Alright, third chapter. Keeping them coming this time. And no, if you are reading Elizabeth The Bloody I have not given up on it. I'm taking leave of it for the moment but I will return to it.

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Chapter Three

Buffy woke to the feel of soft silk beneath her fingers. She smelled leather, smoke, and something that was distinctly… "Spike."

"'M here, pet. Got you some blood."

And there it was in a nutshell. She was a vampire. An evil, soulless thing. The very embodiment of what she was chosen to kill. All because she hadn't wanted to die, and something inside her had acted out automatically. She felt the tears prickling her eyes even as the scent of blood reached her nose. She was thirsty. So thirsty. But she wasn't sure she could bring herself to drink blood. She'd have to, of course. But…

"Where am I?"

"My place. Or Crypt rather."

Slowly, she sat up, blinking as she took in her surroundings. The bed she was on was decent, though the pink comforter and sheets were hideous. She vaguely registered that Harmony must have picked them out, back when she and Spike had been a thing. And she wasn't going to think about why that suddenly made her angry to think about. There were a few rugs on the concrete floor, bare concrete walls, candles lit here and there on a dresser and a desk and chair, where Spike currently perched, watching her.

Her eyes shot to the mug he was holding out to her, and she felt her features change. But she couldn't move. She wasn't sure if it was because she couldn't even think about stomaching blood, or if she was just too exhausted. Spike rose slowly, the hand not holding the mug was held palm up as if he were trying to calm her. He walked toward her, sat softly down on the bed, and handed her the mug. The contents were drained before she even realized what she was doing.

Instantly her hand flew to her mouth and she felt her stomach give a violent lurch. She leaned forward and was shocked to feel Spike's hand on her back as he whispered, "Easy, now. You'll get used to it." She had to. Because she was a vampire now.

"Why?" she whispered. "Why are you helping me?"

The hand on her back was rubbing small circles, and it stilled for a moment, and then continued as he answered. "Don't know. But tell me this," he leaned forward, his lips next to her ear as he whispered, "Is yours as affected by mine as mine is by yours?"

And she knew, even as she shivered, even as the soft moan escaped her lips, she knew that he was talking about their demons. And hers was most certainly reacting to his. "Isn't this normal?"

She turned to look at him and wished she hadn't. Those big blue eyes were staring at her, watching her as if she were the most interesting thing they'd ever taken in. "Don't all vampires react this way to one another?"

He laughed. A low rumble she had never heard before, that had tingles running down her spine once again. "No, luv. It's not normal."

"Oh." She whispered and turned her attention back toward the wall. "Spike," she asked after a bit. When he paused in rubbing circles around her back, she whispered, "Are you going to kill me?"

He should. He knew he should. He had wanted to for so long and this was the perfect opportunity to do so. But for the life of him he couldn't. Not the way he was responding to her. "No," he finally answered on a sigh, though his hand remained motionless. "Don't suppose I am."

She leaned back then, right back into his arms and nestled into his chest. "Thank you," she whispered. "For saving me. For not killing me."

"No problem." He mumbled around the lump in his throat. His arms found their way around her as she snuggled like a cat into him and he knew, he was honestly and truly buggered.

"My friends," she whispered into his chest. "And Giles. And Mom. What am I going to do?"

Spike didn't have an answer for that. He was working on one thing at a time and, honestly, her friends and watcher weren't high on that list. But what if they came looking for her? What if they took her from him? His demon growled and his arms tightened around her. "Rest," he whispered. "We'll handle it tomorrow."

After a while, her chest began to rise and fall, as if she were breathing and he smiled at the oddity of it. In her sleep, she was unconsciously breathing. And it was an endearing quality. Endearing? He was so screwed.

BTVS

It had been three days. Three days and no Buffy in sight. Giles' apartment was full of worried people. He leaned against his counter, a glass of scotch in his hand, his glasses in the other as he took another deep steadying breath. Willow and Xander were arguing. Xander had been insisting from the get-go that they rush out and search for Buffy. Willow was arguing that she was good enough to do a spell, she'd been practicing after all. Just little magic but she was sure she could do a simple locating spell. Anya, for what is was worth, sat on the couch watching her boyfriend and Willow fight, wide-eyed as usual. Joyce was the only one who seemed detached. She was holding a cup of tea and sipping it unconsciously as she stared at the television screen that was mutely displaying the news, as if hoping against hope that a 'Sunnydale University student found dead this morning' headline wouldn't flash across it.

Willow and Xander's argument rose another octave and finally Giles snapped. "Be quite!" He slid his glasses back on to glare at the younger people in his home. Joyce jumped, spilling a bit of tea on her hands that she quickly wiped away and turned to regard him. "We're better than this." He said after a moment, once everyone's attention was on him. "We should have been looking for her long before now."

Of course they should have. But the first day, he'd assumed she'd had a rough night and stayed home in bed, Willow assumed she'd gone to her mother's, Joyce assumed she was at school. When the second day came and went, they became worried and both Willow and Joyce called Giles. He informed everyone not to panic and see if she returned that night. She hadn't. And now, finally, they were going after her. He just prayed it wasn't too late.

"Anya, help Willow get the ingredients she needs to perform that spell." When Willow's face lit up, he added, "I'm sure with your past experience with magic you'll be able to stop anything from going wrong, should the need arise." Willow's face fell, slightly, but not enough to actually be concerned with. "Xander, you and I will head out and search for her the old fashion way. Arm yourself, this may take all day and well into the night. Joyce, can you stay here in case she returns? We'll call when we stop to eat and see how that locating spell is coming."

At Joyce's worried look, he set his glass down and walked toward her, taking her slender hand in both of his own, "Don't worry, we'll find her." And they would. Even if it killed them.

BTVS

Buffy woke and knew it was night. She sat up, and was confused when two arms fell away from her. She frowned down at the sleeping vampire beside her and took a deep breath. Of course, she didn't need to breathe anymore. She was a vampire. She was dead. And she was absolutely disgusting. And hungry. She rose from the bed, carefully, and headed over toward the dresser she'd spotted when she'd first woken in the crypt.

The top four drawers were filled with women's clothes, and though Buffy wore the same size as Harmony, she'd die before she put half of it on. She finally found a pair of jeans that were normal a bra that was her size, but she drew the line at underwear and the shirts. They were just too…ugh. She pulled open the bottom two drawers and found the only pieces of clothing that weren't girly. Spike's. The left side had five pair of black jeans, and surprisingly a pair of Khaki pants. The other side had two button up red shirts, a few black t-shirts, a button up blue shirt and a long sleeved blue shirt, most of which she'd never seen. Sighing, she took the button up blue shirt and closed the drawers softly, turning to look at Spike. He still hadn't moved.

Now what? Surely the vampire had a place to clean up? Right? As if answering her question she heard the faint drip of water to her left. She turned and noticed a darker area in the corner to the right of the bed. She stepped toward it, blinked, and was able to see a small alcove hidden behind the rock, where a broken pipe was dripping slowly. She set the clothes down carefully on the concrete and went back into the main room, snatching one of Harmony's shirts and moving back to the makeshift shower. Without a sound she stripped off her clothing, wincing where some of the wounds pulled open that had been too deep to heal from just one bag of blood, and bent her head under the faucet.

For a minute, she stood there, letting it drip on her head, until she noticed the small facet head directly across from her. Oh. She turned it to the left and the water picked up in intensity. She didn't have any shampoo or conditioner so water would have to do. Once she'd done that, she used Harmony's shirt as a makeshift washrag and vowed she would burn every scrap of clothing that Harmony had left behind, save the bra and pants she'd snatched. Once clean, she shimmied back into her underwear, pulled on the jeans, which were a little tighter than she wore her own, put the bra on and pulled Spike's shirt only to freeze. It smelled like him. Before she knew it she was bringing the collar up to her nose and inhaling deeply. A purr rose to her lips and shocked her enough to release the collar. She'd purred? Like a cat when content. Was that her demon? Reacting to just Spike's scent?

Slowly, she tied the bottom of the shirt just below her belly button so it wouldn't show too much skin and then buttoned up the rest, leaving the top three buttons open. Then she leaned back against the wall and thought. Why was she responding to Spike? He'd said it wasn't normal. The way they were responding to one another. But then, what did that mean? And why didn't she have the desire to run out and kill everyone within sight? Why couldn't she stomach the taste of human blood last night? She was a vampire now. Not a Slayer. And she didn't want Faith to stake her if she ever came out of the coma. Which begged the question, now what? Buffy had already died once, and Faith was the Slayer who was supposed to be taking over. But with her in a coma, and Buffy a vampire, who was going to fight the fight? Keep the world from being overrun by vampires and demons alike? And could she, as the former Slayer, really sit back and watch it all happen?

No. She stood up straight. She couldn't. Vampire or not she was still going to fight the good fight. She'd just have to be a little more careful not to get burnt to a crisp, and avoid wood and holy water. But she could do it! If Angel could she could! And she was a better fighter than Angel! She could really do this and, maybe, if she could prove to the others that she was still good, they wouldn't stake her.

Unbidden, tears sprung to her eyes but she shook them away. There was no point crying over her friends and family. She would either have to accept that they would hate her now, or she'd have to give them a reason not to. That was all there was too it. And for some reason, her demon wasn't protesting this at all. Did that mean she still had a soul? She certainly didn't feel evil. But how was that possible? Did it have something to do with her being a Slayer first?

Well, she was still the Slayer. Just with new strengths and weaknesses. She could do this. And the first thing she was going to do was kill Spike before he had a chance to kill any of them. Almost as soon as she thought it a growl escaped her lips. A sort of possessiveness she'd never felt before coursed through her and tightened her unbeating heart. No. She couldn't kill Spike. For whatever reason, her demon had attached itself to his. She'd just have to learn to live with that. Maybe, just maybe, she could change him, make him like Angel, like her. Convince him to fight the good fight. She'd give him a chance, and if he refused to turn from his evil ways, then she'd stake him. This time, she ignored the pitiful whine that escaped her throat at the thought of Spike being dust. She'd do what she had to do. She always had, and always would. Because that's what a Slayer did.

Review please!

I am worried about keeping the characters In Character. If there is anything that is unbelievable (Spike wouldn't act like that, Buffy wouldn't say that!) whatever, please let me know. I will change it and re-upload the chapter. I'm counting on ya'll to keep me in line.

- your author.