything in the room revolved around the entertainment center and the fireplace; two couches with matching pillows, a La-Z-Boy recliner covered with a worn pale green and yellow comforter, and child sized, blue and white fold out love seat surrounded by coloring books, crayons, a small stuffed aardvark and a foot high stack of books.

Every other available surface was covered in photos; some were of single people, but most of them held no less that 7 people. It didn't matter what they were doing, Spike couldn't have cared less, what cut him to the quick were the looks of unbridled joy on the faces in every single picture. He felt like some sort of peeping Tom, looking into the windows of the souls of strangers, left with the impression that they had something he wanted.

An end table, set where his head would've been while he was laying down, was scattered with bandages, ointments, a half drunk glass of water, and what appeared to be a dog eared copy of Hamlet.

It was as he was straining to confirm the identity of the book that he realized that music was filling the air, like a long lost auditory memory suddenly springing to life unexpectedly.

"Uh…s'cuse me, Lydia?" he spoke almost as tentatively as he had when he was William, as though the slightest misstep would make everything fade away.

"Yeah?" she said as she leaned over the counter separating her from the befuddled vampire.

"Who is this?"

"The music? Coltrane," she smiled, the very act of speaking his name bringing her pleasure. "It's 'My Favorite Things.' Like it?"

"I haven't heard this in so long…" his eyes glazed over with a mix of wonder and melancholy in his reminiscing as he leaned into the music. "I used to go to the jazz clubs in Harlem to hear this…Dru doesn't really like newer things, didn't get to go often…wow…"

He shook himself as he realized what he was doing, drawing back into his usual defensive pose and scowl. As he did something moved in the corner of his eye. He spun around, upsetting the chair in the process, ready to disembowel any attackers.

Instead of the stake-bearing Slayer he was expecting to see, Spike found himself on front of floor to ceiling bay windows overlooking an expanse of countryside filled with a classic red barn, horses galloping across the hills, cherry trees heavy with their blood red fruit, cows contentedly chewing cud in the morning sun, and green, green as far as he could bear to look.

"Where am I," he whispered to himself in awe.