Chapter One

Unleashed

Romania - 2001

The castle had been empty for almost four hundred years even though it had once been the centrepiece of a thriving province during the days when Transylvania had been a part of the greater Hungarian Empire. In its present day existence, it was the relic left behind of a people that had abandoned their lands and their homes in order to put as much distance between them and their sinister past. Settlement in what was once a rich and populous province was almost non-existent with only a handful of villagers remaining behind. Whether or not it was superstition from years long ago or the fact that the modern day Carpathian Mountains were still a most unforgiving place to subsist, the truth was the castle had frightened them away.

The men and women who approached the Castle Csejthe for the first time in four centuries were aware of its bloody history. From the initial settlement by the Clan Hun Gutkeled to the scandalous end of its last occupant, the famous Erzsébet Báthory, they were privy to every lurid detail of its Magyar masters and thought nothing of it. To them, its unsavoury past was merely window dressing to the mystic of the place, the rest was superstition that originated from simple folk who were unable to believe that human beings could be so intentionally sadistic unless there was some supernatural evil involved.

They brushed aside the stories about the castle, about its last occupant with little more than a shrug, accepting the belief that stories alone were powerful enough to drive a people away from their ancestral lands because of their fears of a cursed castle. They did not for one instant consider that there was more to the fear than just the tales, that the villagers who had departed since the infamous Countess had been walled up in her castle almost four centuries before might have good reason to do so. Their reaction was completely understandable because of what they were and because of what they were, they could not believe.

For they were scientists.

They dealt in things that could be seen and proven, unaware that there was a world that existed in the shadows only, that had little do with the one in which they lived. It was a world where science was meaningless - that what existed simply did for no other reason than that. It was a place where words had power and the soul was not a subject of philosophical discussion but rather a thing with substance and form that could be traded and sold, stolen or lost. They entered the castle, armed with their theories and beliefs in the physical world, secure in the knowledge that data and investigation would be enough to unlock the secrets buried in time, unaware that they had crossed a threshold few ever know they had passed until it was too late.

They arrived at the castle ignoring the warnings by those who had settled an adequate distance from the castle, who had once been apart of the people that had occupied Csejthe lands. The scientists were eager to examine the medieval fortress because Romania under the rule of the communists had barred exploration of such treasures until its eventual collapse in the late 1980’s. The government scrambling for any way possible revenue from the ruins of the shattered economy was unable to deny the lure of American dollars by the university attempting to study the castle. Warily, the descendants of Csejthe watched as the American’s rumbled through the empty halls of the fortress, ignoring the warnings, deathly afraid that something would be awakened in all that noise.

You see they could still hear her.

They prayed that perhaps it was imagination, there was indeed nothing there. They hoped the scientists were right, that the Countess was not what they believed her to be but something all together human that had been twisted by an obsession to beauty and other sadistic desires. They hoped for this a great deal because the likelihood of disaster was increasing with each passing day that the scientist conducted their search. Meticulous in their work, they invaded the castle like the Moslems the Magyars had tried so hard to repel from this land centuries years before. Nothing was left undisturbed as they studied and catalogued whatever was found in the numerous rooms. From the high guest chambers where the Countess had entertained her guests to the dungeons where she had tortured and murdered so many, they shifted through her life like a project, with no concept of the person of what she was to the former Csejthe people.

The prize they sought was of course the chamber in which she had been walled for the term of her natural life. They sought high and low for a room without doors or windows, only a sliver of an opening through which food and water could pass. Yet there was not trace of the legendary cell where Erzsébet Báthory had been incarcerated no matter how much they looked. Disappointed, they continued to search, while in the meantime they continued their cataloguing, determined to have something to show for their troubles, if not the body of the Countess herself.

The old people watched from the distance, dreading the time when the night descended upon the earth, aware that in the dark her power was at its strongest, even if it had not manifested itself yet. She was in her day a great sorceress and one of the dark ones who fed on the blood of the innocent in order to live. She was Nosferatu and the louder the hearts of living beings continued to beat within the castle walls, the closer she was to waking up again. Four centuries had placed her in a deep sleep from which she was slowly emerging, coaxed out of limbo by the rushing of warm blood and the beating of hearts full of life. It was her siren song, the call to which she could not resist. It was only a matter of time before she answered it.

Then one night, a young man, a freshman who had been astonished that he was apart of this amazing expedition, woke up from his sleep after hearing a strange yet mesmerizing voice calling his name. At first he thought he was dreaming because he did not consciously hear a sound as much as he felt it whisper inside his head. He sat there in his sleeping bag, looking across the person sharing the room with him, wondering why he was the only one who had heard that enchanting voice and was almost prepared to return to his slumber when he heard it again. This time, its sweetness tugged at his heart and forced him on his feet before he even knew that he was walking.

He drifted on the sound of her melodic voice, so full of innocence and promise, craving him like no woman had craved him before. She wanted only him and when he reached her, she would show him the absolute heights of pleasure. All his senses were awakened by the soft, caressing texture of her voice and for a brief moment, the world dissolved around him and he was caught in the singularity of his desire for her. Wherever she was, he had to find her and he knew she was in this castle somewhere waiting for him. He followed through the darkened hallways, up the corkscrew staircases that led into the spire like towers, all the while seeing nothing else and hearing only her.

His destination when he arrived was a wall in a forgotten part of the castle that they had deemed unimportant weeks ago. He placed his hand on the brick, noting the orifice that had been sealed and could feel her voice reverberating through the stone. His heart danced at the physical contact and his mind was almost euphoric from the pleasure of knowing that she was so very close. Bursting with anticipation, he found the tools needed to free her and shattered the aging mortar and brick with strength he did not know he possessed. He awakened the others in the process of his excavation but the castle was large and empty, so he was not easy to find because the sounds of his demolition sent echoes throughout the catacombs of its innards.

Dank musty air escaped the chamber when he finally created an opening large enough for him to enter. He stepped into the darkness, unafraid, desperate with need by this point for something that had absolute control of his mind and was driving him insane with desire. Stumbling into the room with little more than a dimly lit torch to illuminate his way, he found himself in the room of a great lady. Four poster beds and ornate dressing tables, all covered with dust and cobwebs, a forgotten piece of time sealed within its confines. He was so enraptured by the fact that he had found her that he took little stock of the leather strap across her lips, the manacles on her hands and legs or that her body was nothing more than a withered husk, derelict as everything else in the room.

Using the same tools he had to make his violent intrusion into the room, he freed her from her bonds and pulled away the strap that he learnt upon removing from her lips, was a gag. At that moment, the stupor that had taken his mind disappeared almost as suddenly as it began and he found himself staring into a corpse that had open her eyes and was looking directly at him. He opened his mouth to scream just as she opened her jaws and sank her teeth into his neck; feeding for the first time in four hundred years. She could not stop his scream because she was too weak and the effort of bringing him to her had been a Herculean effort on her part that had nearly drained her of what little strength she had left. However that would soon change with the feeding.

Once again, the people who were once of the Csejthe heard screaming and this time, they knew it was not the Countess.

*********

Sunnydale, 2002

He knew that when she was with him, she really wasn’t.

Even though at this moment, he had her body pressed up against him, feeling her heart pounding next to him as they moved in rhythm to the ancient dance far older than either slayer or vampire, he knew that she was not there with him. He could hear her breathless sighs and her craving for more but she was somewhere else. Her body reacted as was expected but he was nothing more to her than a source of ecstasy.

It was like seeing heaven but never being allowed inside it.

. She did not speak or say things to him as she had during their first coupling. On this occasion she was silent. He was not supposed to sweat or produce any kind of body odour but she was certain that his scent was in her mind. His smell reminded her of the books that used to inhabit Giles’ library at Sunnydale High, old and musty yet coupled with the knowledge that they should be handled with care for they were valuable, not to mention useful. Spike reminded her of that in one breath.

Sometimes, she did not understand him even though she feared she might be starting to love him. Reaching those disturbing thoughts made her pull away from his lips and for an instant she felt him pause, almost as if in question at what he had done wrong now. She responded by burying her mouth in the crook of his shoulder, biting down with her teeth, aware that for a vampire it was an intense sensation to feel the bite instead of tedium of being the one to always inflict it.

"Oh God Buffy," she heard him groan and smiled a little, pleased that she brought him to this.

Her senses had started to hum, her body tensing because she was reaching the same crescendo as he. It was becoming difficult to concentrate on the texture on his skin, how its contrasting coolness felt against the heat of her skin. Buffy sometimes likened their trysts to a meeting of fire and ice, night and day and wondered if making love to him was what made her so poetic. The thought was disconcerting enough to detach her momentarily from the pleasure he was making her feel.

However, time came to a standstill when the sensations she had been feeling suddenly rushed at her with all its fury. The breath was driven from her body. Her fingers forgot their exploration and dug into his back, her hips rising to meet his furious thrusts and Buffy’s eyes clamped shut as she crushed herself against him, desperate to feel the undulating tides of his flesh when he finally lost control. Her lips captured his and the rising waves of pleasure coursing through her body reached the point of no return when she felt him moan into her mouth when he could no longer contain himself. The overload of sensation was beyond belief and she felt gloriously alive when she succumbed at last to pleasure. The effect upon all of her was devastating. For a moment it felt as if she had died again and touched heaven. It was pure unadulterated feeling and at that instant, the warmth and love she might feel for him took shape as something wonderful, not something she was ashamed of.

Spike tensed and she knew it was upon him. His face became soft, almost childlike when he stared at her and at that instant, Buffy knew that chip or not, he loved her and it was not a love that was sick or obsessive as Xander so often claimed it was, but something pure. Perhaps the purest thing a vampire could ever manage in its brutal experience. Buffy saw it fill his eyes and a part of her was desperate to feel it too but there was something in her that would not allow it. She knew deep inside that it was fear of what that would entail.

For the present, she enjoyed the climax of their dance. She enjoyed watching his face melt into pure contentment, the smile that crossed his lips that was simple joy at being with her, devoid of the sardonic cynicism he used to guard himself from her. His body collapsed on top of her, pressing her into the softness of the mattress on his bed. Minutes ticked by where they merely lay there within the confines of his crypt, former enemies finding a strange kind of solace within each others arms. There were no words, none were needed for there was an unspoken agreement between them that conversation would spoil what they had just shared. Although lately, Buffy was starting to think that the words might make it more than just a physical coupling, that it could create something neither could walk away from, or more specifically, something she could not walk away from.

As always it had been wonderful but once again, he was left with that sadness that to her it was nothing more than pleasure and for him it was everything he had ever wanted. He knew she enjoyed being with him because there was nothing fake or manufactured about her responses to their love making even though to her, it was sex, but she was not really his no matter how much he deluded himself into wishing it could be otherwise. She was the only person he knew who could invite him inside her and still keep him at arm’s length and inwardly it was killing him more effectively than any stake.

"I have to go," she spoke some time later, pushing her off him gently.

Spike had expected that and rolled off her onto his back, obediently like the dog he was. Inwardly, he loathed himself for giving into her and then resigned himself to the fact that he was her creature and she would always get what she wanted from him. His love for her had made him a prisoner far more efficiently then even the chip residing inside his head. His eyes did not meet hers but was instead fixed on the wall above him. Whether or not she noticed his listlessness was hardly beside the point, she had amused herself at his expense once again and it was time to return to her life. After all, what was he to her but her dirty little secret?

Buffy got dressed quietly, noticing when she was almost dressed that he had made no attempt to speak to her which was somewhat unusual because there was the usual cajoling for her to stay. It was then she noted the expression on his face, the ingrained sadness that she had been trying to inure herself to because he was a vampire and it did not really matter what he felt. It was the first time she had seen it after they had made love and it disturbed her more than she would like to admit.

"Gee you’re Mr. Quiet guy," she looked at him.

Spike did not look at her when he answered, "I didn’t think conversation was what you needed from me."

Okay, she thought inwardly, he was in one of those moods.

"Spike," she started to say.

"You best be getting on," he replied before she could finish.

She wanted to speak, to say something that would make it better but it would not come and she knew anything else said in place would be perfunctory and he would know. Somehow, she knew that would only deepen his pain and so she remained silent.

"See you around," she said softly and turned away from him.

"Whatever," he retorted and continued to stare at the ceiling.

It hurt seeing him like that and it felt even worse leaving him but once again, she retreated to the safety of the notion that he was Spike and he would survive. He always seemed to before and she was only wasting her time caring about his state of mind when he had got as much from her encounter as she. Buffy turned away without saying another word, walking out of his crypt as if it were another world and stepping through the looking glass into the reality where she was the slayer, with responsibilities to the world, her friends and her sister. Where she was not simply a girl who might have once again, fallen for the wrong man.

It was difficult to tell which world was simpler.

************

Spike did not have to look to know that she was gone. He loved her and the curse of that meant that he would always know when she was near or far. He sensed her confusion at his behaviour when she had spoken her mind to depart but her obliviousness was part of the reason he could not care less that she had gone. Spike remained lying in bed for a time after she had left, basking in the scent of their love making heavy in the air but still filled with that sadness that was seeping into his bones and becoming a part of him. He wondered had there ever been a time in his existence where the constant ache for someone who would never truly be his did not suffuse his entire being. First it had been Cecily, then Drusilla and now Buffy.

Cecily had rejected him and Drusilla had accepted him into his arms. Buffy was able to do both and unsurprisingly she hurt him worst of all. He had thought that she was starting to love him and foolishly he had deluded himself into believing that if he gave into her demands, somewhere amidst of the pleasure he made her feel, something real would come from it. However, the only emotion he seemed to engender in her was indifference and it was not getting any better. If anything she was becoming more accustomed to keeping him at arms length, even when they were engaged in the most intimate of activities. Sometimes he sensed a glimmer of feeling for him but Buffy had become expert at crushing out that flicker of hope and Spike was becoming exhausted searching for it.

Why was he still here?

Spike’s heart was breaking each time she took him into her body with eyes deader than his own. He knew that she saw him as little more than an instrument by which she reminded herself that she was still among the living but it was beyond Buffy’s comprehension that he was the same. Perhaps he was not alive in the sense that she was but he still hoped, dreamed and he still loved, no matter how much she convinced himself that what he felt was some twisted aberration. A few weeks ago, they had been transported back through time because of some vengeful demon’s spell and in order to save her, he had been willing to die. He had almost waited for the sunlight because it seemed simpler than the existence he now endured. For one instant, he had been ready to end it all because the pain of his situation was more than he could endure.

It was Buffy who stopped him. Buffy had spoken of possibly discovering her feelings for him and of needing him in her life. He had been clutching for any reason to live and at that instant of vulnerability, he had succumbed to the hope inside that maybe his love for her was not as one sided as it seemed, that perhaps she was starting to feel for him. Yet since their return, it was obvious nothing had changed. He was her lover in the physical sense but emotionally he was nothing to her. Some men craved this kind of relationship but Spike was not a man and he was not entirely a vampire either. He had no idea what he was any more but he knew when he made love to Buffy it was not because she was a warm body willing to accept his advances, she was someone he loved and wanted to pleasure.

Unfortunately, Buffy did not feel the same way.

He kept telling himself that she did love him even though she had shown very little evidence of that being remotely true. All she knew how to do was use him and Spike was becoming weary of playing the part of her toy. He was a Master Vampire! He had killed two slayers in his lifetime and he was of the Clan Aurelius! He deserved better than this life as a neutered vampire, one step up from having no fangs at all and worse yet, playing the part of willing slave to a slayer’s lust! If Spike had not the courage to die then perhaps he could salvage some dignity by doing what he should have done the night he woke up from that dream and realized he was in love with the Slayer.

He should have left.

His eyes widened with the thought of leaving and the more it lolled around in his head, gaining momentum with every painful memory of her rejection, Spike wondered why it was so preposterous. What was to stop him from climbing into his De Soto and driving out of Sunnydale forever? Hell, if he wanted to, he could find Drusilla. He could go back to being the Big Bad, it was easy enough to do despite what Buffy might believe. So he could not kill humans, so what? He could kill vampires and he had more than enough savagery left inside of him to ensure that he could find rudderless fledglings in need of guidance to do killing of humans for him.

Even if he chose not to return to the old ways, there were other places he could be. Roads travelled that he longed to revisit once again. He get in his car and go as far as he could and if enough time went by perhaps he might forget his Slayer and if not, time would catch up with her and she would no longer be in this world to beguile him. He would be free. Perhaps it was the sadness at being able to have something and never truly possess it that had made his resolve stronger than it had ever been but whatever the reason, it was enough; Spike had come to the decision – he was leaving.

He stood up from his bed, casting a gaze around the room that bore more resemblance to the aftermath of a burglary than it did someone’s home and realized that he would be sorry to see the last of this place. He had worked hard making it into a home and now that it was starting to take shape, despite the occasional violent trysts with his Slayer, he supposed it was irony that he would now be leaving it behind forever. However, Spike was not one to dwell on things. Spike sought out the duffel bag he had acquired shortly after his chipping, when it was necessary to move from place to place when the hospitality of both Giles and Xander had run its course and he had found himself out on the street with no place to go.

Surveying the wreckage of the room, he grabbed some clothes, a few books and the more valuable appliances that would be difficult to replace particularly since he was not rolling in money, if he chose to settle some place else. Prime among these was his television set because a vampire could not live by blood alone and missing Passions was not an option. It did not take him long to gather what belongings would make the journey with him and he tried not to focus too much on the fact that among them was a piece of lacy underwear the slayer had left behind in her haste to leave him. It was soaked with her scent and even though it was folly to keep it near him, Spike could not bring himself to leave it behind.

He pulled his leather duster over his shoulders and let his eyes sweep over the crypt that had been his home for the past two years. For a brief instant, he questioned what he was doing. How could he leave her? He loved her! Spike had promised to remain at her side forever and he would die before allowing her to be harmed. If he went now, he would be running out on her and she would be right that he could not be trusted, that he was not worthy of her love. With all those taunts hurtling themselves at him, Spike almost gave up the notion of leaving but then he had given that oath to the Slayer not someone who would use him for pleasure and discard him whenever it suited. He once said that he loved her because she treated him like a man.

Nowadays, she treated him like her pet and as far as Spike was concerned, she no longer deserved his devotion. No matter how much it pained him to do this, he knew that if he stayed, things would only get much worse and who knew when he would have the courage to leave again? This could be the only chance he might have of walking away while he still could and he was not going to squander it. Taking a deep breath and reaching for the pack of cigarettes that had miraculously manage to remain on the small side table without being upended, he was in desperate need of a smoke. Lighting up, he inhaled the cigarette’s intoxicating elements into his system, allowing it to give him the focus he needed before he turned on his heels and left the crypt for good without looking back once.

************

As Buffy stepped onto the familiar walk of Revello Drive, she found she could not dispel the thoughts of Spike no matter how hard she tried. The expression on his face when she had left the crypt had seared itself into her consciousness and had the rather curious side effect of inspiring her extreme guilt in her treatment of him. She knew what she was doing of course. She was not so heartless that she could see how much she was hurting him. However, each time Buffy gave serious thought to her feelings about him, she came up against this brick wall of denial and shame that nothing could penetrate.

However, tonight he had been particularly broody and Spike was not one to do that. In fact, it would surprise him just how much she knew about Spike if she bothered to tell him, which she did not. Like always, their lovemaking had been an experience to remember. She doubted that there was anyone who could make her feel the way he did. When she had made love to Angel, she had been a girl and it was of course the stuff of every girl’s romantic dreams and with Riley, it had been pleasurable but hardly earth shattering. However with Spike; she felt like a woman grown into her own at last, not a slayer with the weight of the world on her shoulders, just a woman and it was surprising how good it felt to be just that.

It occurred to her that her behaviour was making Spike feel less than a man and it stung to know that she was treating him no better than how Parker had treated her in college. However, he was Spike and he always seemed to bounce back no matter what she did to him. Buffy was aware of the flaws in her reasoning but she could not bring herself to address them at this point. Her life was dismal at the best of times without her finding more reasons to doubt her self and her worth. Since her ‘resurrection’, there seemed to be no end to how useless she could be made to feel. If it were not for Spike, her life would be devoid of all colour.

Spike.

Once again, Buffy felt the irresistible pull towards the crypt, not to mention the need to say more than she had when she had left him. He was clearly in need of the same understanding and friendly ear he had provided her on so many occasions and she had just left him. Buffy suppressed the desire once more because she had to get home to Dawn. It was bad enough her younger sister saw her as neglectful even though Buffy was still required to put food on the table and keep the world safe from demons and other creatures that lurked in the darkness. As much as she wanted to be there for Dawn, a part of Buffy was furious that her little sister could not see that she was no more happier by the limitations on her time, then Dawn was.

She saw her house in the distance and took note of the fact that even though it was in the small hours of the morning, there were still lights on. She hoped Dawn was in bed because she was in no mood for another frosty scene between them. Their relationship of late had become more than strained and was quickly slipping into pure indifference. Buffy was actually starting to wonder that perhaps it was best if Dawn when to live with their father. As irresponsible as Hank Summers might be in his love life (a trait that seemed hereditary of late), her father would try to give Dawn the attention she needed. Buffy knew it was only a matter of time before another social services worker came to the house and found her lacking and this time there would be no invisibility spell to fix things as she had done the last time it happened.

Pausing at the foot of the path that led to her front door, Buffy sucked in her breath and needed to steel herself before she could begin walking again. Reaching the front door, she heard no sound from behind it and came to the conclusion that it was most likely that either Dawn or Willow had forgotten to turn off the lights when they had turned into bed. Glad that she did not have to face more questions of what she had been doing tonight, Buffy unlocked the door and stepped inside. She had taken no more than two steps into the front hall of the house when she heard Willow’s voice calling from the kitchen.

"Buffy, is that you?"

Buffy supposed that if she had to talk to someone, there were worse persons she could face other than Willow. She moved into the kitchen and saw Willow seated against the counter, nursing a hot cup of chocolate. It was obvious the Wiccan had come down here because she could not sleep. Her friend seemed so weary, Buffy realized and it was not merely because she was unable to sleep, the exhaustion in her face was ingrained and had been there ever since Willow had turned her back on the magic that had almost harmed Dawn. At that moment, Buffy was struck by the revelation that Willow’s determination to stay away from magic was a constant battle she was forced to fight, that was almost as vicious and physically taxing as any Buffy had engaged with a vampire.

"Hey Willow," Buffy greeted. "What are you doing up?" She asked, even though the answer was obvious.

"Couldn’t sleep," Willow sighed. "Thought a little chocolate goodness might do the trick. Want one?" Her eyes twinkled a little, reminding Buffy of the Willow of old, the one whose eyes glistened with joy the first time she levitated a pencil. Buffy missed that girl almost as much as she missed the one she had been.

"Yeah," Buffy nodded and was rewarded with a pleasured smile from her best friend, who was happy that they were sharing a moment together even in this late hour. "I could do with some chocolate goodness."

Willow set about making her a cup with more enthusiasm than anyone ought to be showing at this hour but Buffy was pleased of it nonetheless. Willow was enduring her own trials of late and as they sat here at the counter, soon to be nursing piping cups of hot chocolate, they felt like two veterans of wars comparing battle scars. Buffy watched Willow for a second, wondering if her best friend thought about the course their lives had taken, how unexpected some of the twists and turns had been. For some reason, Buffy found her mind returning to that morning when Willow had announced that she was going to Sunnydale College to Buffy’s great delight. She sometimes wondered if they had ever been so young because those days felt like a lifetime away.

"So did those vamps get what’s coming to them with major slayage?" Willow inquired as she slid the steaming cup of chocolate towards Buffy.

"Mostly," Buffy nodded, brushing aside thoughts of Spike once again and that niggling splinter of guilt that refused to diminish. "It was kind of slow really."

"Maybe if things are slow, you should let Spike patrol for a few days," Willow suggested, noticing the dark circles under Buffy’s eyes. Despite the fact that Buffy had superhuman strength, even Willow could see that the pressure of her responsibility was starting to wear Buffy down.

"Spike?" Buffy almost choked on her beverage at the mention of his name.

"Yeah Buffy?" Willow crooked a brow, "Spike?"

"No," she shook her head after a moment, "its okay. I can handle things."

"Are you sure Buffy?" Willow persisted. "You look kind of worn out."

"I am," Buffy confessed because it showed in her face and it was foolish to deny it, "but I can deal."

Willow nodded slightly, not wishing to press the issue even though the worry in her features was clear.

"What about you Will?" Buffy asked instead. "How are you doing? I wish I could be around more to help you through this." Buffy sighed, wishing that there were more than 24 hours in a day so that she could accomplish all the things that needed her attention.

"Oh no," Willow spoke quickly, "I understand that you got stuff to do what with the bills and slaying, I’m okay, I’m not peachy but I’m taking each day as it comes."

"I’m glad," Buffy smiled, reaching for her hand and giving it a small squeeze. It felt good to just sit and talk about things, even if she could not confide in Willow completely. "Have you heard from Tara?"

Willow’s gaze dropped and Buffy immediately felt guilty she asked the question, reopening a wound that was still quite fresh for her friend. Before Willow’s addiction to magic had come to a head, Tara had warned her about the dangers and had been ignored. Refusing to sit by and watch her self destruct, Tara had left but it was clear from both of them still had deep feelings for one another. Buffy had hoped seeing each other at the Bronze a week ago might open a dialogue between the two and mend the fences between them but it appeared nothing had come of it.

"No," Willow shook her head slowly. "I miss her."

"I know," Buffy replied softly, "I’m sure things will turn out okay eventually."

"The only way that is going to happen is if I can beat this thing," Willow said firmly. "I need to take back my life Buffy. I’ve let things slip because of the magic and I’ve pushed away the people that care. I’m trying to make things right but with Tara is going to take a lot more work."

Buffy could empathize with her friend completely since she had left her own life to rack and ruin of late and Willow’s regrets about Tara also corresponded with Buffy’s feelings towards Spike. Once again, she wished she had said something instead of simply walking out and leaving him. It was so obvious he needed some kind of reassurance from her.

"Tara loves you Willow," Buffy reminded her. "I’m sure that what’s happened lately hasn’t changed that. You two just need to talk things out. Sometimes all you need to do is talk about it."

Even as she said it, she felt like a hypocrite. It was good, sound advice and yet she could not confess to practicing it herself. She used Spike for pleasure and when she was done with his body, discarded him without a second thought. The one time he had wanted to have a conversation, she had brushed it aside as if it were nothing, forcing his natural defences to rise up again and ruin the moment. She was as much to blame for it as he.

"Thanks a lot Buffy," Willow smiled, feeling a little better not because of the advice but because Buffy was giving it. It felt like forever since they had talked deeply about anything. "I wish you’d meet someone. There hasn’t been anyone since Riley."

"Well," Buffy shrugged forcing thought of Spike away and his taunting words that he was her dirty little secret. "I wouldn’t have time for it anyway."

"You should make time," Willow gave Buffy her patented ‘resolved face’ which indicated she was serious about her statement. "Sometimes its good to have someone just to snuggle."

Buffy laughed, wondering if she had ever done that with Spike and felt a certain measure of disappointment when she realized that she had not. "It’s been awhile but I seem to remember that snuggling was kind of fun."

"You’ll find someone Buffy," Willow smiled encouragingly, "and he’ll be great, you’ll see."

"I did find someone Will.," Buffy said sadly. "But we can’t ever be together so I think I’m just going to have to settle."

Willow let out a sigh, knowing that she was referring to Angel. Angel would always be Buffy’s great love, the one with whom she would inevitably hold others in comparison despite the fact that their love would always be impossible. Still, Willow had hopes that Buffy would find someone who could accept her for what she was without feeling inadequate because she was the Slayer. For all the weight that Buffy was required to carry on her shoulders, it was Willow’s considered opinion that she deserved to find a little love in her life.

"Don’t say that Buffy," Willow looked at her seriously. "You shouldn’t have to settle when it comes to finding someone."

Buffy thought about Spike and knew that she already had.

**************

 An hour later, Buffy found herself lying in her bed unable to sleep, her mind still fixed on her last encounter with Spike. She should not have left him, not when he so obviously needed to hear her say something more than she had. The expression on his face haunted her because it was so terribly sad and she could not accustom herself to seeing that way. On Angel it was almost a natural state but on Spike, it felt wrong somehow. It gnawed at her that the proud vampire who had once been her greatest nemesis was reduced to a broken, defeated remnant of what he once was and that the reason for his deconstruction had more to do with her callousness then her abilities as a Slayer.

All he had wanted from her was to be loved and Buffy had taken advantage of that vulnerability and used it to her own end. She needed to feel and for reason that she had yet to fathom or admit, she could only accomplish this with him. She continued to toss and turn in her sheets, the memory of their lovemaking still fresh in her mind. Buffy closed her eyes and was greeted with the contentment and love in his eyes when he had spilled forth inside of her. There had been an expression of wonder and quiet awe on his face at being able to touch her so intimately. He had tried to make it wonderful for her and all she had done in return was tell him that they did not make love that it was only sex.

She sat up abruptly, knowing she would not rest until she had seen him, cursing herself for this weakness even though she knew it was the right thing to do. Buffy dressed herself quietly, praying that Willow was asleep and would not notice her departure. Just to be safe, she exited her room the way she had done before her mother knew that she was the Slayer, climbing out of the window like a sixteen year old with a secret to hide. A sense of nostalgia filled her as she lowered herself to the sidewalk below the tree and remembered as she started for the Sunnydale cemetery that this was the tree from which Spike used to watch her.

She started running without even realizing it.

The last time she had run like this was when Riley had left. The Initiative had invited him back into throng and after she had found out that he had been allowing vampires to feed off him out of some misguided desire to feel needed, she had been more than prepared to let him go. However, when Xander pointed out some home truths that she should have known if she had truly loved Riley, Buffy realized that leaving was the last thing she wanted him to do. She had run to the place where he would be spirited by helicopter to his new life, desperately trying to reach him before it was too late. Unfortunately, Buffy had arrived to see the chopper lift off and her cries could not penetrate the thumping of rotor blades to reach him.

She ran all the way to his crypt filled with a sense of urgency that would not let go of her mind. Her heart had started pounding on the way there, not from the exertion or her pace but from fear that she had crossed the line with him tonight and it was one from which there was no returning. She did not love him yet, he had been right about that much but she did still need him. Whether or not that need became love was something she could not predict but he was the one thing in her life that she looked forward to since she had returned to the land of the living. Of all the people in her life, even those she called her dearest friends, he was the one who understood and she had used him shamelessly.

Buffy arrived at the crypt and knew the moment she passed through the open doorway, he was gone.

Dazed, she crossed the floor of the crypt and found the entrance to his home beneath it. Descending into the comfortable annex that Spike had made his own these past two years, she let her gaze sweep across the shambles of the room that he had not bothered to tidy and noticed that there were things missing. Most notably was the TV set, his most prized possession next to the leather duster he was always wearing. She swallowed hard, feeling a wail of anguish gaining momentum deep within the core of her as she saw that his clothes were no longer in the drawers and that old, gray duffel bag which hung on the bedpost when she had been here last was nowhere in sight. She kicked an empty pizza carton away her feet and saw that his books were also gone. Who knew that a vampire could have such a collection of books on 18 – 19^th century poetry?

Such thoughts moved across her brain like molasses, perhaps protecting her from the onslaught of grief about to sweep her away when it could no longer be held back. She drifted towards the unmade bed, which still bore the evidence of their lovemaking by the rumpled lines of its sheets. Buffy lowered herself onto the soft mattress, so stunned by the fact that he had gone that she did not know how to feel. It should not have mattered that he was gone because she did not love him. She did not! She could not! Yet that did not change the fact that the agony that was tearing through her heart almost rivalled what she had felt when Angel had left and it was all because for the sake of a vampire she did not love.

He promised her that he would never leave her! Buffy thought defiantly as she was faced with a conclusion she did not want to reach. How could he do that to her after what Angel and Riley had done? She had been secure in the notion that he was the one person who would not desert her and yet even as the thought crossed her mind, she knew more assuredly than all the others, she had driven Spike away. He had told her as much that he would have stayed at her side forever if she had not started using him the way she had the last few weeks. Before that he had come to terms with the fact that he would never have her and it was enough if he just had his friendship, but Buffy had change the rules and had used him to soothe her own pains, unaware that he had some of his own.

Why should she have expected him to stay?

Of all the others who had gone, it was Spike who had most cause to leave. Angel had left without even asking her. Riley had given her no choice but with Spike there had been choices and she did not take any of them. All he had wanted was a little kindness and no matter what Buffy told herself, sexual favours did not qualify. When she left his crypt some time later, it had started to rain and she walked through the downpour hardly noticing the rain against her skin because her mind was too filled with astonishment that Spike had actually gone. The rain hid the tears that were running down her face and she supposed that if Spike knew that she was weeping for him, it might have served as the impetus he needed from her to stay.

But was too little too late. She had lost him.

She arrived at Tara’s doorstep, unable to go home because her mind was in such turmoil, standing in the rain waiting for Willow’s former lover to open the door.

"Buffy?" Tara’s concerned expression greeted her a short time later when the Wiccan staggered out of bed in something of a stupor to answer the door at such an ungodly hour.

Buffy could only stare back at her wearing that same lost mask before whispering. "Spike’s gone."

***********

Spike had not planned on stopping but as he drove out of town, he noted that he was out of cigarettes and now way was he going to continue on the path he chosen without a smoke. There were some things even a neutered vampire would not settle for. Unfortunately, he had made this discovery when he was almost on the outskirts of town and Spike had no inclination to turn back. Besides, he had not felt resolve this strong in quite sometime and he wanted to ride its momentum as far as it would take him. With any luck, it would not exhaust itself until he was quite some distance away from Sunnydale. Fortunately, the Sunnydale airport was still open at this time of the night and it was on his way.

He tried not to think of Buffy as he took the road leading to the airport, aware that his thoughts about the Slayer would only alter his desire to leave town. However, he could not help but wonder how she would take his leaving. He liked to think that she might be upset but Spike was too much of a realist to delude himself with that hope. If he knew his Slayer with any depth at all, she would most likely meet the discovery of his departure with a sense of relief. Leaving made it easier for her because she no longer had to hide her lustful predilections or her ‘dirty little secret’.

The only one who might take his absence badly would be the little Bit. Despite himself, that did bother Spike a great deal. Sometimes, he felt like the only one who remembered that she was more than Buffy’s little sister and former key. At first, she had been his sacred charge to Buffy but throughout the summer, he came to care for her in a way he had not done for any human since Buffy. He loved Dawn too because unlike her sister, Dawn considered him a friend. Spike made a mental note to drop Dawn a line when he got the chance and explain things to her. He felt badly that he had not said goodbye and knowing Dawn she would not appreciate his leaving without saying it.

It did not take him long to the see the dim light of the airport through the heavy blanket of rain and cloud that seemed to have come out of nowhere. Sheets of the stuff began rushing past the windscreen and the hood of his car as he pulled into the airport lot. Spike did not think many flights would be taking off in such extreme weather but did not give it any more thought than that as he left his car and ran towards the main terminal, his duster pulled over his head to shield himself from the rain. He managed to stay relatively dry when he stepped under the awning where late night passengers were waiting for cabs and other transitory vehicles to pick them up. For a few seconds, he shook himself of the excess water before proceeding inside.

Stepping inside the small terminal, he found that the airport was mostly empty. It appeared the bulk of the passengers were outside under the awning waiting for their rides to come collect them. A few stragglers remained waiting for planes that did not look as if they were going to take off for some time and Spike questioned whether those who called air travel glamorous had ever been seen any of the weary faces presently trapped in transit. Searching the terminal, he found a newspaper stand and immediately started towards it. Fortunately, the rain would not impede his travel plans much and Spike wanted to be underway again as soon as possible. Before the sun rose the next morning, he wanted to be a good distance away from here. Maybe he would drop in on Angel, see if what his Sire was up to lately and perhaps amuse himself by driving the soulful vampire insane for a few days.

He was just about to reach the newsstand when suddenly; he felt his keen senses stirring inside of him. Spike stopped in his tracks and searched the immediate vicinity for the cause. He could feel something about to arrive, something that gave him pause and crushed any thought of leaving Sunnydale because he had a feeling he might need to find Buffy after all. He could sense a presence nearing him and it was old and very powerful. Its strength sang to him like colours of the rainbow and the last time Spike had been in the sphere of that much power was when he had beheld the Master for the first time. This was not as strong as that but it could not be underestimated either.

It was then that he saw her.

She was in his considered opinion, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. His jaw dropped slightly at seeing her sweep into the arrival lounge and captured the attention of every man present. Dressed in a long fiery red coat with fur cuffs and collars, she peered at him with eyes of liquid chocolate from beneath the Russian styled fur cap she wore, ruby red lips curling into a smile upon meeting his eyes. Spike swallowed thickly as he found himself breathing shallow which was somewhat odd since he had no breath to begin with. This was no girl he found himself beholding but a woman, worldly and confident in every sense of the word. Despite her sultry features, she was Old World elegance and when she stared at him, he knew immediately that they were of the same kind.

She was a vampire.

She had moved through the arrival lounges and emerged at the main body of the terminal not far from him, accompanied by an entourage of six that Spike knew immediately were also vampires. They were tall, brutish looking men whose primary function Spike deduced was to act as muscle. Clad in dark suits, they appeared as formidable as they looked and upon sensing his presence turned their eyes towards his direction. Spike wondered if he could take them all and knew that it would not be easy but yes, he could manage if he had to. However there was no need because she crossed the space between herself and Spike in a matter of seconds with every indication in her eyes that she was not coming to attack him.

"Hello," she greeted. Her voice was thick with a Romany accent that did not sound all that different from the one used by Dracula. "I did not expect to see one of us so soon upon our arrival. I sensed you as soon as I stepped off that flying contraption."

"You mean the plane," Spike replied attempting to project a cool, indifferent demeanour. "Nothing to do with fate luv, I’m just passing through."

"How unfortunate," she smiled at him and Spike almost melted there and then. For a moment he almost forgot who he was. "I was hoping you might show me around."

"This is the hellmouth," Spike retorted. "Not much to see and the feeding is dangerous. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get back on that ‘flying contraption’ and head back out. I was getting out of here myself."

For some reason, he did not wish this beautiful creature to have a run in with the Slayer. Apart of him felt as if he was betraying Buffy but he could not help it, something about the woman was making it hard to think. He was not usually captivated like he was some kind of fledgling but he could not keep himself from becoming lost in her eyes or by the dulcet tones of her voice. Everything about her was intoxicating. He could not get enough of looking at her.

"I like a little danger, don’t you? " She asked as she took a step closer to him and Spike closed his eyes and tried not to be bombarded by the scent of rose water against her skin. He did not think anyone used that as a scent anymore. However, it did not matter because on her it smelt heavenly. His head was starting to swim a little and Spike was absorbing her presence into his skin like the water that had soaked part of his clothes. He looked briefly over her shoulder and saw her minions smiling faintly as if they understood all too well this spell that she seemed to cast and empathized with what he was enduring at this moment.

"I guess so," Spike responded noncommittally but the truth was he was getting lost by the gaze of her incredible eyes. In them he saw promises of far away places and was reminded of feeling the same enchantment when he looked in Drusilla’s eyes.

"My name is Elizabeth," she introduced herself, still standing so close to him that her intoxicating scent was making it hard to concentrate on anything but the sound of her enchanting voice.

"My name’s Spike," he replied.

"Spike?" A brow crooked above her eye. "That is an unusual name Spike but I have a feeling you weren’t always called that were you?"

"I used to go by William," he found himself answering, almost against his will. "William the Bloody," he added after a moment.

"How marvellous," she smiled, "I sense power in you William the Bloody," her hand drifted to his brow before his fingers traced a tender line down his cheek. "You are indeed intriguing William, a god carved in marble trapped in this unsavoury place."

"A god?" Spike almost chuckled at the description.

"Yes," she nodded before her finger moved to his lips and traced his lower lip with the tip. "I can sense the passion in you William, the need to be loved. I know what that feels like. They think that just because we are creatures of the night, we have no soul but we do William, you know that don’t you? You feel its existence inside you, its not the same as the one you were born with but it is a soul just the same and with it we can still feel pain and sorrow and all the things that they feel but think us too unholy to deserve."

Spike’s throat was dry. He wanted to say something glib to hide the fact that she was right and that her words had sliced him to the core but they would not come. He could not deny anything that she had said and the fact that she knew him so well made his insides bleed with yearning. "We’re dead to them," he spoke softly after a minute. "We’re not worthy of being real, of feeling things like they can."

"You see," she pulled back a little and smiled at him. "You understand all too well William. They convince themselves that we are soulless, evil creatures without any understanding of emotions or love because it makes it easier for them to destroy us. We are not different from any other predator who hunts for its food. The wolf feeds in much the same way as we and yet it is not as despised as we are. They hate us William because we are more alike them then they find tolerable."

She stepped further back and stretched out her gloved hand. "Come with me William and I will show you what it is to truly love and be loved."

And like the deer caught in the headlights of a car, Spike could do nothing but let her when he reached out and entwined her fingers in his.

TO BE CONTINUED...