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Heaven Sent

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Running was easy. She could do it forever. Only the thud of her heatbeat was missing. When Buffy halted, she had to clasp her hand over her mouth to stifle the giggles. She was in a graveyard. Upset, fleeing-her had gone straight to a cemetery for comfort. With a resigned sigh, she sat down and leaned against a marble tombstone.

Restfield, she thought, glancing around at the other markers before turning her gaze to the stars overhead. Her insides were a jumble and she hadn’t been able to handle hearing her best friends in all the world saying they wanted her dead. Though it was Willow’s words that weighed especially heavy. Buffy wasn’t supposed to like what she’d become. She was supposed to be a mess, hating herself, hating Bitch.

Hey!

“I like you just fine.”

I like you too.

For a minute, her mind was rosy as the girl and demon sides shared warm and fuzzy feelings. For those moments neither part was separate from the other and she felt whole. It didn’t last, of course. She was ashamed of having put her friends in the position of wanting her dead because she’d managed to get herself  killed and turned into a vampire. What a useless Slayer she’d turned out to be. Angel had just been too strong. She’d hopelessly struggled against him as he’d pinned her to the floor and ripped open her neck. She’d been terrified. When she’d screamed, he’d mashed his hand over her face so she couldn’t even breathe.

The worst part was that she’d died still loving him.

She bowed her head and stared at the gray-green grass. Perhaps she should have told her friends she hadn’t chosen this, but that she was okay with it now. Not great, but totally with the okayness. Maybe she even understood Willow and Xander being afraid of her. After all, they’d been taught to be for good reason, but it still hurt. And she had no idea what to do about it.

Kill them! Bitch gleefully suggested.

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Really?”

They were mean.

“But they’re my friends. I don’t want to hurt them and I think once they talk to me they’ll realize I’m still me and they won’t be reaching for stakes anymore.”

Killing them would be easier…and they were mean.

“Well, if we kill them doesn’t it just prove that they should have dusted me first?”

Huh. Bitch seemed to be mulling that over. If your mom is my mom, then your friends are my friends. The demon part of her at last concluded. There seemed to be a cosmic shift inside her own skull as Bitch seamlessly intertwined itself around that part of her mind and accepted her friendships and family as part of itself.

I still wish they weren’t so mean to us.

“Yeah, me too.” Like with the mirror, seeing her new-self reflected in her friends’ faces had been difficult because it wasn’t what she’d expected or what she was used to. They’d only seen a monster.

Buffy didn’t feel like a monster. She looked at her hands. They seemed the same as ever: strong and capable, able to wield a stake or punch an enemy in the face.

“Bitch,” she asked. “Are you a girl demon, or a boy demon, or do you even have a gender? How does that part work? I’ve been calling you “it” and that doesn’t feel right.”

I’m you.

“Ah, female.” That was comforting. Bitch being like her made things easier.

There was the faintest twinge from her sex, as if Bitch was reminding her they shared a body. It made her pussy feel empty. Her stomach rumbled, empty as well. She absently rubbed at her middle. It was the first time she’d felt hungry since rising. Buffy glanced around without thinking, looking for the person who had kept her full, in every way, since she’d crawled from her grave.

She was alone.

“Spike?” she said in a tiny voice as the graveyard went from familiar territory to terrifying unknown. Every shadow could harbor a threat. Panic, fueled by her demon, was threatening to take over. She’d expected Spike to follow her, but he either hadn’t or was being slow, and she was by herself for the first time since she’d brushed off the dirt of her own grave.

Bitch was freaking out, screeching for him nonstop.

“Would you shut up?” she hissed, climbing to her feet and pushing away the terror so she could reorient herself. She wasn’t lost, or helpless, even if Bitch was still climbing the walls. “Okay, try this. Yes, he’s safety, and food, and…and…”

Love? Bitch helpfully supplied.

“Yeah, that too.” Buffy sighed. Guess it wouldn’t kill her, uh, any more than she was already killed, to admit that. “But we’re far from helpless. We know right where we are and how to get back to Giles’ apartment.”

Bitch calmed down a fraction. And then we’ll never leave him again. It was a very emphatic declaration

“Never,” Buffy whispered in agreement. She was trotting towards the road that would take her back to Giles’ place when a man with a loaded crossbow stepped into her path, forcing her to stop. Another heartbeat became audible behind her. Buffy’s shoulders slumped. She’d been so focused on getting out of the graveyard that she’d walked right into an ambush.

The man standing in front of her with the crossbow was dressed like an extra from a mobster movie. “Well, lookie here,” he drawled in an accent that screamed New York. “Seems to me we caught ourselves a stray Slayer, Frank.”

“Sure thing, George. Only I hear she’s not a Slayer anymore.” The other man sounded like he hailed from the same part of the globe and as oily as a used car salesman.

Two men, no guns. “You’re Council,” she breathed. They didn’t smell afraid, and that terrified her. “Though you don’t sound like Council.”

“Recruited out of Hell’s Kitchen,” George said with a shrug.

“Over here, Buffy,” the man behind her called, stressing her name. She didn’t fall for the bait, keeping her eyes on George and the crossbow. After a moment, an object went spinning through the air and George caught it one handed, immediately brandishing it in her direction. A cross.

Bitch roared to the surface as Buffy stumbled backwards. Everything inside her churned.

“Had to be sure,” George said. The crossbow wavered the slightest amount as he prepared to fire. Buffy threw herself down and forward as George released the bowstring. The bolt hit the dirt where she’d been a second before. Buffy shot back to her feet and grabbed the crossbow from George with one hand, knocking away the cross with the other. She broke the bow over her knee and tossed the pieces to the ground.

“Okay, okay,” Frank said, hands raised placatingly as he came into her line of sight. He was older and thinner than his companion, but still dressed in the same ridiculous ‘Al Capone’ school of fashion. “Can we talk to Buffy again?”

Raising an eyebrow, she shook off her demon face. Bitch was oddly silent, or perhaps just not as separate as she usually was since they were dealing with a threat.

“Okay, Slayer,” Frank continued, his voice low and soothing. “I know you’re very frightened about what’s happened to you since you were turned.”

Uh, no?

“And that this is your nightmare made real, Slayer. We can help you. We can make it better. Your Watcher knows we’re here. We understand you don’t want to be hurting people, right, Slayer?”

Buffy rolled her eyes at the way he kept emphasizing her title. “Is that psychobabble supposed to work?” she snapped.  “Look, guys, I haven’t killed, or even hurt, anyone.”

George scoffed. “You’re a fledging vampire a day old, of course you’ve had to eat. At least somebody’s had to die, eh sweetheart?”

“George,” Frank warned. George must have gone off script.

Buffy huffed. “I said I hadn’t hurt anyone, I never said I hadn’t eaten.”

“I don’t think she’s going to go for the ‘come with us’ line,” George muttered, cracking his knuckles.

“Well, certainly not if I want to live!” Buffy warily took a few steps back.

“Look, little lady.” George pulled a stake from his jacket pocket.  “We’ve been training our whole lives for this scenario and I’m not going to let you ruin it.” Frank’s hand shook as he raised a knife to his own neck and drew a thin line down the side. Blood ran out of the shallow cut, but while she was hungry, she wasn’t even a tiny bit tempted.

Buffy put her hands on her hips. “Ew. Like I would ever!” Bitch was highly offended.

Frank looked lost. “That’s supposed to make you attack with uncontrollable blood lust.” Obviously a line from the training manual.

Buffy scoffed.

“Don’t think the bird’s interested in your neck, mate. Good try. A for effort.”

“Spike!” she cried. Relief flooded through her. Bitch was howling inside Buffy’s skull, desperate to get to him. Buffy nearly tripped over her own feet running to him. He put his arm around her and tucked her against his side. She knew she should apologize, or say something meaningful or witty, but coherent thought was difficult when she was so full of joy.  She gazed up into his face. “I’m hungry.”

“Not surprised, kitten. Let’s take care of these gits and get you somewhere safe to eat.” He waggled his eyebrows at her and it made her wiggle her hips in anticipation. Spike’s hand dropped down to squeeze her ass.

Frank and George both looked bewildered.

“Who do you think you are?” George finally asked.

“Boyfriend,” Spike replied.

“I thought you were with that Angel guy,” Frank said to Buffy, furrowing his brow.  

Spike tensed. “I get to take out that one.” He nodded in Frank’s direction.

“No killing,” Buffy murmured, even though Bitch harrumphed.

“Fine.” Spike didn’t sound very happy about that, but his hands still clenched into fists.

The wet-works guys had gone from acting like bullies to being something more akin to cows that’d just realized they were standing in line at the slaughterhouse.

Growling, Buffy launched herself at George. He squealed like a preteen girl at a boy band concert and tried to run, the stake falling forgotten from his hand. She grabbed the back of his jacket and snapped her fist into his skull, knocking him unconscious. So much for all that fancy training he supposedly had.

Frank was faring a little better. He still had ahold of his stake and there was an uncapped vial of holy water in his other hand, but judging from the easy grin on Spike’s face, Buffy wasn’t worried. Her vampire had everything under control.

With a jerk of his arm, Frank tried to slosh the water on Spike, but Spike easily dodged before whipping back around to kick the vial out of Frank’s hand. Spike paused and then gracefully sidestepped Frank’s lunge forward with the stake. Spike backhanded the Council’s man and Frank went to his knees. Making it look easy, Spike grabbed Frank’s collar and slammed the guy’s head into a tombstone hard enough to put his lights out.

Buffy surveyed the two unconscious men as they lay on the grass of the cemetery. “We probably can’t leave them here. I doubt we’re the only vampires out and about.”

“I just have to be with a Slayer,” Spike grumbled as he fished a set of keys out of Frank’s pocket and slung the man over his shoulder. “They’ll have a van in the parking lot.” Buffy hefted George up in a fireman’s carry and trailed after Spike. Sure enough, there was a big black van in the cemetery’s gravel lot. Spike unlocked the back and let out a low whistle. “They’re stocked up.”

There were enough supplies, from camping equipment to firearms, for a small army. Spike eagerly grabbed quite a few things before they dropped the two men inside the van, and closed it back up. He loaded Buffy down with gear, mostly things like flashlights, electric lamps, and pillows. He had an empty ice chest and several sleeping bags and pillows in his arms. “Do you have somewhere in mind?” she asked.

“Actually, yeah. The old crypts here have more than a few places to hide in ‘em.”

She wrinkled her nose. “You want me to sleep in a tomb?”

“We’re both dead, seems appropriate.”

She didn’t have a comeback for that one.

Spike dismissed a few different crypts before finding one that suited them. It was on the larger side with ivy growing over one wall of its white marble exterior.

“Home sweet home,” he said with a sweep of his arms. It was dusty, but there was a wonderful lack of coffins or dead bodies. Two heavy stone sarcophagi dominated the center. “The power lines run close by so I’ll be able to nab us electricity, and there’s a trap door to a lower level, so once we get things set up down there we’ll be safe as houses.” He was bouncing on the balls of his feet. “What do you think?”

It was a dirty crypt in a cemetery. There certainly wasn’t a white picket fence–Bitch recoiled at that dangerous idea–or even a sink. Buffy glanced at Spike’s expectant face. It wasn’t her idea of home by a long shot, but it did have one redeeming feature. She patted his arm. “As long as you’re here, it’s perfect.”

He smiled widely. “Now, help me move the lids on these sarcophagi, they weigh a bloody ton.”

With some grunting, they managed to open both of them. “Empty?” she asked, looking inside with a flashlight. There wasn’t a single moldering bone. It was almost a letdown.

“We’re probably not the first to use them as a hideout. Saves us time at any rate, not having to clean them out.”

Spike placed most of their supplies in one of the tombs and made a nest with the sleeping bags, pillows, and blankets they’d found in the van in the other. They wrestled the top of the sarcophagus with the supplies back into place. “I wish we didn’t need to hide,” she said as Spike shucked his duster and neatly folded it before placing it in the corner of the sarcophagus with the blankets.

“I know, luv, but as a vampire it’s going to feel like you’re always hiding. From folks who want to dust you, from other vamps that want to dust you, and even from ole Mr. Sunshine himself, who, coincidently, also wants to dust you.”

She fiddled with the hem of her shirt.

“It’s not so bad, B, I promise we’ll have fun together. There’s so many things I want to show you and do with you.” A shiver passed through his body. “Silver moonlight washing over your skin as we make love together on a hidden beach in Mexico, the lights of Paris spread out below us as I push inside you from behind at the top of the Eiffel Tower…” He sighed happily.

Bitch was quivering with excitement and Buffy giggled. “I like your pretty pictures, but they do seem to have a theme.”

“Can’t help it. You’re very inspirational.”

She blinked at him as warmth radiated out from her chest.

Spike paused with his shirt halfway off. “What’s that look for?”

“No one’s ever called me something like that before.”

“Wankers, all of them.” He pulled his shirt the rest of the way off. “There’s never been a muse like you. Now best strip down if you want your dinner.”

She almost told him to turn his back, only that’d be silly after everything they’d done together, so instead she quickly stripped down and piled her clothes in the opposite corner of the sarcophagus from his before jumping in and pulling a blanket over herself, feeling almost shy. She could hear him undoing his belt and her pussy clenched in anticipation.

He settled down beside her. “Help me with the lid, luv.”

“The lid? We have to close the lid?” It would be like being back in her coffin again and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

Spike tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “It’ll be okay. Trust me. I’ve never met a vampire yet who’s claustrophobic, almost universally small, dark places are a good thing to us. That sleeping in a coffin rumor got started for a reason.”

She looked up with trepidation at the heavy stone lid.

“Also, with it closed, if anyone looks in here the place will seem deserted. I doubt even the boys with guns your Watcher was talking about have the wherewithal to be searching every nook and cranny of every cemetery in Sunnydale.”

“Oh, right.” Couldn’t everyone just leave her and Spike alone?

Between the two of them, they hefted the lid closed and were plunged into absolute darkness. Buffy paused, but she found she really didn’t feel upset or scared. Bitch did indeed like being curled up cozily in the dark with Spike and Buffy found her whole body relaxing. Though she couldn’t see him, she rolled onto her side facing him and could hear him mirroring her position.

She put her hand out, running it over the smooth planes of Spike’s chest. Under her touch, his muscles shivered.  She traced one shoulder and bicep and trailed her nails down his forearm, over his waist to his bellybutton, and then lower to briefly stroke his already hard cock, before she raised her fingers to his face. He nuzzled into her palm as she outlined the bumps and ridges of his brow with her fingertips. “You wear your demon face a lot,” she said.

“Because you do.” His hand engulfed her hip, squeezing, then rose to tease her nipples.

“But I’m new, so I’m supposed to have my bumpies showing all the time.”

“Yeah, but you having your fangs out makes me eager to have mine on display as well. I adore your demon, pet, just as much as I do you, and I want to share that side of myself with you.”

His sweet words made Bitch writhe with happiness. Unfortunately, her mind dredged up the venom that’d been in her friends’ voices earlier that evening. “I’m glad someone likes Bitch, beside me,” Buffy whispered.

“Hey.” He planted kissed on her brow. “Give your mum and friends time. They haven’t figured all this out yet. You haven’t figured all this out yet for that matter, and I bleeding well sure as hell haven’t.”

“Do you really think they’ll eventually…forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive. You didn’t choose this, but you’re making the best of it. And yes, your bleeding-heart, white-hat friends will get it through their thick skulls that you deserve much more than a dusty end. They’ll discover they’re still your friends. If there’s one thing I know about you lot, it’s that you stick together.”

She kissed his shoulder as his hand left her breast and glided down to knead her rear. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, though I do have half a mind to rip those panties your mom sent you to shreds. They go nearly up to your armpits.”

“Don’t you dare! Unlike some people I shall not mention, I’d feel weird without them on.”

“I feel weird when you do have them on.”

“It’s not your ass!”

His fingers flexed and his claws dug into the cheek of her behind. “The hell it’s not!”

She went a little cross-eyed from the pleasure that accompanied the pain. “Okay, maybe it kind of is.”

“That’s better. Now–“ He pulled her tight against him and helped her hook a leg over his hip so the head of his cock was brushing her sex. “I do believe it’s supper time.”

Buffy lapped at his neck and marveled at how peaceful she felt. Spike slid his cock into her at the same time her fangs pierced his skin. He rolled his hips slowly, making love to her as she gently sucked and swallowed his blood.

In the complete darkness of the tomb it didn’t matter if her eyes were open or closed. There were no other scents beside that of Spike’s and her own. His arm hugged her as they rocked together. He surrounded her and filled her. She was in paradise.

The slide of his cock in and out of her channel was all the more intense since she couldn’t see him. The connection felt elemental, a basic part of her.

Her clit was throbbing and she worked her hand between their heaving hips until she could sweep her fingers over the distended nub. Spike groaned and his thrusts became harder, sharper. They drove her relentlessly towards a climax.

Her belly tightened and she came with a whimper, then again, and again, again. She released her lover’s throat and lay panting as he increased the speed of his hips. He peaked, and she squeezed her inner muscles tight around him as his cock spasmed, making him curse and bark out her name.

When he was spent, Spike burrowed his nose into her hair. “Forever like this, kitten. Every morning and evening. It’s all I can think about. You, right here beside me for all eternity.”

“Yes,” she whispered. Spike was purring loudly now, and Bitch was accompanying him, the contented rumblings of their demons making her feel at peace. She wanted to go to all those places she’d only seen in calendar pictures, but only if Spike was at her side. For the first time, she had hope that she could. A Slayer couldn’t leave her post, but a vampire could go anywhere. It was thrilling. “Where will you take me first, when we can leave here?” she asked.

“To wherever your heart desires.”

The possibilities seemed endless.