Strip Snap by Lilachigh

The story so far: The day after Buffy's 21st birthday party and Spike has taken her for a midnight picnic on a private island in the middle of a lake. A night of champagne, passionate sex and a storm is interrupted by the arrival of a demon that has burnt Spike with acid. This is deadly to vampires and Buffy has gone for help.

Chapter 4: Coming back

The sun beat down on Buffy's head as she rowed back across the lake to where they'd left the car the night before. She could feel the blisters begin to burn on her hands as the smooth wood of the oars rubbed at her flesh. The skimpy shorts she was wearing bit into her backside as she slid across the seat, trying to put all her Slayer strength into every stroke.

The air above the lake danced in the heat but inside her she could still feel the chill certainty of knowing Spike was dying from the poison the Tazksha demon had flung across his body. And if he died - nausea flooded her throat - if he died, she could go on living, but it would only be a half life.

"I must find someone must help us," she muttered, gasping as the blade of the oar missed the water and almost sent her sprawling. Geez, how difficult rowing was. Spike had made it look so easy the night before when it had been all moonlight and fun and hot, passionate sex that had made her very bones melt.

'Just let me get home,' she prayed. 'I'll run and run and find someone - ' Suddenly, a thought bit through her brain and she stopped rowing and leant on the oars, staring back at the island where the vampire lay, fighting for his sanity against the pain that had taken over his entire being. The land she was gazing at shimmered in the heat haze, as if it was a distant fairyland, about to vanish into the mists. The brutal fact was - no one was going to help her save Spike. There - that was what her brain had been trying to tell her. She was looking for help, afraid to trust her own powers again. As she had done after she killed Angel and fled to L.A. ; after her mother had died. Scared to cope with Dawn on her own, desperate for someone to be there for her.

When Willow had brought her back from the dead, all she'd wanted was to return to the heaven she'd left, to the peace and serenity, absolved from making big decisions, of having to be in control, the one everyone relied on. And the only person who'd been there for her then, always on her side, always around when needed, needed her now.

Buffy knew what would happen if she returned to Sunnydale. Xander would flap around, saying he would help, but privately glad the vampire was dying. Willow would insist she couldn't use magic any more, Anya would offer books and sell her potions, Tara would have some suggestions, but at the end of the day, it would be too little and too late. No, she was the Slayer and this was a demon problem. And this time she was going to face up to what lay ahead and cope with it by herself.

She spun the boat round and raced for the island again, ignoring the pain in her hands, the sunburn on her bare arms and neck. The path up through the woods was blissfully cool. Buffy pushed her way through the bushes, fighting the brambles that reached out to scratch at her legs. She needed to get to Spike - fast. Whatever happened, they had to face this together.

"Spike - listen - we have to - " Buffy burst through the door into the little cabin and swerved to a stop. It was empty! Spike had vanished. She gazed round, her heart racing. No ashes, the sunlight hadn't pierced through the window and caught him while he was unconscious. No, she thought grimly, she knew exactly what her lover had done. He'd been determined she wouldn't see him in pain, wouldn't watch him go mad and die, and had somehow managed to drag himself outside.

But it was broad daylight! He couldn't be outside - unless - ice froze the blood in her veins. Would he have gone that far? Tried to commit suicide to stop the pain? To end his torment? "Spike! Answer me! Where the hell are you?" Frantically, she gazed round the little room. There was nowhere for him to be. The cupboards were too small. The tiny bathroom off to one side held a toilet and a glass shower cubicle - not even a curtain for him to hide behind.

Buffy dragged her fingers through her blonde hair. She was about to race outside and hunt under the bushes when she noticed one of the cotton rugs on the floor was rucked up in an odd fashion. Kicking it aside, she felt her hopes soar. There was a trap door in the wooden floor. The hut had some sort of cellar. She grabbed the metal ring that was set flush to the ground and heaved. The ease with which the trapdoor swung upwards on its hinges confirmed that it had been opened only recently. "Spike!"

No reply.

There was a flight of wooden steps leading down into the dark and a light switch. Buffy flicked it on and gasped. The vampire was lying on the earth floor at the foot of the ladder. Buffy hurtled down the steps and, dropping to her knees, pulled Spike over onto his back. Was he alive? How the hell did you check with a vampire? She knew Spike breathed when he didn't need to. But at the moment his chest was still.

She gazed round the basement. It was bigger than the cabin above, had obviously been built as an extra storage space. There were stacks of tinned and bottled food and drink, towels, swimming-pool toys, tennis rackets, logs and matches - all sorts of odds and ends that had been packed away for holiday use.

Buffy cradled Spike's head on her lap and brushed the dirt from his cheeks. He was still very cold, and the burns across his chest and arms looked just the same. "When the hell is vampire healing going to kick in?" she muttered. "Spike! Spike! Wake up! Please." She could feel the tears building inside her and brushed away a couple that fell onto his face. This was no time to dissolve into a sticky mess. She ran her fingers over the taut skin across his muscled waist. As concerned and worried as she was, she felt a frizzon of excitement at touching him like this. It was weird being able to feast her eyes on him.

Usually when they were together, there was touching and fondinling and, oh god, sex of all sorts that turned her to jelly. But she rarely got the chance just to look. If she did, his hands would reach for her, his voice purr into her ears and it would all start again. She sighed and with a gentle touch, began to examine the burns on his chest, trying to assess if they were any worse when suddenly the long black lashes flickered - once - twice, he opened his eyes and looked up at her.

Oh, thank God, he was still alive!

"Spike - it's Buffy. I came back. We'll do this together. Fight it. Get you well again. I promise. Spike, talk to me, please."

"Madam - I - I seem to have fallen asleep. I do beg your pardon. I must have partaken of strong drink somewhere. Please accept my deepest apologies, for this transgression. Allow me to rise, I beg of you."

"Spike - why on earth are you speaking like - " Buffy stared down at him sharply. The blue eyes that usually glinted and sparked at her like twin sapphires were still blue, but had a deep, dreamy quality in them that she'd never seen before. His face looked softer, the expression worried and - geez, what an odd word to use where Spike was concerned - shy! Yes, Spike, lay there, struggling to get up out of her lap and looked shy.

"Spike - what's the matter? It's me, Buffy." Oh god, she screamed inside her head. Don't let it be his mind. Please, don't let the demon poison have sent him insane. I'd rather he was dead than mad.

"Madam, I wish I had had the pleasure of making your acquaintance, but you are a stranger to me. Now, if you would kindly remove your hands from my person, I will need to be on my way home directly. Mother will be waiting for me."

And as she stared at him in horror, Buffy suddenly realised. William the Bloody had vanished. William the quiet, bookish English gentleman had taken his place!

"Spike? OK, not Spike. William?" Buffy eased the vampire from her lap and he sat up, looking bewildered. He stared round the basement in amazement.

"You know my name, Madam. I wish I could reciprocate, but you seem - " His eyes widened in shock as he took in her appearance and then he looked swiftly away. "You seem to have been involved in some sort of dreadful accident and - lost most of your clothes. Was it footpads, ruffians who attacked us?"

Buffy's lips twitched. She was sorely tempted to say, 'Hey guy, you've seen me without a stitch on, so don't worry about a T-shirt and shorts!' but managed to keep quiet.

"Indeed - " he winced and examined the burns from the Tazksha demon on his chest and arms, "I, too, seem to have come to some grief. These burns are most painful. Was I careless with an oil lamp, perhaps? I must apologise for my lack of shirt and - '

"Spike, do stop about clothes!" Buffy said. "Concentrate. Try and remember what happened. The demon - the acid - being on the island in the storm."

William stood up and backed away from her until the edge of a picnic table caught him behind the knees and he sat down on it abruptly. "Everything you say is strange, Madam. If I've been imbibing strong liqueur, then I must apologise once more. Now, if you will kindly show me the exit, I must get home. It feels late. I had no intention of staying at the party so long, but dear Cecily - "

"Over a hundred years late," Buffy interrupted. She stared at the vampire. How could someone look exactly the same, yet be so different? His face looked softer, his shoulders were slightly rounded, even his blond curls looked longer.

"William - " she started again, then stopped. What on earth could she say to him? Hey, everything you knew and loved is dust and ashes, you're on the other side of the world and oh, yes, guess what, you're a vampire! Fancy a cup of blood?

"I don't understand." William ran his fingers through his hair, causing the peroxide curls to loosen up even more.

Buffy took a deep breath. "It's a very long story. Let me begin by telling you my name's Buffy Summers. I'm an American."

"A Yankee!"

"Well, no, Californian, actually, but we won't split hairs at this stage."

William held out his hand and automatically Buffy took it. They shook hands, gravely, and William bowed his head in greeting. "I'm - I'm - " A look of blind panic crossed his face. "I do not seem able to recall my name. Perhaps I had a blow to the head as well as the burns."

"Your name is William," Buffy said gently. "Sometimes I call you Spike."

"So we're acquainted, Madam? I fear I do not recollect our being introduced. You must think me very discourteous, but - "

"Yes, we know each other," Buffy broke in, realising that, like Giles, William was going to take three sentences to say one.

"May I enquire why you call me 'Spike'?"

Buffy raised her eyebrows to heaven. "That's a very long and complicated story. " She realised she was still holding his hand and dropped it hastily. "Look, I know this is going to seem strange, but I want you to come with me."

"Where are we going?"

Buffy stared into eyes that were as mild and blue as a summer sky. This was so weird. She knew that when a person was 'turned' into a vampire, a demon came and took over their body and they were no longer the same person. Where Spike was concerned, she'd always had the feeling that his demon wasn't fully in control. He was such an odd vampire in so many ways - not the least of them being his ability to fall in love, desperately, devotedly, passionately.

"I want to get you some help - you - the other you - urrrgggh - you told me you were dying when the demon attacked you. We need to get advice, help, although I must admit you do seem - well, better."

William stood up and stretched - Buffy blinked; she could almost see the scar tissue healing. It was as if he was on some some of fast track to recovery. And, "trying to stop bad lusty thoughts here," she murmured to herself as her eyes took in the ripple of muscles in his chest and shoulders. He might have William's face, but he definitely had Spike's body. She gave herself a severe mental slap as she wondered if all his other attributes were the same size and shape and -

"This is a decidedly odd place," he was saying now. "We appear to be in a cellar of some kind. Shall we explore upstairs? We may find a member of the constabulary who can assist us. And we must certainly try and find you some clothes to cover your - er - " He gazed at her sideways, gulped and said, "Limbs."

Buffy sighed. If Spike was expecting to find a British bobby in a funny helmet upstairs, he was going to be sadly disappointed!

Before she could move, he had run up the ladder and vanished through the trap door into the cabin above.

"Spike! William, wait! Let me check it out first!" Buffy fled up the ladder after him, pausing in surprise at the top as a hand was extended to help her up the last step.

Spike was still holding her hand as he stared round the little cabin, his eyes wide. '"I feel like someone from one of Mr Lewis Carroll's books for children," he said. "Are you acquainted with his work.? It has been published quite recently. I believe it is very fine. There is a child who falls down a rabbit hole, you know, and - "

"Spike, we're not down a rabbit hole and I'm definitely not Alice," Buffy said, trying not to laugh. The situation wasn't funny, but she was so relieved that Spike wasn't dying, that even having to cope with William was a plus. "Look, just trust me for now," she continued. "We're on an island in the middle of a lake and need to get back to the car."

William turned curiously. "The cart? How far did the footpads bring us, then? I can hear bird song. Are we out in the countryside?"

"It's not a cart, it's a car. Oh Lord - there is no way I can explain the internal combustion engine to you. You'll have to wait till we get back to Sunnydale and I'll let Xander do that. I don't suppose you can drive, can you? That means I'll have to."

William hardly seemed to listen to her. He was still gazing around, a bemused expression on his face. "I'm anxious to see the lake. Perhaps it is somewhere I know." He strode towards the door and the handle was in his grasp when realisation hit Buffy like a shock of cold water. He might be William, but every nerve in her body told her he was still a vampire and he was just about to throw open the door and step out into the sunlight.

"Sp - William! Stop!."

She launched herself at him, grabbing his bare shoulders and pulling him backwards. The door burst open and she heard him hiss in pain as a burst of sunlight surged into the cabin, catching his bare arm. She kicked the door closed and turned back to him. For a second, he stood, head bent over his arm, then he looked up and she realised he was in game face. William had vanished and the demon she knew only too well was there.

"Spike! Listen, think - this is you. Can you remember who you are? Try?"

He shook his head and the golden eyes changed back to blue and the bumps and lumps vanished. A startled William stared back at her. "I'm...I'm...a..."

"Vampire. Yes, top marks for observation. You're a vampire, evil undead person, a thorn in my side. If you go out in the sun, you burn up into dust. Avoid crosses, avoid all pointed wooden objects. In fact, you ought to avoid me, because I'm the Slayer, but we'll tackle that little problem at another time."

Spike collapsed onto the rug in front of the long dead fire. "How...I don't understand. I was at a party, I had a poem to read to Cecily...I love..."

Buffy stared down at the dejected figure, then dropped to her knees next to him. "Spike, I'm sorry. I just don't know what to do to help. I don't understand why you're William and still a vampire. I don't understand where 'my' Spike has gone. It has to be to do with the acid from the Tazksha demon. Probably it'll wear off - like when I could hear people's thoughts, or drank the beer and went all Cavewomany. Till then, we'll just have to stay here until it gets dark, then row back across the lake and get home to Sunnydale. We'll find Willow and she'll know what to do to magic you back again."

William looked up at her, his eyes blazing with hurt confusion. "I cannot deny that I am a vampire but I don't - what will Mother say - what will Cecily - " The words caught in his throat and he fell silent for a few seconds. Then, "This is turning out to be a very weird day, Madam," he said. "I don't understand half of what you say. Why are we going to find a willow tree? Your accent is so very odd. And I must admit - "

He stared at her shoulders and lifting a hand, ran a finger slowly over the tanned rounded flesh. "I have never seen a female unclothed to such an extent before." he finished hoarsely. "Your legs, they are so long and shapely and - " he swallowed and shifted uncomfortably.

Buffy glanced down and grinned. Whoever he was, the erection straining against the denim of his jeans was proof that some things never changed. She reached out and touched the bulge lightly. William flinched and tried to move away, then paused as she cupped her hand and stroked him harder, letting her fingers dig in to rub at his balls. A little moan escaped his lips.

"Madam, i must insist that you stop this wanton behaviour - I have no knowledge of trollops and indeed, I intend to keep myself pure for Cecily and - " His breath hissed out as Buffy found his zip and tugged it down. She couldn't resist. She knew it was naughty, but, hey, they had all day to spend and if this was going to be William's first time, she was determined to make it one he would remember. At least until Spike came back!

She pulled off her T shirt over her head and watched in glee as his eyes widened so far she thought she would drown in them. A slender finger rose and tentatively touched one of her taut nipples.

"Pretty," he groaned, "Like little rose buds."

She moaned and could see the desire and expectation flood across his face. She kicked off her shorts and tackled the task of getting him out of his pants. Clumsily he helped and within seconds she was astride him. She'd meant to go slowly and carefully, but he was too big, too ready and everything in her was screaming for release.

Buffy had been sure William would be quick to come, but suddenly he flipped her over on her back and began pounding her. Her legs came up to lock behind his waist and the two of them surged into a long, thundering climax, their shouts mingling together and the noise carrying out of the cabin and down to the bottom of the lake where something in the mud and slime began to stir.

to be continued