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 dear readers and supporters who keep me going and let me have an outlet!

XXXV

"I feel like this week is in a pressure-cooker. And I know now what one of those is." Buffy shook a glossy article called "Your Perfect Registry" under Willow and Tara's noses as they finished packing away ingredients for the "tar spell." Spike couldn't get out of it this time. He was currently having a quick wash in Giles' bathroom sink, exhausted and sweaty. Tara and Willow looked like they could use a quick clean up as well.

"You mean you're trying to make things work faster, trying to make something happen before it's ready?" Tara asked gently. She imagined Buffy and Spike, enemies of last month, now having an engagement party at the end of the week. Her fragile heart needed time to deal with ending things with Riley, needed time to experience being whole after breaking Dracula's hold, needed time to-

"Huh? No, just like the pressure is really on this week and everything is going to blow! Spike and I picked out an apartment and we're going to spend the night there tonight. Mom- not super happy. Wesley was supposed to call back- I hope he's okay. I don't have a dress for my engagement party and Spike's chip is still in. It's not just a pressure cooker, it's like a beef stew."

"Beef stew?" Xander, supporting a bedraggled Anya, looked up ravenously. "Where? Who?"

"That's the part you got out of that?" Willow glared, dabbing at her nose.

"So many ingredients," Buffy muttered, pacing next to Giles' phone. "Oh! We need a phone! Spike, we need to have the phone company give us a new number. We need a phone. Like a physical phone with our own physical phone number!" Buffy went from stressed to squealing in seconds. She grabbed Spike's arm and squeezed it when he emerged, mussed but less sweaty and haggard-looking.

Giles marveled, not necessarily in a good way. "I've called him three times this evening. I'm considering calling Angel."

"No!" Buffy and Spike said as one. "Um. Wesley's got company. Remember?"

"I don't remember. Where's the beef stew? Who is the company? What is the meaning of life?" Xander sat down in front of an empty pizza box and his notes. They had a lot of questions and few answers.

"The Countess. She's- cooperating."

"Oh no. They didn't kidnap her again, did they?" Anya demanded. "And did you say you still don't have a dress? Classes started! You're slaying! You don't have time for the mall. You should have done this last week."

"There wasn't an engagement party' last week," Buffy pointed out.

"We'll have to buy something. I appoint myself and Joyce as designated shoppers."

"No!" This time Willow joined Spike and Buffy's chorus.

"You've got a dozen pretty frocks. I helped pack 'em," Spike said. "Wear anything, Luv, you'll look beautiful."

"They didn't kidnap her. She and Wesley… " Buffy made smooching noises.

Giles, tired, unshaven, and holding the last slice of pepperoni, crashed into his desk chair. "What? What? Wesley and- and that vampire are - kissing?"

"Pretty sure some other things as well." Buffy blushed.

"How in heaven's name… No, no. I'm not going to wonder about it. We believe we've mastered one essential component to this successful attack. Once Dracula's in that enchantment, you should be able to remove his hands. Then- the rest should follow." He shuddered internally. He was not one for gruesome tasks, though he'd certainly witnessed enough of them. "How did practice go the other evening?" he turned back to Spike and Buffy.

"We're getting good at the daily dusty decapitation double." Buffy smiled.

"Why is Wesley boinking the undead?" Xander had given up on stew.

"Same reason you're boinking the ex-demon," Spike said crossly. "He loves her! No offense, Anya."

"Oh, I don't mind. Wesley isn't my type." Anya waved away the apology as she sat in Xander's lap.

Tara closed her eyes. "I want some aspirin."

"I wanna go home," Buffy whispered.

"Home sweet home."

"Spike! How did you do all this?" Buffy gasped. The entire day had been similar to the last few minutes at Giles'- noisy, hectic, confusing, too many thoughts and actions jumbling in her body and brain. Alone with Spike, she felt peace settle into her soul. Kindred. Calm. Time to appreciate their first night in their first home together.

There was a beautiful queen-size bed with a new set of red sheets and two pillows that took up pretty much the entire were two chairs in the living room, one his, one new. Buffy saw a small folding table- one from her mother's house- and two wooden chairs- from her basement.

He loved watching her smile. "Got your mum's permission. Got a hold of a few fellas I happen to know who don't mind the sun and had a panel van. Called the local furniture store. They deliver. I can do a lot while you're in class."

"Well… I conveniently forgot to write down any of my assignments," Buffy fibbed. There was reading. There was always reading. She could try to translate her own handwriting which was punctuated with dozens of little off-topic phrases that would make any casual observer fear for her mental health. She could do it later. Her super-smart hubby would help her if she got overwhelmed. Her super-smart bestie, too. "And there's no phone in here, yet…"

"Nope. I'll take care of that tomorrow." His hands trailed down her sides as she eased down her heavy shoulder bag.

"I think you need a pick me up," she whispered as they swayed closer. A real place of their own. Her inhibitions had already been pushed out by Spike's devotion and their bond, but now… She felt so utterly free and safe, just for a night. The stewing and pressure cooking could wait until tomorrow. "How about some of the Slayer special?" she teased, touching her neck, feeling the jolt of pleasure go down to her already damp pussy.

Spike nodded eagerly, crushing her to his chest, her back to the wall as he inhaled her scent, fingers found her hair. His beautiful girl. She was trying to lead him down to her neck. She didn't realize… "Why don't you go slip into something pretty, Luv?"

"Because I thought nothing at all was your favorite outfit?" she teased.

Damn. "You have me there, Slayer." It'd be fun to surprise her. She obviously knew by his hints from yesterday, knew her own body, must know that she… "I can't wait to taste you this time." He followed her into the bedroom and shut the door firmly after them. He had ordered a little lamp but no end table or chest of drawers to put it on. It sat on the floor in the corner, making the room seem sweetly golden, all reds, creams, and yellows. Best of all, the golden pink and rose beauty slowly stepping out of her clothes.

"What's special about this time?" Buffy licked her lips, playing the seductress and enjoying it. "How loud we can be? Fewer people than a hotel. Than a dorm. No Mom hanging around." She slid her panties down and saw Spike's eyes fasten to them. Is this a new kink? He likes my panties? Well, whatever kinks he has, they don't hurt us, so I'm good with them. "What are you staring at, Lover?" she purred her way to him, kicking the garment over.

He swallowed an inarticulate whimper of lust. Sweet smell of her, of her heat mixed with the blood she shed naturally, part of womanhood, very rare, very powerful. Some vamps said it gave you extra power to take in the blood of virgins or the blood of mana. He'd never been one to find out, knowing there wasn't much of it and the methods to get it were far more time consuming and Angelus-like than he'd ever want to pursue. But now, part of his wife's gift to him, her love. "I just wanna share everything. I can't believe you… I can't believe you're mine, that's all."

"I'm all yours. Every bit." Buffy's siren eyes softened into their normal playful sweetness at his words.

"Every drop?" He looked at the light lavender underwear now strewn on the floor at his feet. Tiny streaks of pink. Just beginning. His cock tightened, his stomach tightened, all of him tensed with how much he wanted this.

"Every…" Buffy noticed where his eyes landed again and her eyes widened slightly. "Oh! Oh, I… It was a busy day. I forgot to… I should clean up." In a flurry of confusion, she tried to move past him, only to find him catching her elbows and kissing her hard and deep.

"I want this so much, you don't know, I can't tell you." He finally pulled back to gasp, then consumed her mouth again. "Not just to break rules and taboos, Pet. I want to share what keeps you alive and makes you grow and change and… I want to feel you flow into my mouth, not a bite, a natural part, a river running through you, meant for me."

"I- Oooh." Buffy let out a deep, shaking gasp, her insides turning the quiet river into a raging, swollen one. "That's fine."

"That's fine?" Where was the argument? The blushing? The last minute hesitation?

"Uh-huh. Just- I don't know if that's- um- the same kind of taste." Now there was a blush.

He shared it, though it didn't show much. "I don't know. I've never tasted this before. I wish I could have been the one to- to be with you that first time, Luv. I'm glad we can have this. Know it's strange to you, but-"

"No, no. Vampires are different and blood is good and special and… it's weird." Buffy looked thoughtful, slowly sliding back from him, her hands running softly down his chest.

He knew this was new and all, but he still huffed, "I said it was strange, an' you said no, then you said weird. See, Slayer, you jus' gotta argue with me sometimes."

"I meant it feels weird to me, the fact that I don't think it's strange, that I don't mind it. I give you my blood from a vein, an artery, whatever. You bite me in all sorts of yummy places and- don't take it the wrong way, but you have to take it. This -it's like you said. It flows, it's natural. If I were with a human lover, this time wouldn't do anything for him."

It was his turn to argue, just to argue. "I wouldn't say that. There are some blokes who-"

"You saved me and gave me a gift, set me free. I can give you something back, naturally, just being me." She smiled, oddly comfortable and confident. That's going to be the norm, one day. It won't be odd. It'll be how I feel, all the time.

"Oh, Luv. Luv, you do that every day." He scooped her up and set her on the bed, letting her rest on her knees. He yanked his shirt off over his head and then paused - "Ah- ha!" With a flourish, he whipped a dark towel from behind the pillow. "Thought you might like this. I ordered a comforter, too, but it didn't come in yet. The shower curtain, either."

She giggled as he undressed, not that his glorious muscles and lithe lines normally produced laughter. "You shopped? Online?"

"No, catalog, over the phone. Your mum has all of the household gadgetry mags you can order out of. She caught me orderin' a juicer for you and then Anya told me off. She said I'll ruin the registry and I didn't ask you about the colors of things." Spike slid slowly on to the bed beside her, prowling to her, shoulders feeling the welcoming touch of her hands. "I told her if I got the wrong color, it wasn't the end of the world, you can order the next lot."

The giggle became louder as she brushed her lips to his. "You want a real life with me." Like I'm a real person. Not just a thing cursed to kill, a freak who fell in love with a vampire.

"I do. This life, beyond this life, a second life- hell, a third and fourth. Everything with you, every day with you."

Warm and safe and loved. Alone with the person who was so close to her, a part of her. Nothing he wouldn't do for her or share with her. She let herself fall back with a sigh. Time to nourish the bond, she thought as she stretched her toned calves, toes curling in a deep stretch.

"Look at you, you little pussy cat, all arches…. Begging to be petted." Spike marveled at the easy way she stretched and smiled at him.

"You call me Pet all the time," Buffy reminded him, her toes creeping up his thigh. "You're supposed to pet me."

"Mmm? Am I? Where does kitten like to be stroked?" He scooted closer to her, watching from above, watching her slowly work her hands over her body, over breasts and hips. Her fingers touched the soft, fluffy curls atop her mound, but didn't go in.

"Wherever you want," she offered, breathlessly.

His demon purred in contentment. She's ours. Ours to adore. "Tell me. I wanna do it right."

So this is his game. Her stomach tightened, not in nerves, in eager anticipation. Tell Spike, and he'll do it. Give him what he wants, he gives me what I need. A glorious, unbroken circle, like the magic whispered to them. "Here." She cupped her breasts, one bearing a tiny scar from their wedding night, one that would never vanish.

He obeyed, moving to straddle her, massaging his way across her shoulders and torso with light, lingering strokes. She gasped as his thumbs began to tease the edges of her dark pink areolas and moved to massage her tight nipples. "Spi-ike," a broken, happy sigh.

He felt her hips shift and wriggle. "Not in a rush, are we?"

"No, just- oooh." Yes, she was in a rush, to have him inside of her, to do what was familiar and comforting and insanely pleasurable. He rutted gently against her, his cock dancing over the satiny skin of her stomach. "But that's good, too." God, he was perfect. Penises were not supposed to be sexy and hot. They were functional and they made you feel good, they didn't have to look good. Except his did. His looked edible and perfect and oh, God, watching him close his eyes, kneading her breasts as he rocked his cock against her, looking at the bead of pre-cum making a private brushstroke on her skin… The phrase, " I want your cock" was splashing around in her mind, but that sounded decidedly nymphomaniac-like. "Bring that up here?" she whispered.

"Not now. Tonight is about me drinking from you, Pet."

"That's not fair." She pouted at him. Nymphomaniac-like sayings were totally acceptable after all. "I want your cock, Baby. Right now, in my mouth, want to love it and kiss it suck on it. Just being honest."

"I love honesty. I am embracing my good side," Spike found his resolve melted by her lava-like gaze and the way her little tongue ran over that pout. "S'pose we could do both…"

He brought his knees up alongside her head and she turned to her side, neck supported by one of his strong hands and the soft new pillow. She bobbed away, moaning at how he tasted and loving the way her lips unlocked his. His grunts and lusty groans spilled out automatically. "Ohhhh, yes, Luv. Yes, Slayer, best wife in the world, ruddy talented little minx, bless that fuckin' hot little mouth…"

While she was basking in his adoration, it was completely natural to feel his fingers kneading and rubbing her hips, thighs, and finally her clit and outer lips.

Spike's nostrils flared when she sucked him in deep as his fingers split her gates apart. He hadn't pushed into her yet, but the rush of liquid arousal and warm, slick blood made him jump in her mouth. "Ohhh, fuck…"

She moaned when he rubbed her clit in circles, arched up into his hand so that his fingers could perform that magical duet, thumb on the outside, fingers pumping inside, unlocking the spot that was now so oversensitized that it throbbed at the mere thought of him. She wondered, her mind already drifting in a hazy cloud of want, if your g-spot could start to get muscles from all the working out it was doing. She would ask Spike. At that moment, as he pushed in with painful slowness, it seemed like the most obvious answer in the world. My husband is a sex god. The sex god. He obviously knows this.

Except he didn't know everything, as she immediately found out. "Does it hurt there?" His fingers paused, barely inside.

What nonsensical language was this? Pain didn't exist here in Bedroom-Land, their new oasis. Buffy moaned a muffled "no" around his crown. "More."

"More?"

"Yes! You, more, more in, now, please!" She ran her teeth along the pulsing vein down his shaft and got her wish granted at once. Two fingers sank into her and began thrusting away in time to her happy cries. "Yes! Yes, yes, yes, I love your hands. Love when you do that, Baby."

Well, if she wasn't squeamish, Spike figured he needn't be, either. "I need to borrow this, Beautiful," he reluctantly took his protesting cock from her lips. "Your turn for some lip service."

Before she could blink, her treat was gone and her lover was burying his head between her spread thighs. In seconds, his tongue replaced his fingers and she watched what she could see of his brow ridge. Oh. Vamp-y Spike. His hands came out and grasped her thighs hard, almost to the point of discomfort. "Okay?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

Spike looked up, lips and chin scarlet. His yellow eyes gazed at her hungrily for a second, then he burrowed back in.

Words, idiot. Words, say the right thing, he tried to remind himself of this thing called speech. Speech wouldn't come. The taste of sex-soaked blood, blood from her sweet, pouting slit blotted out all knowledge of words except for-

"Mine!" he growled it low and possessively, gripping her hand and lapping at her until he felt her shivering and bucking under him.

"Spike- I- I'm gonna cum if you keep doing that."

Idiot. That's the point. He was glad his tongue was busy and didn't say stupid-arse things like insulting the woman so lovingly letting him taste this ambrosia. "Mine!"

"Fine, yes- fuck! I'm yours. You're mine, too." Buffy squirmed. She'd had sex with him when his demonic features were visible, but she didn't feel as if she were making love to a demon. This time… hmm. Spike growled and yanked her hips up and open, working two fingers in alongside of his tongue as it went from clit to frenzied thrusting. He seemed on the verge of losing control. Hands were hard, growls were low, and his face. When it looked up briefly, the yellow eyes were unfocused. "Spike?"

The faint note of worry in her voice was ice water to his fiery frenzy. His blue eyes returned and he released the deathgrip he had on her hand. "I'm here, Baby. I'm right here, always gonna be with you, okay?"

She laughed shakily. "I thought- I thought you were out to lunch- bad pun- for a minute."

He licked his lips and wiped his chin hurriedly on the towel between her legs. She was spotless, not a drop left in sight. He on the other hand- did he look a fright, some ravening wolf, blood and cum dripping off of him when this was supposed to be a tender, sacred act? "I was with you, Luv, very with you."

"You want to- uh- come up here, now?" Buffy asked, cheeks flushed, breathing uneven.

"Didn't make you cum properly. Close, but not good enough. Sorry to make you tense up, Sweetheart."

"The demon just seemed- seemed to be driving for a minute, that's all." Her fingers stroked his hair and comfortingly traced the brows that now resembled ordinary human features. He was silent. "I know it's only a part of you."

"You're right. But you don't fear that, d' you?" It wasn't really a question.

Her voice was soft. "He loves me, too. It's just- just parts of you, and all of you loves me. Now, get up here."

"I'm not-"

"You can do it after-" her mouth froze in shock for a second. "Well, I mean- after. When I'm cleaned up. Not after you- not right after."

Spike raised an eyebrow. "If you let me in, I'll go in anytime I'm wanted."

"That should gross me out."

"Uh-huh. And does it?"

There was a flurry of motion, legs tangling, pulling and laughing until she got him just where she wanted him, buried inside her. "Nope. Not at all."

"Thank you, Precious. It meant a lot to me." Afterglow had a new meaning. This was afterglow, Face of the Sun edition. Spike basked, gloriously warm and full from the heart out.

"I feel uber-bonded. Is there a Kindred Plus? I think we have the Kindred Plus package." Her husband looked at her like he had been stumbling around blind for years and could finally see. Every time she went to move, he moved with her, as if afraid she'd slip away.

"I think so." A soft voice. "I didn't mess up?"

She laughed quietly, stroking his face. "You didn't mess up."

"Can we try this again? Next time, I'll remember my tongue also makes words."

"It goes on for three to five days."

"I'll be better at it next time. This was the first time so-"

"Hey. It was the first time for both of us, so we'll both get better at it. But in my mind- there's not a lot more you can do to make it better."

Spike thought. His girl just gave him the most special, intimate gift a human could give. He wished there was something that came near it on his end. Didn't think there was. Except for words. He could try again, with words.

"I love you, Buffy."

"Aw, I love you, too."

He sat up, hand on top of hers as they lay on her smoothly defined abs. "I don't know what to say."

"Well. That's new."

She smiled up at him and his confusion melted away. "You're my treasure. You know that, don't you? I came here, looking for you. I spent my life, both of 'em, looking for you. To be happy and loved and have everything I want. That's you. You're my treasure."

She blinked and sat up, head resting on his shoulder. "I'm a lucky girl."

"Not half as lucky as me."

"Equally lucky."

"All right, equally lucky."

She sniffled delicately, happy tears tickling her eyelids. Hot, xxx-rated vampys sex should not make her tearducts go crazy. Must be the hot vampy husband instead. "I'm gonna get a shower."

"There's no curtain."

"Then I guess I'll take a bath."

"Can I come with you?"

"Spike. Seriously, there's probably not enough room for-"

"I'll scrub your back."

"Did you pack my body brush?"

"I am your body brush," he said with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows.

She rolled her eyes. "Come on and clean me up- oh! Not like that."

Spike's tongue joined on the waggling action. "Mmhmm. Just like that."

"Darling? Darling. Cordelia must be utterly frantic." Daniela nudged Wesley. He was slumbering so deeply, poor lamb. Well. More like stag. She stretched and smothered a giggle. Who would have thought such a dashing and "professional" figure could turn into such a beast?

"Why? Why frantic?"

"It won't stop ringing."

"Did you look to see if it was her?" Wesley asked, groping for his glasses.

"No. Hm. She would have called me. We exchanged numbers. Ooh, look she did. Who is- Charlie Boy? Oh, and what sort of demon is that?"

Glasses pushed on hurriedly, Wesley looked at the small window of her phone. "Ah. Charles Gunn. He's our associate, a very fine young man, and that's Lorne, an empathic demon from another dimension and- oh dear. He looks rather upset, but Cordelia and Gunn look thrilled. And drunk."

"Ooh, such revels and hijinks." Daniela scooted closer to him, their heads together.

"Nothing compared to-" Wesley stopped speaking abruptly. I suppose she didn't have much fun, didn't have the opportunity to go out and drink and dance. Dracula wouldn't have allowed her that, not without him, and with him- I wonder how much fun it was?

She read his thoughts, lips on his shoulder. "There were balls. Dances. I go to plenty of gallery openings, galas, Fashion Week, oh, yes, I never miss it." Her smile was wide- and her eyes were wistful. "I go alone or with an escort."

"You are welcome to join our band of merry fools," he teased, trying to swallow the emotion prickling in his scratchy throat. "Lorne is charming. Gunn- well, he's a bit prejudiced against vampires, but he's smart enough to see past hard and fast definitions. With help."

"Thank you, Sorcerer. Now, hadn't you better see-"

His phone rang again as if hearing her urging. "Oh. Giles! Buffy's Watcher."

Daniela's lips thinned. He didn't open the phone. "Shouldn't you answer that?"

"I promised I would call when we got in. Which I- utterly neglected to do. You make me shirk all kinds of responsibilities." The situation was still a sore one, but the infatuation with her, that was a warm spot. Their impetuous love-making, their dinner with Cordelia, hearing the two women he cared for most laughing together-

"Answer the poor man! What if Dracul-" her voice died. She rose, naked body a slip of pure white and shadow hastily drawing on his shirt. "I'll make us tea."

"Hello!" Wesley stared after her as he answered. Dear God. A simple collared shirt never looked so fetching on anyone in its life. The way it still left her buttocks exposed, the way it hid her breasts but left the creamy middle of her chest bare, the way- "Damn…" Daniela bent over in the doorway to pick up her hastily discarded heels, revealing the pale pink of her sex.

"Wesley? Wesley, you sound very faint." Giles stopped trying to sand scars out of his poor spell-tested staircase with a sheet of sandpaper and frowned at the phone in his hand. "I've been calling you off and on for hours, are you ill?"

Positively feverish, Wesley felt himself getting hard and his skin tingling, especially around his bite as he watched his beautiful lover move around in almost nothing, probably acutely aware of her effect on him. "I got distracted as soon as I got home. I'm so sorry. I had planned to speak to Buffy."

"Yes, well, she's juggling classes, moving into her first apartment and prepping for her engag- uh- function, this weekend. Not to mention, her ex-boyfriend, Riley Finn, was obnoxious, Angel was a sulky toddler, and oh yes, there was one other thing, let me think- she's being hunted by the most legendary vampire of all time!" Giles concluded in a thundering voice, a muscle twitching in his cheek.

"No, I know, I-"

"You idiot! You dropped the knowledge that she could make a vampire immortal in her lap and then you didn't ring her back? She's been panicking! What if she's doomed Spike to a life with no end, no matter what he faces? She's utterly beside herself!"

"Spike? Doomed?"

"And what if she dies? Hmm? What will happen in fifty or sixty years? That's a hell of a long time to wait for an answer!"

Wesley fell back into the rumpled sheets and pillows. "Giles?"

"What?" the older man snapped, slamming his sandpaper down and realizing that one of his stairs was now an entirely different color than the rest.

"Slayers do not die."

Silence. Then laughter. "And I thought I was the one going mad. Endless girls, Wesley, decades of death and-"

"Killing. Being killed. Slain. Not one living to a ripe old age and natural death."

Giles' mouth was slow to form words, his brain somersaulting to a halt. "H-how could they, being sent out day after day, night after night to kill things you only see in nightmares, things who only have one purpose, to kill humans?"

"Exactly. They get killed. They don't die naturally- because they would not. Slayers are immortal. Unkillable. Dracula wants one to turn, after claiming her. The Kindred bond will link them together for this life and unto the second life, second death, Which, I believe has something to do with the vampiric nature of the vows, them being undead." Wesley mused, scratching his brow worriedly. "She'll die when he kills her, turns her. He'll consume the essence of a Slayer and have her drink it back, the circle completed, the essence shared. Since he's already dead… you see why he thinks he could not be killed if he consumes a Slayer, if he's both her Sire and her Kindred, bound with powerful magic."

His mind teemed with questions. "Immortal? Buffy?"

"All Slayers. They just- don't get the chance to prove it," Wesley whispered softly. In the kitchen, he heard his cabinet door slam vigorously. Daniela knew he was betraying her carefully kept secret, putting all those she loved at risk.

The words made no more sense than they had earlier. He tried again. "Buffy? Immortal? But- there's Faith."

"She drowned. Briefly. She didn't cease to live out her cellular lifespan, a monster bit her and shoved her in a pool of water."

"But- what about Spike?"

"Well, I told her not to sleep with him and say the sacred words!"

"Oh, yes. I remember how very well she obeyed you when you were her actual Watcher," Giles said drily.

Wesley huffed," I admit I failed her, but surely she doesn't wish to spite me to the extent that she'll - you know. It's only been a few weeks"

Giles coughed. "Ahem. No. That is, no, she's not attempting to 'get back' at you for being an odious failure."

"I say!"

"And it has only been a few weeks. Apparently, there's a - a deep, deep connection. A loving one."

Wesley opened his mouth to protest. Spike might be changing and being an enormous help and he believed Buffy cared for him, but… I'm in no position to judge. It was a matter of days. No, realistically, hours before Daniela and I… "When you find a person who genuinely connects with you, sees things others do not… It's easy to give in. But if she said the words- they'd be wed in the vampiric sense."

"I'm the father of the bride," Giles sighed.

"Oh." Wesley swallowed. "Ohhh."

"Yes, oh. And now that the cat has been thrown from the bag, would you like to step along down to the engagement party and subsequent wedding? A mock one, to attract Dracula. It's the only thing we think will anger him enough to bring him out of the woodwork. It worked once before, according to the Histoire La Trois Mairee."

"So, Buffy and Spike don't really wish to be married? They'll break this bond as soon as-"

"Good Lord, no, but they want a proper do. A band, caterer, monogrammed napkins for all I know."

"This is unbelievable."

"I know. They didn't seem to have much in common- on the surface, but they're oddly perfect together. Blagh!" Giles suddenly made a noise of disgust. "Even though I believe it, I can' believe I said it aloud."

"I'm more surprised you're not talking about the prospect of her being immortal."

"Two reasons. I can't fathom it. I can't - I don't dare to hope that it'll happen for her. Too many enemies in this field."

"Right."

"How do you suppose he knew?"

"Dracula?"

"He must've had a fairly good certainty it would work, otherwise he wouldn't go up against her. She's killed too many formidable vampires, the Master, Kakistos, Lothos, even Angelus. Not to mention, she's fought and made an ally of Spike, Slayer of Slayers."

"Well, he's very old and I'm sure he had access to knowledge that-"

"Augustus Montvale. In the 1700s." Daniela set the tea before Wesley with thinned lips and flashing eyes. She was upset- but he was still right.

"Montvale?" Wesley rolled the name on his tongue. Once the head of the Watcher's Council, back before the French Revolution, when it was moved to safety in England.

"Yes. You remember him."

"Well, not personally, he was well ahead of our time."

"He came to research Dracul," Daniela told the closet, hands skimming idly through clothes, trying to fight down the screaming inside of her that shoulted death, danger, and disloyalty. She felt like she would vomit, like her knees would give. She pushed the words out in a rush. "He wanted to kill him, the renowned vampire. He failed. Dracul caught him, tortured him -and- and then he told us to- make him feel better. To persuade him. She had thrall, one of his brides, so pretty, so sweet. He picked her from the tribes and she sank into his mind and made him reveal the secret."

"Montvale never came back. It was then that the head was expressly forbidden from going abroad without a team," Wesley murmured.

"He killed her, Montvale, when the thrall was broken and he realized- he rallied long enough to snap her neck. Dracul killed him. I- I wasn't hurt." No. That wasn't true. It had hurt pretending to be the injured man's lover, forced to use her body to weaken his mind after the master weakened his body. Oh, not that she had sympathy for the man, but to feel his hands all over her, pushing inside of her, when her master had told her such a thing was her death sentence- years later, she trembled from the memory. She couldn't even enjoy it, though Montvale had.

And after that… Dracul had a new obsession, and wives changed even more frequently. Always one spot ready to swap out in case, just in case, the Slayer crossed his path.

Wesley and Giles shared a moment of silence. Rupert was contemplating, while Wesley was watching.

Daniela's shoulders rose and fell like she was panting silently, her legs were stiff and her arms rigid, holding onto the wall for support. He began to move toward her, but his colleagues' words mired him.

"Do you suppose it's a secret? Handed only from Head to Head at retirement?" Giles mused.

"I don't know… It's not common knowledge. Why is in't common knowledge?"

"Imagine if she knew. Imagine if one knew that she wouldn't die-and she quit and went into hiding. If she valued her life more than others'? She might leave the world without an active Slayer."

"So Travers might know."

"Or he might not. Montvale didn't intend to die- it might have been in his documents and directives to the next head…"

"Or he might have dared not to put it in writing." Wesley massaged his temples and forced himself out of bed, following the path Daniela had made.

Giles' heart was confused. Elation. She can live a long happy life if she's careful, and Spike will help her, protect her. Oh, and thank God, she has an immortal partner as well! And of course, it's unlikely that she remains whole and healthy forever, but say she lives to be a hundred, three or four hundred, Spike would be with her! Relief. Well, this absolves her guilt over Spike, at least.

Or does it? Does it only take effect if she's turned or is it too late?

What if Travers knows this? What if they've known this for years and the Cruciamentum is a way to weed out the old blood, in with the new?

"There are so many questions."

"The answers have such a price," Wesley reponsded. "I'll call Travers and-"

"No! No, Wesley… if he doesn't know, he may take this news rather badly. And if he does know, he assumes we don't, which gives him the upperhand, at least in his mind. I think, for right now," Giles worded this carefully, speaking over a racing heart, "we need the upperhand."

"I agree. Now, Giles, I really must-"

"Oh! That cheap-skate! All of them, any of them! No wonder they never agreed to a salary! If the girl lived forever, and wanted a raise every year or so…"

"They may not have known-"

"They did at one point, they made it a policy!" Anger joined the party of joy, relief, and worry. "Never mind that, now. Tell me more about the immortality part. Does it pass to the vampire only if he drains her? If they're bonded through this ritual? What if he killed her while the bond was in place, but she wasn't turned?"

"I'll go do some research and call you back." Wesley took the opportunity with both hands. "Thank you so much, Giles, I'm sorry for the-uh- the delay in calling earlier and I really must- er- yes. Bye for now!"

Giles hung up the phone.

"I need to talk to Buffy."

How in the world do you tell her this? She might become too foolhardy on the field. She might become too timid. She might- she might simply be relieved that she has a fighting chance to stay with Spike, and Spike probably is just the normal sort of vampirically immortal.

And on that sentence which has never been thought before- we're having a British mimosa. Hold everything but the alcohol.

"Daniela, please… I'm so sorry to put you through this." She was sitting on his couch, head bowed in dejection. Even kidnapped and bound, she hadn't given off this air of misery or defeat. "Should I leave you for a bit?" he whispered when she didn't move.

"He made two of us pleasure him while the third broke into his mind for the information, but I was the one who- He told me I had a talent for sex, for sinning, it was what I craved, so I should do it."

He blinked. "Montvale?"

"Yes. My body was only for him, my Sire, my spouse, and he told me that therefore it was his to use however he liked. I never refused a request from him. Ever. No matter what he- you remember, I was a virgin when we met, when I first fell under his spell?"

"Yes."

"So, he taught me. And it was exquisite. I enjoyed everything. Everything in the bedroom, until that." Her lips suddenly clamped shut. Do not speak of it, do not say the shame. You are demon, and Dracula killed Montvale.

It wasn't really Montvale who raped you, was it? It was him. The man you swore eternal allegiance to. He wanted the secret more than you.

Wesley… Wesley wants me more than the secrets. Doesn't he?

"What if I had not known anything?" Daniela asked, eyes so wide and desperate that they drowned him, too.

"Known? Information?" Wesley took both of her hands and sank beside her on the couch.

"I know nothing else of value. Well, I doubt you would find the private phone number of the Channel Atelier valuable."

You'd be surprised. I wouldn't have to buy Cordelia another gift for two years. One, perhaps. "I would never- I can't say that I would never use you for information, for I did get information from you, but… I wouldn't use you. I wouldn't intend for you to feel used. I want you to feel loved, feel like you make me feel- happy and alive and like- I just want you around, in my life, and that's worth anything they can ask of me."

She pressed a kiss to his cheek, eyes full.

"Am I doing badly at this?" he whispered into her hair.

"No. I am."

"You're marvelous! Brave and courageous and yes, incredibly valuable and useful." Wesley hesitantly stroked a hand down her hair. She wasn't used to being comforted and he wasn't used to doing it.

"This feels very frightening. All of this. With you. Helping to hurt him, even though I know it's right. That's odd, too. I rarely do the 'right' thing. It's usually fairly boring."

They shared a chuckle, soft and grim, two saddened doves cooing to one another.

Wesley watched in awe as she curled under his arm more deeply, laid her head on his chest and let him hold her.

"You're mine, too," he murmured. "I won't let him hurt you again."

"Sweet Sorcerer." He's only a human. Weak, mortal, aging human. Her fingers dug in softly to the warm skin of his chest, small, coarse hair gently rubbing her cheek.

Dracula will gut him for his insolence. It doesn't matter if I'm free of his marriage vows, I'm not free of his "family". "Do you dare to defy your sire further, with a human?" She could almost hear the mystical voice throbbing in her temples and her head momentarily ached to shake a refusal.

"I'm not in the same league as a Slayer," his voice was soft, insistent, matching the strokes of his hand down her supple spine, "but I've killed my fair share of demons in my time. I know his weakness. I know you don't need protecting, but- but I want to shield you from anything you fear, or anything that gives you sadness, all the same." Wesley felt her spine stiffen. I've probably just put my foot in it again. When will I learn?

Daniel sat up with iron in her eyes and something beautifully feral in her smile. "You're mine, as well. No one touches you. No one harms you." She licked her lips. "I love you. M-more than I loved him. Nothing clouds my mind to make me feel it or say it. I simply… I simply love you."

They did not make words for this. Her words had created this oceanic flood inside him, made colors brighter, made his whole body pulse, and everything was unexpectedly, wonderfully perfect in the midst of danger and chaos. They hadn't invented words for this supremely elated, incredulous feeling. Thank God some of the old standbys still work the best. "I love you, Daniela. I truly do."

To be continued…

Author's End Note: I'm sorry I've been so long in updating this one. It's been busy. I just got the third book in the trilogy published and I can't wait to share it. If you like Victorian-era William and Buffy-esque headstrong kickbutt girl who wants to break the rules of the 1800s, give it a try! It's The Undertaker's Daughter: Darkly Devoted (that's the third book), but the whole Undertaker's Daughter series is free on Kindle Un. (Cheap if not!) Okay, that's my excited PSA message. Thanks for all the support for Kindred and my original stuff, too!