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: stuff'n'nonsense, kyanaM, sjwheelhan, squeeface, Darkhrt101,Mother Willson, 666, pgoodrichboggs, jbu1810, Slayerette16, Pentastic, Jackiemack916,The Three March Hares, omslagspapper, Brokenblackrose89, and the kind guest reviewers. I am going to answer the kind reviews, but I figured you'd rather read this new chapter first and my heartfelt thanks second, so here we go. Also, thank you to the kind readers who are continuing to buy my original fiction on Amazon (S.C. Principale). All the wordy hugs ;)

Part XI

He tried to wait. At eight o'clock he was chain smoking outside the big tree in her front yard. If Finn should happen to pop by... He tried to leave. Couldn't.

She tried to settle. Couldn't. She'd had a record-breaking patrol and slipped in the kitchen door. She tried to eat a sandwich but couldn't with the carnival in her stomach back in business. When Spike was around, it felt better. She kept going to the front door and pausing, listening for a sound that she never heard. It was like something was waiting out there, something she needed. Slayer senses aren't usually wrong. She stepped onto the front porch. "Spike?" she breathed into the night air.

"I'm early. Couldn't settle." He was instantly at the bottom of the steps, looking up at her.

"Then come in," she said with a small smile, holding out her hand.


He knew he should have more reserve. More easy confidence. But as soon as she clicked the lock into place, he grabbed her into his arms and she grabbed him back just as desperately.

"Missed my girl," was all he would say. Everything else hurt. The idea of knowing it would end after tonight, or at least it could. Knowing it would end at all, it hurt.

"I had a really strange day. Oh, and I had a dream. You were -"

"Bora Bora. Duck?" he offered with one quirked eyebrow.

She gasped. Then blushed."How does that happen?"

"I have no idea, Pet. Don't care. Care about seein' you, that's all."

"Mmm, me, too. B-but we can go upstairs if you want. Actually, I'd like to. Oh- but not to- um- just I thought it might be a better place to-"

Spike quelled the nervous babble with a hand on her shoulder. "Take it easy. I know it was a dream. We don't- uh- well, the bit at the end- not that you said-" it was his turn to ramble and try to say things without saying them. She took his hand and gripped it.

"Want anything? I don't think we have blood. What am I saying, no, we definitely don't have blood. Juice? Soda?"

"Sure," he agreed for the sake of playing guest. Then shook his head. "Buffy, I'm not a guest."

"Oh. Yes, you are! You're visiting me, you came to see me."

"You don't have to treat me like- what are you doing?" She was blocking his path to the kitchen suddenly, one arm raised and open.

"I was- sorry. Dumb. You're right. We should just do this and get it over with."

"I didn't say that!"

"Isn't that what you meant?"

"No! I'm- I'm more than a guest. Connected to you. Don't have to stand on ceremony."

"I wasn't. I was being nice to you and treating you like a -friend? Also- I was going to hug you, because I want to and because my day was weird and sad and… whenever I felt really bad, I thought of you. It helped."

Another sudden desperate clinging to each other. "I missed you all day. You were all I bloody thought about," Spike murmured to the top of her hair. "Can't catch a break in my sleep. It's like- I drank you and now you're in my gut, and my veins, my heart, my head. I'm drownin' in my girl." He kissed her forehead, eyes squeezed shut, inhaling. Trying to be stronger than this.

She was glad he wasn't. "I had to think about so much. And all I wanted to do was come find you and be near you. I know it's just this kindred thing, the hold fighting off Dracula's, but it doesn't feel like that." Feels like I'm in love and I haven't seen you in years, and I know that you're somewhere nearby. If I could just find you, I'd be better.

"It feels so real. Hurts to know- that it's not."

"W-well- what makes it real?" Buffy suddenly wiped at her eyes, looking desperately at him.

"Hm?"

"Dracula did the same thing. I went to him. I listened to him. I was resisting the whole time. I hated it. I hated him. I tried to fight it. And when he was out of town, I felt like I was going insane in a bad way, skin too tight, too hot, buzzed and confused and hyper…" Her head cocked in puzzlement, eyes still on his face. "I don't feel any of that with you."

"Doesn't mean it's real. Even if I'd like it to- I know you're not the type to be 'owned', so I don't want to own you."

"Then don't call it owning. Call it belonging. Then it's like- a set. The one isn't more powerful than the other."

"You're more powerful than me, Slayer, you know that."

"But you're not weaker than me, Spike. I know that. We're just different."

"But a set, some happy little voice told me the other night," Spike allowed himself the luxury of running his fingers through her smooth hair. Undid her ponytail with a deft slip of his finger under the band, just petting her for a minute while his ego and his heart and mind carried on a pitched battle. "If it were real, maybe it'd feel just like this. We won't know until we break it. If we still feel the same- missing each other and thinking about each other, knowing that all you want to do to make it better is jus' see each other. Jus' touch…" his hand ran across her cheek and chin, down to her neck and over the lilac colored neck of her blouse.

"If it feels like they have something you've been searching for? When you see them, it's all okay?" Buffy added, letting her own hand wander. Up to his face, thumb around his cheekbones, ending aside his hairline, beside sparkling, too bright blue. "You said- I needed a someone. Who wouldn't break me."

"I think you need that. Strong types get broken enough. Shouldn't need to test the endurance from friendly fire."

She smiled. "Take off your coat? Stay?"

He linked his fingers through hers. "Water, Luv? Then upstairs?"

"Yes, please."


"I'm going to change," Buffy told him.

"Could leave it off. Seen it before." He winked as she pulled a black shirt with spaghetti straps out of her closet.

"Could. But won't." She stuck her tongue out at him and pulled out another hanger. Pink cami. Lacey. Sexy. Not Spike's style. My style. He'll deal.

"Can I help?"

"I still know how to change my clothes. Dracula didn't melt my mind that much," she laughed.

"It was an excuse," he came up behind her as she was about to disappear through the door. Ran his hands longingly down her arms, then stopped, his voice suddenly hard with an edge of disbelief. "I think you messed me up, Slayer."

"Huh? How?"

He had been completely, thoroughly demonstrative with Drusilla. Dismissive with Harm. Buffy was a whole new category. "Confused me. Made me… clingy."

"I don't think that was me. I think that's a you thing. I witnessed drunken, sobbing, heartbreak Spike."

"Yeah, an' you'll probably see it again in a few weeks."

Buffy grabbed his shoulder with lightning speed. "No. I'm not going to do that. We don't break each other. I … trust you. Which is messed up." She let out a sigh. "This is messy."

"Maybe it doesn't have to be? Oh. No. Bloody Finn."

"He needs surgery."

Spike looked stunned. Then he whooped. "Well done, Luv! You break his arm? Nose? No, surgery wouldn't be needed for-"

"What? No!" She hit his shoulder. "This isn't a good thing! He could die!"

Spike shook his head. "Not seein' the bad. I'd kill him myself if I-" The freezing glare shut his mouth.

"He has toxic levels of something in his system. It's messing up his heart and his adrenal glands. I don't even know what surgery he needs, but they have to get rid of the toxins and repair the damage. He's going to call me with updates as soon as he knows something."

"Oh. Then you'll go be with him? Some secret spy hospital?"

"Yeah. I'll go visit. Not to stay," Buffy said softly, an edge of sadness in her voice. "I know the connection we have is affecting me. I don't know how much. I can't make big decisions while my mind is clouded. But I've been feeling… less and less happy with him. Before you bit me. The things he says and does- they're sweet most of the time, but there are some things that I don't like. And one of them is how he sees me, and that's huge. Because- you know, I'm half of the couple."

"What are you sayin'?"

"I didn't break up with him. But I wanted to. I told him we needed time to focus on our own stuff. Can't make decisions that are permanent while I'm still under some sort of enforced 'attachment' to someone else."

"Don't say that. Enforced. I didn't force- I never-"

"No! No, no you are not forcing. You're freeing. The situation is forcing my hand, that's what I should have said."

"Glad I'm one of the good guys in this situation." Horrified expression. Stunned. Bugging eyes. "Fuck, Slayer!"

"Reserved for the good guys," Buffy tried to joke, awkwardly patting him. "It's okay. No one is ever going to think you're all sweet and fluffy good. You're just- sometimes good. Darkness for a good use? I have that, too."

"Don't tell anyone?"

"About you or me?"

"Me!"

"Being on the good guy team gets respect- from the good guys."

He let out a frustrated growl of annoyance. "Rather have respect from the baddies."

"You have that already. You could have some of both."

"Ah. Like you." He relaxed enough to smile slightly.

"You'd think if the bad guys respected me more, they'd leave town or take the school year off, or close business by ten PM or something," Buffy muttered.

"I'll mention it next time I'm at the bar." He winked.

"Thank you. Helpful vamp."

"Yeah? Well. Time for me to do a bit more help. You go change. I'll be a good boy, not peek."

She grinned and slid from her room, to the bathroom, a simple slip in and out of a shirt and she returned. He stood by her vanity table, fingers caressing the assortment of jewelry. "Spike, watch out for -"

"Ow!" he suddenly sucked his finger tip. "Crosses everywhere."

"Oh, careful!" Buffy pushed past him and hastily swept her jewelry into the top drawer. Then she made a hurried scan of her room. She collected stakes, crosses, holy water, and a crossbow and pushed them all into a chest at the foot of her bed. Which was unsettling to her, and to him.

"I didn't realize I was walkin' into such a deathtrap when I said I'd come over."

"I never- I always have something slayer-y around me. I never put it away. Even the other times, I always had-"

"I know. Even when you said you'd down tools- you were packing a stake."

"Well, I'm not now. I'm putting all the slayer-y goodness away for a little bit." Don't. Dangerous. You're telling him, you shouldn't tell him.

Why? He wouldn't hurt you. He's fighting for you, without thinking you can't do it yourself.

"You are slayer-y. Hell." He grimaced at the butchering of the language. "You are your own best weapon. You want a stake?" He suddenly had a terribly inappropriate image. Several in quick succession. His eyes closed to blot them out, leaving him with a sinful smile on his face. "I'm sure we can find a way to make it useful without being lethal."

"Do I want to know why you just smirked like that?"

"Probably not."

She shivered. Yes, I probably do.

He inhaled again. Mingling scents now, arousal added. "Slayer likes my games."

"No games. Just like you," Buffy confessed.

"Then why so tense?"

"Nothing. Not. Okay, a little. When I was with Angel, he was never in my room to do… things. Always had my stakes and crosses hidden, but handy. This is just different."

"I thought you trusted me."

"I do. Still a new thing."

"You can call all the shots," he sat on the edge of her bed, looking up at her with a saucy smile. "Make you feel comfortable when you hold the reins, Baby?"

Did it? Sometimes. Sometimes, just tiring. "I need someone who'll take turns with them. Always being in charge wears your normal side down. Which is probably another reason Riley is miffed. He'd like to date Ms. Normal-with-a-touch-of-Badass-Demon-Fighter. And at the end of the semester, I was Ms. Badass-Demon- Fighter-with-a-touch-of-Normal. School's back in session soon. Vamps come to the Hellmouth as soon as it starts to get dark earlier. Dracula was already here and isn't exactly gone. Ms. Normal has left the building."

"I hate him, you know?"

"I know."

"What you just said makes me hate him more. It's not like you get to pick. You gotta do what needs to be done. You pull out the pieces you need, even if it feels like you yank 'em out of your soul. Seen you do it. Seen you fight Angelus with the last bit of yourself. And sending him to hell- you sent that last bit into the fire with him. I thought you'd probably make it. But I thought you'd turn hard, or would go out soon after. Two years and change later, look at you. Stronger than ever."

"And weaker. Losing my balance," she admitted, suddenly sinking beside him on the bed.

"You're just- not gettin' fed properly. Somethin' has to feed the heart and fill you up. Your little mates and the Watcher, Joyce. All the ties to the world. You have 'em, but it's hard to maintain' em when the load is so heavy." His voice took a grudging tone, "Prob'ly why Soldier Boy is so keen to help. Thinks he'll save you."

"Taking my job doesn't save me. Doing my job doesn't save me."

"I know. You just want someone to help you get your strength back. Give you the pieces."

She shivered suddenly. Spookily good. Spookily what was needed and he knew it. He got it. Down to the use of the phrase "not getting fed". How?

He knows you. Out of all of them, he knows you best.

He extended his arm slowly. "When I drink you- I get all the power. I know you're not the same." Eyes locked. They turned slowly to face each other. "I can feed you. Is this what you need?"

Head shook slowly, like listening underwater. No.

"Is this what you want? Do you find something?"

Voices last time. Passing out. Don't know why. "When you're inside me, I can find the things I'm looking for. He tried to show me my true nature. He was only half right. When I tasted his blood, I saw myself running, headlong, into battle, into another fight, another night... I have to find why I'm running and where I end up."

The knife was easily in his hand, perfectly comfortable with the killing tool. Why shouldn't he be, Buffy thought as it passed from pocket to flesh. He is one.

I am one. "Can I do it?" she asked, shocking herself.

He didn't look surprised. He looked pleased.

"No. No, that's wrong," Buffy stammered suddenly when he attempted to press it into her grasp.

"Why?"

"I don't want to cut you or hurt you! That's wrong. That's wrong of me. What's wrong with me?"

"Shhh, hush, not wrong. Look, you needed it and I gave it. Now you know what you need and you want to get it yourself. That's not wrong. It's ownership."

Knife in her hand. She carefully put it down, hands on the sides of his head. "If I owned- I could never hurt someone. Could only… love them."

He sucked in air he didn't need, chin popping down then tightening up, quivering. "Then you do it with love. You kiss it and make it better. I swear, Buffy. It won't hurt from you. Just like my bites don't hurt you, do they, Baby?"

"No. Oh, no, turned out to be so good."

Somehow his arms had gone around her waist, and the knife was pushed back, and they were kissing, tangling. She reached for it and he waited, didn't bother to watch, wasn't scared.

She knew what to do, some kind of instinct? She didn't know how she knew, just figured it out in the moment. One cut, two, quick and clean- his right arm, then hers.

"Slayer-" Should have been watching. His eyes were wide and head bowed fast, over the cut, kissing it better, and his followed suit, faster, more greedily. Her blood in my mouth, while she's drinking me. Sucking it from me, little lips against me, smelling her scent, one hand in her hair-

Everything was red and black. She shouldn't moan, didn't love the taste, didn't hate it.

Loved the fullness. Not in her stomach, her brain.

Loved the feel of him moaning against her skin, hungrily pulling, taking her in.

I'm inside him. Owning him.

Fangs and fingers and hard, long, parts that she couldn't say half the time- and she was in him. And he knew it. And he liked it.

I need this one. I need this one because he gets it, gets how to take me and let me take him, and oh, this shouldn't be about sex but it is.

Just as she was reaching this realization in her own brain, something took over and started leading the lesson, a whispery voice blotting out any words of her own.

It's primal.

Long before.

You and he have the same darkness, differently distilled.

Images of a girl- she recognized her. Sineya. First slayer. And three men. She didn't know them. Something came from the earth where she was chained, and went inside her. When the insubstantial smoke finished invading, she snapped the chains. Then she snapped three heads, back on their axes with hard punches she hadn't been able to throw before.

Another image, long before, when the world was a thing of clouds and fire- a demon from hell took his victim and fed from it, fed it shared blood back. The soul left and the smoke entered.

Same darkness. Differently distilled.

They won't claim it. Nor name it.

They fear to be associated with it.

They do not know that it is simply a power.

It's how you use it.

It how both of you use it.


Thump. Thump.

Two figures sprawled, falling away from each other, not quite unconscious.

"Buffy?" he sounded blurred, drugged. His eyes wouldn't open fully.

"Whoa." Her voice was equally garbled and heavy, eyes equally unable to focus.

"That's not s'posed to happen."

"Sorry."

"Did you see-"

"I saw."

His brain tried to make words. Makes sense for her. "It's not necessarily true. It's a symbol. That stuff's usually symbolic."

"They forced the essence of the demon in her. So she could fight the demons. Because normal girls aren't as strong as demons. So they made us freaks. They gave us the only power they could summon that had half a chance of winning."

"Yeah, but you're stronger than vampires, Luv. That's your power, not its power. The one doesn't work without the other."

"Maybe."

He came over the top of her now, dragging himself, leaning on one elbow as he looked down at her faraway eyes. "Maybe that bit of demon- maybe he wanted to help. Maybe he wanted to help the girl." She looked at him, confused. "Maybe he was trying to- turn to the light."

Can demons do that? She looked at him, his face concerned, hard lines, somehow gentle. Don't need to ask. "Why?"

"Maybe he loved her. Wanted her to survive. Thought if he gave her a part of himself, even a taste-" their eyes locked. This was no longer a singular example. "Maybe she'd win and she'd save this world. Maybe he'd come to love it, too. Didn't want it destroyed."

"I don't know about that."

"No. Guess there's no way we could-"

"But I know about you. I know about this slayer. This vampire." She sat up slowly, he shifted, helping her. "He helped her because he loved this world. And then he liked the girl. He wanted to help her without taking over for her. Maybe he loved her. Maybe she loved him. Maybe it was just a dumb spell."

He looked down. Too raw, too close. These cuts hurt, all the maybes were blades on the sensitive flesh of his heart and mind.

"Maybe they didn't want it to be. They make their own rules. He said I liked his games," she swallowed, "but what if they were something more?"

"I'd like that," he murmured, leaning on her suddenly, finding her leaning back, propping each other up, twin lines of dried blood on their arms reminding them of just how much they invested in the other, spent in each other.

"I have a rule question."

"Fire away, Luv."

"Biting on the neck is getting problematic with my summer wardrobe."

"Well, I bit you twice. You tasted me twice. We ought to be done." Do you feel done? I don't. I don't feel whole or complete anymore. I'm worse than when I started.

"I thought we decided on the overkill plan?"

"Right, so we did. Continue." Maybe I just need another hit.

"Do vampires have any other biting spots?"

"We can bite anywhere. You want me to do it where it won't show?"

That meant something under clothing. Her cheeks felt hot. "Could it be done? Where would you- where would a good spot be?"

"Inner thigh? High up," he slowly reached for her knee and she didn't stop him as he slid up toward her hip. Her legs parted slightly, but he didn't touch her center, squeezed at the area of softness a few inches from the top of her leg.

"Anywhere else?"

Hands wandered, like a diviner's rod seeking the spring. He paused by her left breast. "Not sure if you'd want me to... My mouth could fit around you properly, fangs would go in. Afraid that'd hurt you a lot, Pet. Don't you have all sorts of ducts and glands and stuff in there?"

"People get nipples pierced."

"Want me to pop one of your little rings in while I'm at it?" he joked. "Saw a few over there." He gestured to the dressing table she'd cleared.

The joke tightened the air somehow. Made it thicker and hard to swallow. Putting a ring there. Silver and blood, him tugging it, holding her by it. Another permanent reminder of him, his hand flicking it, her fingers tugging it as they twined together, making love. His cock twitched. Her pussy throbbed and jumped.

"No," she shook her head, forbidden images shaking free with it. "Not the ring. And I don't want it to hurt, so, no. Because then you'd get hurt, too. You'll find the right spot."

"Don't you want to know beforehand?" he asked, wondering where his tense partner of two nights vintage had gone.

"You'll make it good," she said softly, smiling at him.

"What the hell is happening to us?"

"I don't know. I don't mind it." Wait. I'm not like that. I have to do the overthinking and the stress. I do worry. I do doubt. I do guilt. He sank back on the bed, arms crossed behind his head, gazing up at her with a smile and lazy eyes, also somehow relaxed. But not around him. "You think I'm good, don't you?"

"Nothing in this world is good like you are," he said seriously.

"There was demon in the First Slayer. I - don't have a demon in me. If I were demon-y, you could punch me."

"True."

"I'm not evil."

"Sometimes I think you're a bit evil. The way you talk… why is everything something-y?" A flicker or irritation and petty annoyance flashed through his eyes and ended with a grimace.

"Two reasons. One, that's who I am. Two, they never expect a girl who sounds like she's asking the questions to be the one to solve the problem."

"You're clever."

"From you, that's very high praise."

"You think I'm smart?" He looked pleased.

"About the stuff that matters."

"Like you."

"Like me."

Her hand slid across his chest. He waited until she traced him thoroughly, and then joined in, fingers nudging together. "Came to visit me in my sleep."

"No, you came to me."

"Whatever. We were both there. Weren't we?"

She nodded breathlessly, knowing where this was going. "I think so."

"Last thing you said to me?"

She shivered suddenly, but he pulled her closer. "Can you wait until tonight?" she repeated quietly.

"The answer would have been no. Or barely."

"We… I don't- I know what you mean, but we don't have to do…" Words were failing her, confused emotions replacing confident ones. Had they both interpreted the dream the same way, and was it even a dream, or should it count as a real, yet out of body, meeting?

He wrapped his hand tightly around her. Stilled her. Sat up, hands between them. "Come on. Start us."

"Start us?"

"You an' I fight. Can't give in easy. Can't make it simple. Gotta burn for it a little bit, don't we?"

"That's where the fire is. It can be good… and still burn."

"Harder," he challenged.

She pulled. "Harder."

"Missed you all day."

"Couldn't wait to see you."

"Say it to me."

Something stroked down her spine. The big cat. The lethal, lazy, loving panther. Purrs in the dark and gets comfy in you.

Want him in me.

Already is.

"Kindred."

"Kindred. My girl. Belongs to me."

"Belongs to me," she turned the phrase and meant it. "You're in my system."

"I can be in you more. Further. Deeper. Touch you places he's never been, no one's ever been." He smelled the trickle turn into a river, and he licked his lips. Hands pressed into her hips, and one slid around, to the front of her, rested between navel and pubic bone. "You ever felt like you could give them all of you, Luv? Where it's in deep enough you think you're splitting in two, but it's just them putting you back together? Where the dark is resting. Maybe you don't want them to see..."

I want him to see. I want him to touch. Shyness evaporated, but doubt lingered. She shook her head. "Not yet."

He licked his lips. "Wanna be in you. So much it hurts. But I don't wanna hurt you. Do you… you don't feel the same way, do you?" Always more me than her. Heart's too bloody soft. Tried to make it harden- and the damn hardness just buggers off and does it's own thing, completely wrong spot. He shifted, trying to hide the sudden heartsickness in his eyes.

She tried to lie. Tell him she'd never thought of such things or thought of them with revulsion. "I feel like if I just had you inside… I'd feel beyond amazing. I think you're right. I hold back. I'm afraid to let them see. Not afraid of you, though. Not afraid of letting you in."

"Slayer," he said her name softly, head coming to hers. Breath was warm and waiting against his skin. Eyes were troubled. "But no?"

"But I can't right now. It's not because I don't want to." It actually feels wrong. Not to be connected to him like that. So intimate. So together.

"I didn't mean to push. Shouldn't have said," he whispered. Hands moved to her face. "Does this mess us up now?"

She climbed into his lap. Straddled. "Nope. It's okay to tell me. Let's just… connect? We seem to make it work."

"That's right. Don't need a game plan. When we work on things, we throw the soddin' rule book away."


Kissing him. Kissing her. Hands tangling. Until she heard a little growl in his ragged sigh when she drew back for air. She pulled her hair to one side. He slid his fingers into it and held. He kissed her neck and winced at how hot and raised her skin was. He kissed it and traced it with his tongue. "I was a little rough last night?"

"No. I … so I developed a habit. When I get upset, I grab on. Probably should stop."

"I'll give it a night off."

"No! Overkill girl, remember? More the better. Well, more of us, the less of Dracula."

"Lemme find a different place. Or the other side? No, that'd be a bit obvious, too obvious for even Finn to ignore. Surprised he hasn't strip-searched you and- I'm an' idiot, sorry, Luv."

"You're out of line- but I am way surprised, too. Not the strip-search, that he didn't ask me to change the shirt I had on since it had a high neck. I think it's because I told him I would try to wait a week before going with the finding a helpful vampire option. Next week he might be a little more attentive to the wardrobe choices."

He nodded stiffly. A sudden painful, gut-twisting thought attacked him, thought he couldn't stomach. Was she still sleeping with Finn? Giving him parts of her that he had barely explored, parts of her that he longed to be in?

Had no right to know. Have no right to ask.

Like hell, she's mine. I can't take this again, knowing someone I love- no! Knowing someone that's close to me turns around and gets close to another bloke. Like Dru all over again. Shouldn't have done this. Too late now.

"Spike?" she saw something close over in his face, shutter in his eyes. That's not supposed to happen. I found the guy I don't hide from. He shouldn't hide from me, either.

"Thinkin'," he said shortly. "Where's an area he won't be likely to see?" he asked tightly.

"Um. Well, anything from here to here ought to be safe." She gestured from cleavage to mid thigh. "I mean, it's summer and swimsuit weather, but I won't be going to the beach right now. I might start swimming and end up in Japan in a couple hours," she joked at her own hyperactive expense.

He smiled, but felt like he had to remind her, "Well, remember, Luv, he might see more than the general public, won't he?"

"Not these days," Buffy informed him, a trace of frost in her voice. Reading confusion in his eyes, she hastily explained, "Oh, sorry, that wasn't at you. No attitude at you, good question."

"Is it 'cause he's ill?"

"No. I don't… I don't want to be with him like that anymore. Right now." She added an additional qualifier that she didn't really feel.

She loved the look of relief on his face, the sudden wash of peace on hard features. "None of my business, I know."

"It is. Right now- we are each other's business."

"Hmm? Is that right?" Peace gave way to confidence, gave way to hunger in two forms.

"Very right." It was her turn to support his head, look down into his eyes. Such human eyes. The man in there. And the demon in there.

"Can you still see it in my eyes?" she whispered.

"It?"

"That demon. Did it pass to me somehow?"

He smoothed her hanging hair back again, really studying the green depths, finding his path drawn into the dark hallways of her pupils.

Pounding. Pulsing. Bleeding. Breathing. Hungry. Tired. Strong. "Didn't leave a demon in you, Luv. Only left the strength," he assured her. "That stands out a mile." And way in the back- hiding- is a woman who's gettin' awfully desperate and tired. Starving. Grieving. Wondering if it's time to ring this curtain down. Cravin' that look of peace. I can't let her have it, not like that. "Precious?"

"Spike?" She didn't find pet names for him. Lover. Baby. Used sporadically, in the moment. Maybe they'd come more frequently. He deserved them, to know the depths of her affection.

"Don't you ever give up fightin', okay?"

"What do you mean?"

"I know what ends you."

Her blood was no longer hot and fast. It was frozen and thick.

"That power- it builds and builds, and you use it and wield and fight with it. Day after day. Every day, you wake up, it's the same bloody question that haunts you: Is today the day I die?"

"No, I-"

"Listen to me. I know this lesson, Slayer. Taught it twice before, attempted it too many bloody times to count. You bring death. An' its darkness is around you. Death is on your heels, Baby, and sooner or later it's gonna catch you."

Sudden, angry, resentful tears. Angry at him. For telling her the truth she never admitted.

"That's why Drac thought he knew you. Thought he could find you ripe for the picking. Because part of you wants it... not only to stop the fear and uncertainty, but because you're just a little bit in love with it."

Her hand connected with his face, palm across jaw, pushing him back to the bed, sudden rage on every line of her face, and he simply rested his own hand atop of hers. "How could you not be, just a bit, just a taste? Death is your art. You make it with your hands, day after day. That final gasp. That look of peace. Part of you is desperate to know: What's it like? Where does it lead you? And now you see, that's the secret. Not all of it, but part of it. What's your power? It's you. It's demon. It's death."

He paused for her pitched breathing, then spoke under it, not over it, forcing her to quiet down to hear. "But it's also the weapon. It's not all you do. You save with it. You heal with it, you rescue with it, Buffy."

Her hands slid back down, to his chest. They rested there as he continued speaking, slowly placing his hand across her white-knuckles.

"You thought he could teach you to be better. He wouldn't have. He'd have taught you to give in. I'm the one- I'm the one who is gonna tell you the truth. It's not about knowing a better move, a smarter trick, a new technique. Not the punch you didn't throw or the kicks you didn't land. Every Slayer... has a death wish. Even you, Beautiful."

"I don't want to die."

"I know. The only reason you've lasted as long as you have is you've got ties to the world... your mum, your Watcher, the Scoobies. They all tie you here, but when the hunger's pushin' you, and the emptiness is hittin' you, you wonder if you're just putting off the inevitable. Sooner or later, you're gonna want it." Her eyes slid from his. Far away. Down those dark corridors where she'd sent so many.

"And the second- the second- that happens…" He slapped his hands together millimeters from her eyes, startling her, making her gasp and reconnect with him. "You know I'll be there. To yank you back. To remind you that you're not like the rest. You've got options. You don't just have that little bit of demon left in you, gettin' tired. You got me. One helluva demon on the outside. I'll give you peace. I'll hand out the deaths you can't stomach, the kills you need a break from. Not because I think you can't do it yourself. But because that's how this is supposed to be. So that you don't end- and I don't want to."

Silence. "I have a death wish?"

Sugar coating it would feel better. But it wouldn't work."Yeah. Maybe you don't know it yet. But you do, or you will. Slayers could go on forever, Luv, think about it. They're stronger than anything else. Faster, too. Now, sure there are some things you can't prevent. But so many things- you can. And it's just because- for one second, the tired got to be too much, the peace outweighs the warrior. It hasn't happened to you. Someone keeps pickin' you up, feedin' your spirit. But-"

"It's getting hungrier. Emptier. Nothing was feeding it. Dracula said he could feel my hunger."

"An' I'll feed it, Pet. All right? You're mine. I won't let-" he shook his head, throat suddenly tightened. Couldn't picture her gone. He let out a slow, controlled burst of cold air to steady his voice. "I know it's gonna get on top of you sometimes, the fight and the exhaustion. You're not just a weapon, you're a woman."

"You get so many points right now for realizing that."

"The problem with this 'one in all the world' shit is that there's no bloody person to cover a shift. Your mates do one heck of a job- which is effin' amazin' seein' as how they're a bunch of scared teens an' and old man."

"Spike."

"You want to be all that you need- fine. You are. When you need it. When you want a break, you gotta trust someone to help. Not some bloke who sees it as weakness. Some bloke who knows it's your brains, your heart. The stuff that says 'I'll fight another day.' The stuff that pushes the death wish back to where it belongs- the other end of the stake."

"And you're that bloke?"

"Yes."

Waited for the laughter. The mocking. The pushback.

Didn't arrive.

Serious eyes. Immobile face. "Why?"

"Because I want to be."

"What about when this is over?"

"I don't have to belong to you with some ancient blood rite to be there for you, Buffy. As… whatever you want me to be." No, no, no, fuck, you idiot! You're gonna get hurt all over again, you're doing it now, and she'll hurt you by rejectin' it and then she'll hurt you by givin' you crumbs and scraps until you're heelin' like a dog and she's still tired because you want more-

"It's not a fair offer."

He hadn't expected that. At all. Sounded pretty damn handsome to him, as far as offers went.

"What do you get out of it?"

"You stay alive."

"That's it?"

"It's enough."

"Don't you want me, too?"

"Is this a trick? Or a joke?" His eyes narrowed. She shook her head, chin suddenly flexing, lip wobbling so slightly. "Yes, yes, I want you, too, but you might not want that. I don't care. I just want- to help." Words felt alien in his mouth.

"Like that first demon? Because… maybe he loved the girl. He wanted to help her?"

Was it a trap? A lead in to expose his heart and then rip it from him? He always let it shine through, an easy target. Or- he looked at her carefully before answering. Eyes downcast, shoulders tense. Waiting. Barely breathing.

"Would she hurt him for being honest? He doesn't do this to get hurt."

"She promises. No hurt this time," voice so faint she couldn't hear her own words, but he could.

"Yes. Because he loves the girl."

"If she loves him back… she's worried it's because of the bonding thing."

"Pet, that was them. There was no bond. This is us."

"I know that. Same worries apply."

Oh. Oh. OH. If she loves, she's worried it's because of the- "Buffy, you don't love Dracula, do you?"

Her head snapped up. "We're not talking about him!"

"Then listen. A bond doesn't mean you love someone. It means you're connected. If you feel- other things- that's maybe a bit of the bond, and the rest of it's on you. Us."

"I'm a coward."

"No! No, Slayer, I am."

"No, you're not. You're brave, you risked everything to say it, and I can't say it because- because that's when you leave," she wiped suddenly overflowing eyes and collapsed on him. "I know it might be at least affected by it, so I don't want to admit it, don't want to hurt you, hurt me. It's too fast, but I don't even care. I found the other piece. The set. And I'm drowning. I'm drowning again and you'll pull me out and -"

"Breathe," he whispered, clutching her close, wishing he could follow his own advice. "Just breathe."

"You breathed for me. And I breathed for you. What we needed."

"That's all I'm offering. To be what you need." Another risk. At least she didn't laugh. "Don't you need a bit of love, Buffy?"

"Yes. And so do you."

He started under her touch, teardrops on her cheeks and then on his as she nuzzled into him. "C-can it stay private? For now? Because I'm a coward sometimes and I can tell you?"

"I'm just as scared. It's alright to be scared. S'posed to be connected, aren't we? They didn't specify just the good bits. All the bits. So..." He pushed them upright. Stared at her, found her eyes, and ignored the anguish that wanted him to keep silent. "So I love you. Tears, fears, fists, dark, light, demon, goddess, goodness. I love that. An' I'll fight for it when you ask me to."

He felt sick. He felt proud. It wasn't a good blend of emotions and he wanted to go drink himself to stupor and then sleep for a week to avoid the anxiety of even a split second before she spoke, to avoid the calm left in the tidal wave crash of his enormous, heart-baring statement.

Every night, you wonder- is it going to end? Tonight, you could stop wondering. You could wonder if this is how something starts. "And I- love you. Blue eyes, gold eyes, fangs, smiles, snark, sweetness, demon, darkness, light, friend, teacher, lover. Kindred."

"Kindred."

He gasped in, and his damn eyes leaked out. "Can't breathe," he said stupidly, trying to figure out why he couldn't make words, just gasp idiotically, stunned at the gift she'd given.

"I know that, idiot. I'm supposed to breathe for you, too." She rose to her knees and fit her lips to his, breathing gently out, slipping tongue between his lips.

"Don't stop."

Loving him? Kissing him? Or stop him from going all the way? "Okay," she agreed, deciding it wasn't going to matter anyway.

To be continued...