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Chapter 21:

Spike put one finger under Buffy's chin and lifted her face until she was looking him in the eye. As soon as he had her hazel eyes locked in his blue ones, he vamped. She didn't so much as blink, but still he felt compelled to ask, "Are you sure? We go in there, and getting you out alive will be a bitch."

She knelt on the car seat so that she could lean forward and kiss the ridges on his forehead.

"I'm sure," she said.

Spike could hear a tremor in her voice and sense just a hint of fear in her scent, but it didn't matter any more. He'd restrained the demon for too long. Her bare neck was there, in front of his eyes, and without thinking he leaned forward, grabbing her by the shoulders as his fangs sliced her throat.

He sucked at the wound, letting the blood flow not only down his throat but also down her neck and across his lips. Her heartbeat roared in his ears, and he could feel her power pulsing through him. He could hear her whimper, and the thumping of her heart told him that she was just a little frightened. Normally this would have only encouraged him more. But his mouth was directly above the scars he'd left on her throat, and the demon remembered. She wasn't just some meal; she was to be his mate.

Afraid that the clarity he was currently experiencing wouldn't last; Spike pulled himself away from her, flung the car door open, and stepped outside. The fresh night air helped clear his head a little, and when he looked back to see the wounded girl sprawled across his front seat he almost fell to his knees to apologize.

But he was aware of golden eyes watching him from the factory door. Instead, he pulled Buffy roughly from the car and into his arms. Her head fell back, as if she was too weak to support it herself, though he knew he'd taken only a little blood. That was one of the reasons he'd scratched her throat instead of biting her. The cut would bleed enough to look good, but would stop before it endangered her.

He stormed his way up to the factory door, and the minion standing guard picked up on Spike's mood and hurriedly opened the door. As soon as Spike strode through the door, several pairs of hungry demonic eyes turned towards him and the burden he was carrying. The powerful aroma of slayer blood filled every corner of the factory, and his minions began to close in on him.

On the drive over he'd thought of words to say to the other vampires. To make it clear she was for him alone. He forgot them all. His lips curled back and he snarled, meeting each set of eyes until they turned away one by one. Then he made his way upstairs.

The factory was one large open room, except for a manager's office perched above the employee bathrooms. This was where Spike had set up his room, so that he could both have privacy and be able to watch his minions though the large windows that overlooked the factory floor.

As soon as he entered the empty room, he pushed the door shut with his foot and laid the Slayer down on his bed. He crawled over her to cover her body with his. His tongue sought out her neck, and he began to lick closed the wound that was gently oozing blood. She sighed in contentment, and he could feel her body relax beneath him.

Once he'd staunched the shallow wound, he sat back on his heels to get rid of his duster and shirt. As he pulled his body off of hers, he felt a slight tremor go through her and her heartbeat increase.

"Spike?" she asked, confused and a little scared.

"I'm here baby," he said running a finger down her cheek to her chin.

Then he realized that although he could see just fine, the dark was impenetrable to her human eyes. He almost teased her about being afraid of the dark, but he knew what really frightened her was being alone.

"I'll light some candles," he whispered to her, but she grabbed his arm.

"Don't leave," she pleaded.

He dug into the pocket of his jeans until he found his lighter. Then he flipped open the lid and lit it, letting the flame dance just below his face.

"Look, you can see where I am," he told her.

She nodded, and he got off the bed to light the various candles that were scattered about the messy room.

Just before he lit the first candle, he tried to shake off his game face. But the demon refused to let go. Yet there was no bloodlust. He'd been waiting for it, expecting since he'd first tasted her blood out in the car, but it had been strangely absent. He had seen red for a moment, as the hungry faces of his minions had approached him, and he would have ripped the head off of any of them who had tried to touch her. But now that they were alone, Spike found himself oddly at peace.

She was his mate, or would be soon. His demon's lust ran deeper than blood. It was a comfort to Spike. At least one of his fears about turning her–that he would take too much blood, that he would kill her in a haze of blood lust before she could drink his blood–vanished.

He finished lighting the candles, and then pulled a dagger out of his desk and set it on the bedside table before settling back down next to his Slayer.

"Aren't you going to bite me?" she asked, disappointed, as she nodded toward the dagger.

"Of course I am, kitten. That's for me. I want you to drink from my throat, not my wrist, but I can't exactly bite myself on the throat."

Buffy nodded in relief, and Spike was encouraged by how eager she was for his bite. At least that part of turning her would be easy. He leaned forward and kissed her shoulder.

"Do something for me?" he asked, his mouth still hovering over the spot he'd kissed.

She nodded slightly.

"Take down your hair."

She looked at him like he was a little crazy, but she reached back and pulled the rubber band from her hair. Then her fingers pulled out the links of her braid. She shook out her hair, which fell in lazy kinks down her shoulders, tickling Spike.

He pressed his face into her golden tresses, inhaling her scent. That's when he realized that she was using all the same stuff he'd picked out for her their first night together. She must have had her parents buy her the same soap and shampoo.

"So beautiful," he murmured.

She laughed. "Silly, it's just hair. Look." She extracted his face from her hair and then worked a lock of his own hair free from the gel. She tried to pull it down in front of his eyes, but it wouldn't quite reach. "You have some too."

He laughed with her. Then he rolled on top of her, intending to tease her, but the moment their bodies connected, he found he could no longer hold his lust at bay, and he was kissing her passionately.

The next thing he knew they were rolling about on the bed, their hands desperately trying to reacquaint themselves with the others body.

Buffy's hands left their exploration of Spike's chest to lift her top over her head. Spike reached behind her to undo her bra and growled in frustration when he realized that the sports-bra she was wearing didn't have a clasp. She quickly pulled it off, but Spike made a mental note to have a talk to her about her utilitarian fashion sense. After all, how could a bloke impress a girl by undoing her bra with his teeth if she wore one without clasps?

That was the last clear thought he had as her hands descended to his belt and she began to unfasten his jeans. They both struggled to keep kissing as they divested each other of the last of their clothes.

Finally they were both naked, and their violent kissing slowed as they slid into place against each other. Spike's cock was tickled delightfully as it moved past her curls then rubbed against the wetness between her legs.

He had meant to start kissing his way down her body. He had fully intended to go down on her and make her come a couple of times in order to relax her for the turning. But all of that was forgotten as she reached between them and positioned the head of his cock at her entrance.

Spike moaned as their bodies came together, and just like that he was pushing into her, spreading her open as her hot depths welcomed him. He gave her a moment to adjust to him, even though he thought keeping still like that would kill him. He desperately need to move inside of her, to fill her with his seed, to make her his again.

Buffy didn't keep him waiting long, but began to move under him and they both cried with pleasure as he began to thrust into her. She laced her fingers in his hair and pulled his head to her exposed throat.

"Please," she begged.

"Shh, not yet baby," he refused.

She whimpered, and Spike knew he was doing something wrong, which he found hard to believe considering how wet and welcoming her pussy felt.

Then he realized what he was doing. He was selfishly drawing this out, afraid that something would go wrong and this would be his last chance with her. He had never really thought about what this was like for her. He was suddenly amazed at what it must have taken to bring a slayer to the point where she was willing to surrender to a vampire to be turned.

He realized it must be torture for her to keep up her resolve, to not follow her instincts and fight him. Not to mention that her death was looming over her, filling her with anxiety and dread.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, just before his fangs dug into her throat.

She cried out in pleasure, as he began to drain away not only her life, but her fear and anxiety.

Her body began to move more rapidly against him, and worried that she wouldn't have much time considering how rapidly her blood was pouring into his mouth, his hand descended between them to stroke her clit and bring her quickly to completion.

Her body convulsed around him, milking him until he came along with her. But he could feel the strength leaving her body, and hear the slowing of her heartbeat.

Spike groped blindly until his hands closed around the dagger, bringing it to the edge of his throat and slicing it, before tossing the dagger aside. He then lifted Buffy's head, bringing her mouth to the wound. As she began to suck on his neck, his cock began to harden within her again. He began to move gently inside her, not wanting to hurt his dying girl.

Soon her legs were no longer squeezing him tightly, and her arms began to let go of him. Then he could no longer feel her breath against his neck, and the flutter of her heartbeat stopped for good.

He gently placed her head on the pillow and pulled out of her. He licked the blood off of her lips, then arranged her in his arms so he could hold her from behind, and bury his face in her hair.

Spike's erection was quickly fading. Buffy was nothing more than a corpse now–a beautiful one yes–but whatever quality it was that so endeared her to him was gone for now.

He could only hope that when her eyes opened again she would still be his girl.





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