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Kallysten
Disclaimer : Of course they belong to someone else, I just play with them sometimes.
Distribution : Sure, just tell me where. When the story is finished, I will
post it on my website at http://www.geocities.com/kallysten_fr/
Feedback : Anything but flames kallysten_fr@yahoo.com
Story notes : This is a sequel to my story His Childe. If you haven't read it,
I strongly suggest you stop right here and go read it first, some things in
here will make more sense if you do.
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Awakening slowly, Buffy stretched languidly, discovering without surprise that she was alone in the bed. Spike was usually up before her, and it seemed that spending the night doing something else than sleeping was for him just as refreshing as resting. His stamina had found its match in the Slayer’s, certainly, but she still needed sleep afterward. They were both roughly following a human schedule. In truth, Buffy had never adopted the vampire ways of sleeping during the day and going around at night, so it wasn’t hard for her. Spike on the other hand had never seemed to sleep a lot. Even when he was living in the crypt, he would sometimes show up at the Magic Box or at her home during the day, while still being around at night.
Still yawning a little, Buffy got out of bed and went to the bathroom for a quick shower, wishing that Spike had stayed in bed as he sometimes did, watching as he waited for her to wake. Those mornings, with his help, she shook off the sleep far more quickly. Especially when he showered with her…
With a sigh of regret, she stepped out from under the water and, after drying herself quickly, put on a white lace teddy that she covered with faded blue jeans and an unadorned white t-shirt. She could already see in her mind the surprise and the delight on his face when he discovered the scrap of lace under her plain outfit.
Pulling her hair into a ponytail, she went down to the kitchen, still grinning at the little surprise she had for her lover, and wondering how long it would take him to discover it. She warmed a little blood and joined Spike in the dining room. They had converted it into a makeshift office, and the large dining table was covered with two laptops, a printer, diverse catalogs and shipping supplies.
Spike was in charge of maintaining the online store of the Magic Box. Willow had introduced him to the joys and delights of web design, and surprisingly he had enjoyed it and excelled at it. He had laughed at the Scoobie’s initial shock of seeing him use technology comfortably, pointing out that, just because he had never had the opportunity to learn to use computers, it didn’t mean he wasn’t able to learn at all.
Buffy’s role was to check the orders they received and prepare the invoice. By the middle of the afternoon, she or Spike would go to the shop through the sewers and prepare the packages, leaving to Anya the task to go to the post office down the street. To make running errands from the house to the shop easier, Spike and Xander had painstakingly dug a narrow passage between the basement and the sewer tunnels, carefully concealed with a false wall and blocked by bars and locks.
As she entered the room, sipping her blood, Spike flashed her a beautiful smile.
“Morning, sleeping beauty.”
“Good morning, vampire charming.”
She gave him a quick kiss, noticing that he was playing online video games as usual, before settling in front of her own laptop.
Checking her email for new orders, Buffy found a couple, but also, and more excitingly, a message from Willow.
“Will and Tara are in Ireland,” she said as she read. “They said they loved Scotland and met some pretty powerful Wiccans there. Now they’re in a little town near Dublin. They say it’s very beautiful.”
“Of course it is,” Spike replied absently.
She looked at him above her screen, frowning slightly.
“You’ve been to Ireland?”
He barely glanced at her before returning his attention to his game.
“Why does it surprise you? I’ve been through many countries in my years. 'Didn’t see much of the local attractions, but at least enough to get some sense of what the land was like.”
Draining the rest of her mug slowly, Buffy thought about his words. He rarely ever talked about his existence before Sunnydale. She figured he wasn’t too keen about telling her about his years with Drusilla, and she had never pressed questions on him. Sometimes, though, she wished he would tell her a little about his travels.
“We’ll have to make a little trip around the world, some day,” he said quietly, this time with his eyes on her and not on the screen. “Just you and me.”
She gave him a half smile. “Some day,” she repeated.
They had all the time in the world for that.
* * * * *
A little annoyed, Buffy was walking home from campus. Spike had driven her there a little less than an hour before for her writing class, and was supposed to come back for her two hours later. The class had been cut short unexpectedly and when she had tried to call home no one had answered. Dawn was out with some friends, and, in all likelihood, Spike was patrolling somewhere, passing time until the end of her class. She had to find him, or he would wait for her in front of the college for nothing.
Trying her luck, she directed her steps towards the closest cemetery, and cheered mentally when she noticed his car parked in one of the adjacent streets. She had a spare key and let herself into the car, wondering whether to give him the surprise of his unlife when he came back to the automobile. The windows being, of course, painted black, no one outside could see what was going on inside, a little fact from which they had taken advantage in the past. And he might enjoy very much finding his lover in the car, dressed in nothing but her lace teddy. Or maybe nothing at all…
As she was pondering her options, she noticed a sheet of paper on the driver’s seat and curiously picked it up. It was a computer printout, with the picture of a middle aged man, and some biographical information such as his name, age, physical description and address. Beneath that was what appeared to be a report from the police, or perhaps social services. He was suspected of beating his wife and two children. The report gave a few details and ended by saying that no judiciary action was being taken because none of the supposed victims had consented to serve as witnesses.
Frowning, Buffy wondered why Spike had such a thing in his car, and where he had gotten it in the first place. As she thought about it, she noticed that the address listed was just a couple of blocks away. Unsure of what to expect but feeling a knot forming in her stomach, she got out of the car and started walking towards the street.
Before she got there, however, frightened shouts led her to an alley that ran just behind the cemetery. Slayer’s instincts kicked in and she had a stake in hand when she approached the source of noise. However, the sight in front of her froze her in surprise, and the stake escaped her grip, falling to the ground with a soft noise. The vampire had his back to her, but he must have sensed her because he let go of his victim, growling a few words at the man as he hurried away, staggering, and a hand pressed to his neck. A small part of Buffy’s mind recognized the fleeing man as the abuser whom she had read about in the car. The rest of her was just focused on the blonde a few yards away from her, who had turned and was now looking at her through his human eyes, for once without his usual smile.
“I can explain, luv,” he said slowly.
“There is nothing to explain,” she replied, no expression whatsoever in her voice.
Fighting the tears that were insistently rising to her eyes, she picked up the piece of wood on the asphalt and looked at it for a few seconds. When Spike had decided to get the chip out of his brain, she had sworn to him she would stake him if he returned to killing humans, and promised to herself she would be ashes seconds after him. She had been immensely relieved when he kept his word and did not hunt. Until now. Catching him red handed, or rather red fanged. Strangely enough, she was more upset by the thought of him lying to her and forcing her to hurt him than she was by the fact that he was a killer again.
She forced herself to meet his gaze, and could see that he was watching her warily, as if not sure yet of what her reaction would be. But he really should have known.
They sparred together once a week, and most of the time she managed to get the upper hand, though it always took a lot of effort. The question was, could she win a fight that was to end with one of them dead?
Trying not to think, she took a step toward him, then another, her resolve strengthening a little as she pushed all feelings away from her. In her mind, she kept repeating the same words, over and over again, as if the litany could help her do what she was supposed to.
Not my love. Just a killer. Not my love. Just a vamp. Not my love. Just a killer…
At last he seemed to realize what her intentions were as she was coming closer, and took a step back.
“I’m sorry luv,” he said softly.
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