Strangers in the Night

part 3

Shit Happens.

Joyce hated those damned t-shirts. They were popular with the Sunnydale U crowd and every time she saw someone wearing one she wanted to hand them a card that says "Duh". Maybe if you were a sophomore it was startling news needing to be shared that Shit did indeed Happen to the just and unjust alike. Wars, earthquakes, fires, floods, crappy parents, disease, car accidents. Being a good person in no way saved you from cheating husbands or daughters who conceal the fact that they have big lethal destinies not to mention murderous and inhuman ex-boyfriends. And even though she knows better part of her still felt really angry about the shit that's been dumped on her plate, because wouldn't it be nice if life was fair?

Life wasn't fair and sometimes you have nothing but bad choices. She doesn't want to be Spike's chicken soup (hoping that he'll live up to his part of the bargain and doesn't just kill her or leave her here to be killed) but if she says no then all that's left is for her to sit here and hope the cavalry got there in time. And she's way too old to believe in the cavalry.

Spike was getting impatient. "So, do we have a deal?"

"Yes." The hunger that flashed across his face made her want to take it back.

He leaned forward eagerly. "No time like the present…"

"Wait!" He bit back a snarl. "What?"

"I need - um, where's the toilet?"

Fairly calmly he directed her to a small door she'd missed in a dark corner of the room. Inside was a basin, a toilet and an empty frame where the mirror used to be. She didn't really want to look at herself right now anyway. Rusty water came out of the tap when she tried it, but it eventually ran clear and she gulped it down figuring she'd need the fluids. She scrubbed at her face with a corner of her skirt. God, she must look like hell. She wrapped the blanket around her tightly and went back out.

It seemed like a long walk back across the room. Spike sat waiting, perfectly still, the bruises marbling his pale face. She heard birds outside making their usual morning racket and looked longingly up at the window, but it was a good 15 feet up and no ladder in sight.

"Sssh, calm down. Be just like visiting the Red Cross," Spike said soothingly. "Lie down on your front, across the bed." She felt the cool air moving on her bare legs as he moved in behind her and jumped when he took hold of her right leg and pushed up her skirt until the back of her knee was bare. He had smaller hands than Angel and a lighter touch but the feel of his hands on her bare skin, cool and dry and wrong, sent her pulse lurching toward full panic.

"Calm down," Spike ordered. "Not gonna hurt you, everything's gonna be fine." Liar. She wanted to scream, but didn't because that would bring the opposite of help.

"Better?" He asked after she'd stopped shaking so hard.

"Close as I'm going to be." He chuckled and quietly moved the blade into position. "Good. Now, this might sting a bit, don't yell; I promise it gets better. One, two, -"

She felt a sudden burning pain across the back of her knee and then the wet warmth of her own blood on her skin. Spike's fingers clenched bruisingly and he made a sound between a curse and a whimper. Suddenly sure she'd made the wrong choice she tried to pull away but he had her securely pinned, she wasn't going anywhere.

The red scent washed over his ridged face and Spike ached to bury his throbbing teeth into her flesh and suck her dry. Carefully he lowered his head to catch the trickle of blood sliding down the side of her leg with his tongue. He shuddered with pleasure, sure that nothing had tasted this good since his rebirth, when he swallowed the blood burned a path down his throat and set his whole body alight. His mouth descended greedily…slow and steady, he reminded himself. Got to go slow.

The illusion that she had a choice or something like control fled the moment his mouth fused to her leg. Her whole body pulsed and tingled with the rhythm of his feeding and his soft groans and grunts seem oddly familiar. It hurt a little, not too much and countering the pain was the slow seep of sensation low in her belly, something warm and sweet and very, very, wrong.

Too bloody long since he'd had this. Not just the blood, though it was always about the blood in the end. It was the connection he craved as much as the coppery sweetness hidden underneath their skins; the bond that grew with every precious mouthful, every drop of vitality sacrificed to his continued existence. Man woman boy girl it didn't matter because it was what was inside that mattered.

Dru knew; she'd seen through the pathetic surface of William to the truth of her Knight hidden inside. She'd purified him in the icy crucible of her mouth until only the gleaming core of him remained. The pain had been drowned in the pleasure of total surrender, in the joy of becoming a part of something truly effulgent and when she'd put his face to her bleeding breast to feed him in turn, he'd understood at last what the love he'd written so much bad poetry in honor of was really about. Blood. It was always and forever about blood.

…wrong, so very wrong but she shut her eyes the better to feel it building from her heart to her fingertips, so warm and thick like being wrapped in velvet, held close and safe and she'd never have to worry about anything again…

She trembled prettily under his hands, lost in the feeding thrall, moaning softly, but not loud enough to catch Angelus's attention. Especially not when he can hear them still going at it. Thump, thump, thump, against the wall.

She felt the wave building, dark green and too strong to resist as it lifted her up and up, and all she can feel is the power of it all around and through her and she's balanced on the crest, quivering with anticipation.

Bastard. The slow seep of blood wasn't enough; he needed more. Spike growled and sucked harder.

Joyce screamed as the wave crashed down on her, cold and deadly, tiny fishhooks of pain rolling over her, jabbing and tugging at her with every suck and swallow. It was agony and she was dying, he was killing her…

"Something big," Darla said her sugary voice crystallizing into something less pleasant. Joyce turned to see the girl's face contorted into an inhuman mask, all yellow eyes and sharp teeth as she lunged and grabbed Joyce. Cold, ruthless hands held her against a body that felt like ice. "Thanks Mrs. Summers," the monster mocked. Then she wrenched Joyce's head back and bit.

"No, stop," she breathed.

…oh God it hurt, it hurt; she could feel her life dwindling with each greedy gulp. She couldn't move at all, arched helplessly for her killer's convenience. All she could see was the kitchen ceiling and she was falling into the light…

His first warning was the sting of adrenaline on his tongue an instant before she started to thrash around. Bugger, he'd taken too much, too fast. Hastily he eased off hoping she'd calm down, but it didn't work, she continued trying to buck him off and worse, began to scream loudly and incoherently. Shit. He shoved her face into the bed to muffle the noise. "Joyce," he hissed desperately. Bloody hell, what was the matter with her? He hadn't taken that much, hadn't even used his teeth. "You've got to keep it down or you'll drop us both in it." There was no sign she'd heard him; she continued to struggle and scream into the mattress; if she didn't stop soon he'd have to either smother her or snap her neck. Either way he'd be doing exactly what the tosser wanted and more importantly, probably dooming his princess. He bent his head close to her ear.

"Please Joyce."

Blind and drifting in the pain and merciless light she grabbed hold of the black thread of his voice and pulled herself out.

She collapsed under him and lay there, silent and still. Spike cautiously released his hold on her neck and she turned her head sideways and took a great gulp of air. He got off her and moved to the edge of the bed. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and licked off the traces of blood while he listened anxiously for any indication from the other side of the wall that they'd been noticed but there was only a reassuring silence.

"What the bloody hell was that about?" He demanded, glaring at her yellow-eyed. She sat with her legs drawn up under her chin, eyes lost, oblivious to his anger.

"I remembered. Oh God." She took a deep breath and let it out. "Buffy knew what really happened. She had to. She's the one who found me. She's been lying to me all this time."

"Not sure I'm following you."

"Darla. That was what she called herself anyway." She closed her eyes and missed Spike's reaction to the name.

The girl smiled. "Hi! I'm Darla? I'm a friend of Buffy's."

"Oh, nice to meet you." No, Buffy hadn't mentioned anything about her coming over for a study date, but it wouldn't be the first time she'd forgotten. "Come on in," she said.

"She said she was one of Buffy's friends; so I invited her into the house. She was a vampire. She attacked me."

Interesting that Darla had had her teeth into this woman as well. Nearly unprecedented in fact since great-grandma didn't usually hold with leaving witnesses. "What happened then?"

"I don't - I didn't remember." Her chin sank again. "When I woke up in the hospital they said I must have slipped and cut my neck on something. The doctor said it looked like a barbecue fork." Her voice hardened. "We don't own a barbeque fork."

"Buffy knew, she had to. The window got broken that same night. A bird flew into it, she said. How could she lie to me like that?" Joyce said softly.

She smelled of despair and Spike sensed tears about to fall. Last thing he needed was her getting all weepy and hysterical. "Well, Darla's dust if that helps. Angel staked her; heard about it from one of the locals."

"Oh. Thanks. It does, a little. I just don't understand how I could forget something like that. How the hell could I just *forget*. Is there something in the water?"

Spike shrugged. "Dunno. Don't suppose it's much fun remembering almost being eaten. Easier to put it out of your mind. I remember one bloke I'd half-drained before I was interrupted by a peeler. Passed him in the street a few days later; he looked me right in the face and not a flicker."

"Did you kill him?"

"Well, yeah." He yawned. He was feeling quite amiable now with her blood warming his insides and disaster temporarily averted. "Don't worry luv, not killing you: we have a deal. You've held up your end, just a little bit longer and you'll see me hold up mine." Spike eyed the bed. He was damned tired of sleeping in the bloody chair. He flexed his legs experimentally.

Joyce yelped as Spike moved with unnerving speed and transferred himself to the bed. He stretched like a cat and rolled onto his back with a sigh, snagging one of the pillows and tucking it under his head. Grinned at her. "Hope you don't mind sharing? Plenty of room." Her expression was untrusting. She was still bleeding a little. He wondered if he should tell her.

He pulled out his flask and offered it to her. "Do you good."

She hesitated and then put out her hand.

~*~

"It's Angelus," Buffy said flatly. "He's got my Mom." Giles and everyone but Oz (he wouldn't get back to town until sometime this afternoon) had assembled at Revello Street for the crisis. Cordelia showed up with coffee from Starbucks for everyone. Cordelia being nice was probably a sign of the apocalypse or something even scarier. Willow decided not to mention the great big hickey she had on her neck.

"Buffy - w-we don't know that for certain." The look she gave Giles was hard and brittle as ice. "Yes we do. I didn't think he'd come after her again, but I was wrong. "

Willow was worried about Buffy, she'd never seen her look quite so desperate and lost. Not even when it looked like the Master had come back, or when her mother was attacked before, or when Angel lost his soul, or even when poor Miss Calendar was killed, or... And gosh, living on the Hellmouth really sucked didn't it? But poor Buffy, sounded like she was blaming herself, Willow decided to speak up.

"But, Buffy, I don't think you were wrong. 'Cause it's not like he could have known she was going to be at that gas station. It's just, you know, a random thing. If he was stalking her he could have ambushed her somewhere like the gallery, or at home, or the grocery store…"

Xander put a hand on Willow's forearm to stop her. "Not really helping, Wills."

"Buffy," Giles said carefully. " - if you're right, then we - you have to be prepared."

"We're going to find my Mom. We're going to find her and save her." No-one dared to contradict her or meet her eyes.

Suddenly Willow jumped up and pulled out her laptop. "Hey! I might have something." She hurriedly set the computer up on the dining room table aware of them all watching her. She smiled at Xander as he plugged the modem into the wall for her without being asked. C'mon, c'mon, boot up darn you. Finally. She logged on and a map of Sunnydale appeared, dotted with tiny glowing red lights. "I've been using the Sunnydale P.D.'s database, I've got it set up so it automatically updates when I log on." She knew that none of them understood what she was talking about. She was used to it.

"Spiffy," Xander said.

"The red dots are, umm deaths. I've been trying to track them to see if there are any clusters. 'Cause I figured that there might be more deaths near vampire nests."

"You think his lair might show up?"

"Uh, maybe. Angelus is bright enough not to kill people on his front porch but the minions aren't that sharp, they might forget."

"What's this?" Buffy said pointing to the largest cluster of red.

"That's the Bronze." Willow began identifying the larger clumps. "The docks, Lover's Lane, U.C. Sunnydale…oooh looks like somebody had a heck of a party last night; five dead."

"Do you think it was Angelus?"

"Coulda been, but there's nowhere he could be staying on campus, and nothing nearby really fits the profile: no empty buildings or caves. Same with the Bronze, he hunts there, but he doesn't live in the neighborhood."

"So how does this help?"

"Well, see except for the regular hunting grounds the deaths are pretty much spread out. Except for here and here - warehouse district, and Crawford Street, only 3 deaths, not much of a cluster, but it's a long ways from the usual vamp hangouts. I think there's an old mansion somewhere near there."

Buffy stared at the glowing map. "O.K., I'll check out the warehouses first, then the mansion."

~*~

When Spike woke he found that he'd crept closer to the woman in his sleep, drawn by her heat. Her breathing was the loudest sound he could detect within the mansion's walls. It was morning after all, time for all good vampires to be asleep.

She was still fast asleep. She hadn't gone easily, he'd been aware of her lying there staring into the dark long after the last of the candles had guttered out but at last she'd given in to exhaustion, loss of blood, and three stiff shots from his flask. He studied her unconscious face. She looked younger with the tension lines erased by sleep and her soft mane of curls tousled on the yellowed pillowcase. He could hear the seductive whoosh and thrum of her blood as it rushed through her body. He slipped his hand under the covers and rested it on her chest, savoring the heat that warmed his palm. "There you are," he murmured. Lovely, tasty, Joyce.

He was quite pleased with himself, not many vampires could have controlled themselves as well as he had, especially after starving for weeks. He was damned certain that Angelus couldn't have pulled it off; bastard was never big on control. Or he hadn't been, he'd probably had to pick up some from the soul. Spike couldn't figure out how Angel had lasted for a year never mind a century feeding on nothing but animals and bagged juice. Couldn't get why he'd want to. To exist that long without the pleasures of warm blood and soft flesh…what would be the bloody point?

His hand wandered south, savoring the feel of her soft warm belly under his hand and the tease of coarser curls just below; his cock stirred at the thought of all that wet warm heat… He yanked his hand back and rolled away from her. Best not in case she woke up and made a fuss. Time enough for all that once he was out of here.

He got up and walked - walked! - over to the door and made sure it was locked. Then he began a series of stretches. It hurt, but in a good way as unused muscles and tendons were forced into action. He could feel the tissues rebuilding themselves.

Once he'd warmed up a bit he began to exercise in earnest, sparring with invisible enemies. He kicked high, visualizing Angelus' mighty chin, and landed with a slight grunt. Careful of making too much noise he fought the air till he felt almost warm, then his leg buckled during a lunge and he went down on his knees. He forced himself to stop and went back to the bed to rest. When he stretched out next to her she still didn't stir.

He grinned up at the ceiling. He felt good though he was still a ways short of his full strength. It was barely midmorning; he still had hours to wait. He watched the sunlight play on the wall just like yesterday and the day before that and the day before that… except that today is different. His nerves were humming with anticipation, he felt like a doughboy in the trenches waiting for the order to go up and over. He knew that pulling this off will be tricky. He'll have one chance and if he fails Angelus will dust him for sure. After a long period of torture. But he's not going to fail.

Once they're away from the Hellmouth he figured he'll take Dru on a road trip. South's a good direction - Mexico, Central America, South America. They'll have a moveable feast all the way to Tierra del Fuego then head back up the Atlantic coast. He'd heard good things about Rio. It's gonna be glorious.

~*~

That's it, she's done, and she's outta here. She can't do this. Can't take another moment of sitting around Revello Drive holding Xander's hand and trying to keep a good thought, etc. Lying a.k.a. tact is so not her strong point. She was sick of biting her tongue so she didn't say what they all know: that there's no chance Mrs. Summers is ever coming home again, well, not alive anyway. Because if she did they'd all, Xander included, turn on her like it was her fault Angelus went all Silence of the Lambs on Mrs. Summers. Which was so not fair; she wasn't the one who knocked Angel's soul loose doing the horizontal tango. It's not her who keeps turning down chances to stake the evil undead. All she's done is try to help, though she doesn't know why she bothers because it's not like anyone appreciates it.

She was really only here because of Xander. He looked so miserable, like it was his mom who'd died. Even though she has a perfectly good mom of her own, unlike Xander, Cordelia felt a little sick herself at the idea of Joyce being dead. Joyce was way nicer than her daughter. She'd always acted glad to see Cordelia; they'd even had a pretty cool conversation once about Manolo.

Oz showed up after lunch and Buffy went out with him an hour ago to see if his werewolfy powers might give them a lead. Willow was still tapping away on her beloved laptop but it didn't look like Angelus had a website so not much going on there. Giles has had at least two drinks, and she could use one herself, thanks for asking. No chance he'd let her, a minor, have one even though she's been drinking at her parents' parties since she was, what, 13? If he keeps on knocking them back he'll be in no condition to stop her.

Drinking because of stress is one of the ten signs and she doesn't do that. Well, not often. Not at all before Buffy showed up. Maintaining her position as Queen Cordy had been her job and she'd been damned good at it. Then little miss likes-to-fight showed up and messed up her life. She'd been tossed into the wonderful world of vampires and monsters and always having to save people mostly from their own extreme cluelessness (I know! Let's neck in the cemetery! What a good idea Brad! Not.). And the really weird thing is that she kept playing. She wasn't the Chosen One, she could just walk away and be a good Sunnydale denier, but she can't seem to do it. Even before the weirdness that was her and Xander, even though none of them really like her, probably including Xander, she couldn't just walk away. She just hoped that these weird Hellmouthy effects will fade once she gets away from SunnyD.

One year to go to graduation, then she's out of here. UC Berkeley, Stanford, Harvard, UCLA.... Anyplace that isn't the Hellmouth and that offered the chance to meet bigger and better dating prospects (because this thing with Xander was just too strange to last, she blamed hormones). She'll get her degree, get married, and never have to deal with demons and weirdoes ever again.

And now, she's going shopping.

"Please, don't go," Xander asked. He saw that she was actually considering it for a moment, before she shook her head.

"Sorry. I just --" Her gesture took in the house and the situation. He nodded. He was surprised she'd lasted this long. "Xander? You've got my cell phone number, right? Call me when - you know."

"Yeah." He wondered if she'd take him with her if he asked. Maybe he'll just stay out here on the porch.

"Xander?" Cordelia stepped forward and kissed him, in broad daylight in front of God and everybody. Really kissed him until his ears burned and his heart hammered.

"Whoa." She smiled and ran down the stairs to her car. He watched until she'd disappeared around the corner. Then he went back inside to wait with the others for the worst news in the world.

Xander isn't sure what he'll do or say when it's confirmed. He knew that Mrs. Summers was Buffy's mom, not his, but she's so much better than his. So shoot him for wanting a Mom who smelled of perfume and freshly baked cookies not beer and Kool-Aid; a mom who smiled when she saw him instead of showing every day in every way that she wished he'd never happened in the first place. The clickety click of Willow at her keyboard echoed in the too quiet house. She just won't give up, or maybe it's just something to do to fill up the hours. Giles was upstairs, having a rest - sleeping it off.

Around 4:00 Buffy came back with Oz from scoping out the warehouses. Nothing, she told them before disappearing upstairs. A tired Oz let himself be folded into a Willow hug. Xander got up and went into the kitchen to find some food. Buffy looked so sad and guilty but he can't help thinking that if she'd killed Angelus the last 300 times she had the chance Miss Calendar wouldn't be dead and none of them would be here, waiting for bad news.

~*~

Bob showed up late in the afternoon. He still wasn't interested in chatting. Spike watched him as he replaced and lit the candles. Joyce watched him as well but Spike had warned her to keep schtum. Done with his chores Bob turned to leave.

"Oi, mate, c'mere a minute." Spike said.

Bob frowned. "What?"

"Need a hand here, if you don't mind."

Bob hesitated, then he shrugged and came over. "What?"

"Wheel's stuck, think you could give me a hand?" Spike pointed under the chair. Bob sighed and bent down to have a look. Spike brought both fists down on the back of the neck in a brutal hammer blow that dropped him to the floor. Spike lunged out of the chair, grabbed Bob's head in both hands and yanked backwards until he heard the snap.

Spike hauled the man's limp body up into the chair with him. He adjusted his catch so Bob sat on his lap, his head lolling back against Spike's shoulder. He made a faint gargling sound of protest. "Sorry mate," Spike murmured before tilting his head back a little further and sinking his fangs into his throat. He grimaced, god that was nasty. Judging by the taste, Bob hadn't fed in the last couple of days, but that didn't keep Spike from being grimly determined to drain every last drop of the rank stuff. Beggars, and all that.

Joyce watched, unable to look away as Spike drained the other vampire, he withered before her eyes, his complexion going from pale to gray to paper white, bones emerging from his flesh, the demon faded away to reveal a grotesque and terrified human face.

Done, Spike let the desiccated remains slide onto the floor. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and pulled out the stake he'd hidden in the wheelchair cushion, he leaned down and drove it into Bob's chest in one smooth motion. The body disappeared in a dusty explosion. He looked across the room into Joyce's wide eyes and grinned.

~ * ~

His eyes opened into darkness and Angelus smiled. The sun had gone down an hour ago but he was fine where he was; he felt sated and pleasantly sluggish after last night. The taste of blood and whiskey and Drusilla lingered pleasantly in his mouth. It had been awhile since he'd had that much fun in one night. Contentedly he rubbed his cheek gently against his daughter's cool belly feeling the dried blood flake away from the almost healed stripes. His sweet girl was still unconscious, worn out by their fun. His masterpiece; her endless capacity for pain never ceased to amaze and arouse him. He idly gave her nipple a vicious twist and Drusilla whimpered and smiled in her sleep.

Idly stroking himself he considered his plans for the coming night. In a way he's glad Drusilla's prophecy kept him from finishing Joyce off too quickly. As much fun as it would have been to surprise Buffy with her mother's corpse propped against the front door or seated behind the wheel of her car there was something to be said for drawing it out. By now she knew her mother was missing and she probably had worked out that he had her. He could imagine her tearing apart Sunnydale in her search, with that adorable look of doe-eyed determination on her face. She was the cutest thing ever when she cried.

So, what to do, what to do about Mrs. Summers? Assuming Spike hadn't dealt with the problem for him, (he was pretty sure William was too chicken shit to defy him that way, but it was win/win either way) he needed to decide what he was going to do. He was still a bit nervous about going against one of Dru's visions; that never went well. But he's not the kind of guy to abandon a goal just because things got a little difficult.

Drusilla turned over, her chains clinking, he studied her smoothly innocent face, unchanged in the 138-odd years since Darla had pointed out an intriguing virgin on a London street. His mouth curved as he remembered the fun, the blood and the screaming. He'd used every lesson he'd learned from his previous projects to perfect her, to tear her life apart and mold the shards into this mad, vicious, wonderful, creature. His masterpiece. The others had been amusing, his little Abbess especially, but Dru was the only one he'd turned, the only one he'd wanted to keep with him forever.

Now there's an idea. He wondered how long it would take to train Joyce. It had been awhile but not like he's forgotten how. And hey, it would give him a chance to try out all the new drugs and other toys he didn't have back in the day. The idea definitely appealed. It made it even better that she had some spirit. That just made it that much more fun. The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. Hey, he can kill Buffy anytime he likes, and once he does, that's it; but done right he can use her mother to make her suffer for as long as he liked.

He heard her heartbeat through the door. Like he figured, Spike hadn't had the balls. When he walked into the room he saw that Spike had managed somehow to get back into his wheelchair. He sat there hunched and miserable and cringed gratifyingly when Angelus caught his gaze. Poor Spike, he was probably in a lot of pain after last night's beating, and he won't be healing very quickly on his diet of puppy chow. Too bad.

Joyce gasped and scrambled to the other side of the bed when he tore off the covers she was huddled under. Cute. He feinted like he was coming after her and she froze, trembling while he looked her over, yeah, not bad at all. She'd done a good job of keeping her figure. "Hey, Joyce. Gotta say, terrified is a good look on you." She didn't say anything. Good, he hated chatty women. "I've gotta go out now to get Dru something special since she was such a good girl last night. But when I get back we'll continue our conversation, O.K. Joyce?"

Joyce stared at him, still silent.

"I asked you a question Joyce." He let menace creep into his voice.

"Yes," she said in a tiny voice.

"Good." He hummed tunelessly as he left the room, this was gonna be fun. Maybe he'll even let Spike help out, if he behaved himself.

~*~

My fault, Buffy said quietly to the bathroom mirror. My fault he has her, because I didn't want her to know. Because as long as she didn't know, as long as she believed in Buffy Anne Summers, normal girl, I could pretend she still existed. So I kept her in the dark and now she's being hurt because of me. She might be dead. Mommy…

The girl in the mirror was crying.

~*~

Spike listened carefully until the last echoes of Angelus' hulking boots had faded away before he stood and stretched. He kicked the chair over and grinned. Never again. Bouncing on the balls of his feet he turned to Joyce. "Time to go."

The mixture of hope and fear was nearly unbearable; feeling like her heart was going to jump out of her skin she walked toward the door. He gestured for her to go ahead. She had her hand on the doorknob when he clamped his hand over her mouth yanked her backwards into his hard chest and sank his fangs into her throat.

She opened up for him like a ripe peach, thin skin parting to let the nectar inside surge into his mouth. He gulped down greedy mouthfuls of her life while her screams tickled the palm of his hand and she struggled against him all warm and soft. Some of the stolen blood stiffened his cock; it really was a bloody shame that he didn't have enough time to do something with that. He'd always loved the feeling of being surrounded by human warmth, inside and out.

He stroked her hair as her body went limp, giving in to the inevitable. Her heartbeat began to slow. Oh, bugger.

Hastily he pulled his fangs out and applied pressure till the wounds stopped bleeding. "Joyce?" Fuck him for being a greedy sod, if he'd fucked it up, there'd be nothing left to do but run...

She opened her eyes and looked at him, a bit unfocused but not dead. "Time to go," he said lifting her into his arms. He felt the vitality of her blood charging through his dead veins, electric, erasing the last of his weakness. Fuck, it felt good to be back.

He kept one eye on the door to Angelus' room as he eased past. He knew Dru was in there, after 120 years awareness of her was second nature. After a session like the one he'd overheard last night she'd still be recovering. His nostrils flared at the thought of her lying on the bed with wet red stripes livid on her pale back, her lips curved as she dreamed. He hoped Angelus brought her back someone nice.

He was only a few feet short of the door when a couple of minions stepped out of the shadows and blocked his road. "Hey! Where're you going with her?" Vamp girl glared out at him from underneath a mess of sullen hair. Definitely not one of his, even drunk he had better bloody taste.

"You can walk?" The tall bastard who'd questioned his order last night demanded.

"Well spotted old son." He was actually glad to see them; a nice spot of violence was just what he needed. He propped Joyce against the wall, she blinked hazily up at him. "Be just a tick."

~*~

"It's my fault," the Slayer said. The broken timbre of her voice sent a pleasurable shiver down Spike's spine.

"Buffy, you know that's not true." That was her Watcher, trying his best to comfort her but she was having none of it; she turned away from him, with her face set in pain. Spike ducked down from the window before he was spotted. The entire gang of do-gooders was inside, their faces reflecting various degrees of misery. Chuckling, he went back to his car.

"Here you are, safe and sound," he said as he opened the car door. His passenger didn't respond. She didn't look at all well, her color was bad and she'd slipped into unconsciousness again on the drive over. For a moment he considered driving on to some quiet spot and finishing her off. If he did a half-decent job of hiding the body it ought to give him enough time to collect Dru before the prophecy dropped on their heads.

He shook his head, rejecting the idea; she'd held up her end of the deal and besides he was looking forward to seeing the Slayer's face. He unbuckled Joyce, hoisted her up in his arms and headed up the walkway.

"Oi! Slayer!" He kicked the door again. "I've got somethin' I think belongs to you!" She opened the door with a stake ready in one hand.

"Spike!" He took a step back. The look in her eyes would've put the wind up God Almighty. Her face melted when she realized who he had.

"Mom!" She started for him; froze when Spike clawed his hand around her mother's throat.

"Drop the weapon Slayer," he growled. She dropped it. "Helluva way to say thank you to someone who's tryin' to do you a good turn," he complained. "Well? Gonna let me in?"

"Buffy," that was the Watcher coming up behind her. "Don't…"

"Come in," she said, stepping aside. She watched coldly, her groupies crowded behind her as Spike crossed the threshold. Their eyes clashed for a bitter moment before he walked past her to deposit his burden onto the sofa. Joyce lay there, limp, his bite livid against her ashy skin. "Think she could use some medical attention," he said straightening up.

The Slayer bent down to touch her mum, her lip trembling. Guess I'm not getting a thank you, Spike thought and turned to beat a hasty retreat which was when things went pear-shaped. His head snapped forward as he was blindsided by the bloody watcher wielding a cricket bat. Spike wrenched it out of his hand when he tried for a second one and whacked him in the head with it. The watcher went down and Spike tossed the bat away and went for the door again only to find that the Slayer waiting for him. She buggered his ankle with a snap kick, then her dainty foot slammed into his crotch and when the black fireworks ended he found himself pinned against the wall with her forearm creasing his throat. The dark-haired boy and the Watcher both had crossbows trained on him. Buggeration.

"Say goodnight, Spike," the Slayer hissed. She pulled another stake from Christ knew where in her tiny excuse for an outfit and he realized this was it. Over her shoulder he saw Joyce lying on the couch with her eyes closed, being fussed over by the redhead and a rather tasty brunette. Last chance.

"Joyce!" He put everything he had into the shout.

"Shut up!" Buffy hissed. "Don't…"

Joyce's eyes opened and took in the situation. "No! Buffy! Don't kill him!"

"What?" The stake had poked a hole in his shirt, but was going no further for the moment.

"It wasn't him, it was Angel who kidnapped me," Joyce insisted. "Spike helped me get away."

"Spike? Why would he help you?" She glared at him, daring him to answer. Suspicious bitch.

"Cause I'm just a big fluffy bunny at heart!" He glared back into those huge hazel eyes brimful of hate. "Or maybe because I bloody hate the tosser and I knew it'd piss him off! What do you care? You've got your mum back, safe and sound."

"You're still a killer. I should still stake you."

"I agree." Her bastard watcher stood holding a bandage to his head. Looked like he'd be needing a new pair of specs. "Spike's a cold-blooded murderer."

Joyce winced at the reminder, but didn't back down. "Buffy. Let him go. Please."

"I don't get it, but O.K." Buffy pulled back the stake and got off him. "Get out of town Spike, and don't come back."

"No fucking worries." He paused for a moment in the doorway to make eye contact one last time. "Ta Joyce, been nice knowin' you," he waved and left before they changed their minds.

Joyce dropped back onto the cushions, exhausted. Last time she remembered being this tired she'd had a baby to show for it. Buffy threw herself on her, clinging like a five year old. "Mom! We were so worried, we found your purse and your car and oh God. Giles! There's blood. She's been bitten! Spike! I'm going to…"

"Angel…" Joyce lied weakly, she was so, so, tired. "Buffy, we need to talk about this whole Slayer business."

"Uh. O.K."

"I think we need to get your mother to the hospital," Giles said. "I'll drive."

"Mom?" She tried to smile and reassure her daughter, but she just couldn't seem to find the strength…

~*~

Coda

She was really very good, the black Slayer - Kendra, that was the name. Pity they didn't have time to dance.

A clawed hand slashed across Kendra's face. Ooh, that had to sting. She spun and kicked the vamp into the library desk. Blinking hard, trying to clear the blood pouring out of the cut she glared at her remaining opponents. Another vamp attacked from her blind side but she punched backwards with her stake - bull's-eye. Dust scattered as she fell back into a defensive stance and faced the others. She'd killed seven so far but she was starting to falter, her breath coming harder and the sweet smell of Slayer blood hung in a cloud around her. Spike was sorely tempted to join in.

Dru murmured something and he glanced down at her nervously, relaxing when he realized she was still safely out. She ought to be: he'd shot her with enough horse tranquilizers to take down a bloody Clydesdale. He was taking no chances.

He'd had a busy few days between building his strength back up, waiting for his chance with Dru, and staying out of the way of both Angelus and the Slayer. Courtesy of a contact at Sunnydale General, he knew Joyce had made it. Just needed a little top-up.

Tonight he'd trailed Dru and a pack of minions from the mansion, waiting for his chance. Angelus had left earlier on his own. He'd followed as she sailed alone in their wake, pale and glorious, letting them go into the school ahead of her.

"Hello baby," he said stepping out of the shadows just as she was about to enter.

"Spike?" Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. Dru was insane, not stupid. Before she could attack or call for help he shot her. She'd stared down at the tranquilizer dart embedded in her chest in disbelief, and then she got mad. Her face contorted with rage she'd lunged at him - and collapsed. He'd cuffed and gagged her and then given into the temptation to see what was so interesting inside.

There wasn't only slayer blood in the air; at least one of the slayer's crew had been hurt, maybe killed. Kendra feinted forward and reversed to hook an ambitious fledgling's feet right out from under him, as he fell the stake lashed out perfect aim again and now the odds were six to one. Two more dusted and her eyes glittered as she resumed the careful circling with the last four. They looked distinctly nervous, beginning to wonder if they were really going to be able to bring a Slayer down. She deflected an attack on the right, bending gracefully to dodge another claw-swipe - and her foot slipped. Seeing her off balance one rushed forward and delivered a hammer blow to her wrist and knocked the stake from her hand. She got her footing back, kicked out but too late, they were on her pulling her down in an ugly melee.

Really a shame, that.

Spike lifted his head as another pack of minions emerged from the stacks dragging the unconscious Watcher along with them. As soon as they caught the smell of Slayer blood all but two rushed to join in the feeding frenzy. Spike licked his lips and then turned, sensing something approaching, a prickle along his spine. He quickly lifted Dru into his arms and stepped back into the shadows; not a moment too soon.

Buffy burst into the library all golden and blazing like a comet. She hit the crowd around the fallen Slayer and exploded. He'd never seen anything like it; she'd staked three of them before they could turn around. Those that did try to defend themselves might as well have saved themselves the trouble. She was magnificent, a whirlwind of destruction, raining devastation onto them, staking and snapping necks until there was nothing left but ash.

He has to dance with this one… But not tonight.

He picked up his sleeping princess as Buffy knelt down at the other slayer's side and tried to rouse her. "Kendra?" She pulled her hand back, and stared at her blood-smeared hands, at the blood spreading from under the dead girl's body. "Oh no, Kendra." The Watcher got to his feet and began staggering to her side as she started to cry. Spike's last glimpse of her as he turned to go was of her agonized face, it was a memory he'd cherish.

"Time we were going Pet," he murmured into Dru's ear, adjusting her in his arms. "I hear Brazil's lovely this time of year."

END