His Childe

A/N : Just a little warning. In the next few chapters, you'll be seriously wondering if it is a B/A story. It's not. Enough said.

Chapter dedicated to Alan in Arkansas... thanks again  :-)

A few minutes after nightfall, Angel was entering the Summers’ household. Willow didn’t need him to be physically present to cast her spell, but he wanted to be with Buffy. Since leaving her the night before, he hadn’t stopped thinking of her. For so long, he had thought they would never be together again. They couldn’t be together. Not because of his soul. Because she deserved so much more than what he could offer her.

Everything had changed. Now, he could allow himself to be hers. The only thing that prevented him from losing his soul before it became permanent was the simple fact that his love was now a creature of the night. Even if her being turned was the thing that finally made everything possible, part of him wanted to scream at the idea that a woman so full of life and light was now undead. The other part – the demon part, he told himself – was outraged not because she had been turned, but because he wasn’t the one who had done it. The thought had crossed his mind, of course, when they called to tell him she was dying. But he wouldn’t have done it. He couldn’t have. Killing her would have destroyed him.

Spike hadn’t had the same hesitation.

Spike… The younger vampire was a mystery to him. He used to know him as well as he knew himself – or rather, Angelus did. But it wasn’t true any more. The blonde had changed. Angel couldn’t believe he had actually thought of giving Buffy a soul. When he could have run away with her, he had instead arranged for her to be ensouled permanently and had brought her back to her family and friends. Angel knew it had to mean two things.

One, Spike wasn’t in love with Buffy as the Scoobies seemed to believe. If he had loved her, he would never have let her return home, he would have kept her for himself. That was his nature. Maybe he believed he was in love with her, but it probably was mere infatuation.

Two, the bond between them was weak. He had certainly given her just enough to turn her. He wasn’t stupid enough to make her his Childe, not if he planned to let her go home.

In any case, it was a struggle not to go find him and put an end to his existence. If only Buffy had not insisted… Yet, he could understand her, she had a right to dust him herself. Angel wished he knew why she hadn’t done it yet, though.

The spell was only a matter of minutes. A lot of tension and excitement for a little thing, really. It wasn’t exactly like the one he had seen the Witches perform for Buffy, since he already had a soul that just needed to be permanently attached to him. He didn’t feel any different now that it was done, but for a few seconds after the spell, he had felt like a ton of bricks had hit him. Quite unpleasant sensation.

After that, he went out with Buffy, more to talk than for patrol. He had a lot to tell her. She listened, asking for details now and then, her arm wrapped around his waist, his on her shoulders. She didn’t say a word about the Darla part, but asked gentle questions about Connor. It didn’t hurt as it usually did to talk of his lost son with her.

At some point, they decided not to rush things, and instead to take the time to rediscover each other before getting intimate. They had waited so long already, a few more days was nothing.

They had talked, and walked around Sunnydale for hours, occasionally dusting a vamp when they came across one. It felt like old times for Buffy, before he had left for LA, before Angelus even. Right now, that was just what she wanted. Of course, she trusted Willow and her spells, but she felt a little hesitant at the idea of making love to him. Though she wouldn’t object to sleeping in his arms. Or kiss him wildly, her body crushed between him and a tree. Which was exactly what was happening. Kissing promised to be even more intense now that neither of them needed to break off for breath. So intense, in fact, that she almost forgot their resolve to wait before pushing things further.

With a sigh, she pulled away from his lips, and let her mouth trail against his cool skin, licking a path down his jaw and along his neck. She nibbled with blunt teeth, eliciting a soft growl. Suddenly, she remembered Spike’s warning. She needed to ask first. She made herself meet his gaze, happy that she wouldn’t be blushing.

“Can I taste you?” she asked in a whisper.

He blinked several times, as if unsure of what she was asking exactly. Then he nodded, tilting his head ever so slightly. She kissed the offered neck before shifting and sinking her fangs into his flesh. She sipped slowly, eyes closed, forcing herself to take her time and savor every drop of his blood. Much better than bagged blood, even if it was cold, she thought dimly. Also, different from Spike’s. Just as good, but… different. Something was missing, and absently she told herself Angel must have been feeding on animal blood. He was moaning softly against her, and she had to repress a smile at the thought that she was the cause of that sound.

Abruptly, her eyes shot open and she stared at the vampire that was standing just a few yards behind Angel. At the second their eyes met, she jerked her mouth away from the brunette’s skin, making him grunt in surprise. He looked at her questioningly, then turned to see what she was looking at so intently. The peroxided blonde was already striding away, his duster flapping behind him. Angel took a step in his direction, but Buffy stopped him, shaking her head lightly.

In silence, they made their way to Revello Drive, and after a long good night kiss, Angel returned to the mansion as Buffy went to bed. In truth, she wasn’t sleepy, but she had decided to try and keep as much of a regular schedule as she could, for Dawn’s sake.

Despite all she had shared with Angel that night, an image was haunting her.

Deep blue eyes.

Filled with surprise, and pain.

On his way back to the crypt, Spike smashed through a liquors store’s window, and indiscriminately grabbed all the bottles he could carry.

That would teach him about minding his own business. Great idea, latest on a list of equally great ideas, to keep patrolling now that she was back to doing it herself. And with the poof. Fucking great idea. At least, now he knew why she had refused his blood. The girl had found another supplier.

It wasn’t like it was a surprise. Hell, it wasn’t even like he cared.

By the time he had emptied his fifth bottle, he really didn’t care any more.

Not much.