Buffy's eyes opened slowly, blinking in disorientation. Spike had carried her upstairs into his room and laid her on his newly acquired bed, which he had covered in tasteful black silk sheets. Spike, sat up at her awakening, carefully searching her eyes so as to be forewarned of the panic she was certain to feel.

Turning the Slayer was quite a gamble, he was aware, but he felt it was a good decision. This way she would be with him, and he would teach her the ways of the undead. She didn't have to kill, something Spike knew she would be averse to. He would help her fight the cravings and show her how to still do good, even though she had become a demon like himself. She would reject it at first, of course, but she would come around eventually.

She sat up slowly, looking around her. Her vampiric face was showing, and Spike saw her raise a shaky hand up to feel the ridges in her brow. The hand travelled down to her lips and sought out her pointed fangs. Buffy looked at Spike, sitting attentively in his chair a few feet away.

"What did you do?" Spike was surprised to hear no fear in her voice. Disbelief, certainly, perhaps horror, but not fear. He supposed it was the demon side of her—he hadn't been afraid to find that he had become a vampire when he was turned a century ago. He felt only the raw power inside of him, a swift change from the cowardly nancyboy he had been prior to his reawakening as a demon. The evil in Buffy's blood was unafraid of what she had become, although Spike was sure whatever humanity she had left in her was unnerved. Spike could only imagine the power Buffy now possessed—if she was strong as a human, what had turning her into a vampire done?

"Easy now, love," he said, slowly getting to his feet. Quick movements could be detrimental to his remaining human-shaped. "It's a bit of an adjustment, but it'll be alright."

She was doing remarkably well for a newly-turned vamp; most panicked a little at first, unaccustomed to the extra senses and strength. Then again, she was probably used to that.

He sat at the edge of the bed, slightly relieved when she did not move to harm him. "How do you feel?"

It took her a moment to answer him. She looked up at him.

"Hungry."

He chuckled. "All in good time, love. I know you're wanting human blood—I don't blame you—but for your own peace of mind I think we'd best stick to animal." He got up and crossed the room to a small black minifridge, pulling out a package of blood. He retrieved a mug from the top of the microwave that stood not too far away and poured the blood into it. He could hear the eager growl Buffy gave, and he chuckled again. He put the mug into the microwave and started it. Thank God for electricity in this place. Couldn't very well go over to old Rupert's and ask to borrow his kitchen.

After a minute the microwave dinged and he pulled out the mug of now-toasty blood, stirred it, and walked back over to the bed. He handed the mug to Buffy.

"Take a sip, love. It'll help with the disorientation too."

She sniffed at the mug a bit before taking a dainty sip. She processed the flavor for a moment before taking a larger sip of it, downing the whole thing in a few more seconds. Who knew. Even as a vampire, she's adorable. Spike held out his hand and took the mug from her, setting it down on a table next to the bed.

"Better?"

She nodded, looking a little sheepish.

"I'm surprised you haven't tried to stake me yet."

She glanced at him. "Thought about it. Then you mentioned feeding me. Thought maybe I'd hold off on dusting you for a bit."

Spike rolled his eyes. She certainly knew how to keep him on edge. He sat at the edge of the bed, maintaining a safe distance away from her. If she could kick his ass before, she could sure as hell do it now. He looked at her face; she was staring at the now-empty mug with a peculiar expression on her face, doubt mixed with confusion.

"This was always my worst nightmare," she whispered. Spike's heart twisted in his chest a bit. He should have known that about her. He felt guilty at what he was doing to her, but the demon inside him was roaring with pleasure at turning a slayer—his slayer. The demon within won out over a guilty conscience every time.

"Is it really so different? Do you feel different?"

Buffy pondered that a moment. "Stronger, definitely. And there's the craving for blood—definitely didn't have that before," she said, frowning. "But… I'm still me, I think. Aren't I?"

"Now you're getting it," Spike said encouragingly. She was coming to grips a lot faster than he had expected; hell, he had anticipated having an enraged slayer to contend with as soon as she woke up.

"You can do whatever you want, love. If you want to hunt humans, I'll give you some pointers and stand back jealously." Buffy chuckled a bit at that. "But if you want to hunt demons, I'm alright with that, too. I'll help you."

Buffy looked at him. "Why?"

Spike raised his eyebrows in amusement. "Why hunt demons? Where you been for the last five years, pet? Kinda fun."

Buffy shook her head. "No. I meant, why are you helping me? Why even bother turning me in the first place?"

Spike looked at her. "You know why."

Buffy looked away, refusing to meet his gaze. Spike sighed; she was still going to take some persuading before she came around, demon or no.

"Anyway, pet," he said by way of changing the subject, getting to his feet. "We'd best think of a way to tell your friends and the Little Bit."

Buffy's face fell. "Dawn. Oh, God." She buried her face in her hands. After a moment, she looked back up at him, panic written on her face.

"She's going to be terrified. What if she's afraid of me? What if—"

Spike clapped his hand over her mouth, cutting off her babbling. "Sh, love. She'll be alright. We'll talk to her first, go to your friends after. Something tells me the Little Bit is going to be the most understanding." It was true; Dawn had always been more accepting of him than the others, and vampire or not, Buffy was still her sister and obviously still cared for her. He was sure Dawn would see that. It appeared Buffy had kept a rather lot of her humanity. A lot more than most demons. "Alright?"

Buffy nodded, and Spike took his hand away, though he could see that she was still freaked out. He cautiously reached out and petted her hair, marveling at how soft it was. She never let him get this close when she was human. He pulled away grudgingly. Best not risk dismemberment.


Spike walked Buffy to her house on Revello Drive as soon as the sun had set, trying to calm Buffy down the whole way. She tried not to let him see her anguish, in typical Buffy fashion complete with false bravado. She looked terrified, and Spike had to fight the temptation to put his arm around her in comfort on the walk there.

"I swear, I can smell everything," she mumbled under her breath. "I think that guy on the next street over mowed his lawn today. How do you stand it? It's like my senses have gone bananas."

Spike shrugged, taking out a pack of smokes and his Zippo. "You get used to it, I s'pose. It all starts to become a bit more natural." He lit a cigarette and took a drag before noticing Buffy's wrinkled nose. She glanced at the cigarette dangling from his mouth and turned away, a sour look on her face. Spike sighed, tugging the cig from his mouth and tossing it into the street. Girl's gonna take away all my bad habits.

The rounded the corner of her street and made their way to the front steps, Buffy's step noticeably slowing the closer she got to the door. She raised her tiny fist to knock, then hesitated. Spike stepped past her and loudly knocked three times.

"It'll be okay, pet," he quietly assured her. Buffy was very glad that her mother was out of down for the next week or so.

Dawn answered the door only seconds later, her worried look quickly replaced with relief.

"Spike, Buffy, thank God. We were worried," she said, stepping back to let them in. Buffy started for the door and halted abruptly.

"Buffy?"

Buffy looked at her confused sister, gapping at Spike for an explanation. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Erm, Bit, you the only one here?"

Dawn nodded, still looking confused. "Yeah, why—"

Realization hit the younger Summers sister as she took in the fact that her sister hadn't entered the house.

"Oh," she said quietly. Spike saw the tears well up in her light blue eyes, though she put on a brave face.

"Come on outside to talk, Little Bit," Spike said, stepping aside to let her out. "It's alright," he assured her at her conflicted look. He glanced at Buffy, who looked on the verge of tears as well.

After a moment of hesitation, Dawn stepped out of the house, pulling the door shut behind her. Spike led the Summers girls to the steps and sat, pulling Buffy into his side gently. Far from looking pissed off, Buffy looked up at him in gratitude.

Dawn was silent for a few moments before asking, "How?"

Spike thought for a brief moment; Dawn was his biggest fan in Sunnydale, to be sure, but he wasn't entirely positive that she would take the news that he turned her into a vampire well. A slight fabrication to the story couldn't hurt at this point.

"She was attacked last night," he lied easily before Buffy could say anything. "Vamp apparently got his jollies making the Slayer a demon. I got him, but not before he turned your big sis." He was surprised at himself; he almost felt badly for lying to Dawn, especially about something so important. Little Bit's had enough of people lying to her.

"Has she…" Dawn cleared her throat. "I mean, Buffy…are you, y'know, hungry?"

Buffy shook her head. "Spike gave me some blood when I woke up," she whispered, clearly unable to find her voice. Dawn looked at Spike for confirmation. He nodded once.

"Leftover pig's blood I had in the fridge."

Dawn looked at her older sister. "Are you okay?" Buffy choked out a laugh and looked at Dawn with something resembling amusement. Dawn grudgingly smiled.

"Okay, dumb question."

Buffy shook her head, still laughing slightly. "I've been worse. This… isn't as bad as you'd think. And Spike said he would help me not hunt humans." Dawn looked appreciatively at Spike at this news. Spike was glad he had made that promise; it might help him to not get staked. And it certainly made Buffy feel better about the whole thing.

Dawn looked back at Buffy. "Have you told Willow and Xander yet?" Buffy shook her head, slightly vigorously.

"No, we came to you first. Wil and Xand… I'm not sure they'd understand." Buffy looked afraid at this. As strong a person as she was, she loved her friends. Spike was sure she was afraid they would try to stake her. He wasn't entirely certain she could fight her friends if it came down to it. He could, though, if it meant protecting her.

That was best left as a last-ditch attempt. Buffy would likely not want her best friends slaughtered, as much as he would thoroughly enjoy torturing the welp.

Dawn sighed. "This could be tricky. Why don't we wait until tomorrow." She stood, then offered her sister her hand to help her up from the concrete steps. "Come on, come on in. Spike, you're invited too—I think Willow put a revoking spell on the house." Spike rolled his eyes. Figures.

Buffy sat cross-legged on her familiar bed in her room. Dawn had insisted she stay in the house throughout the night.

"It's your house too. And you totally don't scare me," she said as she reached into the refrigerator for a cold slice of leftover pizza. Buffy had tried to argue, not sure she trusted herself in the house with Dawn, but the younger Summers sibling was stubborn as ever.

Spike sat in a chair near the bed, having promised shortly after the debate to watch over Buffy to make sure nothing happened to Dawn. He wasn't sure what Dawn expected—Buffy had always been a bit of a nocturnal creature even before becoming a vampire—but it seemed to make her happy by having Buffy nearby.

He glanced at Buffy, who was absent-mindedly picking at a stray thread on her sheets.

"That went a lot better than expected," he said dryly. She looked up at him and gave him a slight smile.

"Not that I expected much less of the little bit."

Buffy nodded and resumed looking down at her comforter. Spike sighed.

"Alright, Pet. What's going on in that noggin."

Buffy looked back up at him. She looked as though she were going to ignore his question, but seemed to think better of it. "I don't know. I just… Xander isn't going to understand. He's going to try to dust me. And Willow will be afraid. And I don't even want to think about what Giles will say." She paused.

"And then there's the thing with you. And I have no idea what that's all about."

Spike cocked one eyebrow. "'The thing with me'?"

Buffy gave him her 'Oh, come on,' look. "You know. You turned me. You dusted Drusilla. And I'm not sure I really understand why."

Spike looked at her. He wasn't sure now was the best time for this conversation, but then, Spike wasn't really known for thinking ahead.

"You know why, pet. I told you. Can you honestly tell me now that vampires can't love? Even after looking at Dawn tonight?" Buffy didn't reply. After a moment, Spike spoke again.

"I'm not asking you to love me right away, Buffy," he said quietly. "All I'm asking for is a chance."

She looked at him, anger obvious in her eyes. "You turned me. You took away my life, and now you want me to give you a chance."

There it was. Spike had been expecting the anger all evening; he figured she was in too much shock for it to register before now. He looked unapologetically at her.

"I turned you. I wanted you that badly. What are you missing out on? It's not like you had much of a life outside slaying. And who knows—maybe your powers have increased with the extra demon blood in you." Not that the thought had occurred to him beforehand. Turning her had been an impulse; he had only thought about making her be with him. Spike was sure she knew that.

"Look," he said as she opened her mouth in retort. "We can fight about this tomorrow. Dawn's in the next room, and she still doesn't know I was the one who sired you."

Buffy glared at him a moment more, then nodded, albeit grudgingly. "Fine. But we will talk about this tomorrow."

Spike sighed. It was going to have to be the best he could do.

"Fine. Just try to get some rest." Spike settled back into his chair. Buffy grudgingly snuggled underneath her bedcovers and turned away from him onto her side. Spike resisted the urge to touch her back, the muscles of which were shown nicely underneath the tank top she had changed into. He gritted his teeth. You asked for it, mate.

After a few moments, remarkably, he heard Buffy's breathing slow and even out. She had been through a lot in the past several hours; Spike supposed it shouldn't have surprised him that she was tired again. He allowed himself to relax further in the chair, until he could feel himself begin to doze, too.