They’d been the only two to go out that evening. Willow, Cordy, and Xander had been sequestered in their bedroom since last evening, and Spike had been locked up in his room when Buffy and Dru had left. They’d left him to himself since last night he’d taken down four of the local demon hunters without even breaking a (metaphorical) sweat. He had a tendency to go on benders after big kills. Buffy and Dru usually let him be for one or two days before yanking him out of the low that inevitably followed the high of the hunt.

Buffy wished Spike were here now, though, simply because she trusted him to be able to handle Dalton with his customary brashness.

The bookish vampire looked up from the papers scattered around him and gave Buffy a tight smile. “Back in town for the ceremony, as well?” he inquired politely. He rose and gave Dru a graceful bow of his head. After all, it wasn’t every day he encountered a Master of the Order.

Dru smiled and drifted over towards him, moving as gracefully as if she were the wind itself. “Words and ink crawling around like worms, deeper and deeper…” She slid her arms around Dalton from behind and massaged his temples lightly for a second before flitting away once more.

Apparently Drusilla’s last few days of lucidity had well and truly passed.

Dalton’s eyes widened, and he looked to Buffy for help. She just shrugged. Fortunately, Dru appeared to be in one of her fickle moods tonight and let him be.

“The pixies are playing with their boy,” she sing-songed, letting her eyelids flutter shut and giggling as if she could see the naughty images playing behind her closed eyes. Which, given her clairvoyant abilities, could well have been the case for all Buffy knew. “Always room for one more.” Drusilla’s large dark eyes stared into Buffy’s invitingly.

“Go on without me,” Buffy shook her head. She’d been keeping as safe a distance as she could from Willow over the past two days. Not too difficult since the other vampiric threesome had been in bed most of that time. It also meant that Buffy hadn’t had a chance to speak with Xander alone after their conversation had been interrupted, but nothing was perfect.

Drusilla shrugged. “Your loss,” she teased with a hint of that sisterly affection once more.

Buffy watched her go and bit her lip. She wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but Dru had seemed more unhinged since they’d returned to Sunnydale. Or maybe it was just that Buffy hated this place so much.

Dalton watched Drusilla go with intelligent eyes that were remarkably free from all calculation. Civil servants didn’t need to jockey for power; they were set for unlife. “Behaving oddly, is she?” he inquired casually, pushing his glasses back up on the bridge of his nose and returning to his study of the papers before him.

“Everyone is. What’s new?” Buffy retorted defensively. She’d never really known how to act around Order members. Spike was disdainful of them; Drusilla practically worshipped the ground the walked on. But both seemed wary of the power the Order of Aurelius wielded.

“Hellmouths will do that,” Dalton agreed pleasantly enough. Buffy had to give him that much; he didn’t flaunt his power or act particularly arrogant. In fact, she almost liked Dalton. He reminded her a bit of the watcher and surrogate father she’d left behind all those decades ago…

“Really?” She’d had sneaking suspicions, but she’d always just assumed she was being paranoid. Nice to know her senses weren’t that far off base.

“Hellmouths are tricky things,” Dalton agreed, discussing this as if it were a casual everyday subject while he penned his name on one of the parchments before him. “They draw vampires, but don’t seem to particularly like them. We’re a bit too human for their tastes, I suppose.”

More like Giles every minute. “Lucky us,” Buffy grumbled.

“The joys of being half-breeds,” he concurred a bit bitterly. “Although we’re fortunate that your friend Willow has been able to control this Hellmouth so well.”

“Fortunate?” Buffy repeated in disbelief. “Because of Willow?” She looked at him skeptically.

“There are two ways a Hellmouth can twist vampires,” Dalton agreed. “It either makes them power-mad or apocalyptically suicidal.”

“And Willow falls neatly in the ‘power-mad’ category. That’s why you’re giving it to her, even though she’s not a true member of the Order,” Buffy realized.

Dalton gave her a tight smile. “The Order is very opposed to the end of the world. With all full-blooded demons banished from this plane, we are quite powerful. Without…”

“Better the devil you know, that the devil you don’t,” Buffy countered.

“Something like that.” He returned to his work.

Buffy shivered. Dalton himself wasn’t that powerful – in fact, she was willing to wager that she could take him easily – but his words spoke of ancient rites and magic she couldn’t even dream of. A dark echo of danger from his masters.

“I’m going to go check in on Spike,” she announced, more to break that eerie stillness than because Dalton needed to know.

He gulped at that. Even with the Order behind him, he was still here on his own. And Spike was one of the few vampires reckless enough to do him harm. The young Master simply had no respect for his elders. After watching countless vampires bow before the Order, Dalton could almost respect Spike for refusing to tow the party line so mindlessly.

“I will see you all again shortly enough,” Dalton agreed, humming softly to himself as if he were in on some joke that Buffy couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

She shook her head and left the amused scribe to his work. In another thousand years, the rest of them might all have killed each other in their little battles for dominance, but Dalton would still be there – unharmed – scratching away at his paperwork. It was sobering thought. And one that taught all too well that power wasn’t everything…

“Spike?” Buffy’s voice sounded hollow in the silent bedroom. Apparently Dalton’s words had struck deeper than she’d at first thought.

She got no response and, as she approached the bed, she was surprised to see Spike, curled in on himself, apparently asleep. In the flickering candlelight, the powerful curves of his back and bottom looked like they’d be warm to the touch. With a small smile, she kicked off her boots and pants and pulled off her shirt before crawling into bed behind him.

He murmured softly when her nude body spooned up against him from behind. “Buffy…” he sighed.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” she teased lightly, planting gentle kisses on the nape of his neck, following the strong line of his spine down. “Not coming out to play tonight?”

“Where’s the Wicked Witch of the West?” he retorted.

She couldn’t help but giggle at that. It really was too perfect a description of Willow. “She’s still got Xander chained to the bed. Everyone else is busy playing with him.” Buffy’s hand slid forward to gently encircle his growing erection. “I came here to see you…”

He purred and leaned back into her embrace. “Mmm…” He turned his head so that he could breathe in the perfume of her hair. He didn’t make any other move to touch her, however, remaining limp and passive in her arms.

And, as much as Buffy enjoyed having him completely at her mercy, she couldn’t help but ask, “Is everything all right?” Her lips found his temple and kissed it reverently.

He sighed. “Nothing worth fussin’ about, luv.”

“But?” she pressed in that stubborn tone that let him know all too well that she wouldn’t drop it until he’d told her what the problem was.

A bit of that nearly unrestrained passion flickered in the back of his blue eyes – annoyance at her persistent ways – before he smiled and kissed her. “Love you.”

Even after nearly fifty years, his kisses still left her breathless. Especially when they were soft and tender like this one. “Love you, too,” she murmured, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck.

He pressed his body back into hers, felt the coarseness of the hairs between her thighs and her wetness against the curve of his ass. Always so eager for him, just as he was with her… “How ‘bout we take off tomorrow?” he inquired.

Buffy blinked at that. “What about Willow’s…thingy?” she wondered, waving her hands about inarticulately.

He snorted. “Near as I can tell, Red just wants me to muscle the demon hunters up a bit. Had a nice enough romp last night, but still don’t see much reason to play her game.”

“Fun stuff to kill?” Buffy guessed.

He frowned at that. “And give her the perfect openin’ to go after you,” he countered. He found her thigh with one hand and guided it over his hips, wrapping her further around him. “Don’t think I don’t see what she’s up to.”

“Yeah, she’s not winning any subtlety awards, is she?” Buffy sighed. “But Dalton just got in town. This ceremony or whatever should be over quick, and we can be gone. Of course, we could be gone even sooner if we ditched…” she added hopefully.

Spike sighed at that. “Dru’s a bit into the pomp and circumstance. Won’t wanna head out ‘til the fun’s over.”

“She could catch up with us,” Buffy encouraged. This was sounding better to her all the time. Just her and Spike, on their own, doing whatever they wanted… Even though they’d been in Sunnydale less than a week, already those old days of freedom felt so far away. Like a wearying, relentless force weighed down on them. The Hellmouth…

He shook his head. “Family and the Order are important to Dru. Gotta do my best to stand by her.”

Buffy bit her lower lip. There was a fierce thread of loyalty between her sire and grandsire. She didn’t come across often, just enough to know that it was completely unbreakable. Almost like the tie that kept her from leaving Spike behind. “It’ll be over soon,” she sighed, reluctantly resigning herself to the fact that they would be staying.

He groaned. “I hate this place,” he announced, his voice taking on the upper-class tones that he slipped back into when he was most agitated.

She stroked his snowy-white hair. Her demon was whispering now. About how if Dru were gone, they could leave whenever they pleased. She pushed those thoughts aside. Now wasn’t the time for them. “I hate it, too,” she sighed.

He chuckled at that. “Would imagine so,” he agreed, resting his head back down on the pillow. “Remember back in Lisbon when you and Dru cornered that Perrik Demon?” he sighed fondly.

Buffy giggled. “Hey, we weren’t half as bad as you trying to fend off the warlock in Richmond.” She affected a horrible British accent. “‘Watch the hair, you—ow!’”

He shot her a nasty look over his shoulder and made a little humphing sound, lying back down. Buffy breathed in deep and could still smell the lingering scent of alcohol on him. Bourbon, she would guess.

“You smell yummy,” she whispered softly against his back, trying to cheer him up.

He mumbled something inarticulate.

“What was that?”

He sighed. “You ever get the feelin’ something awful’s ‘bout to happen?” he repeated more clearly.

Buffy gulped at that, Drusilla’s prophetic words coming back to her in a rush. “That’s just the Hellmouth talking,” she insisted, whether for his benefit or her own, not even she was sure. Hesitantly, her hand slipped between their bodies, and one finger began to gently trace the curve of his ass. “I love you so much,” she whispered.

He sighed at that and rubbed back against her encouragingly.

She paused for a second then, surprised and unsure. She’d seen Dru comfort him this way dozens of times, but she’d never done it herself. Their relationship was such that he usually had to do the comforting. 

Not that she hadn’t imagined touching him like this for so long…

Her left arm slid under his waist, holding his body back against hers. One of the great advantages of having no circulation was that her arm didn’t go numb from holding his weight, leaving her hand free to gently encircle his erection once more.

He gasped and ground against the hand at the small of his back pointedly.

With a little gulp, her finger slipped between the perfect cheeks of his ass and began circling the puckered opening she found there slowly. When he didn’t object, her hand moved to between her own thighs and slipped inside three times – she was so wet for him that was all that was needed – before returning to his opening.

He hissed when she first entered him, but she was amazed how fast he relaxed, how easily he gave in to her. Her left hand continued to wrap around his cock, pulling on him slowly and rhythmically, while she worked a second finger into his ass.

“Luv,” he whispered, collapsing back into her arms in pleasure. He couldn’t believe he’d never tried this with her before. But Buffy had always been a lot more one-sided in her gender roles than Dru, and he’d foolishly assumed that it would feel the same to have his childe inside him as his sire.

But this was so much more intense. For so many years, he’d been cautious. Now, to finally give himself over entirely to a younger vampire was such a relief, so wonderful…

Buffy nibbled lightly at his ear and stroked his prostate with the pads on her index and middle fingers. She didn’t feel any pressing need to enter him further. Just this slow, gentle assurance that he could trust her, could always come back to her.

“Am I doing it right?” she teased lightly, already knowing from the expression on his face that she was doing a perfect job.

He tried to think of a comeback, but the feel of her – both deep inside of him and surrounding him – was too much. With a final gasp, he came into her hand, his entire body collapsing from the overwhelming ecstasy.

And, for that one moment, he felt a twinge of regret. Regret that Dru was his mate, so he could never give that to his beautiful childe. Regret that their respective ages meant that only too rarely would they be able to enjoy each other’s company in this way. Because, no matter how much he loved her or how much he believed it in private, he could never really declare her his equal. Able to enter his body just as he entered hers. Not yet, at least. 

Not until that same sodding organization he’d shunned for years welcomed her as a Master. It was silly which of Angelus’ teachings still held sway over him, but this was one of them. He was never going to show himself as anything but the master of all around him. Not ever again.

Buffy noticed the thoughts flickering over his face, slowly replacing the bliss of orgasm. “What’s the matter?” she wondered, concerned that she’d done something wrong.

He grinned and twisted in her arms, suddenly aggressive once more. She yipped in her surprise as he caught her to him, settling her in his lap with her thighs straddling his waist. “You’re amazin’, my li’l slayer,” he purred against her cheek.

She breathed a sigh of relief at that. “Don’t scare me like that,” she complained. “Asshole.”

“And how well you know,” he countered.

Buffy’s cheek managed to redden at that. “Prick.”

“If you insist…” he teased, lowering her into his lap. His cock pierced her inner folds, burying itself deep inside her.

She tried to scowl at him, but it really was impossible with him inside her, moving in just the perfect way to bring her the most pleasure the quickest. “Some being so literal,” she griped before burying her fingers in his hair and pulling him in for a kiss.

“You taste like fresh blood,” he whispered huskily when they pulled apart. His demon’s hunger flitted in the back of his eyes. Apparently, he hadn’t fed yet tonight.

“I’m plenty full,” she agreed, tilting her head to one side and baring her neck. She pressed his mouth against her tender flesh, gasping when his fangs grazed the marks where he’d first made her decades before.

A roar of triumph ripped from his lips as his fangs sunk into her eager flesh. He pulled on the stolen life force in her body, feeding his own hunger. Somehow vampires kept some echo of their original human taste within their blood, and he could taste the faintest trace of the slayer’s power within her. Always made her the perfect aphrodisiac…

Neither bothered to drag their pleasure out, and they came together amidst moans and kisses, bodies grinding feverishly together and hands caressing bare flesh wherever they could find it. Finally collapsed together in a pile of tangled limbs, they wrapped the silk sheets around their bodies and just held on tight.

“I’m yours,” Buffy murmured softly against his throat, feeling sleepy from the sex and blood loss. “Always yours…”

“Always yours, too, kitten,” he purred in agreement.

Buffy sighed and held him closer. “Such a pretty vampire,” she teased lightly.

He let out a little snort of laughter before sobering once more. “Was me in there once, y’know,” he whispered.

“Mmm?” she inquired contentedly.

She could feel the movement of his throat against her forehead as he gulped. “Angelus and Darla and Dru,” he provided.

Buffy stilled at that. He often consoled Drusilla about things that had happened with their previous family, but he never spoke of what had happened to himself in those days, back when he’d been too weak and young to fight his elders off…

“Just like Willow’s bitta fun,” he continued with a hollow laugh. “They’d tie me down for days and…” He trailed off, obviously embarrassed.

“Shh,” Buffy soothed him. “It’s all right now.” Not that it was, really. Even the undead couldn’t fully escape their pasts. Buffy still bore her own psychological scars from every time she’d been taken against her will. But she’d learned to move beyond it, just as Spike did. The vampires who didn’t were the ones who didn’t survive. A pretty but harsh mistress, their world was.

Exhausted by even this small admission, Spike’s eyelids shut and he drifted slowly into sleep. It was always a bit unnerving, showing humanity and risking yourself. But he trusted her with his life and – more importantly – his heart. Just as she trusted him.

And, as Buffy tried to fall asleep as well, she had to fight off the weight of that trust on her conscience. Because all too soon, she was going to try to snatch from her sire the thing his treasured most, his mate…

It was a strange myth that demons didn’t feel guilt. True, they didn’t care one way or another about the lives of humans. But, then, humans were insignificant little creatures. Nothing but food, really. Other vampires, however…

Buffy wondered if she would feel guilty slipping between Spike and Dru, ripping them apart.

But then Dru came back, oblivious to her childe’s distress, and climbed into the bed. “Mommy’s turn to be in the middle,” she whispered to Buffy, situating herself between the blonde pair.

And Buffy couldn’t help but feel her resolve harden. She watched Spike stir and then curl into Drusilla’s arms instead, and all she could think of was the unfairness of it all. After all, she’d been the one to comfort him, while Dru had been off causing him even further agitation.

“Soon,” Drusilla murmured in her sleep. “So soon now. Dark death so close…”

Rage boiled in Buffy’s stolen blood.

And, below her, the Hellmouth cackled…