"You think she-no. I told Willow it would be like suicide."

"I'd do it. Right person. Person I loved...I'd do it."

Buffy and Spike

Chapter 16

The bell had rung exactly on time and Buffy found herself propelled forward and out of the class and then the school. Much like last time, minus the awesome movie extravaganza (And, you know, the being dragged against her will by her friends). The group of them, seven strong, walked through the door to the new costume shop laughing and joking. Once inside the girls had whisked her away. They stayed for over an hour picking costumes out. Willow had found herself a very sexy ghost costume, henceforth to be known as The Blanket, Xander picked up a toy gun and they bowed to the $2 Costume King. Jesse had found himself a pirate outfit, complete with dreadlocks and black eyeliner, Amy, totally vibe-ing with the pirate thing, had managed to find herself a female version of the same costume that just "needed a few adjustments" which Buffy took to mean that said outfit would soon be introduced to a lethal pair of scissors. Cordelia had bought nothing, claiming her costume was already at home and would remain a surprise until later on that night. Oz apologized profusely, having a gig that night meant there would be no trick-or-treating for him, and Willow was a little bummed but was satisfied with a simple kiss. As for Buffy well, she hadn't been sure what she was looking for. The beautiful pink dress hiding in a corner was not at all what she had in mind.

The owner had come out, insisted on making her a deal and Buffy had been unable to stop herself. She had wondered as she looked at herself in the mirror what Spike would think if he saw her dressed like this. Dressed like the women of his time, when he had still been simple William. In the end she had decided to go sans wig, she was sooo not a brunette. Cordelia had come by to, personally, do Buffy's make-up and hair. Working the short golden locks so that the ends twisted in small curls. She claimed that Buffy would never know how to dress herself up for this outfit and, Buffy admitted, Cordelia had done a finer job then Buffy could have ever dreamed of.

She hated to admit that, now, as the night dwindled to a close that she was disappointed somewhere deep inside. She'd wanted to see Spike but she had put on a brave face, had smiled and laughed and had genuinely enjoyed spending time with the kids. Aside from Spike they were what she was fighting for weren't they? It was oddly touching being with them, helping them even in something as simple as guiding them to candy filled houses. It was such a shame that the night was coming to an-

Where was she?

Elizabeth Anne Virji was scared beyond reason. Monsters, demons, were attacking left and right. People where calling her strange names, demanding where the rum had gone and taking her down even stranger roads. She had never been more terrified in her whole life, not that she remembered said life. She knew her name, she knew she was a gentle-bred lady who had no cause to be here in this nether hell. She knew she was not, entirely, alone. These people were trying to protect her, even if it was just because she had an uncanny resemblance to their friend. Until the point she had looked into a mirror she had been fine, but seeing herself as herself; In the same dress she had worn the night of the ball, with the same green eyes, the same make-up applied to her face but with hair the color of honey instead of her beautiful dark locks had sent her over the edge.

She had run, away from that mirror and away from the ones that kept calling her Buffy. Away from demons and monsters, creeping away from the sleeping metal beasts, huddling into dark corners. Where was she? This was not her home, this was not London so what had happened? Where had she been taken? And how?

"Miss?" Elizabeth bolted upward, squeaking in fear, whipping around so fast she made herself dizzy. The voice had been male and, like the man with the musket, offered her a measure of comfort. Said man was tall with eyes warm and brown, hair the color of oak, and the face of an angel.

"Are you ok?" Even his voice, there was a musical tilt to it. Deep, rough and immeasurably kind. Part of her wanted to run into his arms, to take sanctuary there but another part of her, a stronger part, made her stay right where she was. He was not for her, she knew, just as none of the other men she had been paraded before had not been for her. In truth she had despaired at finding him, her knight, when she had...When she had what?

"F-Fine." Her voice came out like a frightened mouse. Normally she would berate herself, of this she was sure, but she felt, given the circumstance, a crack in her usual demeanor was forgivable. He took cautious steps towards her. Reaching out gently, offering his hand to her. She took it, carefully, allowing him to pull her closer to the dark opening he had emerged from. One she hadn't seen skulking through the shadows in the night.

"It's ok. I'm going to get you somewhere safe." It was a promise, something to cling to in a world that had turned upside-down. She took it, held it tight and forced herself to believe that everything would be ok.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Liam." Irish then? That explained the music she heard in his voice.

"Do you know what is happening here?"

"Yes." They were in a room now, big and wide. Liam stepped away from her, his eyes downcast.

"Please, are we safe here? Will the demons return?"

Liam barked out a laugh, bitter and deep. He turned to her, his gaze turning her blood to ice.

"The demons never left." Then his face changed and she screamed. The scream was loud, her throat burning with the pain of it, before he tackled her to the ground. Teeth scrapped against the flesh of neck, his body pressed against her, his hips forcing her thighs apart, hands roughly pulling at the fabric of her dress. She struggled, fought, tears escaping and Liam, the demon, he laughed and laughed. One hand cupped her core through the layers of her dress and she tried to scramble backwards. Her hands flayed out wildly, searching for anything. She felt something hard, without thought she grasped it and with a strength she never knew she had slammed what turned out to be a solid metal beam at the demons head. He fell to the side, a soft huff of pain escaping him.

She didn't hesitate. Scrambling to her feet she tried to race past him, out the way they had come. His hand shot out, she felt something snap as she fell back to the ground. Fresh tears streaked down her face as he flipped her over, one hand reaching to the waist of his pants.

"Poor little lamb." He crushed his lips to hers, forcing his tongue into her mouth even as his free hand reached beneath her dress to rip off the scrap of cloth that had protected her core. She cried against his mouth, tried to bite the invading tongue. Grunting the demon slowed long enough to slam her head into the ground. Stars flashed before her eyes, leaving her limp, defenseless.

"I'm going to take you, here and now, in every way imaginable and when I'm done I'm going to wait until you remember everything and then I'm going to take you again and again. Until you crave no one but me, want no one but me, I'll fuck you on the corpses of everyone you love and when you finally break I'm going to turn you. A slayer vamp. You'll be my slave for eternity and you'll love every minute of it."

He was crazy, insane, evil. She was trapped, she couldn't get away. He would take her and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She was alone.

A guttural roar echoed through the big room. The demons body was ripped away from her, replaced by a pale blond man. His eyes blazed like blue fire as he looked down at her. His features were harsh as he ripped her into his arms. The demon rose, chuckling.

"Spike, what are you doing?"

The blond man pulled her closer to his impossibly cold body. Her ear was pressed against his chest, her own erratic heartbeat not making up for the fact that he had none of his own. As he spoke she felt no rumbling in his chest, just a soft rise and fall as he took in air.

"Not like this."

"Excuse me?"

"I said." The blond man turned to face the demon and Elizabeth burrowed herself further into him. It must have been uncomfortable but he showed no sign of it.

"Not like this."

The demon chuckled again, darkly, "And why is that William my boy?"

"No one deserves this."

Elizabeth watched, in dawning horror, as her saviors face changed like the demons had. Her breath caught in a gasp, a scream lodged in her throat. He didn't look down at her, only tightened his grip to the point of near pain.

"Aww well, if I recall correctly, you enjoyed it well enough."

Almost too late.

He'd been almost too late. He had waited until Angelus had left and then had raced into the night to find her. He wasn't entirely sure what was going to happen, couldn't believe what he was planning on doing but he'd gone out regardless, searching for her with increasing desperation. It had been sheer luck that he had decided to loop through the alleys, at just the right time to get a whiff of her blood; Tainted by something but still hers. He'd come in just in time to see Angelus ripping at his pants, Buffy lying defensiveness beneath him. He'd intended to sneak up on him but his demon had reacted instinctively. The sound that escaped him could be described as nothing other than a roar, he'd flung himself at Angelus full tilt. Knocking that son-of-a-bitch off his Slayer in one quick movement.

She was beautiful, achingly so. Her eyes sparkled like emeralds, tears streaking down her face, lips trembling, in a dress fit for a princess, blond locks ruffled as if she'd just woken from sleep. He didn't remember pulling her into his arms, knew only that he had to get her away from Angelus, far away. No Slayer deserved this.

"Not like this."

"Excuse me?" That Irish brogue seeped into Angelus' voice. A part of Spike, the part that still recognized Angelus as sire, wanted him to bow and scrape and do whatever necessary to make Angelus happy. It disgusted him, Angelus disgusted him.

"I said not like this."

"And why is that William my boy?"

"No one deserves this." White hot anger flashed through him like a lightning bolt, he didn't feel himself shift, didn't realize that his voice had come out like righteous fury.

"Aww well, if I recall correctly, you enjoyed it well enough." A hundred years ago that would have been enough to make Spike curl in on himself. A hundred years ago Spike would have run rather than face the memories those words ripped out of him. Angelus was evil, pure and simple. Even the Master had been afraid of Darlas new pet and, once Dru had been created the rest of the world had learned to never cross him. Spike had been slow to learn, so slow he still hadn't managed it. Angelus had done everything and anything necessary to break everyone around him and had failed only with Spike. William should have been easy to break, as easy as the others Dru had turned had been, but he hadn't been. Spike didn't know why, had no idea how weak, sniveling William had merged with the demon to make the vamp he was today. All he knew was that Angelus had never broken him, never would, which meant Angelus would never touch the Slayer. Not so long as Spike existed.

"Lots of things I enjoy. I enjoy dog racing, Manchester United, and people. Billions of people walking around like Happy Meals with legs. The thing I enjoy the most? Taking the things you want."

What happened next had not been planned but damn if it hadn't looked that way. As the last word left his lips the wall to the right of him exploded outward and a mess of demons rushed in; Patnja, Selinofoto, Alocor, and a whole host of others. A red-haired Alocor stopped in front of him as the rest made a beeline to Angelus. He stared down at him for a the briefest moment, seeing something that Spike could not.

"Protect her." It commanded as two of his brethren were slammed to the ground by the older vampire. The Alocor pushed him towards the opening, Spike didn't take the time to question it. He ran. He heard Angelus yelling out his name in anger. He'd never run from a fight before, never turned his back on an opponent, he lived for those moments. Lived for the dance. She was more important than that.

"The very embodiment of be-careful-what-you-wish-for."

"It's sick, brutal. And it harms the innocent." Ethan Rayne, of all the ghosts from his past this was the one he had never wanted to see again. He and Ethan had been friends once, though it had been a long time ago. After...What had happened Ethan had turned deeper to the dark art and Ripper? Ripper had reformed, had become Rupert Giles once again.

"Oh and we all know you are the champion of innocence and all things pure and good, Rupert. It's quite a little act you got going here, old man."

"It's no act." Giles was surprised at the conviction in his words. "It's who I am." Had this happened before? He suspected it had, even if Buffy had no memory of it. Still it had happened to a different Giles, a Giles who was so desperate to not become like the man in front of him that he had sacrificed everything in the effort to keep it from happening. Only to become something so much worse.

"Who you are? The Watcher? Sniveling, twee-clad guardian of the Slayer and her kin? I think not. I know who you are Rupert, and I know what you're capable of...But they don't do they? They have no idea where you come from." He was so smug, so sure of himself and part of Giles wanted retribution. Not for deeds done but for that moment where all his past sins settled on his shoulders like lead weights. Ethan, however, had underestimated him. He was no longer Ripper but, neither, was he entirely Rupert Giles. In the last year, since meeting Buffy, he had become something both greater and more terrible than both.

"Break the spell Ethan." It would be his only warning.

"Why should I?"

Giles smiled softly, taking but a single step forward before he struck fast as a viper. His hand wrapped, like a steel vice, around the younger mans throat. With practiced ease, and a strength borne of righteous fury, Giles lifted the man off his feet. Ethan struggled in his grip, hands clawing desperately for freedom, legs kicking out only to be deflected by his free arm. When Ethan had become a rather flattering shade of blue Giles flung him away and into a glass cabinet on the other side of the room.

Ethan coughed and spluttered, his arms and face bleeding from hundreds of little cuts.

"You are right Ethan, they do not know where I come from they do, however, know perfectly well what I am capable of...Now so will you."

She was as still as a statue in his arms. He had been running for what seemed like a long time but knew it could only have been a few short minutes. They were far enough away now, a maze of buildings between them and every other monster out there. So when he stopped and she hadn't reacted he had been a bit worried. Gently, more so than he had ever before been in his unlife, he set her on her feet. Taking a few cautionary steps back. She looked at him, with such wariness that it would have broken his heart if he had one.

"Will you try to kill me aswell?" Her voice was softer than he'd ever heard it, stranger. Not the Slayer. No this girl was different, a noblewoman. She had dressed as a noblewoman and, thus had become one. Staring at her, dressed as a woman of his time, there was a sense of deja-vu. As if this had happened before, as if he had seen her before. Spike froze, a rare thing. He was not equipped to deal with a noblewoman, never had been. Still he was drawn to her, Slayer or no, because that fire. Her fire, was the same. Didn't matter what body, what time period, what spell that fire of hers would never go away.

"No, my lady." The words tumbled out, along with a properly executed bow. Smoother than William had ever managed before, though William through and through. Normally Spike pushed William into the darkest of pits, that part of himself too rife with misery and regrets so it wa a surprise to him how easy it was to slip back into him. William had been of Noble blood, knew what he was doing. In two hundred years, somehow, William had found himself a backbone and Spike wasn't nearly as repulsed of who he had been as he once was.

She eyed him, considering. He was a demon, she had seen that, but he had protected her. Taken her away from the one that had tried to sully her. She was grateful but she knew she should, also, be scared. She wasn't. This man was familiar, though his hair had been brown last time. When last time was she didn't know, couldn't remember because the memories were still foggy even as they became ever clearer. Oh she knew him, she did, had been waiting an eternity to find him. The man for her. That he was a demon was, perhaps, a bit unorthodox but he was hers and she was his and when he said he would not hurt her she believed him.

"I know that this is not the best of circumstances, however I must insist you allow me to take you home."

"Home? What home? I am not who you think I am, I am not this-this Buffy everyone seems to confuse me for. My name is Elizabeth." She was so tired of being mistaken for that girl, so tired of being chased, tired of all the nightmares that had come to life.

Spike frowned, gently, and took her hand.

"No you aren't." He agreed easily enough, blue eyes rising to meet hers, "But I think you will be one day."

"What do you mean?" She wanted to pull her hand away, wanted to run back into the night, but she had only just found him.

"If you permit me? You have the same fire, deep in your soul. If I believed in such a thing as other lives I would say you two share the same soul. The same spirit. Where are you from?"

"London." The answer was vague, abrupt. Spike settled her hand on his arm, covering her delicate fingers with his cold hand. She walked with him, absently, as if she had done it a thousand times before.

"I'm from London. It has been some time since I returned there."

"Why?" She wasn't sure why she wanted to know. He wasn't sure why she was asking.

"I fancied myself a poet once, a spectacular failure."

He seemed sad about that. With everything that had been happening this conversation, this almost perfectly normal conversation with a demon whom may just be the man she had waited all her life to meet, shouldn't have mattered to her but the familiarity of it, and the blanket of safety that his presence offered, was like a lifeline. One she clung to.

"Come now, you could not have been that bad."

"Oh yes. They called me William the Bloody. Don't know why I mentioned it, it was a horrible time in my life."

"I don't believe you. A demon that can speak of souls and spirits could not possibly be that bad."

He ignored the demon bit, too relived that she hadn't run screaming into the woods. Still she was dead wrong, he knew he had been a horrible poet he just hadn't known it at the time. He drew away from her, his voice rising mockingly.

"My soul is racked in harsh repose

Midnight descends in raven colored clothes

But soft, behold! A sunlight beam

Cutting a swath of glimmering gleam

My heart expands, 'tis grown a bulge in't,

Inspired by your beauty effulgent."

Elizabeth frowned at him, trying desperately not to laugh. He looked so serious there, as if he expected her to sneer and belittle him. Granted the poem was horrible, truly it was, but only in some parts. Had he changed a few words, here and there, it would have been quite pleasent. She shook her head lightly, taking the two steps that would bring her next to him. She felt lightheaded, her mind becoming foggy once again. She was being taken away, feeling it in a way she hadn't when she first arrived. Her arrival had been a jolt, her departure was making her fade away.

"Not too terrible William 'The Bloody'. I think, had it been written for me, I would have been most flattered." He gaped at her, unsure of how to respond. She was slipping quicker and for the first time in her life, though she did not remember how long that was, she did something completely and utterly improper. She kissed him. Her only thought that if this was all the time she had with him, if she had waited so long for only this one moment, she would get at least this.

Spike was stupefied, William reacted. Her kiss was gentle and unsure, her lips still bruised from where Angelus had slammed into her. He returned the kiss, as gentle as a whisper, lips just brushing against each other with only the slightest of pressure. She remembered him then, recognized him deep in her soul. She had died, in her true life, hours before she could meet him. Her friend, Cecily, had been so embarrassed by a man who loved her. A man who wrote horrible poetry. She had said that it was sweet and Cecily, in her desperation to be rid of the man, promised to introduce them. If only so that the man would focus his attention away from her and end her embarrassment. She had just gotten into her carriage when she'd heard the driver scream. She had turned to check on him when she had been grabbed from behind, a sharp pain cutting into her throat and everything had gone dark.-

Lips. Spike lips. She wasn't sure how she had gotten here, had no idea where Spike had come from or where the children had gone, didn't know why or where or how but he was here and he was kissing her and it was sweet and beautiful and made her yearn for more. She kissed him harder, he responded instantly. Teeth scraping, nipping, the kiss deepening. He pushed his tongue into her mouth and she welcomed it, sucked quick and hard, electricity racing through her when he moaned into her lips. Slowly, with more effort than she cared to admit, she pulled away from him. Lips brushing against his once, twice, three times before she managed to take a step back.

He was standing there, in front of her, and he was ok. He was alive.

"Spike."

His name escaped her as soft as a whisper and he knew that she was the Slayer again. That she was Buffy once more. He made to move away, his head still heady from that kiss but she didn't let him. No the Slayer flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around him in a crushing hug.

"You're ok." Her muffled words crept into his ears. Funny because just a bit ago she had been the one in danger. He didn't know what possessed him to wrap his arms around her slender frame. Didn't know why he rested his cheek against her soft hair. Didn't care. She was holding him like he mattered, and the tears that were dripping onto his shirt were of relief. No one had ever cried for him, not since his mother.

"Come on pet. Let's get you home."

Merry Christmas to all of you, loyal readers and newcomers alike. Please forgive any spelling or grammatical errors in the second half of this chapter. I decided to make this chapter a gift to all of you, including my wonderful beta.

My best wishes for you all.

Be prepared guys, things are going to get interesting now.