Breaking a Slayer

Breaking a Slayer: Chapter 25

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

Spoilers/Ships: This is AU. Buffy/Spike/Angel.

Distribution: Sure, just let me know.

Feedback: Is always nice.

Rating: NC-17.

Blood. Searing hot and unbelievably powerful, it burned down his throat, ravishing his senses. Every dead nerve came alive, every muscle twitched. He could swear he felt his undead heart throb for a moment. Pleasure filled his entire being, but it was a knife's edge away from raw agony. That painful line pulsed within him, stealing his volition until the rapturous sucking at the font of his pain/pleasure was all he could feel, all he could focus on. It was so good, better than a thousand orgasms. He felt his cock awaken and spend, the pleasure building again almost immediately to another rapturous high.

Dimly, Spike became aware of himself and his being. Vampire. That's what he was. That's why this was so good. "Mmmm," he growled at the font, tearing into it deeply with fangs and clutching for unlife to this bountiful feast. Never had he felt this way, it was bliss. It was his and he would never leave it. The thought crystallized in his dazed mind as he sucked.

A far off growl was threatening him with pain somehow. Sire. He owed absolute obedience to that voice, that presence, and it was telling him to stop. How could he stop this feast, though, surely the Sire voice didn't demand that of him. He remembered dully the Sire causing unspeakable harm in the past. "Discipline, my boy. You lack discipline. But you will learn it or die the true death, Childe. Do you hear me?" Pain. He felt pain now, and not the pleasant burning of the font. Slowly he withdrew his fangs and hands from the body….*Fuck, who is this? Slayer! Hell, no…* "Buffy?!" he gasped, mouth dripping her blood onto his bare chest as she lay pale and unmoving in his deadly grasp. "Oh, no, not Buffy, not like this…"

Somewhere inside, Spike registered that he loved this woman. He didn't want her to die. He loved her warmth, the life that glowed from her amazing body. Sure, some time in the future he'd love to turn her. Just think of the havoc they could wreck through Sunnyhell and beyond! The human happy meals just waiting to be drained. But for now he wanted to revel in the living flesh that warmed his cold dead self. Somehow, Buffy had become necessary. As necessary as blood. Which was, he realized, what she had given him.

Angel pushed him frantically to one side and clutched at his mate. "Buffy, Buffy! Can you hear me, Beloved? God, Spike, what I d I done? I have to get her to the hospital." Angel lifted his mate carefully in his arms, still weak himself from the blood he'd fed to Spike. Spike could feel it inside him now, could smell it still welling slightly from the tear in Angel's wrist.

"I'll get the car, Sire," he said and raced for the door. He was amazed at the power he felt. *This was bloody amazing…pun intended,* he thought. He was more than a little high on the heady combination of his sire and the Slayer racing through his undead veins. *Blood is life, indeed, William old chap.*

Angel couldn't bear the awful sense of déjà vu he felt racing with Buffy limp in his arms through the dark mansion and into the car. As Spike drove, Angel clutched his mate to his unbeating heart and prayed…prayed that whatever gods or demons were listening would spare her life again. He carried her into the same ER where he'd been only a year ago and handed her over to the staff. He paced and Spike went to call Giles and tell him what had happened. God only knew what the Watcher would do to them both when he arrived.

*

Giles was livid. He stormed into the waiting room, meeting their eyes for a moment before ignoring both of them, striding to the attending and bullying his way into Buffy's room with Ripper fully to the fore.

"Didn't know they still taught the cut direct in Britain, did'ja, Sire," Spike asked snarkily, trying desperately to lighten the mood a bit.

Angel gazed at him and Spike was surprised and taken aback to see no hostility toward him at the situation. *After all, it was my fault,* he thought. Angel reached one large hand towards Spike's face and Spike flinched…steeling himself for the blow that was coming. Instead, Angel stroked him so gently it was only a whisper.

"T'wasn't yer fault, Will," he said, lapsing into the faint lilt that only came out in moments of great emotion. "T'was my doin'. I gave ye Sire's blood to try an' wake ye and when it didn't work, she offered hers. An' I let her. We both owe her our unlives now, Childe."

Spike looked solemnly back at his sire. "I'll go now, if that's what you want, Angelus," he said. "I never meant…not like this…I've wanted her, but I wouldn't have…I don't care that the bloomin' chip is gone…I just want her back and well." His voice dissolved to a thready whisper and Angel pulled the smaller man to him for a moment.

"Me, too, Childe. Me, too. But ye cannot leave me. I need ye, Will. Please stay with us," Angel begged, his voice breaking in grief and anguish.

"I'll stay as long as you want me, Sire" Spike heard himself reply.

To be continued…