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...

Author's Note: Thank you to the lovely people who have purchased CrossRealms:Shattered by S. on Amazon. You made my week.

Dedicated to: Terrington, Stuffn'nonsense, and Kayana M.

Part II

Buffy picked up a few choice items from Giles' weapons' chest. She paused as he grabbed some old leather-bound volume, and didn't bother to ask what it was for. Giles and books. They go together.

"Ready?" he asked, trying to force brightness into his voice.

"Ready. Oh God. Riley! Riley's going to hate this so, so much more. And what if he can't even do it? Giles, bites are painful! He can't cause me pain!"

"A bite has varying degrees of severity. We'll ask if he can do this without inflicting pain. I actually imagine that part of it- will be based on you."

"Oh, I'll inflict pain on him, no problem," Buffy said cheerfully.

"The chip fires if he is threatening to harm a human. If you and he are able to work this out where you request it and he can deliver it without harming you or causing you pain, the chip shouldn't fire. And to that end- Absence of Sensation spell. Short-acting spell that blocks physical pleasure and pain."

"Why would anyone make a spell that blocks both?"

"Because nerve endings are nerve endings, Buffy. You block the ability for them to feel, they can't feel. At all. If it does feel painful, we can try this, but it'll only last a few moments. It was usually only used for- hrm-specific events."

"Giles, whenever you do that thing, where you cough and look away, I know it was icky. Do you want to just tell me now?"

"No. I do not. I have had enough awkwardness for today, and the day is young. Let's go, I'll drive." Archaic virginity rituals. Although, I suppose it's better to sacrifice the virginity than the virgin.

"Can't drive. Can't sit. Too jumpy. Do you suppose any demons jog? I could kill some demon joggers on the way?"

"Buffy, stop. You're beginning to sound like Xander during his insect-eating phase."

"Sorry. Shutting up." Buffy smiled nervously. "Giles? Do you think I should call Riley first?"

"Naturally, if it will help you feel better."

Buffy paused on the front steps. No. It wouldn't. He was already having weird "my girlfriend has a thing for vamps" feelings and giving off vibes she didn't like. He's not right. He's not. It's just… some of them know things I don't. And Spike- oh, hey, Spike knows more about slayers than most vamps. Probably more than Count Hypnosis did. "M-maybe we should wait to tell him. If Spike can't help or won't help, he'll get all upset at me for nothing."

"Upset at you?"

She hastily corrected the slip of her tongue, knowing it wasn't truly a slip. "I mean, upset."

"This isn't your fault. You do have power. No other humans have power like yours. Vampires come close. Believing you could find answers doesn't make you bad, it makes you curious, skillful. Warriors hone the knowledge of their weapons. You are your own best weapon." And the thought of it being dulled, and wielded for evil makes me ill.

"I missed this," Buffy leaned against him suddenly. I'm not bad. No one needs to treat me like I'm bad. Darkness isn't always bad, if you use it right. Right? If Spike opens his bleached blonde, pointy mouth to dare insult me for this - well, I won't be surprised. But it's nice to know the people who really matter understand. "Thanks, Giles. I'll race you? Think I'll beat your car?"

He smiled as she darted off, laughing with something like hope in her eyes. "Very probably."


Spike almost fell down the trapdoor of his crypt. "Slayer!" he hissed, eyes rolling. He hastily tried to cover the evidence of his home's lower level, but she didn't even seem to notice his awkward crouch, what he was tugging back into place.

"Spike. I- I - hey, so did you know Dracula was in town?"

"Oh yes. I knew. Old rival of mine, wasn't he?" He tried to look smug. In reality, this wasn't a good opening to a conversation. "What's it to do with me? You finish him, Luv? Properly?"

"Semi-properly. What's up with the reforming ash stuff?"

"Annoying, init? Your army lad was over here about a week ago. Sayin' he wanted info. Offered to pay, then didn't. Man who doesn't pay his debts, Slayer… not trustworthy." He smiled insincerely, hoping to brass her off, but she just looked confused. He continued, "Be that as it may. He said Drac had his sights on you and he was gonna protect you, all puffed up and ready to defend your honor."

"He was?" Buffy frowned. Had she missed that? Maybe when she was in la-la land, maybe Riley had mentioned coming to see Spike. "Well… there's a little situation. Tiny. Minor. I need some help, and I know you'll want to be paid. Can we talk a price?"

"Hang on, Slayer, no good negotiatin' terms without describin' the job," Spike scoffed. Then his eyes took on a dark twinkle. "Is it to put it to the Caped Wonder? Mr. Tabloid? I'll do you that for free, provided the risk is reasonably low."

The pain in her stomach lessened, finding herself unable to stop the smile on her face, crooked and dark, too. "You'd definitely be sticking it to him. And Mr. Tabloid- nice. He's kind of show off-y."

"The show off-y-est," Spike agreed, then looked appalled. Only minutes in, and she's ruined any hope I had of sounding even slightly intimidating. "I thought he'd left town. Do you know where he is? Are you proposin' a road trip?" Eyebrows rose.

A road trip with Spike. Nope. Give me the continual hyperactivity. "I hope not. I think we can do what needs to be done from here. But first, can you back up a second?" The nagging thought that she might have missed information didn't cease nagging. "Riley came to see you?"

"Yeah. Told him you could handle Drac. Told him the poof likes his style, his mansions, his imported box o'dirt, his little harem."

"He said he researched. I should have known he didn't mean books!" Buffy grunted.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Am I only allowed to be your informant? You want to put a little tag on me, Property of Slayer?" Spike snapped. Why doesn't that fill me with more- anger? This mildly irritated feeling doesn't cut it. There definitely shouldn't be tense feelings in my gut, like I wondered what'd be like if such a little label existed.

"No! No, no- ownership. Property. Oh, this sucks." She paced suddenly, almost wringing her hands.

"Did somethin' happen to Finn? It did, didn't it? He tried to tangle with the Count, got himself hurt? Well, I warned him. I said to let you handle it, told him to keep out of it! This isn't my fault, no blamin' me for this. I've been bloody well-behaved all summer, an' you know it. You haven't heard two peeps outta me! An' the fact that I have to boast about that to you makes me bloody sick! What else d'you want me to do besides be a good little chipped puppy and not bite anyone?" he exploded engrily, now inches from her, glaring at her. She froze, mouth working, a cross between anger and - tears? "What is it? What happened?" Why do I care? But- I hate that look.

She lifted her hair slowly, revealing two healing holes.

He stepped back, eyes wide. "He got you. But- I know you didn't let him win. He couldn't take you, Slayer. It was that nasty trickery of his. It couldn't be. You aren't turned. You're not-"

"He called me kindred."

Spike sat down hard on the edge of a coffin. "Oh, shit."

"That seems to be the common reaction. I need this broken," Buffy stated with as much calm as she could muster. Inside, a tiny piece of her took pride in Spike's wholehearted belief that she would beat the legendary vamp in question. More than Riley seemed to think possible.

"What? You can't break a hold from Drac! You'd need someone powerful. You'd need all kinds of bondin' and lovin' and mental control, not to mention the bitin' itself -oh. I guess you can break it. Give my regards to Angel. I hope he dies a nice painful death, somethin' along those lines." He reached in his back pocket for a cigarette, feeling unaccountably, annoyingly bitter.

"If I needed Angel, would I be here?" Where the hell is Giles? I'm fast, but I'm not that fast. Or am I? She suddenly could hear her heart beating in the silence. She looked at Spike for a second, and saw him subtly lean forward, head cocked. "Can you hear that?"

"You on somethin'?"

"Yes, Dracu-roids. I have my free-will back, along with a side of extreme antsiness and borderline tachycardia. Look, I'll give you all the details you want, but first things first. I can't use Angel. I can't live like this. I know I'm laying it on the line here, but I don't have a lot of options. Can you help me out? Break this hold, and we're even for everything you did. The kidnapping, the Adam-helping, the endless snarking, old attacks, and set-ups. No more gudge-holding Slayer. Okay?"

Giles appeared in the doorway, clearing his throat. He had heard the last bit. "Hello. It seems that you're aware of the situation."

Spike licked his lips. His normally agile mind seemed to be mired in treacle. "I would. But, I can't. I'd have to bite you. I'd have to- what exactly did you an' Drac get up to?" His eyes narrowed suddenly.

"Nothing! I mean, he bit me once, I tasted his blood. I didn't bite him. And it grossed me out! He said I would know the true source of my power if I … I- it's not important."

"The slayer is the source of her own power," Spike scoffed. The Watcher looked suddenly murderous and the girl looked miserable. He continued quickly, "Although I'm sure there's a lot of mojo and mystical bits to it. He'd be good at that. Yeah. Makes sense. He offered you a deal, an' you took it. Respect that." Okay, so he didn't fully respect it, but he could play along.

Her eyes shone with genuine gratitude. It startled him into smiling back, alarmed at the sudden lack of control of his own facial muscles.

"He wanted your power, Luv. Wanted a taste. Lyin' bastard. He cheats at cards, too."

My heart should not feel warm. Or tingly. Oh, geez. I'm sick right now, that's all. "Giles, explain the biting thing."

"I have a test. Buffy, can you please ask Spike to take your hand?"

"What? Why? That's not gonna do it, Watcher," Spike put his hands firmly in his pockets.

Giles sighed patiently. "Pain is caused by intent and force. Buffy, ask me to take you hand."

"This so sudden," Buffy tried to joke.

"Why is this situation only serious to me?" His eyes closed and he waited.

"Giles, hold my hand, please."

He took it. "Tell me to squeeze."

"Squeeze."

Giles looked at Spike. "This is a requested action. It is pressure, without pain. Without force. Now, I can keep squeezing, and since I'm simply a regular man, Buffy won't feel any pain." Giles squeezed harder and harder, and eventually Buffy gave him a mildly uncomfortable look. He released her instantly. "If you intend to touch a human without hurting them, I'm sure you can do this. Your jaws are simply body parts, fangs as well. If you intend to bite to heal, not to hurt, perhaps you can. Not to bring up bad memories, but I observed- blurrily- the two of you kissing and lapping at each other for hours. I am sure that some of it was- hm- a bit aggressive, if loving."

"Hey! Watch it!"

"Loving under the guise of the spell, Spike. Now, let's attempt this, shall we? Then we can talk price. Buffy- hand. Spike, exerting pressure as she asks you to."

Buffy held out her hand without looking at him. "Spike? Hold my hand," she ordered.

"You didn't say please."

"Please don't make me punch you."

"You'd think you might be a bit nicer! I'm risking a headache that feels like someone suddenly skewered me with red hot pokers in in every body part at once. The thought of it is enough to make me sick, an' I'm doin' it for you 'cause you were turned on by the mysterious git with the movie theater accent."

"I wasn't turned on!" Buffy shouted.

"Do this properly! Buffy, your life is at stake, in a way. And Spike." Giles was tempted to pull out a stake. But that wouldn't be advisable. Threatening those who you need to help was a last resort. Even if it was Spike. "You have been spared many times by Buffy. You can surely take this risk for her, as a gesture for all the times she has let you live- and continues to do so."

"Please take my hand," Buffy whispered, contrite, still not looking at the vampire. She tried not to jump as his larger fingers pressed past her own. "Press harder."

"I'm not gonna hurt you," Spike mumbled it out loud, as if the declaration could stop the chip. Think good thoughts. Kind thoughts. Holdin' Dru's hand. Skippin' through streets runnin' red, pulling her along as we climbed up towers and down mountainsides, the world was ours.

He seized onto her, hands locking. The grip was sure and earnest, almost like he wanted to lead her somewhere, show her something. "Harder." Her mouth was dry.

He pulled. I'm not hurting. I'm not hurting.

Eyes met. "Harder."

Giles had to look up. He saw the lips move, but heard no sound.

He tugged, pulled her to his chest, arms between them like a standing arm-wrestling match was about to begin, his knuckles whiter than usual, and she squeezed him back.

Both of them were panting, eyes locked, hands locked, inches away. She made a tiny little sound, not of pain, of discomfort, and his hand fell away like he was burned. "Did it go off?" she asked breathing hard.

"No, no, we're good," he nodded, gasping back in the same tone.

Giles lost his grip on the book he'd been holding, shattering the moment as it landed on the floor with a loud thump. They both jumped and sprang apart, almost guiltily. What just happened? I can't imagine what just happened, why such a simple act seemed to cause such- exertion. "I think we've found our solution. At least a working model. I can- I can wait outside if you'd like to-"

"I can't do this now. I mean, I know I need to do it soon, but I have to register for classes by ten this morning. I- I'm supposed to meet Willow. Riley-"

"Oh, no. No, you don't tell Soldier Boy. He won't care if you're dyin' and I have the cure. He'll care that I bit his honey. I'm happy to do you a good turn, Slayer, but not at the price of my life."

He's happy to help me? Her brain hit a rumble strip and faltered in reply. "He has to know."

"Then it's off. Or, you tell 'em when it's done. No, he'll just stake me when you're fine." Spike now paced, looking anxious. "Sod this effing chip!" He kicked the coffin.

"Erm, Spike. Riley has no desire to hurt a helpless creature. You've helped us and as you mentioned, you've strived to remain off the radar and beyond reproach- well, not killing- this summer. He has no-"

"-bloody problem with staking me. Told me so when he came here last week. Said you didn't want to kill me because I'd been helpful at times, plus, I'm helpless, not a 'true threat'. Said he didn't see it your way. Had no problem takin' me out." Spike skipped cigarettes and rummaged by his mini fridge. A half-empty bottle of booze appeared and he gulped several long swallows.

"He… said he would kill you?" Buffy looked confused. "This last week when he asked you about Dracula?"

"Riley asked Spike about Dracula?" Giles looked surprised as well.

"Yes to both questions! I'm not endin' up dusty for this!"

"I promise you won't!" Buffy impulsively crossed to him and touched his arm. "You're saving my life- at least parts of it. How can he object to that?"

Spike stared at her pityingly. "How can he not? I'll tell you what. You run this past him without naming any names. That you have a hold, an' it's gotta get broken. You don't mention my name at all. See what he suggests and what he's okay with. Then, if you can extract some sort of promise that he'll swear on his neatly pressed uniform and his life an' all that, that he won't hurt the vamp who helps you, - you still tell 'em it's someone else. Tell 'em it's an old pal, tell him it's Harm! Or Angelus! Just. Not. Me."

"You can trust him," Buffy offered softly. I thought he'd want to brag. I thought he'd make me suffer, tease, bully, bluster- it's all he's got left. But he doesn't.

"No, Buffy, you can trust him," Spike countered, using her given name. "I won't leave town. You get this sorted, I'll be about, and we'll try it."

"Buffy, why don't you go onto register and meet Willow? Spike, I'd like to ask you some questions about these vampiric holds," Giles suggested.

"Keep it quick, it's beddy-by for some of us. Especially if I'm gonna need to deal with the likelihood of having my brain stabbed and electrocuted multiple times in an evening."

Buffy winced. "Thank you. I'll- be over tonight. Um. Thanks. Bye." She backed out of the door without her usual grace, almost stumbling in hurry to get away.

Spike groaned and regarded the solitary Watcher. "Well?"

"Two bites, two blood exchanges. He did one. He lured her with her own good intentions. She wants to become a better slayer."

"Why the bloody hell does she need to do that? She's already the best! Is there some sort of award she's buckin' for?"

Giles smiled briefly. "The point is, that's how you weaken her. I know you know that and you won't make that mistake. Now- the hold part. You have to claim her as family, kindred. Or - you know, any of the possessive terms."

"I'm not claimin' that girl! She'll do me in!"

"Spike!" Giles hissed. "You have to do it until the hold is broken, and then you release her yourself. It's not hard. You simply-"

"I say, 'I cast you off.' I say, 'You're no longer mine.' There's variations and I know of 'em. The point is, she's never gonna let herself be 'owned' by me, even for an hour. She won't let me have that kinda power!"

"Dracula already has a very weak hold on her that she's doomed to suffer with until he forces her hand or she breaks it herself. Having a shorter, stronger hold is preferable. And you know that you're unable to hurt her, or I will kill you in a very creative manner that leaves you plenty of painful time for reflection as you die. Clear?" Giles smiled brightly, a touch of mania in his usually serious eyes.

"Easy!"

"Ah, you understand me. You complete the hold, you release her. While she feels connected, you won't ask her to do anything untoward."

"Villain's honor," Spike huffed. Then he hesitated. "There's gotta be a connection. You know that. I can say whatever the hell I want, but if she don't feel something back, it's for sod all. You both seem to conveniently narrow this down to nuts and bolts, a bite, a taste, a word. Connection is mutual. It's not a one-way tether."

"Yes, yes, I know. I think- I think you two have a tenuous connection already. You've been allies. Partners and foes. Dracula hunted her as a slayer, you study slayers, you've studied her for the longest, haven't you?" The pale figure nodded sullenly. "Not only that, but you are a worthy challenger. As far as lore goes, Dracula never killed or turned a slayer. You've killed two and made one your ally, if not a friend. I think the probability is good, I believe the connection is there, and I think it can be strengthened over a few days. Then there is the-erm- the kiss."

Spike raised his scarred eyebrow and tilted his head. "The what?"

"An act of intimacy. That is stronger than the one Dracula used. As best we can tell, he embraced her, held her prior to biting her. If you- hrm- kiss her, that ought to work. You've already kissed under the spell that Willow inadvertently performed."

"Holdin' someone can be more intimate than a peck on the cheek. Or the mouth. Oh, bollocks, Giles! I've never done this before! I don't know how to break a hold. Couldn't bloody place one the only time I ever wanted to," he confessed.

"I'm sorry. But you are our best hope. If you're intentions are -well, not pure, but not ill-intentioned, then we'll forgive mistakes along the way. As long as you can help her. And of course, the payment-"

"I told her I'd do it for the pleasure of smackin' Drac down. I can't go back on that now. But if you'd do me the favor of keepin' my fridge an' bar stocked up for a few weeks?"

"Done and done."

"An' keeping Finn away from me. You know the girl trusts him. I don't. He doesn't see me as anything but a pest to be exterminated. Pests don't converse, don't promise, don't love. All right, I'm a killer, that's bad, you good guy types kill the killers, the demons. But I'm not hurting anyone. I'm-" Spike felt his fists curl. He hated being helpless. He hated - feeling like this. This odd phenomenon of wanting people to know, wanting Buffy to know, that he wasn't set on harming them anymore. It's wrong, and I've got to play into it more than ever. Maybe this great act of goody-goody-ness will snap me out of it.

"You are an associate. You are- on our side?" Giles tossed out softly.

"Yeah. Yeah, 'm not keen to hurt any of you. Except for Finn. I hate him. I'd kill 'em good an' proper. But not the rest. Now go. I feel sick at the thought of all of this. I'll do what I can, quick as I can."

"I'll do whatever you need to help her."

Spike wondered briefly what he could ask for, what he could get out of this. There wasn't anything he wanted. His fangs suddenly ached. Slayer blood. Slayer close to him. Not fighting, but still battlin' something. He couldn't think of anything. "Is that what the book's for? You got a spell to break the hold? No, then why'd you need me for?"

"I'll copy this out if needed. I don't think it will be, and I'd rather not use it. Buffy's not terribly good with spells. There's an Absence of Sensation spell."

"I can do an odd bit of sorcery. Lemme-" Spike reached for the book, but Giles pulled it tighter under his arm. "I'm not gonna rip the pages, Librarian."

"It causes a temporary lack of sensation, a few moments where you cannot feel pain or pleasure, you feel nothing physical. If need be, if the bite seems to trigger pain no matter what you try, she can be - numbed."

"Well, do it to me! Then I could bite without getting zapped- well, without feelin' the zap!"

"It's surface, Spike, not internal. It would be suitable for the breaking of - of skin or tissue. Not the electrifying of organs. Besides, if it did work on you, you might not be able to feel what you were doing to her, and if she feels endangered, she will kill you."

"What was it for then? Doesn't seem terribly useful."

"It's been useful before and it may be again. I'll leave you to 'rest up.'" Giles inclined his head stiffly and took his leave.


Spike sat down heavily. Rest up. That's a laugh. Too troubled to sleep.

He looked startled at the breathy snarling sound he made as he shifted in his chair. Oh, hell no. We're not doing this. Not like we're excited. You- growly bits. Shut your yap.

He drank heavily, suddenly, draining the bottle, and fell halfway down the ladder in his hurry to hurl himself into bed where sleep would surely clear his mind.


What are you doing in here? He woke up to her touch on his arm.

"I need to borrow this." She was touching his face now, running her thumb over his brow, and like a switch being pulled, his fangs emerged.

"You don't want to wear the fangs, Luv."

"No, I want to know why I don't need them. I fight the dark. Am I in the dark? Can you see me?"

He looked up, and she wasn't beside him. In a split blink of an eye, she was wrapped in a shimmering shadow of blackness across the room, little bits of black and red gauze and gold, one of Dracula's mindless brides. The room was getting bigger by the second and far away, he heard the low, rasping chuckle of someone who knows he has a piece that will withstand the long game.

He snarled, "Hey! No, don't you do that! Get back to me. I'm gonna hold onto you. Get out of that goddamn slave-girl get up. You're not his ruddy concubine, you're the Slayer. You're my Slayer! Mine!"

And she was back, all pink and pressed against him, smiling. He could hear words in his head, but she wasn't moving her lips. "Do you know the source?"

He wanted to lie. "Not all of it." His lips weren't moving either. He knew they weren't, they were frozen, carved like marble, too close to hers.

"But you'll help me look?"

"Yeah, I'll help."

"Why?"

"I had power, too. I don't know where it is now. Don't know how I want to use it when I find it again."

Blue eyes and green, warm body and cold, all of the sudden sinking into darkness. "We're looking for them together?"

"Together."

Hands. Hands pressing and biting, mouths and necks, pressing and biting, and her breath against his ear, "Harder. Harder. Harder!"

And he knew it wasn't only their hands that were connected.


He sat up hard enough to give himself whiplash. He was panting, sweating, shaking. Sheets were tangled and his head hurt without the hangover or the zap.

"Oh no. Please, no."

To be continued...