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: The kind and PATIENT people! Real life dropped a whole lot on me for the past month. More is already written and hope to post again this weekend.

Part XXXI

Buffy was drowning in a sea of bridal magazines that Anya had mysteriously been in possession of. Spike was being a guinea pig for the "tar" spell. So far, he had managed to get out of it each time and Giles' living room looked like a localized tornado had set up shop. The only one missing from their merry little band was Xander, who had real people work at the construction site.

"Seventeen minutes! Our best time. Do you want a break, Spike?"

"No, I'm good to go again. I'm takin' off my coat this time, though." The vampire informed the Watcher and his triad of wicca-types.

"I think we could all use some lemonade," Giles went into the kitchen as his phone rang. "Buffy, will you get that?"

"Rupert Giles' Swingin' Bachelor Pad," Buffy giggled as she answered.

"Never touch my phone again," Giles muttered darkly as he popped his head around and glared at her over a tall glass pitcher.

"Buffy? It's Mom."

"Hi, Mom. Is something wrong with the groceries? Were we not supposed to get brown eggs? Is there a difference between brown and white eggs?"

"The eggs are fine. Buffy, listen. Did you know that you were listed as one of Riley's emergency contacts?"

Buffy sat down hard on the edge of Giles' desk, knocking a few books and papers to the ground. "What happened? Is he-?"

"I don't know. It was a message with a number for you to call back. It seemed like they didn't want to give out any information, just that you should call them and give this number."

"Yeah, well, combine the Initiative with medical stuff and you've got the mother of all confidentiality issues, I guess. I hope… I hope he's okay," Buffy felt more conflicted than ever as she said the words and then scribbled down the number. She didn't want him to die. But the conversation she and Spike had that morning, about Angel and souls and humans… Souls don't make you good. Good people do bad things, but they're not all bad or good. Evil demons could do good things and bad things, and not be all evil. And a soul… a soul was important for many reasons, but as a sudden pass into Instant Goodness? Nope.

Which made her wonder about Riley, about so many of the things he did or didn't do. I don't want him to die because I want to protect human life. He is a human. But I am not so sure about "good guy."

"I hope he kicked the bucket," Spike muttered as he put his coat on the back of the couch. Red shushed him violently. He noticed the sweet little blonde, Tara, didn't seem too keen to speak up on Soldier Boy's behalf. Glinda gets it… He's a threat, more threat than the "nice guys" can comprehend.

His gaze shifted to Buffy. Her face was working. Her neck was bare, her hair was absently up. His bite was lovingly displayed, his ring on her hand. My wife knows. She's too clever not to see, just too nice to point it out most of the time.

"You're drooling."

"Am not." Spike jumped guiltily and wiped at his mouth frantically as Anya walked past.

"It's okay. I feel the same way when I watch Xander work with power tools. Oooh. Power sanders…"

"Oh bloody hell, stop," Spike winced.

"Shh! Giles, I'm calling this covert hospital line on your phone. If the black helicopters come…"

"I'll reroute them to your place, yes, yes." Giles returned with a tray bearing glasses of lemonade for everyone. He watched her taut face and Spike's intent, unblinking eyes for a few seconds.

What to do? Must kill Dracula to save her life.

Must save Spike to save her heart.

"Willow? Tara? A word."

In the background, Buffy was now rattling off numbers. Giles moved a mortar and pestle off of his back table and looked inside. Burnt remains of plantain leaves, the last ingredient inside the ashes that were supposed to encircle those who used the Absence of Sensation spell. "Have you figured out how to - Willow, your nose!"

Willow jumped and guiltily wiped her nose with a tissue from her pocket. "It's the um- dry weather."

"It's the magic," Giles frowned. "Does this happen often?"

"No! It's only when- it's a lot of power."

"She's been practicing a lot," Tara spoke up worriedly. "I think she's trying to do too much. She's been helping with some elemental spells, too."

"The states of matter spell," Willow said thickly, mopping up her nose as the drip turned into a gush. "If we can turn the solids to liquid, it'll be less painful to remove his chip."

Giles looked between the vampire who was hovering, leaning toward Buffy as if drawn by a magnet. The predatory lines were somehow softer, but the intent tilting of the head, the hooded eyes. That's every inch a killer, ruthless, clever. Able to use that cunning for good or evil. He looked at Willow, wide eyed, breathing unevenly as the tissue soaked through, reminiscent of the timid girl in pleats who spent lonely lunches in the library.

He winced internally and suggested, "Perhaps that is less of a concern for the moment. Spike needs to be able to fight Dracula, who is very far from human. Dracula needs to be the primary focus. Riley just had heart surgery and I'm sure he's the only human Spike would need to defend himself against. Lately." Giles smacked his lips softly. "Such odd words we say these days…"

"But why do I-" Buffy's voice, suddenly loud and strained interrupted the hushed conversation. "Yes, he did. Yes, I am- or well, was, but- No, he's not staying with me. He's with his parents in Iowa. You should call the other emergency contact. Thanks, bye."

"What's up, Luv?" Spike put his arm around Buffy's waist as she rose unsteadily. "He's out of the hospital, isn't he?"

"Yes." Buffy licked her lips, which were suddenly paper dry. "I don't know how they released him so fast… Whatever. Maybe they have super secret recovery pills, too. They called to ask what local pharmacy he wanted his prescriptions sent to. Apparently, you can get your pain meds easier at the local places than driving out into covert ops land. But- he's out. It's only been a few days. He shouldn't be out!"

"Hey, at least he's in Iowa," Anya said. "Maybe four weeks of staring at wheat will make him mellow. Or those pain meds might do the trick."

"I was just guessing about the pain pills," Buffy muttered distractedly. Spike put his arm around her, but she moved protectively closer to him. She had a flashback, maybe the conversation with Riley in conjunction with Spike's presence dug up old visions. Visions of a shaking, sweating man with a bloody hand that she wrapped in her scarf. Huddling next to her.

He was vulnerable once. For one night. The next day, he wanted to take care of her. He wanted to be bigger and stronger. Now, she found her hand resting heavily on Spike's chest, fingers rolling the black fabric of his cotton tee deeper into her palm. He wrapped her up close and she looked up at him. "I'm not going to lose you," she whispered softly.

"I know you won't." Spike kissed her, not caring who was watching.

"You're going to let me protect you, right?"

"From Army Git? Absolutely. You can kick his regulation ass from here to the Atlantic an' I'll follow along, applauding."

"You are surprisingly non-chauvinistic for someone from the rib-crushing corset days," Anya sipped her lemonade and stole one of the bridal magazines back.

"Oh, I can do my bit for my lady, chivalry and all that. I just know a good thing one I see one."

"Me, too." Buffy nuzzled her forehead under his chin. "I guess if he's in Iowa, he's at least out of our immediate danger zone. Dracula… guh. Wesley's doing some severely deep undercover work. We owe him."


"You won't be able to fly back, either, Son, not with such recent cardiac surgery," Major General Finn looked worriedly at his son via the rearview mirror. "You could have an embolism. Mother and I will drive you."

"And we can meet Muffy. Odd name."

"Buffy. No, you can't meet her. We broke up."

"Oh! Oh, Riley. Well… Celia moved back home after nursing school. She's going to get a job in Des Moines, but her folks say she's taking off a few more weeks, staying until after Rebecca's wedding, so if you-"

"Darlene, don't match make. The boy needs time for his heart to heal. Literally and figuratively."

"Thanks, Dad. Thanks, Mom. Hey, can we stop and get a milkshake soon?"

"Absolutely! You look like you've lost twenty pounds!"

"Only twelve," Riley tried to smile.

"Oh, Mother, your phone's going off. Damned nuisances, if you ask me, unnecessary for civilian life. They shouldn't ring when a vehicle is in motion. Darlene, didn't I -"

"You said to turn it off when I was driving, nothing about when you were driving, you old fuddy duddy," Mrs. Finn smiled playfully at her husband and patted her son's hand. "Hello? Yes, this is Riley Finn's emergency contact. He's right here."

Riley took the phone as he reclined in the backseat of his parents large, sturdy SUV. He felt like he was in a strange time warp, heading back home, riding in the backseat, back to square one with his career, his love life, his health… and also knowing more than anything that everything in his old life was over. He was not the same person he was before Sunnydale, the Initiative… Buffy. He said yes to whatever the person on the other end of the line said. He said yes until they hung up and passed the phone absently to his mother.

His father glanced at the radio's clock. "It's noon, Son. Take your pills."

"Not on an empty stomach. Let the boy eat." His mother intervened.

"Mom, don't touch that," Riley swatted her away from the small satchel he'd carried on discharge from the hospital. He'd fooled them brilliantly. He was proud of himself for tricking machines, things they said couldn't be manipulated. Ha. He knew that was strangely far from the truth. He simply stopped moving and talking. Doctors believed he was calm. He didn't stop thinking- he just paired it with long, slow, controlled breaths. The machines stopped beeping their long danger signals. The doctors weren't fools though. "Case managers" kept visiting. Code for shrinks.

"They only gave you enough pills for a week. I hope our local pharmacy will have all of these!" His mother was ignoring him, rummaging around, looking at prescription bottles. "Do you need something for pain, Ry? What about sleep? Here's your blood thinner. This one must be to support your adrenals. Or is it your kidneys? Your grandmother had to take this one… What about- what's this one do?"

"Mother, please," Riley growled in a tone that neither of his parents had ever heard their normally polite, respectful son use.

"Easy there, Soldier. You may be a lieutenant in the special forces, but your mother still outranks you and will ALWAYS outrank you in this family!" his father barked.

"Honey, it's okay, he doesn't feel well. It's time for those pain pills." His mother soothed.

"Sorry, Mom. Sorry, Dad. I don't know what those pills do. I hate taking them. I feel like a lab rat. It's classified, but Dad… you know how much I hate labs now, don't you?"

"Yes, I do." His father's sympathetic smile met his own pale ghost in the mirror.

Riley settled back and pretended to sleep. He was getting to be very deceptive. He was sort of stunned at how easily it came to him. He was always so honest.

Not really, a little voice nagged.

But he had just lied to his parents. Particularly his mother. Those pills were some sort of "antipsychotic." Or was it "antidepressant?" Those little pills were a condition of his release.

He hadn't taken one yet and the first rest stop they made this afternoon was going to be his chance to get rid of all of them.


"You must have a cast-iron stomach. You cannot eat one more thing. You will burst!" Daniela laughed as Wesley pulled her into another little wine bar here, another little cafe there.

"I do have a cast-iron stomach. English school cooking… We won't talk about it."

"Come along… you will be too tired."

"I'm never too tired around you. I believe I've proved that." His voice was murky with suggestion and remembered lust, feelings that stirred him at the slightest remembrance.

"But we have a flight very early, no?"

"Yes… and you have one more thing to show me before we leave."

Daniela felt herself pulsing. "You made a donation. Two."

"I don't want it that way again. Not that I mind the medical way. I thought you were uh- planning to show me the more traditional way last night… Or this morning?"

Her laugh rippled against his ear. "I worried suddenly. You work with Angelus."

"Angel. Yes."

"He'll kill me if he sees a bite on you."

"I'll keep my shirt buttoned at all times." He smiled. "It won't look out of place."

"He won't simply be angry at me, he'll be angry at you, too." Daniela winced as her memory poked her and then left abruptly before half-formed thoughts could surface. Something she had said once. Said to Angelus while Wesley was there… But that hadn't happened...

"I'm not the right type?" Wesley understood that. Rejection, soft, kind rejection.

"No! There's never been anyone I wanted to taste more," Daniela confessed in a heated whisper, then blushed, though it didn't show.

Tasting me. Tasting her. Her words about how her lovers begged for more, the greatest pleasure a human could have… There couldn't be a greater pleasure than being with her, unless it was being with her while also inside of her, for that was logical, the more of her the better.

"Would it be hard to stop?" he asked quietly.

"No! I could stop in a second. I don't want to harm you, so that part is very simple, very easy. You may not want me to stop and I have trouble refusing you," she said coyly. "Therein lies the danger."

"Then lead me into dangerous places," he breathed against her ear as they paused on the bridge, looking over the Seine. "I fight demons nightly. Well, weekly. I am used to danger. This will be such a wonderful way to have both without any physical harm."

"Just a bite. Not there, then," she began to concede. She bit her lip. She wanted to be close to him, feel him inside her, thrusting up as she clawed his back, her teeth deeply embedded, his cock pulsing into her in time with the blood flooding her mouth. Complete. It had been years of shadow-feelings, she now realized. She hadn't felt "whole" since the early days of her marriage. Perhaps not since Arina. That began to change her views about her Lord and Master. She licked her lips and leaned her head close to Wesley, watching him tense and relax, intoxicated by her.

And she was protective of him, damn it. Not in the casual way of physical loyalty. Heart loyalty, damn it twice. A visible mark on his neck, even if she didn't leave scar, Angelus would know. She ran her hand over the bulge in his trousers and rested on his inner thigh. "This spot might work."

"In the- the uh-"

"Thigh. You have lovely ones."

"Thank you, so do you," Wesley stumbled and blushed. She seemed hesitant. Last night, and again this morning, the passionate peak had culminated with an explosive orgasm and one impressive love bite, but nothing with fangs. They strolled back to her car a little more quickly than they had left it, anxious to get home. Funny how "home" rolled around easily in his brain and was beginning to divide into a variety of images, including Daniela's place. "Do you… worry that I'll- panic or something? Find you somehow unattractive or dangerous?"

"No." Yes. A little. Kissing a woman with fangs is different than finding her feeding off of you, pleasure aside.

"I know you're dangerous. All of us can be." I threatened William the Bloody. I threatened, by extension, the Slayer. His head spun as he sank into the passenger seat.

"Wise man."

"Thank you." He watched her move around the front of the car in the well-lit parking lot and froze when someone was suddenly in front of her- a man with a muffler pulled up to under his eyes, one hand in his pocket. He began to move out of the car and Daniela snapped her fingers at him and said something harsh and guttural sounding. Romanian? Latin? Russian? So fast he didn't catch it all, but he knew it meant to stay still.

"Votre argent, jolie madame." The tone was mocking, the man was starting to invade her space.

"Non." She was steely in her tone and relaxed in her posture.

"Non?" The thug advanced further and Wesley ignored her order, exiting the car. The hand in the pocket jumped toward him.

Daniela moved so fast, a blur of black and white with red accents that shifted to yellow. "Laisser!" She hissed as her cold fingers gripped the man's arm and cracked it.

There was a very effeminate scream as the would-be thief clutched his arm. His brain and eyes connected the pain to the fact that the pretty woman was suddenly snarling with cat-eyes and razor fangs. He scrambled away.

In silence, they both moved slowly back to the car, sank into their seats. "That was stupid," she said coldly, speaking in English this time, accent thicker.

"What?"

"You should have stayed. I said to stay. If he had a gun, he could have shot you. You could have died."

"Well… yes, but he could have hurt you."

"I'm a vampire!"

"But you're my vampire," Wesley argued simply.

And the cold was gone, replaced with puzzled affection. "Am I?"

"If you'd like to be."

"Yes. Then… you are my human?"

"That seems fair. But I think perhaps we should stick to names. Wesley and Daniela. Daniela and Wesley. I like it. It has a lovely ring to it."

"That's true." Shaking imperceptibly, she eased the car onto the tangle of Paris streets.

His hand came over and squeezed her knee until the shaking stopped. "Are you really afraid of Angel finding out that we- that we are lovers?" Only a few days ago, he would have been as well. Now?

To be afraid of Angel was silly. A friend, yes, an employer, but a friend should love whom you love, if they're good to you. And she was so very, very good to me. "Like Spike and Buffy."

"What?" Daniela turned and watched the late-night traffic carefully, mind still spinning. Why had the mortal gotten out of the car?

To protect you. Instinct.

God, she wanted this man. Wanted him in a different way, an instinctual, primal way, the way that meant mates, blood on bodies, his seed deep inside, his hips bruising hers… She jumped when words finally penetrated the ocean of erotic images.

"The friend. Her name is Buffy. The vampire she loves is named Spike."

Daniela blinked. "Spike? Is he English?"

"Yes."

"Oh dear. I vaguely recall him. He moved with Angelus once, didn't he? That must be how you know him?"

"Uh- in a manner of speaking. He's changed a lot. He loves the girl. Buffy."

"What an unfortunate name."

"True, but once you meet her, you won't - you won't find that to be the most interesting thing about her. She reminds me of Arina, to be honest. Small, petite features, lovely smile. I think the two of them…" He didn't know why his mouth was saying these things, for he hadn't thought them through properly, but glimpses and hints were suddenly connecting into a concrete picture. "I think the two of them want to make a life together. They've bonded you, see. They said Kindred."

The car jerked hard. "That was dangerous. Very foolish!"

"Yes, but she… she didn't have a choice at first. Another vampire had claimed her, in a thrall, you see, against her will, or without her knowledge, you might say."

Warning bells pinged. "He would have to be very clever."

"Yes."

"And older. The young ones… they do not claim. They do not understand the level of connection."

"Right."

"Where is my man of many words?"

Twisted up in half-truths. "Reflecting. That I should try to be good to Spike because he's good to her. I think that Angel should be good to you because you are good to me. Because I care about you. Even if he would object to our relationship, he has no right to complain. I don't want to hide. And I don't care about scars. I care about you."


"Can I talk to you?" Buffy sat next to Willow, who was pale but no longer clutching her nose.

"Always. What's up?" The twosome huddled on the steps.

"I want you to work on getting his chip out. I know what we said. I know what Giles said. Riley's in Iowa, no big threat. But my gut says… my gut says there are multiple threats and that oddly enough, Dracula and Riley scare me the same right now. Both will kill Spike. One will kill us both, if he gets a chance."

"I- I'm trying to work with Tara to turn metal to liquid. It's still boiling hot liquid, because all I can do so far is melt it. Melted metal is hot or it solidifies. Tara says there's a way to turn it to cold liquid, but I can't make it happen. Watch."

Willow dug in her pocket and came up with a nickel. "Anima terra, terrae erunt ultra aquae et figuram!"

"What's burning?" Spike sniffed.

"Fire!" Xander, who had been half-asleep under an ad for formal wear and a book about demonic thrall, came awake with a start.

"My staircase!" Giles yelped.

"See?" Willow placed a fresh wad of tissues to her nose as the scalding metal, glowing blue-white ate a hole through the corner of the bottom step, then reformed into a pulpy metal mass, still smoking. "That would do some serious facial damage. Even if he wouldn't feel it- it would be bad."

"Oh." Buffy looked sick with worry.

"Buffy, don't freak. I have a couple of weeks to get this figured out. I don't care what Giles says, I can work on both."

Buffy bit her lip as Spike raced over, sniffing hungrily and worriedly. "Yeah, but you might need a transfusion if this keeps up."


"I really don't feel well."

"Call 911!" Darlene Finn was already dialling when her son's surprisingly strong hand halted her.

"No, Mom, Dad, not like hospital sick. Like the pills aren't agreeing with me. I know I said I was really hungry, but I don't want my shake. Dad?"

"Ha, you got my favorite, can't resist that." He took the thick peanut butter cup milkshake from his son.

"I think we need to stop somewhere for the night."

"We'd planned to!" His mother looked offended that he would expect anything less.

"Let's stop early, okay? That place. Up there." Riley pointed to a large travel plaza that boasted a hotel and restaurants, as well as some other little businesses useful for the traveling family.

"Whatever you say, Soldier," his father assured him, switching lanes as he sipped.

"Mom? They gave me cherry coke. I hate cherry coke. Do you want it?"

"You know that's my favorite," Darlene patted his arm and took the large paper cup from his hand. "It has a funny taste. Bet it's not name brand."

"My shake's a little off, too. Maybe that's what's bugging you, Ry. Could be that last stop had some poor water quality."

"Yeah. Yeah, I definitely think I want to spend some time lying down in my room- near the commode would be good."

"We should stay with you."

"Mom, I'm a soldier. I don't need you to hold my hand while I puke."

"Try not to, Son. You've got all those stitches."

"You can have the room next to mine. We'll make sure we each get two keys so you can get in if there is an emergency, or I can come get you if I need to."

"Smart boy," his mother kissed his forehead as they pulled into the travel plaza.


It only took forty five minutes. He used the key card to check. His father and mother were asleep, one on each double bed. They didn't even stir. Two prescription-strength sleeping pills in their respective drinks did the trick and he'd timed it just right, shortly after they'd gotten off the road but while businesses were still any luck, they would sleep through the afternoon, into the night. He took his bag from his room and walked with trembling limbs to the car rental agency across the parking lot.

"Hi. I'd like to rent a car. Two or three days- say three," Riley smiled at the clerk, leaning on the counter out of necessity. He was still weakened from surgery. He'd need to stop at night, no driving straight through- but he'd get there.

"Round trip or dropping off at one of our partner locations?"

"What do you have near Sunnydale, California?" Riley asked as he slid his bank card and license across the desk.


Wesley found his pulse raced when she pressed him into the door of her room, beautiful portraits and landscapes rattling along the hall as she kissed him differently this time, something… animalistic. She's stronger than me. Lighter than me, but stronger than me. What a marvel of physics.

He heard the telltale purr that was low as she worked his tie free and he felt frantically for the zipper that ran along her spine. He was tempted to rip the dress off, but he recalled that Daniela seemed quite attached to her fashions. She and Cordy would be such good friends. If…

"Only on me. You must focus only on me," she urged playfully. "I feel you wandering and I want to bring you back. You- see, you make a symphony all around me, Sorcerer. Your pulse, your heartbeat, your breathing… Wes-ley, Wes-ley…" She tapped his chest as they fell backward into her room and made fast for the bed.

"Ah, ah, no. Dan-iel-a, Dan-iel-a," he corrected, a triplet tapped with fingers upon her breast. "Yours -" Is silent.

"I have no music to keep you. You're all I hear," she confessed, eyes burning into him, truthful and not caring for the curtains she was tearing down to reveal such secrets. "All I hear and I want you. Taste you, have you, keep you."

"God, yes." To be so desired, to be so possessed, and to find himself the recipient of such passion and beauty, that such a powerful being would ever let herself be his. "My Daniela," he whispered, gasping as bodies escaped clothes, taut muscles against such soft, velvety curves. "You're all I want to see. You think you don't make music? You are my music. Song I didn't know I was humming. You know- when the tune is in your head and you wish you could find the words? That's you. Didn't know I was looking for you, and then… there you were."

She kissed him with a shudder, a shiver as she tried to keep her human features intact and the fangs fought to surface. The other lovers, most of them tolerated it, but she was careful not to let their eyes linger for too long. She used the dark and her veil of hair to her advantage. There were a few fetishists, the ones who preferred her vampiric face to her human one, and they never lasted long. They wanted something bestial from her, and she was a woman who shared her body with a rather passionate demon, not a passionate demon who possessed a woman.

But either way, something like her could not be loved in such a beautiful way, as someone's missing melody. She wanted to tell him it was mutual. She wanted to thank him. All of those options were confusing and painful at the moment, so her fangs were pushing for the quick and pleasurable.

"Close your eyes, Lover," she purred, smiling as she lost the battle.

"No, no, I want to see you," Wesley protested, reaching for her face.

Her hand held his off. "You don't have to. I know you've kissed me like this. It needn't-"

"I needn't. But I want to."

"Why?"

"Because it's you." So simple and yet so life-changing. I love her. I love her when she's in either face, because those are the faces my Daniela possesses. All vampires are so ugly, so grim and grotesque. How is it she looks graceful? Feline, or serpentine? Her eyes, such an asset, those eyes, seem bigger and wider. Those lips seem darker. Even the ridges of bone between her brows make a diadem, not a ghoulish mask. "My sweet tigress. No need to hide your stripes," he murmured gently, thumb caressing the crown of bone above her eyes. "A queen should have a crown, and yours is built in. How utterly practical of you." he winked and she laughed.

"Oh, non. Non, you're besotted," she gasped and giggled back, hand to her mouth, features changing without her consent.

"Yes. With a very beautiful woman."

"Yes, now, like this," Daniela persisted, fingers ghosting over her smooth brow and cheeks.

Wesley reclined, looking up at her. She was wearing nothing but a pair of black satin panties that hugged her delectable cheeks and kissed the tops of her thighs. "All right, I confess."

She nodded, relieved to accept the familiar, to know that his honesty was untainted.

"I think vampires are quite hideous in their demonic faces." He sat up on his elbows and studied her face with narrowed eyes. "I don't know why you're different. Why you look regal and powerful, dangerous and seductive in yours. Every other vampire in such a face would send me reaching for a stake, heart pounding in fear. All I can think when I see you is that…" His libido was in danger of erupting and ruining his heartfelt speech.

Like the accomplished lover she was, she knew that sudden hesitation. "I promise I will not think you're a cad if you tell me," she laughed softly.

"I think of how beautiful you are and how much I like being with you, no matter how you look, since nothing changes your beauty or your sweet, clever heart and mind. And then… I find myself wondering what it would be like to make love with you like this. If your fangs will nick anything," he suddenly grabbed her wrist and pulled her beside him, making her gasp again, "if I can still make your eyes roll back when I do things like this." His fingers boldly went under the crotch of her panties and delved in and up. "Where is that spot, my love?" his voice a purr, laughter in his lips. Her hands were in his hair, gripping harder as he found the spot that made her thighs spasm. "You make me feel like I'm stronger, you know? And a bit more dangerous as well."

Her room was spinning as he found the hollow in her pussy that would cause her to erupt if worried persistently and hard enough. He says all the right things. He does all the right things. "You are incredibly dangerous," she gasped fervently and gave in.


He wasn't scared. It was her. It was impossible to be scared. In fact, he felt rather accomplished. Not many men can keep the woman they love alive simply by having the best orgasms of their lives.

He was buried inside her. Daniela's face changed at will, and he didn't notice, as long as she made happy sounds. Her fangs did nick things, but he figured it was his own fault since she'd unleashed something in him, something that liked a prickle of sharpness and found no pain in it. He kissed her and tasted hints of blood, reminiscent of brushing too hard or all those times he'd been hit in the lip. This was so much better. And just when he felt himself tightening to release inside her pussy- another exciting, new experience, the feeling of skin on skin without need for protection- she mewled and shook and kissed him for all he was worth- then sank her teeth fiercely into his neck, crying out and shaking.

Dear God. Dear GOD, this was exactly what she meant she said lovers could get addicted. He didn't know, his mind was spinning and nonsense was produced, that he could orgasm from his neck, but wasn't that what was happening? Blood was pumping out in time to the pulse of his emptying cock, and neither seemed to be stopping. Typically, he was dimly aware of thinking mathematically, he felt three hard bursts and he was done. He wasn't counting, but he knew three was eons ago. He dug his fingers into her soft hips and held her there, determined to give her everything.

And then- like clouds blotting the sun, the tidal wave of pleasure left and was replaced by the soft pressing and dragging of her scarlet tongue, her nuzzles to him as he arched once more and fell back.

"So good. So wonderful. Speak, though. Votre- are you- are you able to speak?" Daniela's panting questions caressed his ear as she slid down and off, resting beside him.

He tried. His jaw moved and his poor brain still didn't want to make sense. "God."

"Well, if you like the title. I worship no other," she laughed softly.

His eyes wouldn't focus. "What… how?"

"I do not know. That was unusual. Even for me." No. She knew. She drank longer, harder, and deeper, from this sweet well. Only the sudden skip of one heartbeat warned her to stop. She was an expert by now, knowing that only a minute or two equalled a pint, and he had probably given two. "I'm sorry. I made you dizzy?"

"I'm lying down. I don't know. Except that it was incredible. Amazing. Can we do it again?"

"Later, Lover. I'll bring you a drink. Grapes? Bread?"

"Daniela."

"Yes?"

"Bring me Daniela." He reached for his arm with a soppy smile as she slid away.

"Oh, you have me, Sorcerer. But - I had a bit too much of you. Your Daniela will be back with things for you to nibble on."

"Can I nibble them off of you?"

"Blood-loss makes you very bold. And I like it." She winked and slid into her robe, trotting down the stairs.


Several snacks and one shared orgasm of the far more conventional kind later, Wesley touched his neck. It hadn't healed, but the marks in it felt very small. "An artist signs her masterpiece," he teased when he caught her looking at him worriedly.

"If Angelus should ever give you trouble, you must come to me, quickly, right away. I do not trust him when he is angry."

"You'll be with me to defend my honor," he smiled softly. Brain clearing, he asked, "Is that- is that how pleasurable it always is?"

"No. That was new, even for me. But it could be close. The more two are connected, the deeper the intensity."

"I can see why Buffy and Spike would be loath to stop this, even if they entered into the relationship unwillingly."

She frowned, busy making whorls in the soft chest hair at the midline of his pectorals, distracted and dreamy, her high lasting longer as the blood still coursed in her veins. "He attacked her?"

"He was acting to save her. She was unwillingly -erm- thralled and bitten by another. You remember?"

"Right, the English one and the girl with the unfortunate name. Well, they may share an intensity like ours, though they are not properly bonded."

"Oh, I think- I think they may be at this point," Wesley voiced what he'd realized.

She shook her head. "I mean, she has not fully returned his bond. She will not until she has been turned." Comprehension snaked into her thoughts. "Oh! Is this why you wanted to get to know me better, Sorcerer? After the vampire claims her as his Kindred One and turns her, you want to see if she will remain true to herself? Well, we are more true than ever, our base desires, bad or good, borne out."

Suddenly wide awake, Wesley sat up, peering down at her, trying not to show panic. "Why do you say she must be turned? He has no desire to turn her. She wouldn't allow it!"

"But once you have been claimed, you want to complete the bond, yes?"

"I- yes?" He shrugged.

"Well, a human hold is insubstantial, weak, and it would be one-sided and unbalanced."

"But didn't Dracula claim humans? Didn't he always have a deep relationship with the women he turned and married?" Wheels were cranking and his dazed mind was sharpening.

"He did, yes, but when he claimed humans he turned them quickly after. Never more than a week or two, usually days after placing the first word of a claim to fulfill it." Daniela cast her mind back to the two or three weeks she had been courted by him, to her first taste of blood from his arm, to the dark thrills it gave her, to the ache of wanting to belong to him. She begged to be his and he agreed. The first time she had made love to him, felt him sink into her neck and into her body, she nearly died from pleasure. It was painful now to remember the rush of being with him, now to see it with changed eyes and know that such a forbidden paradise eventually became a monotonous, tense hell, a drugged dream she was still trying to escape decades later.

"So why was she so worried if it wasn't finished?" Wesley found himself shaking his head. "The other one, not Spike, the one who bit her, claimed her. The effects made her feel horrible."

"I said it would be one-sided, I didn't say that it would go away. It would remain incomplete and leave her ever more powerless. To fully work, a claim must be made by two who share immortality."

"Two who are turned, two vampires?"

"Typically, yes." Daniela had never considered. Now she did. "Not entirely, I suppose. No, two with links to immortality. Two non-mortals. Two demons, one demon, one of the higher beings, whatever it may be. But if she is merely a human, she cannot fully claim this Spike." And you couldn't claim me. Not fully. She jumped suddenly and pretended it was a shiver. She never wanted to be claimed again and the thought she'd just had made her quake to her stomach.

"Buffy- she has- a certain- cosmic lineage, one might say," Wesley stumbled over this thought and how to word it without fully revealing Buffy's identity.

"What does that mean?"

"She's not as human as I am." He smiled softly.

"Ah. Well… The words…" Daniela's accent changed, something of the eastern mountains, thicker and sounding more like Latin than French rolled across her tongue as her slender fingers caressed her neck and ran down her bare breasts until her arms folded around herself. "Beyond this life. Blood of my blood. Heart's blood. Life's blood. My blood. Mine, ever and always, past life and death, to a second life and beyond."

When she came to herself, his arms were over hers. "What beautiful words. Those are- that's how you claim your Kindred One?"

"When you- consummate. The true union, of blood and bodies. You see- you are pledged for eternity. Or, until one of you is dead or set free."

"How beautiful," he repeated.

"Mmm."

"How dangerous."

Her eyes lit up and she nodded frantically. "Yes! Yes, you see the power he can hold, if he-" She bit her lip. It was wrong to speak ill of her master, former master, eternal sire. That loyalty would never go away, and the impotent rage that fought against it was only getting stronger.

His lips pressed her brow. "It should be a fair exchange, two to share such an enormous responsibility, such power, such danger. And he let you say the words, but he didn't let you share the power."

"Because he was my sire. Because the sire is always the master, the ruler, you see?" she admitted desperately.

"What if Buffy and Spike, or what if two vampires who met after they were turned by separate sires met and consummated? With those words?"

"The power would be evenly shared, I assume. But- and I know you only want the best for the girl, but unless she were something with an immortal essence, like a Slayer, she would never be his true equal. Wesley? Wesley!"

Wesley had just choked on his own air and was now coughing and scrambling off the bed. "Immortal essence? Slayer?"

"Oh, come, you're a Watcher! You know the term!"

"I know! But she's not immortal! Slayers are not immortal!"

"Well, only if she's killed will she die! Just like a vampire, we live forever unless we are deliberately snuffed out! And her essence will pass to the next, you know this!" She wondered briefly about blood-related amnesia and brain damage. Was it three pints she'd stolen? That could make a man go into shock, but he seemed warm and lucid enough.

"What… what did you say? Slayers- Slayers don't live past twenty five."

"I know! They get killed in battle. They don't die naturally. Isn't that the case?"

Wasn't that the case? Wesley's mind reeled. It was. It actually was- Slayers died only through injury and they only lived such short lives because in their battles they died and- "Oh my God. Oh my God!"

"Wesley, what are you saying?"

"Buffy is the Slayer! Oh God, Buffy and Spike… what has she done? What has she done?" Wesley paced the floor, hands to his head. To escape the bond with Dracula, had she just committed some sort of dangerous, eternal pact with Spike, another ruthless, albeit reformed, demon? "Daniela, are you sure?"

She nodded slowly. "That is what he always said. Dracul. That one day, he would find the one who would live. And claim her. When they consummated in the old way, he would take on her life force and finally be free of the thing he feared most."

"What? A Slayer's power?"

"No. Death's power. He can still be killed now, Wesley. There is- one way. Only one." She hurried on, keeping the secret she must never tell, already feeling hot, painful surges of guilt for letting this new lover in on her master's most secret aspiration. "If he drains a claimed Slayer and she returns it, embraces him as her Kindred One, consummation and all… he will share the immortal essence. He cannot be killed then. Nothing will ever stop him."

"That's not possible, surely."

"It should not be possible to live after he is ash, but he can. He can live without his head, form again. Those gypsies… they know much, they taught him all of it." She pulled on her dressing gown, suddenly so much colder than usual. "Please don't tell her the -"

He had pulled on his own robe. He looked at her with an utterly devastated expression. "I have to, my love."

Things clicked. Incredible, horrible things. "Wesley?"

"My darling, listen-"

"Who bit her?"

Silence.

"Before the English one. Who?"

The silence was longer, so much longer. She didn't need an answer this time, but he gave it anyway.

"Please don't hate me. Please don't… please don't think I didn't mean any of this. I meant all of it. All of it and so much more I never told you. Dracula bit her. You're the only surviving ex-wife, the only one he ever gave complete freedom to, didn't kill, didn't pass to another. I needed help to save her."

Nails lashed out- and tore the wall three new long gashes next to his head. A scream that turned into a howl of sorrow rent his heart. "How could you? How could you let me talk and not-"

"Because I would do anything to save her! I can't let her become his slave! I can't let him hurt her- anymore than I could ever let anyone hurt you!"

"You have hurt me!"

"I know! I wish to God I could have told you everything at once, but I don't think you- I didn't think you'd tell me. I didn't know you were going to tell me tonight! Daniela, think back, darling, please! I was honestly curious, wasn't I? I wanted to know you for you! You said you could tell I was honest, in almost all things. This was the thing. One of the things."

Her voice was dangerous, full. She wouldn't look at him. Her tears were unsightly, not meant for him. "Tell me the other."

"I will. Only, I need to call her first and tell her this. Then I'll tell you the rest. I swear."

She laughed. "Why do you think I'll let you make a call?"

"Because my failing does not mean you are any less of a gracious, powerful woman. You're not a killer. You're not someone who hurts others."

Damn him. "Make it brief."

"I will." He paused at the door. "Daniela? If you had met Arina before he turned her, what would you have told her? Or if you could rewind time and meet her moments before she first laid eyes on Dracula, what would you say?"

Oh fuck him, curse him. She found herself wracked with a sudden sob, an old wound suddenly stabbed again. "I would tell her I love her!"

"Anything else?"

It was trite wasn't it, a cliche? Run and save yourself. And yet- that's what she would beg her to do, on bended knee if needed. One word escaped pale, quivering lips. "Run."

"Yes, well… I have to tell her how to run and why. You are saving her, I'm just the messenger. If you prevent him from reaching that pinnacle of immortality, you are saving not only her, but thousands of other Arinas as well. Think about that. When I come back, you can do whatever you like to me. Tell me to go. Make it so I never walk out of here again. I hurt you and I hate myself for it. But- to save her, I would do it again."

"Just go make your call."

"Can I say one more thing?"

Her bitter glare sliced straight through his heart. "Suddenly you cannot stop talking."

"I know. Maybe you won't want to speak to me after, so I have to. If I had been able to meet you-somehow, in some twist of time, meet you before you met Dracul, I would have begged you to run from him, too. I would have asked you to be my equal, not his slave. Because I find myself -" he tried to catch his breath and it wouldn't come. His voice was failing him and he stammered, "Because in a shockingly short time, I believe I've fallen-"

"Wesley, go right now! Out!" Daniela suddenly thrust him from the room and slammed the door. She waited until she heard his door shut before burying her head in her pillow and sobbing for all her idiocy of falling in love again- or for the first time.

To be continued…

Everyone, thank you so much for reading my original pieces, too! I'm thrilled to announce that Vampire in Vegas is getting its first "official" review from one of the bigwigs soon :) Please check it and other pieces by S.C. Principale out for free with KU on Amazon!