Prologue

He is coming home…I mean back today. I won't say home, because I don't know if that is how he feels, but when he is with me, I am home. I won't tell him that of course. I am more than a thousand years old; I know how to not scare a guy, even a guy like him, off. I've missed him so much. He has been gone two and a half weeks. He had to meet with the vampire council. They couldn't come here of course, because my territory is considered taboo. If they entered it without confirming it with Spike and I, I killed them. It was just that easy. They stay away from me, I don't kill them. Anyway, he is coming back today; I can't wait to see him. It's been such a busy week for me. I don't remember the last time I got any sleep. I am half lying on and half off of my bed listening to some Dido. I wish he where home.

Flashback

It started almost six hundred years ago. I mean I met him almost six hundred years ago.

He wasn't a master vampire back then. But even then he was still powerful. Not quite as powerful as I was, nor as powerful as I would become, but he was great among other vampires. Back then, witch craft, if that is what you could call what I was doing, what I was; it was looked down upon as the weaker method of power. I was not yet in touch with my full potential of power. Only years later would I become known as the undertaker, not only because of my magic, but because I was to become the thing that other assassins feared. But that is another story. Back then, then I was slave, a slave the magical kind. The most powerful vampires would capture and train witches to do their bidding. It didn't so much work out with me. Even though I was only three hundred and forty two, I was very head strong and independent. I did not and never have liked taking orders. And I got punished for it, repeatedly. Really, the beatings never did bother me. I always got even. They hated me for it. Angelus, the main trainer of the witches, of me, he liked to be creative. He beat me until I was black and blue, tortured me. He hurt me and I hurt him back, because while he was great at torture, he sucked at being the tortured. Of course me beating him was like an endless circle of pain that went back and forth between the two of us. Eventually it became so violent between the two of us that we kind of stopped. I did as he asked up to a point, and he didn't screw with me too much. Bugger for him then.

His bitch, named Darla, was head female. She was a retched piece of work. She was so self involved that she never even noticed that Angelus was screwing other women, as well as other men. She assumed that he was hers and only hers. You know what they same about assuming? It made an ass out of her, and just plain made me laugh.

The next female in line was Druscilla. She was a masterpiece designed directly by angelus. She was crazy as all hell, and psychic at that. A lot of good it did them though. With all of her potential came all of the crazy crap that you also had to discern through. I understood her though, she made perfect sense to me, but then again I can also read minds and I am a hell of a lot smarter than people back then gave me credit for. If they had wanted a psychic, all they had to do was ask me, not that I would have told them anything useful, but it would have made my days far more amusing.

They final member, or at least the final important one is William. AKA, Spike. He was known as William the bloody due to his bad poetry in his living years, but also due to the fact that he stabbed railroad spikes through the heads of his victims. He was vicious, brutal, built, and gorgeous. He slept with whomever he wanted, when he wanted. He was more of a master vampire than Angelus could have ever hoped to be. I wanted him from the first moment I saw him. To him, however, I was just a witch, nothing more. It wasn't that way forever though. Not even for more than a couple of weeks.

It had been a very long day. A spell another girl, a friend at that, and I had been told to do was not coming out the way they had hoped. Angelus was beating the hell out of her and I. She was not like me, she was mortal. He was killing her. We had been friends for a few months, which doesn't seem like a long time, unless of course you're in servitude. I had never had a friend that cared about me before, and I didn't want her to die. Angelus threatened me with her life. "Finish the spell," he said, "Do it right this time or she dies." I know, you're thinking, why the hell did you trust him. The truth is I don't know, but I did. I did the spell, and it worked. He told me good, and then he snapped her neck and called her a "worthless bitch." He left me alone, told me I worked better solo. I stood there for what seemed like days. I couldn't breathe, not that I needed to. Then the next moment, I am sobbing on the floor. I had never cried before, I didn't know what was wrong with me. At some point later, someone walked into the room. I didn't even look up. Then I heard a voice, "I'm sorry for your loss." I looked up into William the bloodies eye's. I saw him looking at me, really looking at me. He started walking away, I asked him quickly before he left, "Why did you come down here and tell me that?" He looked at me, and I swear to whatever god there is that I could have melted right there by the look in his eyes, and he said, "Any woman that can beat Angelus into submission is worth a second look." And then he was gone.

Present

I remember him that day, seeing me for the first time. I could fall asleep thinking about him. It wasn't then that he wanted me, not even after six hundred years later did he fully want me, but at that moment, both he and I knew there was a future for us. What kind, we didn't know, but it was there.

I heard the front door, I think he is home. I am far too exhausted to get up, and he doesn't make me. He walks into my, our room and sees me there. He takes off his shirt and mine. He pulls me against him in order to do so. Then he scoops me up and lays me on the bed. Then he lays down right next to me with his arm over my stomach and his head on my heart. As we both begin to drift off, I hear him say the word I am thinking. "Home." I wake just enough to look at him sleeping. I smile. If he never ever tells me he loves me, it won't matter, so long as he wants me, so long as I am his home. Just like he is mine.