Buffy stared at the long line of the house in the moonlight. It was longer than it was tall and looked like some kind of hunting lodge from a fairy tale, all beams and plaster. She turned to look at Spike as he slid out from behind the wheel of his car.

"This whole place is ours?" She gestured to it with one hand.

"No, we can only use one corner." He rolled his eyes. "Of course it's ours. Darla had the eye for real estate. This is perfect. Quiet. Private. Close to the college. It's only a ten-minute walk to your classes if you head out through the woods. Plus, it is ours. No memories for us here but our own."

Buffy closed her eyes and thought of the sad look on Angel's face as he had watched her go. She still loved him, but she hated him as well. Everything was off kilter inside her. She shook her head as Drusilla started warbling again. How did they put up with it?

"Yeah, yeah, I know Dru's singing again." Spike said. "You will get used to it."

"Why can't I hear you in my brain?" Buffy opened her eyes and pulled her duffle and her make up kit from the car.

"Haven't used the skill. Don't usually. I don't want Peaches knowing what I'm thinking, and it only encourages Dru." He smiled fondly as thoughts of his lost love played through his mind.

"It makes this harder for you. I mean you have her in your head, you love her, and you can hear her, but I'm what you are stuck with." Buffy kicked a rock with the toe of her sneaker and traced its trajectory with her eyes.

"Neither one of us is thrilled to be spliced up, Pet." Spike walked around the car and grabbed her bag.

"We were." Buffy smiled sadly.

"Yeah," he looked down at her with a rush of tenderness, he pulled her against his chest with his free arm. "We were. Had it all for a bit. Didn't we?"

She nodded against his chest and he felt her tears soak through the cotton of his shirt. He rubbed his spare hand up and down her back. She leaned in to him, her warmth like a blast furnace, and wrapped her own free arm around him. They stood quietly and listened as his ex sang some inane bits from a musical he had seen with her on Broadway in the seventies.

"Spike, I'm sorry my friend did this to us. I'm sorry you're trapped in it." Buffy pushed back enough to look into his eyes. "It's sad and strange because I miss being in love with you. We had it for such a short time, and it wasn't real, but I miss it."

He stared into her eyes. The moonlight washed over her and he felt the stirrings of the bond. He dropped his lips to hers and she pushed up on her toes giving as she received. His hand moved into her hair, pulling her closer and letting her heat spill through his body.

Her hand shoved beneath his duster and found the smooth curve of his shoulder. She squeezed it lightly and moaned. Spike pulled back and traced the curve of her lips with his thumb. It would be easy to let the bond carry them away, easy to forget the pain for a few hours. He pulled her close for another hug and rested his chin on the top of her head.

They stood in silence for long moments listening to the peaceful night sounds around them. Buffy's hands shifted on his body, enticing him. He closed his eyes and took in her scent, the warmth of her living body making it richer, stronger. There was her soap and shampoo, some silly, girly perfume, and the sweet musk of her arousal. He smiled. She might always love old Peaches, but she would crave him, scream his name, claw his back. She would move into the full bloom of womanhood with him. He smiled as one of her hands settled above his waistband. There was so much to teach her, but no need to rush. Making the slayer his, making her want him over all others would be easy with the bond, but he wanted more. He wanted her to come to his bed without regrets.

She rubbed her cheek against his chest, enjoying the cool of his body. She felt safe in his arms. He might not love her, but he was never leaving. She pushed the tips of her fingers into his waistband and smiled when he didn't flinch away as Angel always had. He wouldn't hold himself away from her. His heart might never be hers, but he would give her everything else. She bit her lip. He would be patient with her, teach her how to please him. She closed her eyes and imagined his naked body under hers. A smile curved up one corner of her mouth slowly pulling her lip free of her teeth. He would help her and give her time.

"Should we go in?" Buffy said softly.

"Survey and take in just how habitable the place really is?" He pulled back and looked down at her blushing face. "I think it would be best."

They walked up the path together, holding hands. Buffy looked down at the slate pieces that led them through the garden arch, covered in some vine with white flowers. She sniffed the air and sighed.

"Night blooming jasmine." Spike smiled and glanced at Buffy. She was looking at the slates beneath their feet. He squeezed her hand and her eyes shot to his. She wasn't willowy. She didn't drift. She moved with purpose and power, but she belonged amongst this beauty as much as Drusilla would have.

Buffy was no dark princess; she was an elegant huntress, all leashed energy and lethal promise. His cock hardened as he imagined her hunting him through the woods, imagined her catching him with a shout of triumph and tumbling him to the ground to revel in her victory. He banished the inevitable comparisons for a time. Buffy deserved his full attention. He squeezed her hand gently and delighted in her gamine grin. They continued up the path to their house.

"Home, sweet fairy tale cottage on steroids." Buffy tossed him another grin as they confronted the giant double doors. "I thought Darla liked small places, like the one in Paris or the place by the sea."

"This isn't a pied-a-terre. This is a stronghold. She was setting down roots for the Aurelians. Might have bought the place years ago. She was a great one for long term plans."

"You didn't like her." Buffy said as they continued to stand next to each other, enjoying the night air.

"She wasn't the kind to like. You could respect her, fear her, love her a bit. She would have bled us all dry if she felt the need or sensed weakness. Dru only lived long enough to become strong because Angelus protected her."

"I can see things in your memory. I just don't get it. Why did you stay with them?"

"So, getting the hard questions out before we open the doors to our future, are you?" Spike smiled and dropped her hand. "Vampire love is an exotic thing. Our family bonds are complicated and visceral. Angelus barely tolerated me, but anyone from outside our family was dust if my hair was mussed. Darla would have been happier to keep Angelus to herself, but there were nights when I would finish brushing Drusilla's hair and she would take her place in front of me, sing while I toiled."

"Well, I guess we have time to figure this stuff out." Buffy bit her lip and took a step toward the door.

Spike grabbed her arm and smiled at her. He pulled her in for another hug and kissed her gently on the corner of her mouth. Her hands found his waist easily and their gazes locked.

"We do this once. There is only one first time through the door of our home. I want to do it right." He dropped a kiss the tip of her pert nose and swung her body up into his arms. She giggled and smiled quizzically at him.

"This is a vampire tradition?"

"No, but ours is a mixed marriage, and I am still an English gentleman." He smiled and pushed the doors open.

"The doors weren't locked?" Buffy stared up at him as he stepped through the huge opening.

"They were, but there are magics vampires use so we don't need a thousand keys. This house was charmed to open for Aurelians. When we shifted the ownership, the number of beings with access dropped to two."

"I didn't know that vampire's could do that. I thought thresholds required human beings to activate their magic."

"It isn't the same. It won't keep out vampires or other demons if they attack. That's why the doors are steel reinforced and made to look wooden. There's a bar here as well. She meant for this place to hold against all comers. Now, we've got your cozy little living soul to keep out all of the vamps that might think to try us." He smiled and spun her around to reveal a giant room with a thirty-foot ceiling.

"I know vampires can't fly, so how the hell do we get the spider webs down?" She grinned as Spike chuckled and eased her to feet. "What are the railroad ties sticking out of the wall for?"

"She had more than started work. It's a staircase. Want to see where it goes?" He dropped her duffle and took of running. Buffy set her bag down and looked around the giant house. She smiled. Alice had nothing on her now. She was well and truly down the rabbit hole. She watched Spike spin, his duster flaring out around him, and she took off. They sped up the so-called stairs and turned to look in the room at the same time. She gasped. The space was huge. She turned and looked down fifteen feet into her great room. He left her standing there, and turned to inspect the room.

"It's dusty." Spike carefully folded the sheets back and revealed a low-slung leather couch facing the triangular wall of windows. He smiled and sat down.

"I hope that's special glass." Buffy said.

"Don't know. Can't imagine she'd have spent the money." Spike watched as Buffy strolled to the baby grand piano.

"A couch and a piano," Buffy spun around taking in the room. "Weird."

"You're used to television, but a good book and someone to play that lovely instrument would be a nice night for me." She walked over and sat next to him on the couch. He smiled as she cuddled into him naturally. He stroked his hand through her hair.

"This just seems like too much. Angel said this place wasn't habitable." Buffy slid her hand along his denim-clad thigh. "But it seems okay."

"It has two pieces of furniture. He'd have been buggered trying to shop for it, but let's look at the rest of the place." He stood and ached a bit as her hand fell away from him. He ran to the edge of the room and jumped.

Buffy watched as he dropped from view. She stepped to the edge of the room and looked down. Her eyes met his. Amusement and challenge flared in his expression and he tilted his head. She narrowed her eyes. He beckoned her with one hand.

"Come on, Luv." He turned, but Buffy's heart raced. She wanted him to mean it. Wanted to be in love with him still. She stared at him and jumped, landing easily with a bend of the knees.

He took off at speed and headed for the open archway to the back of the house. He slid on the floor and came to a stop in a room of windows. A forty-foot wall of the damn things and French doors overlooked an empty pool. Buffy slid up next to him and giggled as she slung an arm around his waist.

"We have a pool."

"It's really more of a hole in the ground until we have it repaired and filled." Spike said and turned to look down into her smiling face.

"The kitchen needs updating." Buffy pointed toward the end of the room with fewer windows. He looked at the state of the art kitchen for 1955 and smiled ruefully.

"Not a high priority for vamps."

"Well, I'm not a vampire and I've seen you eat."

"We will order in while we have the work done." He tucked a stray hair behind her ear and gazed at her upturned face. The urge to kiss her, to drag her to the floor and have his way with her hit him like a tidal wave. He bit back an oath. He wouldn't consummate this relationship on a floor. He spun and headed toward the long hall. He opened doors and found rooms full of boxes.

He opened one room with a giant canopy bed and groaned. Buffy ducked under his arm and looked around the room. He watched her eyes flicker from item to item cataloging them.

"Miss Matilda and Miss Adelaide are here on the bed. Why don't they travel with her?" Buffy's voice sounded small and hurt.

"Miss Edith likes to travel. They don't." He shrugged. "We can box the room up and store it. This is your house." Spike watched her fingers trail along the large dollhouse in the corner.

"I remember when you bought this for her. You had it made and paid for it. Darla made fun of you for not killing the man." Buffy bent down and looked at the tiny glazed windows. "Why didn't you?"

"The man was an artist. I respected his skill. Darla backed off when the thing gave us peace for a whole six months. She even frequented his store when she needed a bauble to appease Dru." He shrugged. Buffy turned her fists clenched at her sides and brushed past him.

"Keep the room. It's your home, too." He stared at the ground for a moment. She wasn't such a bad sort. The goodness in her chafed at him, but she wasn't sanctimonious or intolerant. He shook his head and pulled the door closed on his past.

Buffy was opening the double doors at the end of the hall. He saw her body stiffen and rushed toward her. He came to a stop behind her and looked over her shoulder. It was the bed from Italy. He bit back a curse.

Buffy quivered. He felt her emotions boil over and she screamed. In a flash, she attacked the wood. She wrenched one of the post free of the foot board with a quick turn of her wrist. She demolished the wood to splinters in seconds. The feather mattress or the down coverlet was rent open and a shower of feathers floated through the air. Her guttural, wrenching screams gave voice to what he had long ago suppressed. He watched her whirl in the wreckage, a wraith of vengeance.

She turned to the large armoire and stalked toward it. She spun in the air and kicked it, shattering the lock. He watched as she ripped the doors and tossed them across the room to shatter against the wall. She broke whip after whip. He could smell her blood on the air. Her growling had become the only sound in his world. She wrenched handcuffs apart, and then she bent and picked up the giant antique, raised it over her head, and tossed it to the floor. It shattered into firewood. He watched her spin wild eyed, looking for another foe. Her eyes fell on the Saint Andrew's cross bolted to the wall. Her sobbing breath, as she rushed toward it, cut through his frozen reverie.

He sprang after her, wrapping her small body in his arms, he held on as she thrashed against him. Her body was flushed, blood running strong through her veins. He could smell it all around them. Heat poured off her as she tried to throw him off.

"It has to go. I have to destroy it. They don't get to hurt you. They don't get to touch you." She toppled them to the ground and clawed at the carpet, trying to break free.

"They can't hurt me anymore. You're here. You won't let them hurt me." He kissed her temple as she finally stilled in his arms. He gathered her to his chest, her body pliant in his embrace. He surveyed the wreckage in wonder. She had destroyed the reminders of his past, taken vengeance on old ghosts for him. No one had ever fought for him. In one hundred and twenty six years, she was his first defender. He felt some small bit of her warmth take up residence within him. He turned her toward him and stared into her glowing green eyes with his own blue ones. He traced her cheekbones with his fingertips. Then he kissed her.

Their lips met and her heat blasted through them both. Her hands pulled at his back as her legs spread wide and wrapped tightly about his torso. She opened her mouth and welcomed his invasion. Their tongues danced. Their teeth nibbled. Fingers stroked his sensitive neck, and came to rest on the scar she had created earlier. He slid his lips along her jaw and down her neck. He swirled his tongue over her scar. She groaned and pulled him tighter against her.

"You are mine." She squeezed him with her thighs. "No one is ever going to hurt you like that again."

He groaned against her neck. The fingers of one hand curled into her silken hair. The others dug into the flesh of her hip. Her answering groan burned through him, the most exciting sound he had ever heard.

"Bite me." She gasped. "You are mine. Mine to protect. Mine to comfort. Mine to love."

Her body arched as he sank his fangs into her and the elixir of her life flowed across his tongue. The world fell away as they became one being. Her heart beat for his. His body felt alive, more so than when it had been. Bliss washed through him and he broke away from her neck. He gasped against her collarbone before licking her wound shut. They stared into each other's eyes for a moment. His vampiric gaze glowed golden and flickered to blue as his human features reasserted themselves. They lay together, stroking each other, resisting the exhaustion that washed over them both. Sleep finally claimed them, curled together in the wreckage of his past.