Chapter Ten – Questions

Spike lifted his head and groaned in pain. "Bloody hell." He stretched and cracked his neck then looked over at the bed. Buffy was gone. He bolted to his feet and tore out of the room, his demon coming forward to scent for her. She was in the media room. He put the demon away and cautiously approached the open door. He couldn't hear her doing anything except breathing, so he stepped quietly into the room and asked, "Buffy? You all right, pet? What are you doing in here?"

She glanced vaguely in his direction then turned back to stare at the space in front of the TV. "Thinking."

She didn't seem to notice or care that she was without a stitch, and Spike waved back toward the bedrooms. "Are you cold, luv? Should I fetch a blanket or your clothes?"

She shook her head. "No. I'm not cold. At least I don't feel cold. I'm just kinda numb, I guess."

"I'll fetch a blanket. I can see the gooseflesh on your arms." He hurried to his room and stripped the blanket off his bed then went back to the media room. Buffy hadn't moved. He carefully approached and held out the blanket. "Here you go, pet." When she didn't reach for it, he draped it over her lap then retreated to the other end of the sofa and sat down.

They sat quietly for several minutes before she asked in a dull voice, "Where is he?"

Spike didn't have to ask who she was referring to. "Gone."

"By 'gone', you mean dead, don't you?"

"Yeah."

"Did you kill him?"

"I did, luv. Yeah." He didn't even hesitate. He wasn't going to keep things from her anymore. If he wanted her as his partner, she'd have to know everything about him, the good and the bad.

"In here?"

"Yeah, pet. In here." He waved a hand toward the spot Buffy was staring at. "Right over there, where he…."

"Tried to rape me."

It came out as a snarl, "Yeah."

"Was it quick?"

"No, luv, it wasn't."

"Good." She tugged the blanket up to her chin and leaned back into the corner of the couch, pulling her legs up to curl them under the blanket, then looked over at him. "I want you to tell me about it. Not now, but someday. I want to know what you did to him."

Spike turned on the couch to face her. "All right, kitten. Just let me know when you're ready."

"Did you drink… or eat… or whatever from him?"

"No, I didn't feed from him. Wasn't enough left by the time I was done, not that I would've anyway. I warmed a mug of blood while the furniture was being replaced."

"How much blood do you drink in a day?"

The question caught him a little off guard and he had to stop to think about it. "Um… depends. If I've been active, five or six mugs, but if I'm not doin' much, I can get by on one or two. Never really thought about it. I just warm a mug when I'm hungry or if I'm goin' somewhere I won't be able to feed for a while. Top up the tank, so to speak."

"Does the human food do anything for you?"

"No."

"Then why do you eat it?"

He shrugged. "Not everyone knows what I am, so I eat to blend in, and some foods I eat 'cause I enjoy 'em. Bloomin' onions and curries, for example."

"I'm guessing the hotel staff doesn't know about the vampy thing, so that's why you have meals delivered every day, right?"

"No, I don't think any of 'em know, at least none have ever let on that they've twigged to it."

"Who does know? Out of people I know, I mean."

"Tara, obviously, Finn, Harmony, and Angel."

"Xander doesn't know?"

"No. He's a vanilla mortal and I don't know what it would do to his brain to find out that I'm an undead creature of the night who's a century and a half old."

"I'm a vanilla mortal and you didn't seem to give a shit about what it would do to my brain."

"I was gonna tell you, pet. I just hadn't worked out the best way to do that without fryin' your brain. I was waitin' for you to ask about the mark, figurin' that would mean you were ready to learn about me."

"Don't you dare put that on me, Spike. You could've told me what you are any time after you bit me. You should've told me BEFORE you bit me."

Spike dropped his gaze. "I know, and I wish with everythin' in me that I had. I just… didn't want to scare you away."

"So did you bring me here with the plan to bite me and make me your consort?"

He looked over at her, focusing on her shoulder instead of meeting her eyes as he said quietly, "No. Plan was to have an assistant that could also accompany me to functions. Tara told you 'bout my usual 'lifespan', yeah?" Buffy nodded. "I'm only 'bout a decade into this one, and people were startin' to make comments 'bout me lookin' exactly the same as when they'd first met me. Thought a lovely young woman on my arm would make them notice my lack of aging a little less."

"What changed your mind?"

Spike scrubbed his hands over his face. "How do you explain to someone what made you fall in love with them when you don't even know yourself?" He tipped his head back and took a shuddering breath then looked over at her. "It's you, pet. The things you do, the way your nose wrinkles up when you're confused, that little shy smile you get sometimes, the nape of your neck and the small of your back, how easily you blush and how your eyes sparkle when you do, how you spout pop culture references at the drop of a hat, your intelligence and wit and humor… it's just… you. I can't pinpoint the moment that started it. Maybe I was in love with you the first time I saw you, or the tenth, or the fiftieth, I don't know. I just know that I love you and I want you with me for as long as you'll have me."

"How can you love me when you've only known me for a month and a half?"

"I fall quickly and hard, luv. Always have. If I hadn't fallen by now, it's likely I never would."

"How many times have you fallen?"

Spike shrugged and looked down. "Three times."

"And I'm…"

"The third, yeah."

"Tell me about the other two."

"First one got me killed by the second one." Buffy waved her hand in a 'please continue' motion and Spike sighed tiredly, "Cecily was the first. I was still human, a hopeless fop of a crap poet human. Told her how I felt, she stomped my heart into bitty pieces, and I ran out into the night and right into Drusilla. She sired me, and I woke up thinkin' she was the moon and stars and everythin' I'd ever wanted. Turned out she was never mine and I was just her plaything. Somethin' to amuse her when Angelus couldn't be bothered with her. Tall, dark, and forehead had already had her for two decades 'fore I came along, but he let me think she was mine and that she loved me as much as I loved her until he felt the time was right to rip her away and taunt me with her indifference to my existence."

"Angelus… is Angel O'Connor, right?"

"The very same. Now you understand the tension you felt between us. Dru flitted into town that day I redecorated my room, and even though I know she'll never come back to me…"

"It still hurts to see her with him."

"Yeah. Just when I think I'm finally over her, that the Dru-shaped hole in my heart has finally healed… she turns up and rips it open again."

"And now I'm in your heart?"

"Yeah, you are." He wanted to ask her if he was in her heart, but was terrified of what her answer would be, so he kept quiet.

Buffy studied him, knowing he was dying to know how she felt about him, but she didn't even know how she felt. All of this was closing in on an avalanche of way too much, and she was reeling trying to deal with it all. She liked him, liked being around him, really liked having sex with him, but was there more? She didn't know. Would there be a Spike-shaped hole in her heart if she left? If he died... or dusted, or whatever it was he did, would she mourn him as someone she was in love with, or merely as someone whose company she missed?

Spike brought her out of her thoughts when he stood up. "You should get some rest, pet. Have a wash up and get some sleep. I cleaned that lump on your head as best I could with a damp flannel, but I think a shower would do a better job."

"I don't know if I can stand up long enough to take a shower. My head hurts really bad and I was really dizzy when I came in here."

Spike reached out a hand. "Let me take care of you, kitten, since what happened is my fault."

Buffy looked at him sharply. "How is it your fault?"

Spike dropped his hand and knelt next to the couch, looking up at her with an anguished expression. "Because I left you alone, knowin' what Finn thought of you, what he believed you were here for. I knew somethin' wasn't right with him, but thought if I kept you two separated, that his... wrongness wouldn't affect you. I never thought he'd actually do anythin', knowin' what I am and what I'd do to him if he did. I judged him incorrectly and you paid for my error, so please let me care for you to try, in some small way, to repair the damage I've caused." At her hesitant look, he continued, "I'll not touch you in any intimate fashion until you're ready, no matter how long that takes. I just want to get you cleaned up and resting."

Buffy nodded and he stood and pulled her to her feet. She wobbled slightly and he scooped her up, blanket and all, and carried her to her room and into her bathroom. He set her down gently on the edge of the tub and leaned in, engaging the plug and turning on the water. "If you don't think you can stand, you can take a bath." When the tub was two-thirds full of warm water, he helped her climb in then handed her a washcloth, the soap, and her shampoo. He backed up and sat down on the toilet, shoving the blanket against the wall beside it. "Anythin' else you want to ask me?"

Buffy laid back in the water to get her hair wet then sat up and picked up the bottle of shampoo. "How long has it been since you killed someone to eat?"

Spike blinked. "Wow. Um… not much for easin' into things, are you? I um… haven't fed on anyone for roughly fifty years. Banked blood was widely used by then and was becomin' easier to obtain so I didn't have to travel to other cities to hunt anymore."

"You didn't want to hunt where you lived to avoid drawing attention to yourself, right?" Buffy lathered her hair, carefully prodding the lump on her head with her fingertips.

"Yeah, and I haven't killed anyone while feedin' since the 30s. Once I learned control 'bout five or six years after I was sired, I was able to feed and still leave 'em breathin' if I wanted to. Sometimes I didn't want to. Sometimes I killed people 'cause I was angry or bored or wanted a good scrap."

"How long has it been since you killed someone? Not counting… earlier."

"Little over two years." Buffy looked over at him, alarm coloring her features. "I still like to scrap, pet, so I found an underground fightin' ring while I was in London. Beat the first five blokes they matched me against, but the sixth knew what I am. Hid a stake on him somewhere and tried to stake me when it was clear he was losin' the fight. I snapped his neck, mostly to keep from bein' staked, but also to keep his mouth shut 'bout my fangs."

"How many people have you killed?"

Spike shrugged. "No idea, luv. The first forty years or so, I was with a group of vampires called The Whirlwind. We were also known as the Scourge of Europe. We tore through the populace, slaughterin' people left and right. Since then, maybe two or three hundred, and most of those were durin' the Second World War. I don't keep count, but I've gone years without even makin' someone bleed, much less endin' their life."

Buffy slid under the water again and rinsed the shampoo out of her hair then sat up, swiping water out of her eyes. "Why'd you stop hanging out with the Scourge?"

"Darla had buggered off to The Master again, and Angelus and Dru up and left me in Sicily. I'd not been on my own yet, so I went home to London. Figured I'd hole up in my old house, which I'd thought would be abandoned and left to rot, until I sorted out what I wanted to do with myself. Found out all my property and assets had been claimed by someone who said he was my cousin. He wasn't, so I killed 'im and hired Wolfram & Hart to make me an heir to my family fortune."

"And you've been 'dying' every thirty years or so and then 'inheriting' your money since then?"

"Yeah. I was raised a proper gentleman from a wealthy society family, and forty odd years of murder, mayhem, and debauchery was apparently enough, so I slipped back into my prior life, for the most part. Still let my demon get in a little murder and mayhem every so often, but I've been a proper gentleman most of the time."

Buffy reached up to grab the bottle of conditioner off the shelf then worked a good-sized dollop through her hair. She picked up the washcloth and dipped it in the water then looked over at him. "So how do you get into… vampire mode or whatever?" She reached up and brushed her fingers across the mark. "Your regular teeth didn't make this mark."

"When I need my fangs, I call my demon forward."

"Okay, um… when you do that, besides the fangs, do you look different? David from Lost Boys and Lestat pretty much looked the same, except for their eyes, and the fangs, obviously. Some vampires have black eyes, and some… does the bottom half of your face open up like the Reapers in Blade 2?"

Spike shook his head with a chuckle. "No, my face doesn't open up."

"Let me see your vampire face." Spike morphed into his demon visage with a low crunching of bone then licked one fang. "You tore my panties off with your fangs on the plane, didn't you? That's why they looked shredded."

Spike nodded. "Yeah."

Buffy held out a hand. "Come closer." Spike slid off the toilet and sat cross-legged on the floor next to the tub. Buffy trailed her fingertips over his forehead then slid her thumb along one fang, gently testing the point. She gazed at his eyes for several seconds then asked, "So besides your eyes, the fangs, and the… lumpies or whatever, does anything else change?"

"My senses get stronger. I can see in almost total darkness, and I could pick you out of a crowd just by your scent or the sound of your heartbeat. I can also hear everything goin' on in the suite and a floor or two below this one." He smirked. "The three people in the room at the end of the hall one floor down are shaggin'."

"Three?"

"Three distinct heartbeats."

"Anything else different between vampires and humans, besides the 'you're dead' thing?"

"I'm a lot stronger than a human, faster, and I don't really need to sleep, especially as old as I am. I can get shot, stabbed, and bludgeoned without much effect, other than pissin' me off. I've been shot, stabbed, run through with a sword, partially eviscerated, blown up, and had several bones broken, but with some rest and my fill of blood, I was right as rain. The only things that will end me are a wooden stake to the heart, beheading, fire, and too much sunlight."

"How much is too much?"

"Not much more than a couple of minutes. I'll start to smoke as soon as it touches me and I'll catch fire after a minute or so, but I could run from the front door to the buildin' across the street with a blanket over my head and be fine." He smirked. "Told you we don't bloody sparkle."

Buffy laughed quietly, "Sunlight can kill you, and you live in California? One of the sunniest places on the planet?"

Spike laughed, "Vampires have lived here for ages, pet. We just work around the sunlight. Used to be we traveled through the sewers, once they were constructed, and before that, we were bundled in the backs of wagons under heavy canvas if we absolutely had to be movin' about during the day, but these days, parkin' garages and specially tinted automobile windows keep us out of the sun."

"What about crosses and holy water?"

"They'll burn me, and enough of either would dust me."

"So you're probably not a big church goer, then, huh?"

Spike chuckled, "Not as such, no. I can go into a church; I just have to be careful about what I touch or let touch me. Angelus was big on rapin' and slaughterin' nuns, though, so I've been in a lot of churches."

"What about people's houses? Do you have to be invited like in the movies?"

"Yeah, by someone who lives there. An invite from a neighbor or visitin' friend wouldn't work."

"So if I went to my dad's factory, and he's living there now, you wouldn't be able to come in to get me?"

Spike looked down at the floor. "No, not unless he invited me in, but if you want to go, I won't stop you or hunt you down. I'll even get your house back so you won't have to live at the factory with your Da. I was never invited into your house so the barrier will work to keep me out."

Buffy reached out a wet hand and cupped his cheek, raising his gaze to hers. "I don't think I want to leave, but I'm gonna need a little time to work all this out in my head."

"I understand, kitten. I'll give you as much space as you need, and I'll answer honestly anythin' you ask."

She pulled her hand back into the tub and asked, "How many people have you sired?"

"None into the family. I've made a dozen or so minions when I needed help with somethin' humans couldn't handle, but that's it."

"Okay, explain that. What's the difference?"

"I'm an Aurelian vampire. Our bloodline was started by Aurelius back in the 12th century, but I don't know the whole family tree between him and The Master. I don't even know when The Master was sired, but he sired Darla in 1609, she sired Angelus in 1753, he sired Dru in 1860, and she sired me in 1880. The amount of blood given to make a family member is a lot more than to make a minion. I'd have to give you 'bout half my blood to sire you into the family, but only a few mouthfuls to make you a vampire. A minion has no blood ties to their sire, but I can feel Dru if she's within fifty or so miles of me. I can feel all of 'em."

"So you're related to Angel, and you can feel him all the time because he lives in the same town?"

"Yeah. I know when he leaves, and he knows when I'm gone." He motioned to his face. "Do you want me to put this away?"

Buffy shook her head and soaped up her washcloth then started sliding it along her skin. "So, the vampire thing is why you never worried about condoms or possibly getting me pregnant with all the sex."

"I can't catch or transmit disease, and no, I can't get you pregnant. I also know you're on some sort of contraception."

Buffy looked at him and her mouth dropped open. "How do you know that?"

"Can scent the difference in your hormones, and…" he reached out and tapped a spot on the inside of her upper arm. "…you have somethin' implanted right there. Also, you haven't menstruated since you've been here."

Buffy looked down at her arm and blushed. "Yeah, I had really painful periods. They'd put me in bed for like three days, so my dad got me implanted so they'd stop. I'm actually due to get it replaced in a couple weeks."

"What happens if you don't get it replaced?"

Buffy shrugged. "It wears off, I guess, and I'll start having periods again." She laughed quietly. "Don't have to worry about getting pregnant but I'll be useless for three days a month and you won't want to be anywhere near me."

Spike's heart warmed a bit at that, hoping it meant she was planning to stay with him, and he smiled around his fangs. "Vampire, luv. Blood is what we do."

Buffy's nose wrinkled and she looked over at him. "You mean you'd… then?"

He licked a fang then smirked. "I would. Happily. If you'd allow it, I'd be face down in you the entire time."

Buffy laughed, "Eww, Spike!"

He chuckled, "Not eww, pet. Delicious. Orgasms would also help alleviate the pain, and I'd give you as many as I could."

Buffy tried to imagine what it would be like to have Spike's face buried between her legs while she was bleeding and cramping and bloated and miserable and feeling in no way sexy. She asked quietly, "You'd do that?"

"I would, kitten."

She nodded and started swiping the cloth along her legs. "Does being your consort change anything for me? Am I stronger or anything? Will I get a sun allergy?"

"No, you're not any stronger than you were, and you can still go out in the sun, but you won't age past where you are now, and you'll live as long as I do."

Buffy's eyes widened and the washcloth slipped from her hand. "I'm basically a vampire without all the being dead and having to drink blood and I'll be eighteen forever?"

"Yeah."

"So in twenty years or whatever, we'll both have to pretend to die to keep up with your inheritance schedule? How will I fit into that?"

Spike's heart leapt in his chest and he grinned widely. "I don't know, luv. Didn't really work out all the particulars, but I suppose we'll sort it then."

"I'll have to pick a new name." She looked over at him. "How do you come up with your names?"

He shrugged. "Usually just choose one from somethin' I've read recently, or since telly became a thing, I might use a name from somethin' I've watched. This last go round, I was readin' Tolkien, and Underhill stuck in my mind. I got Charles from watchin' M*A*S*H."

Buffy giggled, "What, you thought Charles Emerson Winchester III would be too obvious or something, so you had to mix it up? What's wrong with Benjamin or Sherman or Maxwell?"

Spike grinned at her. "Nothin' wrong with any of 'em, just thought Charles sounded better with Underhill, plus he was the rich bloke out of the lot. Posh and all that. Thought it fit better."

"So how do you usually die? Won't it look weird if we die at the same time?"

"Bein' that natural causes, disease, or murder isn't really feasible 'cause they usually involve medical personnel and they'd need a body to prove death, it's usually some sort of tragic accident. So far, I've 'died' in a plane crash and a house fire. Both times the body wasn't recoverable."

Buffy blinked at him. "Did anyone else die with you? Like your pilot?"

Spike shook his head. "No. I started takin' flyin' lessons a few years 'fore the end of that lifespan, and I 'crashed' my Cessna into the side of a mountain."

"Okay, so we'll have to come up with something that doesn't leave a body?"

"Yeah, if we want to go that route, but I could feasibly step back and turn over my companies to their boards and managers to run the day to day. Most of 'em have existed long enough that I don't really need to oversee the minutia any longer."

Buffy smiled over at him. "You could retire and just sit back and rake in the cash?"

Spike chuckled, "I've raked in enough cash that I could get rid of the lot and still live quite comfortably for several human lifetimes, pet."

"And bonus… no more boring meetings."

Spike laughed. "Yeah, that would be bloody lovely. Maybe I'll start easin' myself out of the day to day. Delegate more of my responsibilities and just read reports and financial statements. Once I'm not face-to-face on a daily basis, my lack of agin' won't matter. I'll just be a voice on the telephone or the words in an email. Transform myself into a proper recluse. Could squeeze another sixty or so years out of this lifespan that way."

"Then we could travel and see things besides the suite and the London streets whizzing by the car windows." She blushed and looked down at the water. "I mean, if you want to take me places."

Spike reached out and hooked his finger under her chin. When her gaze met his, he smiled. "I'd love to travel the world with you, pet."

"You've probably seen most of it already."

He shrugged. "Wouldn't mind seein' it again. It'll look new to me, seein' it through your eyes."

Buffy smiled and leaned a little closer to him. "Would you kiss me?"

Spike motioned to his face. "Like this?"

She nodded. "Yeah. If I'm gonna be married to a vampire, I guess I should know what it's like to kiss one."

Spike chuckled, "Married?"

"That's basically what being a consort is, right? Like being married."

"I suppose it is, yeah."

"Can we get married for real? So I'll be Buffy Underhill?"

Spike swallowed and whispered, "You want to marry me?"

Buffy nodded and leaned close, brushing her lips against Spike's. "Yeah, I do. I'm pretty sure I love you, Spike."