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…

Part XXIII

Buffy couldn't recall ever in her life having such- kindly?- feelings towards the pompous, typically unhelpful jerk in a suit. As he handed her a check for the month's pay (which had one more zero than she had expected), she almost smiled. Almost.

"You're right to suspect magic is at his core. Tell me how you dispose of him."

"Not immediately. I'd feel better if you share your information first, Quentin," Giles said smoothly, pocketing his own check as he laid a warning hand on Buffy's shoulder.

Travers frowned, but he was in no mood to argue further. It was tiring to both his pride and his jet-lagged brain. "There is a spell that encases even the strongest immortals, but the book that contains it is extremely rare and one would have to have some very high or very low connections to obtain it. Obviously, at the Watcher's Council-"

"You have both?" Buffy allowed herself a saccharine smile.

Travers ignored her. "I believe it goes something along the lines of air like onyx, thick as tar… I don't remember, but it's in the-"

Willow held up the scaly-looking book Giles had procured earlier in the week. "Page 63?"

"Where did you get that?" Travers demanded, seizing the book.

"The internet is startlingly helpful." Giles polished his glasses.


Travers left. His goons never even made it back past the threshold. Every one of the Scoobies, even Spike, had folded up pieces of paper in hand, with varying sums scrawled on them. In Spike's case, the folded paper was a wad of American banknotes. Travers had apparently realized most vampires don't have checking accounts. Such payments were meted out for research sessions and practical hands-on assistance as vouched for by Giles and Buffy. The sneering head had wanted some sort of accountability prior to paying them, proof that they had helped and weren't bilking the Council.

Xander sorted that in a surprisingly blunt but effective way. "The world's still spinning? Not sucked into Hell? Not overrun with green Terminator guys? She did her job, we did ours."

Spike found himself feeling quite kindly toward Harris.

Up until the door slammed after Travers' tweedy backside and everyone collapsed onto the nearest piece of furniture.

Then- "How long?" Xander asked without looking at the new couple, Buffy perched on Spike's lap.

She didn't answer. "When I needed help after Dracula. And he helped me."

"Why'd you help her?" Anya looked curious, not accusatory or suspicious, as if she were merely waiting to hear a private opinion confirmed.

"Because I can't stand to see her beat," Spike said simply. "Always loved that about her- the fight in her, the resourcefulness, the way she never quits. The only Slayer I ever thought was the real thing, the legend. Couldn't wait to fight her. Can't wait to fight beside her." His head tilted toward hers and she glowed at him, cheeks lifting, eyes sparkling.

"Stop!" Giles preempted what was sure to be a passionate, lengthy kiss. "We're all very- erm- something- for you. But Travers, odious as he is, made a very valid point that we need to be prepared. While we have the basic knowledge, I-" Giles stopped speaking as someone pounded imperiously and impatiently on the door. "Dear Lord, what can he possibly want now?"

"I'll handle this," Buffy sprung from Spike's lap with a set jaw and stormed to the door. "Did you forget your other - Mom!"

"Who were you expecting?" Joyce demanded, pushing firmly past her child and into the house.

"Uh, my new-old boss. I'm hired again. With pay. Good pay! And benefits. Wait, I think I get benefits. Giles, do I-"

"We'll arrange something," Giles said hastily. "Hello, Joyce. How nice to see you." Any other time but now.

"Hello, Rupert. Willow, Xander, An- Spike! Spike's here, too?"

"Where else has he been?" Xander asked suspiciously.

"Where else would I be?" Spike asked rhetorically. "Slayer needs help, I'm the helpful sort."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, he is. He is now, Mom."

Spike raised his hand and then decided a Boy Scout salute wasn't quite the ticket and instead placed his hand over his heart. "Swear to it."

Joyce's eyes narrowed as she took in the sight of Spike hovering so close to her child. "You carry my luggage upstairs when I get home from the airport, you're answering the phone for Buffy when she's not in the kitchen, you're doing the laundry in my basement, you're helping her move into the dorms. Something is going on!"

"Damn," Xander swore softly and walked into the kitchen. "Giles! Beer?"

"Bottom shelf. Where the vegetables ought to be," the older man sighed. "Bring one for Joyce and I?"

"I will not be fobbed off with alcohol." Joyce shook her head.

"No one's fobbing. There's no fobbing. Am I using that word right?" Buffy asked Giles and Spike, who nodded, one sighing, one smirking.

"You should tell her, Buffy." Willow cleared her throat.

"Tell me what?" Joyce demanded.

"About how we need a vampire. Because only a vampire, a really skilled one, can match a Slayer in terms of strength and speed."

Anya caught on. "Oh, right! For the synchronized decapitation and staking. We actually do need him, Joyce."

"Someone start at the beginning and don't skip anything," Joyce plunked herself down firmly on the edge of the sofa and crossed her arms.

"See where you get it, Slayer. Did Travers ever meet your mum? She wouldn't have needed the ax, just the stoney face," Spike attempted to smile. The stoney face remained. Spike contemplated taking the beer Joyce had declined.

"I'll explain, Mom. I tried to do it a little at a time, but I… I can tell you everything now," Buffy placated.


She didn't tell her everything.

Buffy heard herself explaining the entire Dracula thing, followed by Riley's utter unhelpfulness and Angel's unwillingness, and the need for a vampire to not only cure her but to kick Dracula's undead ass more permanently into the "dead" category. She heard herself explaining how Angel couldn't take the part of the other warrior because they no longer had a close connection and how Riley, even if he hadn't been a huge jerk, would be unable to help because of his heart, not to mention how his paranoia was preventing Buffy from making headway with her own healing, let alone finishing off the Transylvanian menace.

"So, if I don't kill him- he'll always have a score to settle and he's not a nice guy. He can be charming and intriguing, but underneath, he's a selfish bastard who likes total control. He thinks 'owning' a slayer would be his greatest achievement. I don't want to be owned, so Spike's fixing me and he and I are taking him out. End of story."

It wasn't the end of the story. Buffy felt smatterings of guilt for leaving her mother in the dark, but she shrugged them off. Dracula's hold and Spike's hold would seem the same to her mother, and she knew the tune her mother would sing if she found out that Buffy and Spike were anything approaching committed or married.

You're in college.

You're too young.

He's a vampire.

You're fooling yourself because of the spell or the bite or whatever voodoo this is.

She didn't want to lie, though, not more than was necessary. If her mother asked her anything specific-

"So, Spike is just helping you because you two are strengthening your connection, the connection you have to have in order to be cured and to kill Dracula?" Joyce asked, relief warring with suspicion.

"The more connected the merrier," Spike replied, a wide smile on his face, one that didn't reflect as deeply in his eyes.

"That's all it is?"

Buffy heard nervous rustling from her friends. They'd stayed quiet, but she could hear the tension in their thoughts as if they were broadcasting. They were used to lying. They were used to not liking her choice of partner, with Riley being an exception.

He and I are eternal. Forever. Equal in loyalty. Spike knelt down next to me, the knight to his queen, because Travers sees Slayers as superior.

Buffy blinked as her mouth opened and her answer took a little too long to manifest. Spike sees me as superior, too, because he always puts his lover first.

But I don't… feel like that anymore. Not better than him. Different than him. "Not just that. When- when you let someone- when I let Spike help me," Buffy swallowed hard, reaching back to find Spike's hand, "I didn't expect to find so much of what I've been missing. Spike understands why Slayers die- because he's killed them, he sees what's killed them. He can help me stop it and no- don't ask me to explain all of it now. Spike's not just around me because he's helping me fight Dracula. He's helping me because he's my friend. He's my ally. He's my kindred." Buffy swallowed again, eyes very bright, voice almost gone. "And I love him for that, no matter what you say."


Joyce didn't say anything. Her anger and frustration kept peaking and ebbing before it overflowed out of her mouth and her snapping eyes. Spike looked shocked, grateful, awed- in love. He looked at her from behind Buffy's shoulder, helpless and pleading so eloquently without words.

You can hate me, but not her.. Don't hurt her. She read that look clear as day. She'd given it to Hank a thousand times, every argument where he slammed out of the house before Buffy's questioning eyes, every argumentative phone call that ended with him saying he'd just skip Buffy's visit that weekend.

"I don't understand." Joyce understood some things. Spike had not expected Buffy to claim she loved him. He was stunned, which meant he wasn't controlling her, wasn't orchestrating her words.

"And so say all of us," Xander muttered from behind his beer, but without any of the rancor he'd expected to feel. Spike looked utterly floored- but also grateful. Angel- idiot- had her love and didn't want it, not that he deserved it. Riley -also idiot- loved her and Buff didn't feel it. Buffy loved this peroxide nightmare, and he was grateful. Hell, Xander found himself feeling grateful towards the vampire. For a minute, he didn't even care about the fangs. Buffy needed help. He was helping.

"It's hard to hate someone who's saving your only child. Or best friend." Anya patted Joyce's shoulder comfortingly as she pushed past her to get the spellbook out of Tara's hands. "Maybe Mrs. Summers and Buffy need to go have an awkward conversation? A more awkward conversation, because this was awkward, even for me, and I often hear that I'm extremely awkward." Anya perkily derailed the intense silence building in the room. "Giles, if you told Travers that we could perform a Four Corners and hold Dracula- a vampire who defies the laws of immortality- we have to practice."

"Uh. Yes. Yes. We should. Practice." Giles herded Tara and Willow in front of him and Anya tugged Xander's wrist.

"I'm not calling anything!" he protested.

"I'm sure there are spell ingredients. Come make lists."

"I don't want to intrude on the mojo -"

Anya pouted. "I barely do any magic these days. I was figuring I should start small with basic sex magick spells for endurance and extra pleasure but if you're not interested in helping me practice-"

"Move!" Xander dashed past Giles and scrambled to the cluttered desk. "I need a pen!"


"I'll clear off," Spike mumbled and began to back away from the tense stand-off between mother and daughter.

"Stay," Joyce's voice was flint.

"Mom, I don't think you need to understand every little detail right now. Let's stick with a big picture and add things later. Slowly. This Dracula thing is the biggest and -"

"You said you love Spike. Spike," Joyce repeated his name with a sour expression.

"It's William. William's fine, if you like that better. Don't have to be Spike if you don't like it," Spike muttered gruffly, shades of Romeo Montague rambling about in his brain. He shrugged and then worried that maybe such a gesture caused him to look too nonchalant about the amazing gift of having Buffy's love. He was saved from overthinking- a problem he hadn't encountered before trying to play nice with the Slayer and her merry little band- by Buffy's firm denial.

"No. It's both. Just like Buffy has a Slayer, Spike has a William. We have darkness, differently distilled, and we have light that we carry for each other. I love Spike. He is… he is my kindred one. The person who I understand and who understands me."

"I'm your own mother. I don't understand you?"

Guilt stabbed her repeatedly, but the wounds were covered in thick welted scars. Buffy's voice was soft, "We'll see. Do you understand how a girl who's fated to die young and alone would love to find someone dedicated to keeping her alive and surrounded by the people she loves? Do you understand how scared of myself I've become, how tired of this world I get sometimes, knowing how heavy all these 'lives in the balance' are? If a guy ever says he'll take half of that load- he only wants half of me. I love that Spike wants all of me and all the battles, too."

"No fun without the fight," Spike dared to put his arm around Buffy's waist. "I love her, too. I love her and I won't hurt her. Don't have to- don't have to worry that I'll take her away or muck about with her heart. She's holdin' onto me as much as I'm holdin' onto her."

Joyce looked at the couple- No. Not a couple. The two of them. Serious eyes in beautiful faces, bodies pressed close, but neither player in the little drama seemed to dominate the other. Her baby girl looked confident. Happy. Peaceful.

She blurted, "You did hear that Riley has gone insane and thinks Giles is a vampire and you didn't forget Dracula- the Dracula is probably biding his time before attacking?"

Buffy blinked. Great. I gave my mother hysterical amnesia. We were literally just saying that. "Yes, I remembered all that. And I have to bug Angel for info, the gang needs some tricky spell, and Giles, Spike, and I talked Travers into giving me a salary, Mom! Actual paycheck-earning, money-having person, here!" Buffy grinned widely during the last sentence.

"Travers, too?" Joyce looked faint.

"Yep."

"You still look happy."

Buffy looked around. In the small flat, so many loved ones were contained. "I'm with my family."

A glimmer of hope ensconced firmly in denial wedged itself in Joyce's jet-lagged, overwrought brain.

Love. Like family. "Spike is … like family? You love him like family?"

Buffy felt him give a quick squeeze on her side, imperceptible to anyone not on the receiving end. "Kindred means you want to be in the same family," she struggled to keep her voice even as she answered.

Joyce's eyes were doubtful, disappointed, confused- but no belligerent words or questions poured from her tight lips. "Family?" she repeated.

Husband and wife is the root of all families. WIthout husband and wife, there are no children, no grandchildren, no brothers or sisters… Spike nudged his new bride to silence before they could send Joyce into shock. "Family is important to both of us."

"That's enough for you? You don't want more?" Joyce's eyes moved to his and held them there, daring him to lie.

He could tell the truth confidently. "Whatever she gives is enough for me. That's what it's like." When you're in love…

She nodded again. Denial turned up the volume. They said they love each other. They didn't say in love. The love is about family, not romance. He won't push her for more.

Ha. I don't believe any of that.

I wonder if they do?

"Buffy, can I talk to you alone?"

"Sure, Mom." Buffy's smile became fixed and tired.

Joyce regarded her for a second before shaking her head. That fixed, tired look. She'd seen it quite recently. Whenever Riley was mentioned in passing, just for the past two weeks. No wonder the break up wasn't terribly shocking. But the smile Buffy had when she stood close to Spike…

Radiant. Untroubled, despite literal worlds of trouble. "Never mind. It'll keep. What can I do to help with this Dracula situation?"

"You want to help?"

"Of course she does!" Spike said bracingly. "Your mum's a fighter, just like you."

"Well… I don't know what you can do. I'd actually like you to stay safe and not get hurt. I need information from Angel, but I'd rather handle him and I-"

"So Mom gets the shove?" Joyce smiled halfheartedly.

"It's like work, Mom. You can't expect me to look at all the pieces in your gallery and know how to price them. You wouldn't know what spell to perform and you couldn't take my place in a fight."

"Even though you swing a mean ax," Spike interjected.

"Stop trying to earn brownie points," Joyce snapped.

Spike fell silent, smirking slightly. He wasn't only trying to earn points, he meant it. He'd rather see Joyce riled than miserable, though.

"You're exhausted and you have to go back to the gallery tomorrow, right?"

"I do."

"If Riley calls again, can you get the number for him? We seriously need to talk."

"Oh, I have that," Joyce exclaimed, digging suddenly into her pocket. "In one of the first, coherent messages he left he said that if you call this number, they could patch you through."

Spike scowled. Joyce joined him.

"I guess I'll head out," Joyce sighed.

"I'd rather go with you, catch up on that cuppa and hear what pieces you bought," Spike sighed genuinely. "Slayer has to call not one piece of- uh-"

"Spike hates Angel. And Riley."

"Oh. We have something in common," Joyce gave him a tight little smile.

"Can we have that hot cocoa sometime soon?"

"I don't suppose you'll be walking Buffy home this evening?"

"Well… uh- Mom, we have to patrol. This is usually when the evil starts the upswing, right around the time the campus starts to get busy. Vamps. Dumb college kids. Drunk college kids."

"It's like a convenience store," Spike supplied. "Although, not me. I'm reformed. I'm strictly an animal man these days."

The tight smile softened. "That's good. So, you're saying you'll be home really late?"

"More like very early in the morning?" Buffy said with an apologetic wince.

"That's fine. Wake me up. Spike, if you're there, we'll have hot cocoa… and conversation," Joyce said the last word with a very deliberate undercurrent.

He nodded and swallowed. Big bad vamp, afraid of a tiny little thing in her forties.

Yeah, well. Most blokes are a little bit nervous around their mother-in-laws.


"Strictly animal?" Buffy whispered, pressing close to Spike as her mother left them standing in the stone-flagged courtyard, her car horn beeping once in farewell. "What about all the 'connecting' we're supposed to keep up?" She shifted her haid pointedly away from her covered throat, but the gesture was unmistakable. "The more the merrier, you said," she teased in a sultry whisper, grateful for a few minutes without an audience.

"I didn't tell a lie. You're my sex kitten, aren't you?" His own voice was equally amorous, sending wanton feelings down her spine and centering in her hips.

She agreed, voice coming out breathless, "You're my tiger."

"We're both strictly animal. Right now," Spike inhaled the scent of her, pressed close to him as tension they'd held for hours finally ebbed, "feels like we're in heat. Need to be buried in you." His hands coasted from her shoulders to her hips. "You take me so deep. Lose myself in you."

"Mm, find myself in you," Buffy ran her fingers across his neck and watched him shudder.

"Wanna ditch the witches and their assistant?" he offered, head jerking toward his car. Their car. Hell, it's ours now. Bloody hell, everything is ours.

She was right about the family.

"So much. But also, no. Can't. Responsibility gal."

"In my day, they did mention the term 'wifely duties,'" Spike lured.

"Cooking and dealing with Victorian plumbing?" Buffy scooted out of his embrace before it tightened and finished her resolve.

"It was more about lying on your back with your sweet little hips wrapped around mine. And don't think it was all sexist. No, no. Failure to perform my husbandly responsibilities would be frowned upon as well."

"Breadwinning? Plumbing? Lawn care?" Buffy said each word slowly, framing it with her lips as she arched an eyebrow playfully.

He knew he was in irrevocably deep. The fact that he got hard from hearing her mention household chores… "Again, involving you on your back with me snug inside you."

"Just on my back?"

"You know us repressed Victorians," Spike's hands found her hips as they swiveled, trying to evade his grasp and failing this time. He brought her rear snugly to his hips and let her feel the impact of their conversation. "I'd try any position my wife wants. Some she's never even thought of…"

Shivers ran down at her spine at the implications, even though Buffy considered herself semi-knowledgeable about "positions" even if she'd never performed them. And then there were things she knew she'd never done, and couldn't wait to try them. She'd try anything with Spike, at least once, because he made it so good.

Thinking about how good was making her wet, making him sniff hungrily, and both of them throb. No phone calls were made. "After this, we'll go home and do anything you want,' Buffy promised herself as well as her salivating groom.

"That's a rash promise."

"Not with you." She led him back toward the door.

He puffed with the confidence she put in him. But one thing rang slightly off. "Home?"

"Yeah. It's like family?" She looked back over her shoulder as her hand was on the knob. "The place where you are."

To be continued…

Coming next- two phone calls and a whole lot of spuffy smoochies, with the potential for a Wes and Daniela scene, but that might be in a few chapters.

End Note:

So, inspired by many people who reached out on Spuffy fansites and said kind things (a lovely big shout out to Ardynn), I started an account on a certain site to support my writing addiction. There's sneak peeks and shorts from the S.C. Principale's CrossRealms universe and fanworks, too. I would be honored if you check it out on Pat-reon (Fanfic won't let me put the work in without a hyphen), looking under the name scprincipale. Or go to: patr- eon scprincipale (obviously take out the spaces and hyphens, etc.

Or if you're going, "What? There's more smut? Vampire-y smut? Mushy smut with plot?" Look for S.C. Principale on Amazon.