Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or any of the characters.

Author's Note: I'm back! I've been working on this one for a couple of years so I figured I would post it now. Rated M for mature content and language. As always, I thrive on your reviews. Enjoy!

Spike stepped back to admire her, chained to the wall and looking peaceful in unconsciousness. She would put up a fight when she woke, that much he was sure of. But to look upon her now, with no worried creases in her brow and her lips not turned down into a frown, he felt certain that he was making the right decision. He had to have her.

He glanced over at Drusilla's limp form. Once, restraining her would have held some sort of pleasure for him. Now, he looked at her with something resembling disdain. She had never cared for him. He was her plaything, an object with which she amused herself. Her little stunts with Angelus after their relocation to Sunnydale were proof of that. She was nothing to him now.

He turned to look at Buffy again, and smiled. This woman meant everything to him. A small part of him loathed her for the feeling she stirred in him, stronger than anything he had ever felt for his sire. He was finished burying his feelings for her; she had to know what she meant to him. There was nothing he wouldn't do for her. Now, to get her to see that. He was confident that he could.

Drusilla stirred awake, blinking slowly in an attempt to regain her bearings. Her eyes narrowed to slits when she saw the cold metal restraints around her wrists. She glared at Spike.

"Bad boy," she pouted. Spike shrugged, disinterested.

He moved to the side of the large basement room, sitting down in a chair there to wait out Buffy's unconsciousness. Any time now.

The first sign of her awakening, several minutes later, was a soft groan. She slowly opened her eyes, taking in the scene around her. She looked slightly afraid. Spike winced. Not a reaction he wanted from her; she needed to see that he wasn't a threat to her. The time for bravado and putting on a dangerous front was long over—they both knew he wouldn't hurt her.

"It's okay, love," he said softly, approaching her as he might approach a spooked animal. "You'll be alright. I won't hurt you."

She sneered at him. "You couldn't if you tried." He loved that fire inside her. It was what made her so special. That fierce determination.

"Now let me go," she growled out between clenched teeth. Spike chuckled.

"Don't think that's such a good idea, pet. Besides, I think you need to hear me out." He saw Buffy's eyes flick over to Drusilla, and noted the slightly confused expression at the sight of his former love chained as she was. Good. Maybe she'd listen a little better to him, knowing he would not allow Drusilla to harm her.

He reached out his fingertips to lightly graze her cheekbone. She flinched a bit, but could not back away. He held his hand there for a moment, marveling at the softness of her skin. He could smell her; she wore a little perfume, and lavender-scented shampoo enveloped her golden tresses, but her natural scent was more appealing. He could almost taste the sweetness of her blood.

"I love you," he said quietly, being sure to make eye contact. She looked away angrily, but Spike could see the blush forming on her cheeks. He took her chin in his hand and gently turned her face back to him. "Look at me."

She grudgingly looked back at him. Her eyes were startlingly pretty, though they were partially distorted with obvious disgust. Even with that look on her face, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

"I do. I love you. I'd do anything for you. Be anything for you." He could see the look on her face soften slightly at his words. His heart lifted. It was a start. He sounded like a lovesick poet, but it was worth it if he could get her to listen to him.

"You're a vampire. Vampires don't love." He could hear the hardness in her voice. He wasn't sure if she didn't want him, or if she was afraid of him. Of getting hurt. He leaned in and breathed in her scent. He suddenly got an idea.

Daringly, he leaned into her neck and gently nuzzled it, feeling her flinch away from him. When she stilled, he placed a gentle kiss just above her jugular, hearing the way her blood hummed in her veins. He parted his lips slightly and sucked the skin right over her pulse. Instantly he smelled her arousal. Not that she doesn't want me, then. He pulled back, smirking. By the look on her face, she could tell what he had done. Her blush intensified. She looked furious with herself.

"What do you want, Spike?" she growled, glaring up at him again despite her obvious embarrassment. He looked at her as though the answer should be obvious.

"You. I want you."

Buffy glanced away. Spike could hear Drusilla's mad ramblings behind him, ranting about how she knew he was in love with the Slayer. He tuned her out.

"Could you ever love me?" he half-whispered. Her head snapped up, and the anger in her eyes scorched him.

"Never."

Her words felt like a stake through his heart, but it was no less than he expected. He took a deep breath.

"Well, then," he said, his trademark smirk back on his face. "We'll just have to change that, won't we."

He pulled a stake from his back pocket and hurled it at Drusilla. She barely had time to scream before it found its mark, buried in her chest. She looked down at it and looked back up at Spike, a look of intense betrayal clear on her vampiric visage. She exploded into dust, and the stake dropped to the floor with a loud clatter. Spike was slightly surprised to find that he felt no remorse.

He looked back at Buffy, whose eyes were wide and confused. Spike smiled slightly at her.

"Now," he said softly, stepping back to her and cupping her face in his hand, "this will only sting for a moment, love."

He tipped her chin to the side and buried his fangs in her neck, relishing the sweet taste of her blood. It was beyond doubt the finest he had ever had. Infinitely better than the other Slayer's. A whimper escaped Buffy's lips, and Spike consciously pulled back a bit, still drinking her but not harming her much. She struggled, but he held her still, pinning her head against the wall.

He could feel her starting to slip away, her life force giving out. He pulled his fangs out of her, his vampire face giving way to his human face. He dug one of his nails into his wrist, and blood began to flow. He held his wrist up to Buffy's lips and, supporting her head with his other hand, coaxed her to drink. She resisted slightly, pulling away.

"Ah, ah, ah, love," he chided, holding her head more securely. "You want to live, you'll drink." She'd never give up the opportunity to protect Dawn, he knew. And judging by the look on her face, that was exactly what she was thinking, too.

A small whimper came from her lips, and she gave in, pressing her lips to his wrist and taking in his blood. Spike grinned around his fangs. He pulled away after a few minutes, wiping his blood from her chin. She was already blacking out, giving way to unconsciousness again. He took the small silver key from his pocket and released her from her chains, picking her up gently and setting her on the sofa he kept downstairs. He grabbed a blanket off the back of the sofa and covered her with it. She looked peaceful, almost as though she were in a deep sleep. When she woke up, she would be a vampire, like him. The thought made him smile.

This should be interesting.