Kindred

By Sweetprincipale

Set in early Season Five. When Dracula called Buffy 'kindred'', he was doing a bit more than just saying they had a lot in common. Hungry for knowledge of herself and her power, Buffy didn't realize what kind of connection he had forged with her until he left town, and the damage was done. Hoping to break his hold over her, Buffy requests help from Spike. However, the way you break the hold of one vampire is to let another one possess you more fully. But, it'll only be temporary, right? Simple business, that's all…

Dedicated to:The kind and patient readers who love my fic, who send little notes, who write reviews, who buy my original pieces... This week my life took another big wallop, but I keep enjoying writing because of wonderful friends and readers like you!

Part XXXII

Cordy: If you don't call, I'm flying over. Down two sweaters. One pair shoes. Raid Countess' closet pls.

Cordy: Also down 1 boss. Locked in basement. Keeps shouting. Annoying as hell.

Cordy: F!?*. Down one basmt door.

He had to laugh, wetly though it was. His hands shook as he dialled. He had to do this. Of course he did.

And he had to lie again. Because if Daniela wanted to protect Dracula, she would tell him that she'd betrayed him, unwillingly. Then he might come after Buffy or Spike once they were separated and in no position to perform the killing maneuver. Buffy might die. Buffy might make the beast immortal, thralled and what was surely rape, no matter how it was dressed up by ceremony.

Or worse. Dracula might decide Daniela deserved to die. He clearly did not care about the rights and wrongs of things. Punishing a woman who'd be drugged (magically) for her actions wouldn't seem unjust to him. Damn the caped glory hound's ego.

"Hello?"

"Rupert?"

"Wesley! Good to hear from you. How are things going?"

"Oh, quite a lot," he answered vaguely. "I'm sorry, I meant to dial Buffy's number and I - didn't?"

"You didn't. She's out and about. You could try her dorm. Or her mother's. Or Willow's. Or wait until tonight, she'll be back."

"This cannot wait. I'll call you back if I can't get her. I don't have a lot of details, but I - I trust my source," he said hoarsely and hung up, choosing another contact in his pitifully short list. He wondered how he could have made such a mistake until he realized his hands were still shaking.

"Hello?" Buffy sounded breathless, upbeat.

"It's Wesley."

"Hi! You know, I think we might have talked more this week than we did while you were my 'Watcher.'"

He smiled wanly. "I fear so. Buffy, I have news. Please listen carefully and please believe me. I don't - I don't feel up to talking right now."

"Okay. Oh! Oh my God, are you okay?" Buffy hissed suddenly. " Is she hurting you? Are you a hostage?"

Why does everyone leap to that conclusion? Wesley thought crossly. "Daniela is a wonderful hostess and I love- spending time with her. I love this city. I never did before, but I do now. That's not important."

"Sounds important," Buffy whispered, but he ignored her.

"Buffy, you must not let Dracula consummate your bond, even if you- somehow- were captured." He swallowed. Do you know what you're asking? Can you imagine what would happen to her if he- no. Don't imagine it. That's why you're doing this. That's why you're in so much pain, because you can't imagine letting her go through something even worse. "Slayers are immortal in their essence." He would tell her more later. "If he completes a consummation with you and shares blood, if he says a certain phrase about- ah- I believe it's something like blood of my blood, heart's blood… Past life and death, to a second life-"

"-and beyond." Buffy paled as she heard her wedding vows repeated in Wesley's dry, uneven voice.

"Yes, that's it. He didn't say that did he?" Wesley clutched his bed for support.

"No! Dracula never said that." But Spike and I did.

"The way I understand it, the vampiric version of a wedding involves physical intercourse, blood, and those words. If Dracula gets you in that position, he will become immortal. Unkillable, by any method. And- it may be that something similar happens with Spike." Or would that be only if she were turned? Daniela's words were hazy now, some of them lost in the panic and heartbreak that so rapidly followed the most intense love and pleasure of his life. Better safe than sorry. And right now I am so very sorry, so she'd damn well better be safe. "I know you two have gotten close, but don't- don't do that. With those words. There's a chance that you could create a link that can't be broken unless one of you dies or is deliberately set free." And the immortality bit may still remain in effect. Is in effect. Oh my Lord, yet again, I call upon the highest of the high- how do I explain this to anyone? How does Dracula of all the evil, murderous, malicious beasts know?

"Like- can't be killed?"

"That's right."

"If he - has sex with me and we say those things?"

"Yes, and share blood." How much blood, that's the question…

"And if I do that with another vampire-"

"Similar things may happen."

Buffy's heart did a confused happy dance. Spike will live forever! Without me. Or until I die. Oh no. "What happens if I die?"

"If you're turned-"

"No, like get hit by a bus or end up as demon chow."

"Your bond is broken… I think. Buffy, you're not a regular human."

"I know."

"I don't think any of us realized how much. But a lot of knowledge can be gathered if you have a half-millennia or so to do it. Dracula may have chosen you to fulfill his lifelong- deathlong- quest, the ultimate way to escape the inevitable. We have to stop him."

"Right! Well, it sounds like the countess lady is very helpful. I mean, she told you all- Wesley, are you hurt?" She heard a sudden pained sound.

"No. I don't feel very well." My heart is broken. That's the deepest hurt I've ever known.

"Oh. Um. Can I help?"

"Don't let Dracula add you to his collection and don't have sex with Spike."

"Right." And too late.

Two voices, both strained with secrets. "I should go. Will you tell Giles I have more to discuss with him? Tell him this much for me. I really must go." He wanted to tell her everything, really, but it would mean a lot of explanation. And if I die, the secret stays.

Daniela won't kill me.

Even though, personally, I think I ought to die for hurting her. The one person in years, in five lifetimes, that she lets in- and I hurt her without any magic or thralls or demon. He buried his head in one hand.

"Be careful. Thank her for me, okay? She's saving my life. I owe her. I owe you, too."

"Mm. Buffy- do you- love Spike?"

The question caught her off guard. "Yeah! I mean, yes. Yes, I do."

"You used to hate him. With excellent reason."

"Also true. Weird, huh?"

"How did you- move past that?" If she hates me now, maybe it's not hopeless. Look at those two.

"He helped me. He respected me more than he hated me. Respect starts a lot of things. Plus, I think he thought I was cute."

Another laugh as tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes. Daniela thought he was handsome. She told him so, in several different ways. "I'm glad you have each other."

"Wesley! Seriously, you owe me a trip to the salon. Like, a good salon, not these walk-in places that give coupons. I'm talking $200 in the door minimum." Cordelia's relieved tones turned exasperated and demanding instantly.

It was so comfortingly real and indisputably the voice of someone who he loved, flaws and all, who loved him, flaws and all. He broke down.

"Wes! Oh, God. Wes, hang on, we're coming. Angel, get those rune-thingies!"

"No! Don't, please."

She shouldn't have put his room next to hers. Her ears picked up so many things. Not that she eavesdropped. She could hear the rise and fall of his voice. She could hear the way it shook. The realization that he was crying came as she wiped her own eyes and found them puffy, genuinely puffy. She hadn't cried that hard in decades, perhaps a full century.

For that, he pays.

Pays for breaking this heart that was so carefully guarded.

Pays for this damned urge to go fix him, for I ache when he aches.

Ah, yes, make him pay for showing you that you weren't really free. Make him pay for making you happy. For making you consider giving up your strings of lovers for beef blood and the taste of him, for those long walks at night and longer conversations by day.

For making you fall.

For making you realize this place is so full of art and beauty and good things- and it's you who are empty and now nothing will ever look the same.

She paced.

"I called to tell you that I'm fine."

"Which is clearly a lie. Start talking or I drop all these - weird stones with drunken alphabet letters? Why did these things cost so much? Give me some gravel, a Sharpie, and a bottle of vodka and I'll make us rich."

He smiled again, which is what she was after. "Cordelia, do not let Angel play about with runes. You, either. You could very easily open a portal to another dimension and get trapped there."

"Putting the stones away. Okay, so if you're not in need of a rescue and you sound like shit, it's the heart. She broke yours?"

"I broke hers and that broke mine."

"You were only gone a few days! God, I leave you alone for one weekend!"

"I know." It was only a few days of phone calls followed by a few days together. He waited for Cordelia to say it wouldn't last.

Cordelia was a good friend to a select few. She didn't say that. "What happened?" she asked softly.

"I found out some things about why Dracula wanted to claim a Slayer. Long story. Daniela and I were talking about Buffy in the most general of terms and Daniela told me something important. She put the pieces together that Buffy had been bitten by Dracula. I admitted that was the initial reason I wanted to get to know her, but- but I betrayed her trust. When she hears what else I've done…"

"Well, you can't tell her the part about the truth spell!"

"I have to, at some point. And then I'll lose her." He fell back on the bed. "I love her."

"Wesley, don't say-"

"I hate lying. I hate it more than ever. I love her!"

"Wes! Cordy, stop. Stop!" Angel's voice came on the line, harsh and panting as if he'd had to move quickly and struggle to get hold of the phone.

"That's my phone!"

"Get off of me! Cordelia!" Angel's ringing growl reverberated across a continent and ocean.

"You are so not the right person to handle this phone call. Give me the phone back and I'll get down. Otherwise, you're losing some hair, buddy."

"Hello, Angel."

The other side of the line went quiet.

"Wes?"

"It's me."

"You don't sound good. Come home."

"I will."

Cordelia, who had previously launched herself at Angel, was perched on his back like an overgrown toddler demanding a piggyback ride. She slowly dropped to the floor. She and Angel exchanged a look. He put the phone on speaker and placed it between them on her desk. "What happened?"

"I had to tell her the truth, at least part of it. I have more to tell."

"Wes, you can't tell her everything until Dracula is dead. Buffy could die!" Angel's tone made it clear that there was no way he'd allow that.

"I realize. So, she'll be done with me. I'll come home. Lick my wounds. That'll be it." His voice was hollow. His life was filling with friendship and purpose, but suddenly those were scraps and the rest was bare. Empty. "I never loved anyone like I loved her."

"You're not in love, okay? She thralled you. We'll get you home and it'll wear off. In a couple of hours you'll be fine."

He seethed, fists tightening. "She didn't thrall me. She's honest, more honest than we are."

"Well, if you 'love' her, you can snap out of it, Wesley. You know she doesn't love you back. Demons without souls can't love."

"Where is it written that we love with our souls, Angel?"

Silence.

"Well- that's what makes us human."

"And only humans can love?"

Not silence. Awkward mumbling.

"He has a really good point. I mean, Lorne's a demon and that guy is Mister Love. But some of those human lawyers at Wolfram and Hart… yeesh."

"Not helping, Cordy."

"Well, I'm not gonna lie just so he feels better!"

"Can we hang up now? I want to get this part over with."

"Hey- hey, Wes, listen! If you do love her and she thinks she loves you, why are you getting over it at all?"

"Well- I lied to her. I betrayed her trust, if even for a very noble reason."

"And couples never lie? Couples never cheat? Couples never fight? They can get back together. I'm not saying everyone should take back people who treat them like crap, but you don't treat people like crap. Not anymore. And she doesn't sound like she treated you badly. If she hurt you, fine, walk away. But if she made you happy, fight for this!"

"She didn't hurt me. She- she makes me so happy, in such a short time."

"Demons are good at that. It's called hunting. Luring. Tempting, baiting, the list could go on for-"

"Shut up, Angel!" Crodelia and Wesley said as one.

"You guys forget that I'm the one with a demon and a soul! I'm the only one who knows what I'm talking about!"

"You know you. Daniela said a demon is one's truest self. All our desires are given free rein, bad or good. What kind of man were you, Angel? Whatever you were, whatever you wanted, your demon shows those desires without restraint."

"I wasn't a murderer!"

"No. I know that. But were you pure and noble, fighting for good? Or were you an angry, taunting, drunken lout, whoring and brawling?"

"Well, whoring is a little harsh! And um- brawling… there were some tavern fights, but I don't remember brawls," Angel confessed uncomfortably.

"We're talking about the whoring thing later. Maybe that's why you're so repressed," Cordelia hissed loudly.

"This isn't about me!"

"You're absolutely right. This is about Daniela and me. I have to go."

He went, but she wouldn't answer his knock. He wandered the hall aimlessly, looking at the portraits, pausing by Arina's. "Couldn't you help a fellow?" he begged in a whisper. Painted eyes stared at him, frozen in oils. "No, I suppose not."

He wandered farther down the hall, which seemed even longer in the dark. He went past the door that led to the office/sitting room of her suite, down to the very end and rested his head between what looked like a genuine Renoir and another portrait of a girl.

Jeannette. He didn't need to be told. So pale, dark ringlets piled on top of her head, laughing brown eyes, blood-red lips, half-hidden in shadow to look somehow coy and mysterious. Yes, a fine best friend for Daniela. A sister. "You, he killed. Not once, but twice."

With a sudden resolute turn on his bare heel, he marched down to the sitting room door and flung it open. "Where is it?" he muttered angrily, combing the bookshelves. He finally found it sitting by her laptop.

Daniela gasped when she heard him speaking by the door on the other side of her bedroom, the one that connected the sitting room/office to the bedroom of her suite. "Wesley!" her tone a mixture of surprise and anger.

"'A time will come when everyone will know what all this is for, why there is this misery; there will be no mysteries and, meanwhile, we have got to live . . .'" Wesley read quietly, pain in every syllable.

She sat up, stunned. "What?"

"Irina's last lines. Irina, Arina. I didn't connect it at first. She is one of the sisters in Chekov's play. Your favorite play. Your favorite book. Is it because of the name, the similarities to three sisters who survive such horrors and sadness, unfortunate in love?" He appeared in the doorway, pushing the adjoining door open slowly. "But in the end, they have each other. Only you don't have them at all."

"Don't you dare presume to know a-"

"'If we only knew, if we only knew.' The last line. The line I kept saying in my head this weekend. If you only knew what I know. If I only knew what you know. You've shared so much and I haven't shared enough. I wanted to tell you everything."

"But you didn't."

"And for that, I'll pay any price you name."

"I'm not looking for a man who pays for my favors. I've had enough of men buying and selling." She drew her robe up tightly, trying hard to ignore the tingles in her heart at the tortured lines on his face, the matching chords in her mind when he understood why she loved the book, even though they'd never discussed it. He sees you. He understands you.

"I'm not paying for your favors, I'm paying for my sins. I was wrong to betray your trust. I had a pure motive. Love. Concern. Saving a life. Right now…" he swallowed, "I've been told I mustn't say anymore, because Buffy's life is at risk and so is Spike's. I find myself-" A lost pause where his eyes didn't know where to go. She wouldn't give him sympathy. Funny how he had grown accustomed to looking to her and finding welcome and warmth in a creature that they claimed was so cruel and cold. Alone again. Both of us. I don't want that. "I find myself thinking that I would rather have your heart spared than hers," he winced.

She softened inwardly, only slightly, pained that he was asked to make such a choice. Had she herself not begged Dracula for such a choice, even if it terrified her? Take me instead. Send us both, send another. This horrible game of choosing who stays and leaves, who lives and dies. "What you tell me… I will not use to harm the lovers. I swear it on my life, such as it is."

He looked up, breathless with relief. "That's more than I deserve. Thank you."

She nodded once. "Do not lie again. You are not forgiven. I simply- I simply- liked being able to trust you."

For her pain, he really could see himself dying. It felt like that, something inside withering up, fading out, going numb and lifeless. "Daniela, do you remember the first night I was in your home? This room? I brought you back and I tried to leave. You caught me. I didn't want to do anything but make sure you arrived safely."

"From being chained up and tortured by Angelus. Yes. I shouldn't have trusted you then. I shouldn't have-"

"Yes, you should! I told you the truth. He didn't harm you much and Cordelia and I… you spoke to us. You don't remember, though."

"I don't remember? You, I would surely remember." He is unforgettable, this quiet man who thinks so little of himself. That is one of the things that makes him stand out to a connoisseur. Around a beautiful woman, men constantly say all the things that they want you to notice, to make themselves stand out. This one worries more about what makes me stand out, aside from the fangs. "I would never forget-"

"Lethe's bramble. It's an herb, combined with a spell. Angel wanted to kill you because he was sure you would seek revenge or run to Dracula. We begged him not to, we would not allow it. We said… we said if you couldn't remember what happened, you wouldn't be a threat and Buffy would be safe."

Her head tilted. The dark-haired girl in the phone. Kneeling in front of her. Mouths moving, words not clear. The Sorcerer, a handkerchief to her lip and Angelus towering over her, her neck twisting, her hair yanked and- "Oh my God!"

He nodded as the realization began to show on her face. "Before it all comes back- we asked you how to kill Dracula. You told us."

Her pale face paled further, dead marble. "I what?"

"You told us."

"Why would I do that? I would never do that!" She felt ill, faint. She sat on the bed and doubled up. "Wesley, he will kill me. He will kill all of them!"

"All of them?"

"All of his- household. He will slaughter them!"

"He doesn't know!"

"He will find out!" she said frantically, frantic enough to allow him to approach and put his arm around her without shrugging it off as she started an unconscious rocking on the edge of the bed.

"He will not. We will end him before he harms you. If I have to do it myself. I know I'm just one man, but… If I have to spend the rest of my life stabbing him as he reforms, I shall do that. But he won't touch you."

Warmth found its way through the ice and bile. "Don't you know why he let me live?"

"Respect? Gratitude? You gave him years upon years of love and devotion, loyalty."

She shook her head, looking at him, then away. "I like to think that. But… I remember what he said, when he- we made love one last time before I was released."

"Yes." He'd want one last time with her as well. He supposed he could see Dracula asking for that. Although, he supposed it was far more likely that it wasn't a sweet time of reminiscing, more like part of her purchased freedom.

"If I tell his secrets, he will tell mine."

"Whatever you've done, I can live with. We can all live with."

"No, Wesley, my secret is that I care for the others. The other wives, past and present. Even future. My daughter- She was not my daughter, she was one of his youngest brides, beautiful, untamed… and she was lonely. He tired of her quickly, the thrill wore off when she proved headstrong in some ways, timid in others. He had a third at that time that he enjoyed more than either of us, so we became dear friends. Not as sisters, not lovers, truly like my child, if I could imagine what loving someone more than your own life must feel like. I raised her as much as any human parent could, even though it was only a few years"

Wesley nodded, didn't dare interrupt.

"She was very young, very beautiful. He gave her to another. She lived a while with him, but as before- lonely. Untamed. Unhappy. I heard she went to see the sunrise one last time."

"Oh, Daniela, no…"

"I was so… He knows my weakness is the others' pain. If I tell his secret, his last action will be to kill the others first, then me. Any of the wives he can find that still live, all of his current ones. I cannot tell his secret. I wouldn't have, not under any circumstances. Not out of loyalty to him, loyalty to them. He was sure I would never tell, I would never, ever… "

"Unless you were under a powerful spell. Truth spell?"

She buried her head in her hands.

He thought it safe to comfort her.

He was very wrong. She towered up suddenly, eyes ablaze, human features and demon features dancing in and out, screeching at him.

"You drugged me with magic!"

"Yes."

Then you are just like Dracula, no better! He used a thrall, you used a spell! Made the decision, kept the secrets, keeping me in the dark!" A statue shattered beside him, a clock was toppled and hurled to the bed. "Deciding which of us live, which will die! All this talk of being honest and wanting equality is a sham, a lie!"

It was his turn to rise, cold and angry. Angry at himself. Because part of it is true. He sank back, deflating. "I am."

No, he's not. To save a life, I would lie, too. To rescue Jeannette, to bring Arina back to life, to find Vadoma before she said she couldn't stand it any longer and she walked into the sun… But anger is a vicious master. "Why did you come here? You got what you wanted. Was it to see if I knew anything more?"

"Wanted to know you better."

"Ha! All men are the same, the pretty ones for sex and slavery and love is your excuse. I prefer the sex, quick and painless, no love involved."

"I don't prefer that. I don't want that! I brought you home and left- without that. I had what we needed to save Buffy's life and truly, that would have been enough. Learning more about your life was a bonus, a helpful bonus in many ways, but I didn't come for that! I didn't want sex and I didn't want to enslave."

"Well, you got both!"

"I have not! I haven't-"

She slapped him hard and jabbed her fingers into his chest above his heart, then above hers. "You own it now, you bastard!"

His first instinct was to step back, and his second was to grasp on hard. He seized her fingers and pressed her palm flat to his chest. "Well, you own mine! How am I the master if you own me? If you told me to lay down my life, I would give it. It's the proper price to pay for hurting the woman you love. Only… if you drain this life away, I wish it would be while we're making love, one last time, one last taste for both of us. That's selfish and I don't deserve it, I know. And I know you won't do it. I suppose I just want you to know that I understand I deserve nothing more."

Stunned and startled by his harsh admission and the phrase, the woman you love in the midst of it, she shook off his hand and stared. "No. None of that. You just leave. You leave, now."

"Yes. Of course. That's fair." Fight for it! Cordelia's voice snapped in his inner ear. "Can I ask you one thing?"

"If I don't tell, you'll simply bespell me, yes?"

"I wasn't the one who cast the spell. Either of them. I didn't stop them, however."

For some reason, that made her feel marginally better. "What is it?" she asked wearily.

"When Dracula was done with someone, he killed them or sent them away with another of his associates, yes? Aside from you, he didn't free any of them completely?"

"Yes," she hissed, wishing he wouldn't drive the knife in any deeper but supposing he had the right. He was hurting, too. She could smell it, see the evidence of it. Pain, fear, grief. The scents she hated.

"When you and a lover are no longer compatible, they tire or age, you tire or move on, you tell them to go, you stop seeing them."

"Yes." The voice was slightly puzzled now.

"How do you get past a fight with someone you care for? Someone who loves you?"

"I -" I don't know.

"Has it ever happened before? Were you allowed to fight with Dracula, or did he simply tell you to be quiet and make it so?"

"We didn't fight." We obeyed or we suffered, always in a very subtle way, never directly. She shuddered. She'd rather face him head on, a thousand times that, rather than watch him use the others as her punishment.

"Cordelia told me to fight for what makes me happy. You make me happy. I don't deserve to be happy and I have hurt you. But I would love another chance. I would beg for one, if I thought it would do any good."

So tempting. But… "I do not like to feel safe with a man and then to feel he has endangered me. You played me all weekend, reeling me-"

"No! Listen, I tried to leave out only the most crucial facts, and then only to save Buffy's life. I wanted to tell you the second I saw you-"

"But you didn't!"

"I would have! I intended to! I am now, because I can't bear to have you think badly- well, worse, of me. I thought I had best get to see how you felt about Dracula. If you loved him and were loyal to him, you would have told him of our plan."

"I should! If he dies-"

"You will be free! All of you will be free. And you will never live under his threats again."

"He is my Sire! He made me! I live because of him."

"Yes… well, my father made me and he is an odious old tyrant and if he laid a hand on you I'd drag him off and blacken both eyes and very possibly do worse."

A current of mirth, like an electrical shock, hit her in the midst of rage and disbelief. "That is different."

"I know. But I have to say anything I can think of. I have to keep trying, I have to keep talking, because every second you let me try is another second I have to be with you and maybe- maybe one second is going to be one that wins. If you could have seen me before..."

She was mute, looking at him as if trying to decide whether to push him headlong from the room or tell him to stay.

"I lied, or rather, I didn't tell the whole truth, to save a life, the life of one who isn't particularly fond of me. I was a boring, stuffed shirt yes-man back when Buffy was pressed into my charge, erroneously, I might add. Her own Watcher was alive and well and loves her like his own child. I didn't listen to him, I didn't listen to her. I failed her so utterly and I don't want to fail her again. This is the least I can do. I've learned to fight the good fight, to not give up. I've learned to see beyond books and see people… see you."

Another silence. "Should I- go, then?" he finally whispered.

A sigh that was like a death rattle, raspy and tight, choked with tears. "I hate you so very much right now," Daniela said at last.

He nodded and left his head down this time. Oh. That's what a knife in the heart feels like.

"For making me desert everything I have built. Everything I knew. For taking this risk… For falling in love."

"You hate me for falling in love with you?"

"No, for making me fall in love with you."

His head jerked up, hope in his eyes. "Do you- still?"

She wanted to say no. Or, I don't know. But she'd just lectured him on honesty. "Yes, more fool am I."

He knew what it felt to receive a death row pardon. His lungs were capable of filling again, his mind stopped its bleak, torturous circle. "Thank you," he whispered fervently.

"I am still furious at you." That alone was a foreign feeling. With Dracula, anger was dimmed, cloaked by his power. With the lovers she took after, she never cared enough to feel fury. At the first signs of annoyance, they were done with.

Wesley reached for her shoulder, then hastily withdrew his hand. "I'm furious at me, too. At least we still have things in common," he offered hesitantly.

Again, the mad desire to giggle. "At least."

He wanted to avoid any unpleasantness, but he couldn't. "Will you tell him?"

Daniela twitched violently. Loyalty and fear crept across her smooth lily skin like spiders and roaches. "I- I-" The twitching became a tremble, and she had never shown any paramour so much weakness, because weaknesses were fatal.

"Will he know? Sense it?"

A long, slow shake of her head. "That would be very unlikely. He avoids me and I avoid him. If we have a connection, it is a severed one that would need to be rebuilt."

"You don't want such a thing, correct?"

"I thought you were smart," she snapped bitterly.

"You were one of the few," he bowed himself backward, taking his leave through the bedroom door this time. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, for every misstep, everything I failed to do or did wrong. If you do give me another chance, I won't let you down again. Ahem," he coughed, running out of words that were safe. "Good night."

She let him go. She sat. Held the book. Looked at Irina's last lines. "Tomorrow I'll go alone; I'll teach in the school, and I'll give all my life to those who may need me."

Give my life. To those who may need me.

I wish you were here Ari. And Jeannette, Vadoma, my little bird, my little love.

He is doing this to save an innocent girl.

Would you wish Dracula upon anyone?

He was so beautiful, so charming… so cruel and so callous.

Dissonance earned pain in her temples. We don't question, we don't reason, we don't object. We are pleased to serve our Lord and- "No!" No, you don't control me anymore! If I let myself think about you, I'm afraid you'll feel it.

Feel that I stopped loving you long before you set me free. I was in a haze, but hatred burned from the second you gave Ari away, took her from me, not just to please some sultan, but to show that you could destroy my happiness or build it- and you destroyed.

I cannot let such a monster live.

What have I been doing all this time?

Waiting.

He jumped and let out a hoarse shout when she flung open the door and stood there, robe half undone, panting unevenly. She looked bitter and distraught, puffy eyes, finger-tangled hair, and no less stunning. He moved toward her, unspeaking, but hands held forward, letting her know she could take them if she wanted, for whatever purpose.

"Daniela?" he asked finally when the seconds crept forward without a word from her.

"I have been waiting for you. Someone to wake me. Even if it hurts, it is nothing to the pain I had before."

"I don't want to give you any pain, not just less by comparison. I promise, I swear on my life, I'll try never to-" his vows were shut off by her lunging, biting kiss. It knocked him down, not onto the bed, which would have worked nicely, but sprawling onto the floor, landing on his rump and one elbow, muffling curses and kissing her back.

She pulled back, considering him with narrowed eyes. Noticed all of his clothes were now on his bed, his small suitcase open. "Packing?"

"We were - I was supposed to leave tomorrow."

"Am I no longer invited?"

Joy, careful joy, lifted his cheeks and his eyebrows. "You are always welcome in my home."

"Even though I'm angry at you?"

"Angry you is still my Daniela. Oh, I-"

"And foolish you is still my Wesley."

It was his turn to sit forward and grab, kissing her around a protesting squeak of shock. "My eyes are-"

"Gorgeous? Yes, I noticed."

"Wesley, stop, I-" And he stopped, just like that, because she asked. "I never did this."

"Did what?"

"Love someone when it was real."

"Oh. That. I don't think I have, either. No, I'm certain. I didn't know it could feel like this."

"Horrible?"

"Wonderful! And, a bit horrible."

She didn't win this time, the laughter came, weak and wheezing as she leaned against him. She felt his shoulders quiver, heard him laughing softly as though afraid to let it out. "It's funny, no?"

"I think I'm simply having hysterics. I thought I lost you."

"You very nearly did," she told him without heat. Just exhaustion. "Does love always hurt like this?"

"No… No, I think you can smooth it out and mostly it's wonderful. Over time. Perhaps you have to take it on the balance, years of joy over minutes of anger and sadness."

"Hm. Yes. The learned man proposes an experiment."

The learned man would propose, full-stop, if he would be sure never to lose her again. "Would you care to find out?"

Together indefinitely? Years of joy? "I would."

"Your mum wants to know if we would like silver balloons or pink balloons, or both. She has it in her head that pink and silver are 'our colors'." Spike handed a list to Buffy as she perched on the bed of her now largely empty room. They packed far more than they could fit in a dorm. Made sense. Soon they'd be house-having. Or flat-having. Married up sorts. The horrors of Joyce and Anya arguing over whether silver was an appropriate substitute for black faded as he pictured him and his girl. My Kindred. The warm glow filled him head to toes.

Buffy didn't move. "Spike? Sit?"

"Mm. I could get to like this sort of game. I'm yours to command, Slayer. Can we take it in turns? I have lots of lovely things to tell you to do, too." His chuckle caressed her cheek as he nudged her hip, cuddling close to her on the bed. "What's wrong, Luv?"

"I- I talked to Wesley. And he told me not to have sex with you."

"Too late and none of his damn business!" Spike's lips twitched and his fingers itched to curl into a fist and smack the forward, interfering git.

"Not done. Don't have sex with Spike- if we say certain words, because if you claim someone as Kindred and you complete the ritual, saying the words like, "Blood of my blood. Heart's blood. Life's blood. My blood. Yours, ever and always, past life and death, to a second life and beyond."

"Ah. So, he found out that's the way we get married. Well, can't blame him for telling you not to rush into tyin' the knot." Spike tried to laugh, but his stomach flopped uneasily. His wife was sitting curiously immobile, as if afraid to move or speak. "What else, Pet?"

"If I do that… there's a chance that you become immortal. Like, really immortal, not able to get taken out, maybe? Slayer blood-"

"Oh, now that's a load of rubbish. Killed two Slayers, one through draining and I'm nothing special. Well-" he waggled his eyebrows suggestively, "I do have some god-like skills, accordin' to my missus."

"Mm, you sure do," Buffy smiled, heart lifting slightly. This was the harder part, the part where you get their pain like it's your own, and it doubles and magnifies… "Spike, you didn't claim those Slayers, and they didn't 'marry' you in the vampire way. We did the blood and the words and the sex. Wesley isn't sure if it relates only to Dracula, because he's suped up, I guess, or … if it's any vampire. And if the bond breaks when I die- I know I'll live longer with you around, Spike. But what we might have done, what I might have done- is make you live forever."

There was no joy. This was a hollow victory, not a victory at all. I just got handed eternal life, and it's a death sentence. To live forever, to never die- and only get a few more years with her, even eighty more years with her- that's not enough when I know I can't follow her. Never even get the chance to end it and come chasin' down her soul, to stay with her eternally- "Slayer…"

"I'm sorry, Baby, I didn't know!" The motionlessness was gone, a sudden flurry of arms and legs running to him, even though they were inches away, jumping up and clinging to him as he rocked her and held her tight. "I didn't know, Spike."

"Shhh. Shh, of course you didn't know. I didn't know, either. Even the Watcher Jr. doesn't know for sure, does he?"

"But- but if I do die, the bond might be broken, and you'll be okay. Normal again." She gave him a crooked, semi-hopeful smile.

"I don't want to find out! I wanna be happy with you as long as I have you. I'm gonna love you harder, every second, hear me?" he panted harshly in her ear, the clinging somehow turning into hands pushing at clothes, clutching faces amidst kisses and wiping up tears.

Why do all my gifts suck? Like, seriously, have a side of superpowers with early death. Have a husband that you love, but cause him to suffer interminable widower-hood. If that's a word. Or I guess he could re-marry. "You could always re-marry after I-"

"Shut your mouth! That's not what Kindred means! It means you and no other!" He pushed her back to look in her eyes. "Maybe there's another way. We could break it. Not now, once Drac is dusted. If you're not my Kindred anymore, maybe I lose the power. Makes sense, right? When you release someone- the bond is broken. They don't 'own' you anymore, so maybe I wouldn't own that gift. Like a divorce settlement."

"But I love you! I never… I never wanted a divorce." She tried to take a deep breath, but her lungs seemed to be bottoming out early.

"Don't think you an' I ever wanted to be married in the first place," Spike pointed out gently, trying to stay steady. Gotta help her. Be stronger. Look after her. That's what a good husband oughta do- even if she can't be my wife for much longer. "Who said I'd go off? I'd marry you in a human ceremony, all right? If you want me, we'll still be together, Pet."

"I want you, always! Forever, oh- " She swallowed shakily. "All right. B-but, I don't wanna give you up. I don't want to break this!" Her eyes began to overflow.

"It was supposed to be for a few weeks, Luv. Few months at best."

"Plans change."

"Yeah. They do."

She rubbed her temples and he kissed them. Thoughts were running riot, crazy things, things she'd never consider in a million years, she'd consider for him.

"What if I- what if someday, years from now, you turn-"

"Stop. That's not you," he growled.

"I know. But for you… it could be."

His heart screamed yes. His head screamed yes. All of him rejoiced at the idea of keeping her forever and then- "I'd be your Sire. You'd always be loyal to me. You've seen what that's like. You'd hate that. You don't want to be owned."

"No. I want to be loved by you. I'm already loyal to you, Spike. Don't argue about it! I already saw- the whole world, at least the world to me, saw it." On the edge of the bed, she sank down to her knees, hands on her lap as she tilted her face up to his. "My best warrior…"

"Mine."

"That's right. Yours."

"Slayer, I- Buffy, I'd hate myself for that. To do it like this, 'cause there's no other choice."

"Well, it's my fault!"

"No! You didn't know and it was an accident! You asked me for help so I could save your life. This would end it. I can't do that."

"Yours didn't end, technically."

"You are meant to have a soul, Slayer!"

"You told me souls don't make you bad or good!"

"God! I love you, but you're still irritatin' I'm tryin' to be noble and you're ruinin' it!" Spike burst out, seizing her shoulders and lifting her up, torn between shaking her and kissing her. Slugging her even- ah-ha. He smacked her once, hard enough that it would sting and he felt the answering zap in his head. "OW! Fuck!"

"Spike! What the hell?" Buffy rubbed her cheek in shock.

"Maybe we're jumpin' the gun. Maybe this didn't work at all. If I was an immortal I would be immune to the bug-zapper, wouldn't I? When I had the Gem of Amara, I was immune to everything. Sunlight, crosses…"

"You weren't immune to my boot in your ass- oh, God, now I can't think about that phrase in a combat kinda way," Buffy found herself suddenly blushing and shaking her head to clear it. Spike gave her a roguish wink.

"Boot's a bit much, but fingers…"

Now she found her stomach fluttering, even in the midst of today's crisis, the Hellmouth version of the daily lunch special. "Focus, horny vampire."

"I'm a newlywed, Pet. An' probably a run-of-the-mill vampire."

"Doesn't immortal mean you can't get killed, not you can't get hurt? 'Cause I remember that fight and I got in some solid hits to the facial region, if not the boot-to-butt region."

He gave her a mulish look. "You're splittin' hairs."

"You're tryin' to make me feel better."

"I love you. An' I respect you. Of course I'm tryin' to make you feel better! But," he collapsed next to her, hands intertwined, silently vowing her would give her cheek a thousand kisses later, "if we made a mistake, we made it together. I'm a vampire, I shoulda warned you. I should've at least known myself. We don't know everything and the only surefire test could end up being deadly. So, we wait."

"We wait."

"Yep."

"And we stress?"

"About possibly having lots of years together? What's to stress about?"

"Those silver balloons, for one thing. I don't want people to think I'm floating a dozen disco balls around. The seventies are so not my thing- except for my punk rocker fiance."

"Stress-relievin' sex is a thing. Anya told me."

"She would know."

A long kiss that faded into a long hug, holding each other still in this moment before anything else could change.

"Want to know something I do know?" Buffy finally asked.

"What's that, Luv?"

"I love you. Whatever else happened, I'm glad we're together. I want to stay that way, no matter what it takes." She turned her head slightly to meet his eyes.

His fingertips caressed her soft warm skin. Warm, cold, it would be her. "Me, too. You're the best thing that ever happened to me, Slayer."

"Hard as this is to understand- you're my best thing."

Lips met. Eyelashes pressed cheeks, leaving little brushstrokes in mutual tears.

She coughed, trying to smile. "Should we thank him before we kill him?"

He returned the broken grin. "That'd be nice. We could give him some of the balloons. Unless you want me to pull a Harris and bring a fruit basket."

"The balloons will be fine," she murmured, eyelids slowly closing, safe in his arms. "Not like he's going to live long enough to eat the fruit."

"No, he's not." He kissed her, watching her eyes flutter shut and stay down. His face transformed into something hard and hurting when she couldn't see it. Because no one takes my girl away from me. Never again. Not even death itself.

To be continued…

Author's note: If you love a Victorian-era mystery/romance with a paranormal twist, I would love to share The Undertaker's Daughter: Dearly Departed with you. It's on Amazon and it's free with Kindle Unlimited.