She drove with total disregard for traffic laws, pushing the great saloon car into dangerous speed.  Her hand never left the gearshift, as her reflexes out stripped the car's performance.

Her anger was a physical thing.   She could feel it shift inside her pressing on her awareness, looking for release.  The thing made her own skin feel wrong.  She felt trapped.  The unease and that sense that something urgent was missing drove her anger further.  As did Spike, quiet and calm, accepting next to her.  He had let her forcibly remove him from the Bronze.  He didn't even seem surprised when she snarled and hauled him to the car.  I snarled!  I've been known to bark on occasion, but snarl?   She could have sworn that glee had been in those blue-grey eyes.  It had made her furious.  But the anger had its own force by then.  It had been blind rage of a kind she would never have thought herself capable.

She didn't even know what the trigger had been.  She had accepted his love, make that obsession, for Buffy.  At least, she thought she had.  Was it the over stimulus of the bar?  Or the fact his smell had become overwhelming?  Or the innate reaction of the female population to that scent?  How could she have blamed them?  They did not even understand what they were reacting to.  They practically were throwing themselves on his fangs.  She gripped the wheel tighter.

But, Buffy dancing with him like that after rejecting him so cruelly.  That had to been the final trigger.  Titia had gone from bare tolerance with the evening to blind rage.   It was like she wasn't even in control.  She had watched her body act under its own impulses.  It terrified her.  Her job was to always be in control.  Always.   Hell, I never had more than four drinks in a row in twenty years, even though I wouldn't notice three times that.

Her sidelong glance at Spike as she turned into a hotel parking space creeped her out.  His passive continence so at odds with the terror her own actions caused in her.   She panted with the exertion of suppressing the powerful thing beneath her skin, as she locked the car.

With each breath, his scent worked away at that control.  Why was he so sedately following her to her room?   Why did't he fight back or walk away?   If he ran or fought, she couldn't stop him.   His strength and speed greatly outmatched her own.

The thing in her pressed against her defences, tickling her mind with alien thoughts.  The urgings were like something half remembered.  It was making her head was throbbing.  The closer they got to the room, the less clear her thoughts became.  She stopped outside her door gripping her head unable to proceed.  He tugged the keycard from her hand and slid it along the track.

She was pushed inside and relieved of her coat.  Spike had taken off his t-shirt.  The sight of his pearly skin broke the barrier in her mind.   The snap as she lost control made her higher self reel.  She felt her face explode in pain.  His look of amazement didn't register, as her body threw itself at him.

Part of her was in shock, the rest consumed by the passion of the inner force.  The speed of her assault landed them in the centre of the bed, her teeth imbedded in his neck.  The growl from her throat was unintelligible but her mind echoed with the possessive "Mine".   She released and bit him repeatedly leaving two ragged punctures with every attack, dotting his beautiful white chest with small weeping red wounds.

Each sip of his demon blood pounded her body with its power, confusing her senses further.  The taste and his scent coupled with the growing awareness of his arousal and pain caused the Titia part of her mind to scream, weakening the Other's grip.  At the sight of what she had done, she jerked away from him.

"Oh my god, what have I done!"  She brought her hands to her aching face to wipe away the tears that blurred her vision.  Her face felt wrong, swollen.  She jumped from the bed.

 "What's happening?"  She said stumbling away, shrieking, as she caught her reflection in the dresser mirror.  "Oh my god , Oh my god."  She caught his concerned gaze as she scrambled backwards into the bathroom.

The mirror there showed her face to be anaphylaxisly swollen in grotesque parody of a vampire's true face.  Her brow stood out in angry red ridges leading down her nose.  Long canines pressed into her lower lip.  It couldn't be her.  How had this happened?  Her fists shot out to remove the damning image.  The clatter of glass heralded the sound of her body hitting the tile floor.

Oh, thank the seven hells.  She's finally coming to.  He shifted her now-naked form into a better position on his lap, so he could take up her other hand and remove more fragments of mirror fro her knuckles.

"Ouch," she said, as the tweezers found another sliver.  Her hands were pulled from his grip to search her face.  "Oh, thank god.  I was afraid it would stay that way."

"Oh my god," She said again, as her hand grabbed his face, turning it to survey the ruptures that dotted his neck and chest.  "I'm so sorry."  Tears flowed down her face.  "How can you stand to be near me?"  She hugged herself.

"This hasn't happened before has it, kitten?"  He kissed her forehead and drew her firm warm body to him.  His arms wrapped around her, as her body shook and hot tears ran down his chest.  He kissed her hair and was flooded with memories of nights he had held Dru just so.  The many nights, she had woken in the early afternoon reliving the memories of Angelus' tortures on her human form.  They had been so inscribed into her psyche that she had suffered from them for a half a century.  They had faded once their little group had split up.  He was willing to bet that this much stronger woman in his arms would recover quickly.

Her sobs had already stopped and her breath was calming.  She tilted her head up to meet his eyes.  "What am I?   How could It have been in me for thirty years and I not know?"

He bent and kissed her lower lip.  "I don't know, love.  We'll go see Giles tomorrow and get those big squishy frontal lobes of his working on it.  But,"  he kissed her more fully, "we have something to finish."

He sat her on the bed, and then moved in to lie close to her.  He coaxed her onto him.  Running his hands up her body, as he pulled her down to his lips to re-establish the kiss.

He wanted to bring her back to that state of frenzy and passion but was afraid it would hurt her.  He felt jittery at being only halfway through the process.  It dawned on him that she didn't completely understand what she had begun.  He rolled them on their side and gently broke their embrace.

He ran a painted fingernail down her cheek. "You need to finish the Claim or it won't bind me.  And," he smiled at her lack of understanding, "if you don't, I will be way over budget on my fags for at least a week."

"Claiming.  Yes, that's what it was, wasn't it?  I've read a bit about it.  There was never anything specific."  She reached out and touched the wounds on his neck then flinched away when he trembled.  "Sorry", she dropped her eyes from his face.

"Don't be," his voice huskier.  He captured her hand and ran her fingers along the dimpled skin. "It feels wonderful", he shuddered, his lips parted with a little moan.  He let go of her hand and it continued down the trail of bites on his chest.

Lords, that feels good.  He couldn't stand it.   He reached forward capturing her with the burning in his eyes and deciding to push, he struck out and bit her lower lip hard before forcing his tongue deep into her mouth.   He knew these signs of domination had potential to draw forth the response he so selfishly craved.   His efforts were appropriately rewarded when he tried to position himself between her legs.

The force at which he was thrown onto his back sent a thrill through him.  Her eyes where completely gold again as she mounted him, her slowness emphasizing her control.  She pinned his arms to his sides with her knees, as she positioned herself above him.  He panted under the force of her eyes, writhing as his need grew painful.   Her throaty growl steadied him and squeezing his eyes shut fought to control himself.   His teeth ground together as the hot wet lips of her sex encompassed him, slowly taking him in, burning him.

"Look at me!" she snapped slashing his cheek with her nails.  His eyes flew open. He moaned under the pressure of wet heat and gold eyes.  Hot blue light exploded in his mind as sharp fangs sunk into his neck.  His body quaked under the sheer force of his climax.

His mind swam in ecstasy as her hot tongue licked away the traces of his blood and sucked on the fresh wounds.  She clutched him in crushing grip.   As she snarled his name, her spasming passage wrung another orgasm from him.  She collapsed on to him; limp, but not relinquishing her grip.

"Mine," she breathed hotly into his neck.  He trembled as his body acknowledged her Claim.   Spike, what have you done?  This ... 'mortal' has blown my mind.   He was sure that he had never experienced a sensation that matched it.  Certainly Dru had never induced such intensity.  The only thing that had come close was the memory of the heat of the Chinese slayer's blood hitting his tongue.  And that had been profound.  He had always thought of it as being the biggest life-changing experience, after his death, of course.  This may prove so as well.  Your unlife will never be the same, old mate.

As she collected her scattered brain cells, a process that was happening whether she wanted it to or not, Titia realized it wasn't she that was trembling.  It was the cool chest beneath her.  He was purring.  She must have given him a good happy, since he'd been so adamant that he hadn't purred in the aftermath of their first time.  She giggled to herself at the memory.

She lifted her head to better see his sleeping face.  She was always amazed at how those harsh and powerful features became like an angelic child's in sleep.  His white hair was tousled and his lips held a content smile.  Only the deep rumbling from his chest suggested that his sleep wasn't permanent.

With a sigh, she released him and quietly made her way to the bathroom.  She reassured herself that her face was truly back to normal in the cracked remains of the mirror.   Brushing aside the implications of what hed happened, and forcing herself not to search her face for any visible changes, she bent to sweep the glass aside with a towel, then used the facilities before returning to bed.

Spike woke with a smile.   Last nights activities still scented the air.  Their fragrance and memory warmed him.  Stretching, he pulled himself up so he could rest against the headboard, but not lose contact with her warm skin.  He looked at the bedside table, willing a cup of warm blood to be there.  Of course there wasn't, but Titia's diary lay open.  His smile grew as he studied the lovingly rendered sketch of his sleeping features.  Scrawled in her bold hand was 'Seeing you like this always makes me feel like I'm the cradle robber.'  He replaced the book and turned to her sleeping form with a wicked smile.  He licked her awake.

Look how calm he is.  Gone was the restlessness of the last week.  His content look balanced his drumming fingers, as he sang

 I am an antichrist
 I am an anarchist
 Don't know what I want
 But I know how to get it . . .

His calm was so at odds with the terror she felt.  Her faith in the Powers was all but shattered.  How could they do this?   What was she?  Was she just another predator, hidden even more carefully than the one before her?

She watched him.  He centred her.  His long life hadn't made him patient, but it had made him accepting.   He'd travelled with Angelus and Darla.  He'd spent over a century as the lover of an insane vampiric seer.  He was a legend in his own right.  A slayer of slayers.   A human and demon body count incredible for so young a vampire.  According to Giles, the council still hears of the account of Spike's audacious takeover of the Master's clan from the Anointed One.  Why should I surprise him?

She tried to follow his example and accept.  She turned back to her neglected e-mail. Only two more hours until sundown.

He was proud of her.  She calmly watched the passing cityscape as he drove her large car across town to the Watcher's apartment.  Titia had made the call with a steady voice, as if she were planning a social engagement.

This would be the first time he'd been at the Watcher's in many months.  He was glad that this time he would visit in full control of himself.  He felt centred.  He knew he should feel guilty for feeling so good from something that had produced such a strain on the woman beside him.   She'd helped him so much.

Her movement caught his eye.  The only sign of worry that escaped her was sporadic running of her fingers over her scalp and out through her hair.   He hoped the Watcher could help.  He'd had Angelus and the rest to teach him after the Turning.  He'd known what was to happened to him.   He'd wanted it.  He'd embraced Dru's beautiful demon face, knowing intuitively what she offered.

The Powers hadn't been so kind to Titia.  She had spent thirty years in charge, thinking she had mapped the extent of the changes within her.  Her worldview had not changed with acceptance of the position.  She had seen it as an un-refusable tenure.  The ecological system had taken on new boundaries but her job was the same.  Keep in check the alien influences on the system.

He couldn't convince her that this wasn't necessarily bad.  Now she represented both mortal and immortal in one being.  She would see it in time.  She was rational and courageous; she would make the best of it.  But some answers would help.
 

He pulled into visitor parking and locked down the car.  He offered an arm to his auburn-haired lover and led her through the courtyard to the Watcher's door.

Giles hadn't invoked the de-invitation spell, so Spike was able to lead Titia to the couch at the Watcher's nod.   Their host offered them tea then bustled off to prepare it, despite the questioning look on his face.   The Watcher reappeared after a few minutes, bearing a tray laden with tea and its paraphernalia.  He took the upholstered chair at their end of the couch, studying them as he placed the cups.

Spike squeezed Titia's shoulders reassuringly and then began their little tale. "We've had a bit of a discovery."  He paused, trying to decide where to start. "Titia was called by the Powers thirty years ago." Smiling as their host's growing understanding reflected in his face, "She is and was an ecologist, who had in her original state, a certain flair for rescuing her follow mortals."

He turned to her for a cue to continue.   She met his eyes and nodded with resignation.  She trusted him. "It was during one of these rescues, when she nearly met her end by hypothermia and exposure, that the Powers intervened and made their offer.  Her life for her continued service to Order.

"So for thirty years, she has performed her duties taking advantage of the augmentations the Powers touch had given her.  And then, what can I say, mate, she met me."  He chuckled at their united scowl, "Let's just say I bring out the demon in my women."  He pulled his coat collar away from his throat to show Giles the damage.

The Watcher jumped up to take a closer look.  "Fascinating."  Spike stopped his hand with a look, before Giles could touch the ruptures. "Right."  Their host reclaimed his seat. "What happened?"

Spike put his arm round Titia again.  "She Claimed me last night in true vampiric fashion.  She says it was intuitive.  She was in a fit of anger that Angelus would have been proud of."  He was proud of his lover's viciousness.  She really cared.  He ran his fingers down his neck, not noticing the Watcher had paled at the mention of his grand-sire's true name.

"Well," shifted Giles uneasily. "What physiological changes did she display?  Besides teeth, I mean."  He pulled a notebook and pen from his jacket pocket, prepared to write.

With his free hand, Spike patted Titia's knee.  "Do you think you could show him?"

She shook her head.  "I can't control it.  I can feel its will, just under the surface of my own."

"What was happening when it first showed itself?"  The Watcher tried to keep a professional face, but Spike could tell he'd already guessed some of it.

"Spike made me mad.  It was a possessive anger, irrational."  She covered his hand with hers, interlacing their fingers.  "As for physical changes, they were concentrated in my face and mouth-" Spike tapped his cheek where only a faint scabbing could be seen. "-and hands.  It created swollen ridges, here,"  she traced her  brow and cheekbones,  "and here.  Elongated my incisors and nails."

He watched her wrinkle her brow as she thought, "I don't remember any bloodlust, other than toward Spike in specific."  She ran her hand through her hair. "It hurt.  Both my face and head."

"She's definitely more aggressive, even without the demon present."  He couldn't keep from smiling at her scowl, "I'm still not sorry, kitten."

"Well, well."  Giles said to himself, steadfastly ignoring their interply the vampire noticed.  He reached down and kissed Titia's neck enjoying the Watcher's discomfort out of the corner of his eye. "Right.  I'll go look this up.   Maybe Cleaver's."  He hurried off.

"You're evil, my love."  She told him as he kissed the spot on her neck that once bore his bite marks.

There was an abrupt knock on the door, which quickly opened at Buffy's determined entrance. "Giles . . .,"  Halting as she noticed them on the couch.

"Hello, Sunshine." He could feel her there at the end of the couch but didn't take his attention from Titia.  He could feel the sub-vocal growl emanating from her as she looked pass him at Buffy.  "Calm."  He whispered into her hair.  She turned her yellow eyes on him as they darkened to brown.  I know.

The Watcher came in bearing a heavy old leather bound book, its cover deeply embossed.  "Oh.  Hello, Buffy.  Can we postpone your report for a moment?  Latitia has brought us a very interesting ah . . . problem."

Buffy sighed and flopped into the upholstered chair at the far end of the couch.  Giles sat down in the chair he'd been using and placed the book on his lap.  He muttered and flipped pages.

"Have you found anything, Watcher?" He caught the Giles's eye with a wink, tilting his head toward Titia.  He got up and sat on the arm of Buffy's chair.  "So Slayer,  are you going to miss me?"  He asked with his most charming smile, dropping his voice seductively.

He leaped as his lover made a snarling pounce.   He hoped the Watcher was able to catch her demon-quick movements, as he directed Titia's inertia onto the couch.  His coat took the brunt of her claws as he subdued her.  Laughing, he kissed her forehead.  "How's that for a demonstration, Rupert?"

"Dear Lord," was the response as the older-looking man approached cautiously.  "That's incredible."  Titia sniffed at his approach, but didn't take her attention from the Slayer.

The Slayer, Spike was sure, hadn't turned her attention from Titia.  "I hope that goes away," Buffy said, "I don't think I could stake her, even if she did start it."

"As far as she's concerned, you started it," Spike couldn't keep the smugness from his voice, "by moving in on her chosen mate."

The Watcher ignored them, scribbling into his little notebook, capturing the changes the redhead went through as her body resolved back into normality.

"Don't do that again, Spike."  Titia's voice was rough and throaty.  He relaxed his grip on her.

"I know it wasn't nice, kitten, but it gives the Watcher a better understanding.  Look how happy he is."

"It was mean."  He shrugged at Buffy's words, keeping his back to her.

Giles placed the book on Spike's lap.  "Check the section in chapter sixty-seven on vampiric mutations.  I'll check DeVer's."  He rushed off.

Sighing, Spike leafed through the large manuscript.   He cursing the day the Watcher had found out he knew mediaeval Latin.   How could a bloke reck decent chaos without latin?   He scanned through the beautiful clerical hand to the chapter Giles had recommended.

Neither Spike nor the Watcher could find many instances of champions, let alone an apt description of them.  They were usually short lived, even the immortal kind.

"I'll call the Council.  They have better resources," said Giles, resignedly cleaning his glasses.  "It is amazing.  I have not come across anything like you before in the literature. All we have found is that the Powers seem to raise champions for specific tasks that they either die completing, or are rewarded for."

"They maybe have changed their strategy because of the coming apocalypse." Titia's voice was low and rough. "Look at Angel or Buffy, if the prophets are right, they will be around for many more years."

The blond vampire studied her as she pulled gently from his arms and stood.  She's dealing with it.  She'll analyze and reanalyze, then she will accept.  He sighed and stood.

Titia held out her hand to the Watcher. "Thank Giles.  We will be leaving in a day or so.  If you run across any further information, please contact me.  Now, you said you had the artifacts packed.  I'll take them now, if you have them here."

"Yes, right."  The Watcher disappeared into the hall, and returned immediately with a large wooden crate.  Spike stepped forward and took possession of it.

He waited as Titia turned to Buffy, where she was still seated in her chair.  "My offer is still open."  She nodded to Giles again and opened the door, so Spike could carry the crate to the car.
 
 
 

She was curled into a fetal ball as he tried to shake her awake, "Titia, love?  Wake up."  She was covered in sweat.  It must be a bad one.  Not that he had anything to judge against.  But he hoped that this might be worse than average.  Had she been like this over the dream of me?

She woke and turned her eyes to him.   He could see her Dream came trickling back to her, the years of experience deciphering it quickly.   The horror of it was shown to him by the expressions crossing her face.   She blinked back the tears, and turned to him.   He pulled her up higher onto his chest and gently stroked her auburn hair.  "What has happened, love?"

"We'll have to leave.  Spitfire Crew, a demon-influenced biker gang, now knows us."   Wiping away her tears, she looked up, her mahogany-brown eyes meeting his, "Head Office was attacked in broad daylight.   We lost our main daytime staff, and some night-time staff that had held over for the day."

He hugged her closer and eased her brow with cool kisses.  He was in his element here.   The role of comforter suited William's nature best.

"I'll call and send Collin and a team on ahead.  Oh, and best bring Harding back from Bonn."  She settled her head back to his chest taking the comfort he offered, allowing herself a brief moment of grief before she reached for the phone.

Pulling herself into a sitting position within his arms, she leaned her tear-stained face close to his and kissed him.  "Thank you."