Title: Forbidden [Chapter 3]

Author: . sLaYeReTTe .

Disclaimer: Jossy n' da crew

Setting: Sometime after Chapter 2: A Revelation

Summary: A possessed Buffy rampages in search of a sacred pendant

Rating: PG-13 to R -shruggies-

[Chapter 3: Moment of Truce]

Buffy Summers roved over towards the campus grounds, nonchalant as the commencing darkness slowly taking reign over the sun-kissed heavens. She was diligent, and her body seemingly was always in a defensive poise. Recent reports of two deaths on the school grounds had aroused the slayer to a night of investigation. She reached the main doors, and gazed into the on-looking crowd, which hung over the crime scene like a suffocating veil.

"Excuse me, coming through," she announced, pressing her way through the woven assembly with much difficulty.

There were two bodies, side by side upon the small arch of the staircase, and oddly enough…no blood. She stalked upon nimble feet under the police tape and examined the specimens. One male, and one female, both looking fairly older than herself…she searched the bodies for wounds…no incised gashes or even fang marks.

"Slayer," the familiar, raspy voice filled her ears.

"Spike," she turned around abruptly, almost knocking herself off balance.

"What have we got?" He asked.

Buffy was puzzled by the 'business-like' interest he took…usually he made his first priority her.

"Um…two bodies, they look a few years older than me…one male one female. There are no marks or wounds or even teeth marks…it's weird," she answered flustered.

"Ah," he nodded thoughtfully.

"Ah? Any ideas?" Buffy inquired anxiously.

"Nah…but with you…I could get some ideas," he chuckled humorously, and Buffy's mahogany optics rolled skyward.

"Save it Spike," she answered to his perverse comment.

"Whatever you say love," he smiled and watched her as she bent down to inspect the corpses, which lie upon the concrete.

"Ugh, Spike get down here," Buffy demanded, feeling his eyes upon her.

"All right…it must have been an internal problem," he offered.

"Okay…probably," she agreed, "Come on, let's get to the magic Box."

"But why? I was hoping you and I could…," Spike whined.

"Spike! Could you pry your mind from sex for one moment so we can figure this out?"

"I'll try…it won't be easy love," he grinned and nibbled affectionately on her ear.

She lost control for a moment and closed her eyes.

"Spike! Control!" Buffy reminded him as his lips strayed to her nape.

"Oh…right pet, control," he withdrew his visage and followed after her departing form, enjoying his position in the rear.

* * *

Xander Harris remained stagnate, hunched over the ancient text, absorbing the musty script. His wife-to-be sat next to him, and every so often he looked over to make sure she was still on task…instead of looking for wedding accessories.

"Find anything?" He asked her, raising his head from the readings and rubbing his eyes.

"No…I still don't even know what we're looking for," Anya shrugged irritably.

"A little touchy aren't you dear?" He questioned tiredly.

"Well it's just that…I don't want to be here looking for something we don't even know anything on, when we could be planning the wedding," Anya replied.

"Honey, I told you a million times we're looking up that chest over there," Xander motioned to the aging chest which sat solo atop the far shelf.

"Well…I still don't see why we're researching this. When you and Buffy opened it, all that came out was…air," Anya replied indignantly.

"Yea, but still…you know very well that 'air' could have been something," he argued.

"Whatever," Anya resumed research without another word.

"Look honey, I'm sorry…I'm just a little stressed," Xander added, walking over to her chair and resting his hands on her shoulders.

"Oh no it's fine…I understand demons come before your wife," Anya snapped bitterly.

"That's not true! Demons are…gross…ugly…and demented."

"Xander! I was a demon once!"

"Well…you're not anymore though…my wife is a beautiful, lovely woman whom I'm deeply, and madly in love with," he smiled a goofy smile which made Anya want to melt.

Xander lowered his face and kissed her, indulging in their moment of affection and pure love.

"Oh, spare me please," Dawn muttered, walking over to the duo and defiantly opening one of the books.

"Oh…hi Dawn," Anya smiled resentfully, once again hiding her face within the pages of the book cradled in her hands.

"Hey Dawn," Xander nodded taking his seat.

"Hey you guys, did you find anything out?" Willow strolled towards the Scoobies and grabbed a book.

"So far, no luck," Xander reported.

"Oh…well Buffy and Spike went to investigate those bodies," Willow shrugged.

"Those two have been spending an awful lot of time together…don't you think?" Xander inquired.

"Well…even if it's true…they can't possibly be…well, you don't think…?" Dawn stammered as the revelation hit her.

"Nah…Buffy wouldn't go for Spike would she?" Anya scoffed, "I mean please-,"

"Hey you guys, I'm back," Buffy proclaimed, with a mesmerized Spike following at her heels.

The Scoobies froze.

"What?" The slayer froze, looking around with an apprehensive glance.

"Oh, nothing, have a seat Buff…Spike," Xander nodded, pointing to two chairs.

"Well…I have news on the deaths. A male and a female, both found dead side my side…there were no marks or lacerations…not even teeth marks so we concluded it has to be something inside of them," Buffy informed the coterie.

"Okay…inside…but what?" Xander asked.

"That's what we have to find out," Spike answered impatiently.

"Spike," Buffy warned when she saw the resent across Xander's features.

"You guys! I found it!" Dawn jumped up excitedly.

"What is it?" Anya asked.

"It's the chest of Shaziim, some Arabic dude-like demon," the youth answered, "It says Shaziim was considered one of the most powerful reigning demons of the nineteenth century in Egypt. He had the power to destroy buildings and even cities with one blow of his psychic powers…but only with the aid of the Kalarei Pendant, a sacred necklace which had been buried near the Hellmouth when he was reduced to a spirit by two whole armies. His spirit was locked in the chest of Shaziim…here's the picture, and if it is opened, it will release his spirit," Dawn recited.

"Bloody hell," Spike murmured.

"No shit," Xander agreed.

"Does it say anything else?" Buffy scrambled to find anything more on the topic, "It says here he inhabits a host…and during his residence he will drain any mental and physical energy that body possesses until the body dies…then he will infest a new host."

"Oh my," Willow gasped.

* * *

"You know Buffy…I've been thinking," Spike whispered.

It had been a few hours since the Scoobies had rallied and found the truth of the Chest of Shaziim. Spike had offered to walk Buffy home, and she had of course declined in front of the group…but he had followed after her when she had left, and she had not protested against his presence.

"Oh great," she replied sarcastically.

"What if this thing really does infest one of us…did we ever find a cure in those few hours we were trapped in there?" The British vampire asked, enunciating each line perfectly.

"No…but we will," Buffy assured him.

"Oh…right, of course," he nodded thoughtfully, stroking a clean-shaven chin.

They walked in silence, both aware of how close they walked together, and the radiating heat from one another.

Soon Buffy's house came into view. Spike approached the door along with her, and for a while, he stood there, taking in the opulent feeling he felt when he feasted his eyes upon her slim, petite frame. And she did the same, wistfully gazing upon the clinging black shirt, which roughly defined his sculpted torso.

"Buffy…," he breathed.

"Spike…"

"May I come in?" He dared the question.

"Um…sure," Buffy agreed, and fumbled with the lock for a moment, her cheeks heating with slight embarrassment for her momentary inability to comply with a simple key.

Spike just watched her idly, smiling to himself as she finally swung open the oak tag door, and entered, discarding her jacket to the coat rack. He did the same and trailed after her into the kitchen.

"Do you want anything?"

"Nah…I have my meal waiting at home for me," he answered.

"Oh that's right…sorry," she flushed again, and this time Spike's amused chuckle was more audible.

"You make me crave you love…I don't know how you do it," he walked towards her, reaching her pert configuration in two sweeping strides, head bent, angular to hers.

His gaze bored upon her lips, and Buffy felt faint, as if he was burning her with just his eyes. Her labrums trembled and he kissed her, arms encircling her waist with intense desire. One hand inched up, resting atop her ribs, just below her cupped breasts, and she groaned softly, as he guided her through the door and into the other room, steering her for the couch.

They sunk back, fused together as one with Spike's firm grasp, and they landed, his lean frame atop hers…never breaking away from the sweltering position. The blonde vampire heard her grunt, and he rose up slowly, elevating and breaking their connection as he removed his own shirt.

"Spike…we shouldn't be-,"

He stopped her flow of speech when he kissed her again, tongue probing the sultry caverns of her mouth, and he tasted her…never quite being able to get enough of the desirable slayer.

"Buffy! Spike!" The abrupt interruption of a two shrill female voices broke their lust fever once more, and they looked up to see Willow and Dawn gaping with utter confusion.

Buffy pushed the vampire from her body and briefly messed with her hair, which had become quite ruffled from their moment of 'play'.

"Uh, um it's not what it seems," Buffy stammered.

"Buffy…Spike…Buffy…Spike! Ah!" Willow reached for her cranium and took it in her grasp, attempting to take a hold of what she had just walked in on.

Dawn on the other hand smiled.

"I knew you two were up to something," Dawn admitted, a smiled upon her younger features.

"You see love, she was onto us," Spike commented.

"Shut up Spike," Buffy snapped.

"Buffy I think it's romantic!" Dawn's simper widened wistfully.

"She thinks it's romantic!" He reasoned.

"Spike!" Buffy shot him a warning glance.

"I knew I always like you," he grinned insanely at Dawn, who blushed as deep as Buffy had.

"Buffy…how come you never told us?" Willow begged for an answer, still in slight shock.

"Um…um…because…I, I."

"Yeah Buffy…how come you never told them?" Spike demanded.

"Well because…I, I," Buffy stuttered a few more lines and darted from the room, dashing up the stairs and disappearing into her room.

"Buffy!" Spike called after her, "Be back Red."

He pursued the slayer…not a new routine, but at least he was an expert at it. He twisted the knob and to his dismay, found it locked.

"Come on love, open up," he pleaded, knocking.

No answer.

"Buffy?"

Still, no answer.

"Buffy, come on, open up!" He shouted, banging on her door angrily.

His rage sent his fist pummeling through the wooden door, and the minuscule splinters littered the carpet on the other side, and there upon the bed sobbing he saw his object of affection. He grunted as he broke through the door the rest of the way and sat at her side, perplexed with her attitude towards him.

"Buffy…," he said, tone ending to a more mollescent degree.

"What?" She heaved.

"Buffy…never mind," he shrugged the feeling of reject from his shoulders and embraced her softly, drawing her close.

"There, there pet," he whispered, lips grazing her ear lobe.

"Spike…I'm sorry," she muttered in between smothered sobs.

"Don't apologize love…I understand," he lied.

"No…I, I-,"

She was silenced by his finger, and they sat together in the darkness, entwined within each other's firm hold. Too consumed as they lay together, unaware of the crepitating floor outside of the broken door where Willow and Dawn had stopped to take peeks into the room.

"Spike…," she breathed suddenly, as her body took on a tremulous wave causing the peroxide blonde to jump with surprise, stepping back to examine her spasm.

"Buffy!" he shouted with concern, advancing upon her shaking configuration and holding her softly until the tremors and shivers subsided, leaving her limp in his grasp.

"Buffy?!"

"Mmm," she stirred, her head rising slowly, and when he turned her around to face him, he could have sworn he saw a faint glimmer of incandescence in her enticing irises, only to fade as quickly as it had come. He blinked.

"Buffy?"

"Mmm…you're…Spike," she answered in an eerie tone…almost unlike her.

"Buffy?" He puzzled once more.

"Spike…you're a vampire…yes," she nodded again and released herself from his embrace and marched out the broken remains of the door, blasé as she did so.

"Buffy! Wait! Where are you going?" Spike dashed after her, suddenly aware he was still shirtless.

"Must go to school," Buffy replied, her tone resembling a monotone automaton.

"But Buffy….it's one o'clock in the morning," Spike protested, eyeing her with suspicion.

"Oh…well I must go for walk then," Buffy nodded, finalizing her own proposal and turned upon her heel, exiting towards the door.

"Wait!" Spike shouted after her, and when she didn't stop, he leapt the rest of the stairs and followed her out the door she…or it had left ajar.

"Spike…leave Buffy alone now," Buffy commanded, increasing her speed to gain distance between her and the male vampire.

"But wait Buffy….why?"

"No reason…just go," Buffy replied.

"But…aiight fine then," he halted, taking it to his advantage that she didn't look back, and so he followed her again.

* * *

Buffy awoke somewhere in a strange dimension, sprawled upon a swirling loam and a matching background. A callused palm rubbed her aching skull and she moaned with the pain, which brought with her movement.

"Where am I?" she questioned to herself, scrutiny never lifting from the eccentric realm.

"Ah Buffy Summers. You are in the recesses of your own mind…and I…I Shaziim have chosen you…slayer for my third host," a disfigured countenance appeared, hovering just above her head and she shuddered.

"What do you want with me?" She demanded, managing an unfazed tone.

"What do I want? I want a body that's strong and adept…proficient and able to fend of questions and other people…and I've been watching you for quite sometime…to know that you're the perfect candidate," he chuckled.

"So you're in my body? I'm in my body?" She asked, perplexed.

"Yes…and I will use your body to find me the Kalarei Pendant…so I can make myself whole again," Shaziim informed her.

"No!" She struggled mentally and physically, and then she felt a malfunction in her body's movement.

Yes…it was working!

"I don't think so little miss…I am impossible to fight…your strength will quickly fail…I have one week before your skin and bones becomes just another discarded piece of clothing to me, and within that span, I will find that necklace," he vowed.

"No…you can't….you don't even know where it is!" Buffy challenged.

"Ah…but I do…the last two students I infested found me a great deal of information before they became useless…," Shaziim whispered.

"Oh no," Buffy whispered, as she looked on through a small window where she could see what she was doing...or her body was doing in the outside world.

* * *

Spike persisted with the chase of his favorite slayer, watching the rigid carraige of her svelte...not a normal posture for the gracile femme. The heavy clunk of his spiked footwear became less and less audible as he willed himself to a light, nimble step, pausing to hide behind a tree or two when Buffy...it turned around to make sure nothing was following...it.

* * *

Buffy remained still, her knees embraced by her linked digits as she rocked back and forth upon her haunches, eyeing the scope which showed her external sight. Something was behind her...her clairvoyence was stunning, but she still felt it...and she suspected her body felt it when it occasionally gyrated to scan the pavement at its back.

"Whoa!" She shrieked as her frame was thrown to the ground from an enigmian source, and then she did a roll as she was flipped onto her back.

Spike!

"Spike!" She screamed desperatly, willing her own self to speak that elusive title.

"Buffy? S'at you love?" He peered questioningly at her.

"Spike! I'm stuck in here, please, it's not me...please he-,"

"Don't try that Buffy dear...you're wasting your strength," Shakiim's punishing voice boomed through her entrapment, "Your own thoughts and wishes will only willingly be spoken through the first few hours of your infestation...after that, you're powerless to me," Shakiim's parched lips smiled cynically.

Buffy watched as Spike cocked his brow...he must have heard the internal conflict between the two and he gasped, shooting back with shock.

"I don't know who, or what you are...but get out of my Buffy!" Spike growled.

"You're Buffy? Seems she's mine now," Shakiim replied lazily.

"Get out now...I warned you," Spike threatened.

"Ha! Do you think your pitiful attempt at threats would faze me? Shakiim the Supreme?" Shakiim thundered his masculine words, only to have them come out in an imperious tone to the blonde vampire.

"Get out!" Spike literally went insane.

He advanced, rugged, feral fingers grasping Buffy's cranium and shaking it violently, he growled and spat scathing remarks, and resiled nimbly to watch the reaction of the possessing creature. Buffy, or Shakiim lunged with full presision, striking at Spike's eyes and raking her nails down to his lips and Buffy...on the inside shuddered. Shakiim landed a kick on Spike's stomach, sending him hurtling back and then he jumped on him, knocking the wind and breath from Spike's system. He stood back to admire his handy work.

"You see Buffy...don't even try to get yourself help...I will destroy them!" Shakiim announced imperiously, focusing the vision upon the fallen Spike, rasping and heaving, struggling to get air into his crushed lungs and Buffy bit her lip, willing herself not to cry.

"Stop...please...stop!" She pleaded, falling to her knees with grief.

"Okay...fine...but let this be a lesson...and you," he turned to face Spike, "You keep out of my way...or I will crush you permanently next time," Shakiim warned, a last punch landing on Spike's nose when he attempted to rise.

* * *

"She's gone...we need to get help, I need to get her out...Red!!" Spike burst through the door of Buffy's dwelling, shouting his demands to the silence, awaiting Willow to appear from upstairs.

"Spike?" Willow protruded from her doorway, claoked in obvious sleepwear, one fist rubbing at her eyes, indicating her fatigue.

"Red...she's possessed...Shakiim...that, that thing...in Buffy," he panted desperatly, and Willow dashed down the stairs, taking Spike to the couch to sit down.

"Spike, calm down and breath," Willow begged, bringing him a glass of water from the kitchen and setting it down on the cofee table.

"No! Ah bloody hell woman! Buffy is possessed by that filthy Shakiim!" Spike went on a rampage, angry fist sweeping the table, knocking the glass to shatter upon the floor, water soaking into the carpet and drenching the table.

"Hey Spike, calm down," Willow shyed from the insane vampire.

He heaved for breath, dragging in deep, ragged breaths, attempting to gain control.

"Sorry Red...a bit crazy. I followed her...followed it. We were laying in bed-,"

"Where you..?" Willow gasped.

"No Red," he gritted his teeth.

"Oh sorry, continue," Willow lowered her head.

"Right then...we were laying in bed, she shook, her eyes glowed...and she left...talking and walking like a bloody robot. I followed her, and she was walking towards the school...and she told me...told me she was trapped and...Shakiim...and I need to get her out!" Spike explained, fingers raking through his blond tresses in jolting strikes.

"Spike...calm down, I'm gonna rally the others and we will get Buffy back okay? I promise," Willow patted him on the shoulder and hurried from the room, only to return with her coat and shoes on.

"We're meeting at the Magic Box, come on," Willow led the masquerade from the door, Spike at her side, panting with anxiety.

* * *

"Okay...Shakiim, Shakiim, Shakiim," Anya muttered to herself, flipping through the modly pages of a new and different text book, concentration clearly instructed to her task of finding a cure of this possessing spirit,

Now that Buffy's life was on the line, the Scoobies were at their highest working level, despite the hour. Their vigil lasted until the next morning with Anya and Xander asleep in eachother's arms in the corner, scattered books at their sides, and Willow's red head resting on the book infront of her. Spike was the only one awake...he had been up all night and had even closed the blinds to keep sunlight out, and held one of the ten books he had reviewed vigilently and tirelessly.

"Hm...mmph," Willow stirred and shot up, wiping the small trickle of drool from her lips, "Spike!"

"Yes Red?" His head never lifted from the book.

"What are you doing still awake? It's...," she paused to check her watch, "Eleven o'clock in the morning! It's daylight now!"

"I closed the blinds, don't open them," Spike replied.

"Oh...okay," Willow murmured with a yawn, stretching out in her chair, "Didja find anything?"

"No Red...nothing," he muttered irritably.

"Geeze, sorry," she returned his touchiness and poked softly at Anya and Xander until they were awoken from their slumber, drowsy and groggy.

"We have six days left in counting until Buffy loses all strength of mind and body she has and you people are loitering around sleeping," Spike grumbled.

"You do love her don't you?" Xander commented.

"What?" Spike craned his neck to eye the boy.

"Love her...you do don't you?" Xander repeated.

"Well...why I...yes," Spike nodded solomnly and returned to his book.

"Come on then, we have to get to work!" Anya jumped up, grabbing a nearby book and began to scan the pages.

"Right," Willow and Xander chorused in unison, copying off of Anya and going to work.

Spike couldn't help but smile.

* * *

Four days since Spike had last seen Buffy and mourned every night, howling to the heavens and screming his disapproval of her disappearence. He often visited the ally and the cemetary, scrutinizing the scenes for hours, awaiting her to appear...and when she never showed, he would leave, only to return a few hours later. Pain and yearning. These two things alone consumed him whole, and all the while he would inflict more pain upon himself for not finding her...for letting her emaciate in the body, in the mind of herself.

Then he jumped up, concluding what his plan of action would be.

"I must find her," he muttered, grabbing his billowing trench coat and exiting his crypt.

* * *

Buffy was tired. Four days had passed...she was slowly wasting away, and she could feel her brain failing, shrinking in mentality to that of an eight year old, and her body would wander around the campus, halting every few strides to calculate the measures of the grounds as if awaiting to strike and dig into the dirt. She sat within the corner of her mind, dilated nares drawing in deep breath and she didn't try to fight the spirit anymore, knowing that wasting her strength was...useless.

Suddenly she was jarred, the impetuous force throwing her forward in her head, and her fingers flew to the earth, digging up the dust and dirt particles in the ground, and she studied the scene, horror stricken.

"At last...I am ready to retrieve that necklace," the voice rang through her head.

"What's going to happen after you get it?" Buffy inquired.

"I will dispose of you and become my regular self.

"I don't think so!" The masculine voice made Buffy nearly faint with relief, and she felt her body be lifted up and tied with binds and chains...manacles and locks.

"What are you doing you fools?" Shakiim shouted, writhing within the confines of the binds.

"Sorry Buffy...I mean Shakiim, you need to be watched," Willow answered as Xander and Spike lifted the bound body above their heads and carried her to the Magic Box.

There they tied her to a chair and Buffy continued to muse the Scoobies as they bustled about, searching the books.

"Hehe...they will never find the help they need...never find the remedy to me," Shakiim chuckled.

"Why?" Buffy questioned.

"Because my little one...it is not in the books!" Shakiim laughed with a supreme tone.

"But..but...why?" Buffy began to cry.

"Because...the remedy had never gotten to the book. But I know the remedy...the blood and tears of a lover," Shakiim laughed.

"Blood and tears...," Buffy repeated quietly.

"Too bad it can't be delivered...you have no lover!" Shakiim boomed.

But she did have a lover...a lover no one ever would have suspected...a creature which was the exact opposite of her nature and species...a creature of the night, an inevitable factor in the slayer's life...the vampire. Spike. She wept for him, because they would never find the cure...he would never find that she had found a 'bloody revelation' as he had stated...she loved him.

Then Buffy formed a plan. A ingenious for an eight year old...but the insolence of the age was a natural nutrient to her plan. She gathered her strength and screamed, loudly and willing her body to follow suit.

"Bood...t...te...lover...blood...tea...love-," she stammered, cut off by Shakiim's prowess and he reprimanded her, banishing her to the corner once more, alone with her tears.

"Blood...lover?" Willow repeated after the possessed slayer.

"Blood, lover and what?" Spike asked, rushing to her side and pleading.

"Blood of the lover...blood of the lover!" Anya jumped up, proud of herself for figuring out the puzzle.

"Blood of the lover?" Spike asked.

"Yes! She needs your blood!" Anya shouted excited, rushing to the back of the room for a knife...but when she returned, she watched as Spike bit through his own wrist, holding the spurting substance to her parted lips.

"Drink Buffy!" He tilted her head back and loomed closer toward sher bound body.

"I don't know if she returns my love...it might not work," Spike snapped his head up as he himself made a revelation...devastating but true.

"Well, we'll have to wait and see...Xander grab that chest, we'll need it just incase the demon is washed out," Anya instructed.

"Yes honey," he retrieved the box and held it open at the mouth of a now sleeping Buffy.

* * *

The next day...and Buffy's brain had shriveled, but she remained herself in what was left over, huddled alone and frightened. They had provided her blood...but no tears...she coughed and rasped, bitter and it hurt.

"How does it feel close to death Buffy Summers?" Shakiim asked, his face hovering over hers.

"It feels...wonderful," Buffy replied dreamily.

"Really? I would never know," Shakiim chuckled idly, "You only think it's wonderful because you're losing energy drastically...your last day alive."

"I...love...Spike," she panted, her eyelids drooping.

"Don't you worry...I will tell him," Shakiim grinned.

* * *

Spike incessantly focused his attention on Buffy. Her eyes were open, but they stared blankly at the wall, and then she snapped.

"Spike, she loves you. Too bad she won't be around for you to tell her the same...for you to know what it would be like...you two as lovers. She's subject to me, a victim in a half an hour," Shakiim informed him.

"Get out of her! Get out now!" Spike begged, "Take me instead!"

"I think not...I want to stay and watch her sould die...and as for you, thanks for the offer, I just might infest you next," Shakiim giggled.

"No!" Spike wailed, his head falling upon Buffy's lap.

* * *

Five minutes. Buffy was feeling weak and faint. Will I now at last return to my 'Heaven'? Back to where I was before I was resurrected. I'm so sorry Spike. And then she passed out, ready to go into death.

* * *

Spike gazed at his watch, rigid and tense. Five minutes. He grasped her limp hand which was tied behind the chair and lost control. He confessed his feelings and emotions to a Buffy who wasn't really there, tears spilling in torrents into his mouth with its brackish taste. They cascaded onto her lap, and then he kissed her one last time, a gentle brush of his lips and his tears fell, fell into the depths of her throat and he wept

for the slayer he loved and lost for a second time."Curse!" Her head shot up and her eyes glowed once more, brilliant light illuminating, blinding the blonde vampire momentarily. Then she lay limp again and he untied the binds, hugging her body close, unaware of the transformation that just had happened.

A distinct thud of a closing chest sounded, and Spike didn't bother to look over at the Scoobies who stood in quiescence, holding the arched lid closed...and he didn't take notice to the bumping and thumping going on inside the chest. He simply embraced her and held her close, head bowed over her neck and onto her back where he freely permitted his salty tears to fall, drenching the week old apparel which clothed her spine.

"Buffy...I'm so sorry...I'm so, so sorry," he sobbed.

"Mmm," Buffy stirred.

"Buffy, I tried! I'm so sorry," he bitterly cried, unaware of her movement.

"Spi...Spike...," she murmured weakly.

"Buffy," he breathed, holding her away from him in order to believe what he was seeing.

"Spike...I, I love you," she admitted, and slumped into his embrace.

And he held her, unaware as the Scoobies scuttled out the door, Anya leaving a 'closed' sign on the outside of the door.

* * *

Buffy awoke later that day, and found herself in her bed, blinds and curtains closed. She rose slowly and looked around, spotting the brooding male vampire in the corner, sitting stagnate in a plush cushioned chair. When he looked up to check on the sleeping slayer he jumped up, moving swiftly to her side, kneeling to her eye level as she laid her head back downon the pillow.

"Buffy."

It amazed her the many different ways he could say her name.

"Spike," she replied, hand protruding from the sheets and beginning to gently stroke his sculpted cheeck bones.

"Buffy...I was scared...thought I had lost you," he confessed, returning her affection.

"I thought I was going to meet death again…and this time, I didn't want to go to the heavenly place I was at last time before my resurrection…all I could think about was Sunnydale…and the people in it," Buffy whispered, confiding in the burly presence of the vampire.

"I know why…I love you, and you love me," he answered.

"Yes…I do," she nodded and he kissed her, but not that of burning passion, but of sultry love, and the desire was there, his desire which had kept him going was there…tangible.

He touched her, and hugged her, slid beneath the sheets with her, and together they fused as one, rhythmically to unheard melody.

[Notes: *umph* -collapses- what a night! Er….day! Don't mind my writing folks…I wrote this at 1:00 AM in da morning, I worked on it without any break for three hours straight, I'm sorry if it's really, super confusing –sigh- please don't hit me with too much constructive critisism pwease –pleads- Hopefully I will be able to fix it soon if it's a problem….tootles –poof-]