Chapter Eight

He smiled as he looked down at Titia's sleeping figure, curled around the spare pillow.  It could have been you she's holding, you silly git.  His approach to the bed was only heralded by the soft sigh of his leather duster.  As he stepped closer, her sleep grew disturbed.  Her breathing sped up.  He stepped back into the shadows again.

She sat up abruptly.  "Spike." She whispered.

"Bloody hell," he muttered and stepped toward the bed. "It's me, pet."

He sat down beside her on the bed, openly admiring the pale gold softness of her breasts.  She pulled the covers up to hide them, but she couldn't hide the crescendo of her heart.

"Why are you here, Spike?"  She glanced at the alarm clock, "at four thirty in the morning?"

"I went out for a walk.  Ended up here.  I'm not sure."  He smiled weakly, flashing his white canines at her.  He moved to the end of the bed, threw himself across it and scrubbed his face with his hands.  "I guess I was just looking for a place to be.  My feet chose here.  Mind, love?"  He lifted his head to look at her.

"You're welcome to stay, but you might want to close the curtains."  She flopped back down to her pillow, pushing the spare away.  She pulled the blankets up and her breathing dropped away again.

He rolled off the bed in a fluid motion and pulled the curtains together.  Tossing his coat over the end of the bed, he laid down beside her already sleeping form.  Lulled by the sigh of her breathing, he fell asleep before he could ponder what kept bringing him back to her side.  

He awoke with a start.  Titia was gone.  The clock read two in the afternoon.  How did I sleep so long?  He stretched and noticed one of Titia's business cards with her writing propped up against a coffee cup.

On the printed side was the logo for  Eternia: Alternative Lifestyle Solutions.  The same company as the blood he'd been drinking.  Under the logo, it had Titia's name and business contacts.  He flipped the card over and read 'There's still blood in the fridge.  Call me later?  T.'  He put the card back on the table.

After heating up some breakfast, he carefully opened the bedroom window, grabbed his fags and sat back on the bed.  Taking the coffee cup in hand, he prepared to think as he'd been doing over the last few days.  He still couldn't believe he'd come here last night, well, actually come in last night.  He did make it as far as the park the previous night, before he was aware of his body had been taking him.

He tipped the long ash of his forgotten fag into the cup, and then sat the cup back on the bedside table.  He noticed the worn leather bound book he'd placed it on.  Curious, he set it on his lap.

He lit another fag, his previous turmoil forgotten.  He opened the book at the faded green silk ribbon.  It's Titia journal.   Her bold precise script half filled the thick unlined volume.  Well, well, this is fun.  What have you written about me, pet?  He was surprised when he found the previous page had an expertly rendered pencil drawing of him sleeping.  He flipped back a few pages and there were more drawings.  He went back until he found pictures drawn in the Bronze of him playing pool.  Not much more than a few gestured lines of pen, but there was no mistaking who it was.

He turned the book to read the caption.  Blowing out a fine stream of smoke, 'This has to be him, my heart did a shimmy as I passed him.  His scent is so like Angel's.  Only perfect.'  He flipped to the next page.  A dark picture of him leaning on a post.  'He's so beautiful.  Sitting here spying on him makes be feel like a schoolgirl.  Of course, when I was a schoolgirl the boys didn't dress so well.  Thank God for Levis.  Oh, and leather.  Turn your eyes away from the little boys, you dirty old woman.  Besides, the best looking one in the room is more than old enough for you.'

The next page contained a lengthy description outlining a plan of attack on a Montreal biker gang.  Turning back to the previous page.  What kind of great hunter are you if you didn't notice someone of her power stalking you?  It's a good thing all she wanted is to shag your bones, old mate.  Or you'd probably be a pile of dust.

'His smell is enticing.  I would have figured that the Powers would have bound me to the most butt ugly vamp ever turned.  They aren't usually so poetic.  He must have some serious problems all right, even if Angel paints him as pretty much a vamp's vamp.  (He looked right at me again, he still hasn't realized he's going it.)  He did mention a strange attachment to a Drusilla, William's sire if I remember correctly.  Angel must mean above that of the sire-childe bond.  I really should have taken the time to study some records, before coming here half-cocked.  Well, the Dreams said come, so I came.  I will have to go talk to Giles again and see what info he has.  I imagine if Spike's alive and walking around the Hellmouth, Giles is probably the authority on him.'  Yah, he probably is.  I wish she would refrain from mentioning me and Peaches in the same sentence.

Spikes eyes caught on a few pictures of the Slayer with her followers.  'This must be the Slayer.  His attention is focused almost exclusively in that direction.  She looks so young to have attracted the love of two such vampires.'  After a few more sketches of Buffy alone.  'She seems to sense me.  She has scanned over me several times confused.  Ah, yes.  Hi little girl.  I just made eye contact.  Her Slayer powers are quite refined, but she probably hasn't met one of my kind in her short career.  She can't be as insipid as she looks.'  Spike snickered, as he dabbed the end of his fag again.  He'd have to tell Titia how much he had enjoyed this.  Taking a long drag, he read on.

Spike prowled into the Magic Box, happy to see Willow still hadn't found an exclusion spell for him.  He ignored Anya's scowl, as he headed for the back room.  He was stopped a few feet from the door by Giles.

"Spike, I thought I had made it abundantly clear, that you were no longer welcome here."

"Hold on to your tweed, mate.  I'm here looking for Titia, not your precious Slayer,"  he nodded toward the door, then added with a sneer.  "After all, you told me to get over it.  Well, I'm following your advice."  Spike stared Giles down, something he hadn't been able to do since the Initiative had driven him to seek safety at the Watcher's apartment last year.  Giles stepped away.  Spike nodded to him as he opened the door.

He was hit immediately by the power of their mingled smell.  It made his head ache.  He could feel the heat rise in him as he watched their glistening bodies dance across the floor.  So much like the Bronze the other night.  Sodding idiot, pretty soon peeling paint will make you horny.  He normally attributed it to the Slayer, but he was sure he had spent more time in that state since Titia had arrived.

The exchange of blows made him wince.  He hoped that Titia had told the Slayer that she only possessed half her strength.  The girls' faces were masks of concentration.  Titia had dropped to a defensive pose, focused on avoiding and deflecting the little blonde's driving offensive.

Titia was driven to the defensive position that their previous sparring had set the standard for.  She had still a bit more left in her, especially after the previous matches had reseated some of her training.  She had been getting pretty good now at recognizing some of Buffy's tricks.  Gaining control of herself, she had started the exercise with a detached mind.  The girl had not brought out her ire and she'd been heartened by Spike's surprise visit.  Distracted by the inner tensions that spawn of Aurelius created in her, she lost her concentration completely when his scent penetrated the smell of their sweat, making her miss the slicing kick that knocked her on her ass.

She flopped onto her back. "Stake me.  I give up."  She caught the towel that the Slayer threw at her and glanced at Spike pacing near the door.  He turned toward them at her look.

The Slayer hadn't acknowledge his presence as she sank down to the floor.  Yet she must know he is here.  This lack of acknowledgment bothered her.  Why ignore the potential threat to her back?  Chip or no chip, he was still a vampire.  He even had access to her inner sanctum.  There were weirdnesses and nuances to their relationship she still did not understand.  She felt the girl did have feelings for Spike, which she wouldn't or couldn't recognize.  Titia shook her head; she'd figure that when it came to relations with Spike, it would be a straight forward yes or no sort of thing.  He wasn't the type to inspire warm fuzzies.  He was strictly hot passion or cold hatred.

"Spike," Buffy said without turning, "I thought Giles had asked you not to come here any more." It was not a question.

"Sunshine, it's Titia I'm here for.  Aren't I, pet?"  He cocked his head at Titia.

"Sure, if you don't mind me sweaty." She padded over to him.

"Hasn't stopped me so far." He replied with a leer.

"Eww." Commented the little blonde, "Titia, if he's become problem I can stake him for  you."

"I'll let you know when I'm done with him.  Of course, I don't expect there to be much left"  She reached over and stole a kiss from him.

"Eww!"  was her reward as they turned to see Xander in the doorway.

Titia turned back to Spike, "My dear William, we are going to have to talk.  We're going to the Espresso Pump to meet Willow and Tara.  To do a 'girl' thing,"  she winked at his disbelieving smile, "Meet me at the hotel around eight?  I'll have presents."

He nodded, she kissed him again and watched him leave, his black leather coat swishing around his legs.
 
 
 

The boom of the beat drifted down the hall.  The song becoming distinguishable as she carried her shopping bags down the hotel corridor to her room.  Looks like someone has found my mp3 archive.  She was a bit embarrassed that her little retro stash had been exposed.  She shouldn't be, but she knew she'd been a bit old even then to be taking part in youth culture.  Yet, always looking young made that partaking so easy.  And it remained a hidden weakness.  If I'd been less busy, Dillon and I would have gone to more clubs for pleasure instead of work.

As she entered, the Clash's lyrics came to her out of the laptop's barely-adequate speakers.

 . . .
This indecision's bugging me
Esta undecision me molesta
If you don't want me, set me free
Si no me quieres, librame
Exactly who'm I'm supposed to be
Diga me que tengo ser . . .

She found Spike, sitting in a blue haze on open sitting room window sill, looking north at the evening sky.  His leg moving to the beat on the seat of the upholstered chair below him.

"Not the type of music I would have expected from you, pet."  He took another haul on his cigarette, before crushing it into a pile of butts in a coffee cup on the sill beside him.  Then using the chair as a step, he hopped down and turned down the volume on the computer enough to talk over.

She tossed her bags on the love seat, and then threw herself down beside them.  "The early eighties were a good time.  Lots of angst.  Good driving beat."  She sighed.  "I'm getting too old to hang with youth, culture or not."

"Looks like you had a good time."  He chuckled, as he sat in a chair beside her.

She turned toward him.  "Yes and no.  I'm tired and I got a bit carried away."  She grabbed a bag from beside her, and pulled out folded matte black leather.  "Here, these are for you.  I'm sorry for being a grouch the last few days."

Spike put down the pack of cigarettes in time to catch the soft pile.  He found the waistband and shook out the pair of leather jeans.  "You didn't need to do that."

"Maybe not.  But, I had fun doing it.  Here," Titia dug into another bag and pulled out the silk shirt.  She balled it up and tossed it to him.  "This goes with it and so does these."  She stood and placed a box with the Doc Marten's label on it in front of him.  "If you don't like any of it or it doesn't fit leave on the couch and I will take it back."  She picked up the other two bags and went to the bedroom, before he could think of something to say.

She emptied the bags onto the end of the bed.  She separated the leather pants from the rest.  Their russet colour nearly matched her hair.  Shucking the pants she had on, she pulled on the new ones.

Modern technology was wonderful.  The buttery smoothness of the leather was infinitely superior to the last pair of leather pants she'd owned back in the seventies.  Their dull sheen added curves to lean form, softening her ass and thighs.

A low whistle came from the doorway.  "You should go shopping with the Slayer more often."

Something twisted inside her at Buffy's title coming from his lips.  She turned to meet his appraising gaze.  He hopped on the bed and picked up the lace bra and matching bottom.  "Nice, pet.  Are you going to model it?"  Her mouth tugged at the corner as she met his wolfy grin.  She couldn't stay mad at him.  She needed to accept that this thing with the Slayer wouldn't disappear overnight.

She noticed that he had the steel toed Docs on and half laced.  "Do they fit?"

Her lifted his feet to look at the high-topped boots.  "Yes.  It's been a while since I've had a pair of these."

"Yah.  They're a brand that the eighties brought to my attention.  I've been buying them ever since."  She chose a shirt from the pile of new clothes and turned away from where he sat.  She reached up and untied the black organza scarf that hid the remains of Spike's marks on her neck.  Then pulled her t-shirt over her head.  She knew she should put it back on when she heard the thump of two heavy boots dropping to the floor.  She pretended to will away the cool arms that encircled her waist.  The cool tongue that licked along the bite traces of her neck.

"That's not fair."  The tingle spread down her body from her neck.

"What did you expect?  I'm evil."  He chuckled into her hair.  "Let me say thanks, love."  His hand undid the button and zipper of her pants, then slid along the smooth surface of her stomach.

"You don't need to do this to say thanks."

"Then let me do it because I want to."  He had punctuated the 'to' by throwing her across the bed.  He pulled the covers out from under her and off the bed.  Next came his t-shirt, which was thrown to the pile on the floor.  He leaped from where he stood to land on all fours above her.  His dark eyes held her for a second, until he dropped his head to once again lick the side of her neck.

Giving in, she reached up and pulled him to her, moulding his chest to hers.  The three days since they had last been in this position felt like an eternity.  She reached between them and undid his pants. She ran her hands down the hard surface of his waist and ass pushing the pants in her wake.  She raised her legs around him using her feet to pull the jeans the rest of the way off.  Taking control, she pulled her neck from his lips.  She flipped him on his back, changing their positions.

He took advantage of the new position, by liberating her breasts and flinging her bra over his head.  She paused to enjoy the sensation of his mouth as he kissed the nipple of each breast before standing to shed her pants and panties.

She didn't have along to admire his reclining body, as he reached up quickly tugged her down beside him.  With a small growl, he took control again, kissing, licking and nipping a trail down her body.  He settled between her thighs to lick into an apex the heat that had haunted her since her simple contact with him in Buffy's 'danger' room.  He brought her up and down several times confirming his dominance before allowing her release from his pleasureful torment.  She slumped limply to the bed, knowing she wouldn't have much time to enjoy the glow.

He crawled slowly up her, a long pale tongue licking her juices away from his mouth, until he was positioned above her.  He gold eyes issued a challenge, as he held the controlling position.

The raunchy beat of the Sex Pistols from the setting room enlivened her to his challenge.  With a quick upward thrust of her hands, she threw him to the side and pounced on him.  He growled at the reversal of fortunes.

She kissed his neck, biting it with gentle force.  He moaned as she scraped her teeth across the erogenous surface of his jugular.  She licked a trail along his clavicle, before reaching up to conquer his lips with a kiss.  He gave in so sweetly to her campaign that she wanted to preserve him this way forever.  His pale face relaxed in contentment, tempered by need.  His cold blue-grey eyes heated with passion.  He was a study in tension that she hoped to capture on canvas some day.  She turned her mind back to combat.

She kissed him slowly, emphasizing her control.  Lingering to nip at his hard little  nipples and run her hands possessively over the silky facets of his torso.  She licked her way down his sternum.  His abdominal muscles were taunt under her hands.  She sat back onto his legs allowing them to part enough for her to fondle his velvety sack.  He released a sighed moan and tensed under the increased strain.  She leaned forward and blew along his rigid shaft.  It twitched in response.

"God damn it, woman!  Get on with it."  He growled, challenging her control.

Titia struck back, by biting down on his trembling member hard enough for him to appreciate her human teeth.  He nearly lost it.  He strained under her, fighting for control over his own body.  A few drops of his clear fluid escaped.  She licked them away before relieving his torment with her hot mouth.  He snarled as his orgasm shuddered through him.  She mounted him before his head could clear, stealing the victory in their little war.  All he could do was gasp at her heat, as she pushed down on him and rode him until they both exclaimed with pleasure.

"Minx," was all he said, as she claimed his lips as fairly won plunder. "You've won the first battle.  Lets see if you'll win the war."

She let out a little shriek as she found herself flat on her stomach with blunt teeth biting her ass.  She had a feeling she wouldn't be making morning coffee with Buffy.

"Spike." She lifted her head from his chest to see his face.  They were exhausted, but neither seemed ready to sleep.  They laid there, listening to the new playlist she had cued up on the laptop.  They had been avoiding the talk she'd promised, enjoying the fantasy they had created. "Have you thought any more about my offer?"

"Titia, love.  Tell me again exactly what you are offering."

"Anything these arms can give.  Forget the job, come work as my partner.  Forget the furnished lair and move in with me.  I have all the amenities a vampire could want."

"Yes, you do," he snickered as he kissed the top of her head.  She closed her eyes as he smelt her hair. "Are you sure these are things you are offering?"

She protested as he slid out from under her and left the room.  Cringing when he came back with her diary, from where she had stashed when she got home. Are you sure you didn't leave it out intentionally?  Came a little inner voice.

He laid down again, pulling her back onto his chest.  He flipped a few pages, then held out the journal opened to her first night in the Bronze.  "Are you sure it is you that wants me or are you just following orders?"  His face was intense, but his voice held no threat.  He tapped the line that read, '. . .the Powers would have bound me . . .'

She couldn't discuss this in this position.  She tried to sit but his steel arms held her down.  He's not going to allow me any additional power, until he believes.  "William," appealing to his thoughtful side, "I've worked for the Powers for thirty years.  I'm sixty-four years old in human years."  She pulled her hand up so she could rest her chin on it and keep her eyes on his face.  She smiled at him, "See?  You're still, by most standards, robbing the cradle.  In that time, I've come to accept a certain amount of pre-destination.  It wasn't easy.  I fought it the first ten years.  I was willful and believed firmly in the freedom of choice, my generation's motto.  I believe They choose the rebellious sort, not to subdue them, but because we're innately unpredictable.  Our nature makes it harder for the prophets to define our every move.  It keeps our enemies from blocking us at every turn."  She reached out and ran her fingers up the sharp edge of his jaw, cupping his face.  "That we are pre-destined does not diminish us.  It only speaks to its power, that a thousand years ago someone thought it important enough to write down."

He let go of her, bringing his hand up to cover hers and pressing it to his face.  She pulled herself up to the headboard so she wouldn't have to look up at him.  "I didn't come here knowing I would find you.  I was sent to save a beautiful member of the progeny of Aurelius, who just happened to smell really good." She managed to get a small smile at this.  She reached out and trapped the other side of his face as well. "Don't worry about fate.  Whether it exists or not is irrelevant.  Leave this prison you've created for yourself.  The Powers and I are offering a chance for you to live up to your potential.  It won't be easy, but I don't believe you afraid of hard work."  She couldn't keep the wicked gin from her face.  "Or you could just say screw that.  You're a vampire.  I'm offering fantastic sex and power.  How can you resist?"

His smile deepened, "You do know us well."

"I'm foremost a scientist.  I look at things in the most empirical manner."  She bent down and kissed her way along the edge of a pectoral muscle.

"Yes, very scientific, minx.  And, yes, I want to leave with you." Leaning over he kissed her.  "Why don't we seal the bargain."

Something inside her responded to his words, it prodded her awareness.  She pushed it away, too content, in the rise of his scent and the feel of his hands on her body, to think any thing beyond, mine.

Titia woke early in the afternoon with an edginess she couldn't explain.  All she could figure was that there was some aspect of the Dream she hadn't fulfilled.  It would come to her, it always did.  They would never let her forget.  She headed for the shower.

After her bathroom routine was completed, she dressed in some relaxed clothes.  She had decided to catch Buffy's afternoon workout at the Magic box.  A good pummeling would relax her.  Her eyes drifted to Spike's still, sleeping form, she had to snicker, well maybe not.

She picked up her journal and pencil, and tried to catch the angelic in his sleeping features.  It's hard to believe this sleeping beauty was the one who'd kept her up all night . . . and morning.  Little devil.

He woke with a start.  Titia was gone, again.  He slumped back into bed when he realized it was three in the afternoon.  Of course, she'd be gone out, ya bleedin' idiot.  She has to eat.  He rolled up out of bed.  Heating some blood, opening the window, and grabbing his fags, the ritual of his mornings when he woke without her.  The ritual culminated with him grabbing her diary from the table.

Taking a long drag, he flipped to the last page.  He grunted out the smoke as he laughed at the lovingly rendered drawing that had been topped off with fangs and horns.  'My Little Devil' was written in the drawing's bottom corner.  Below that, he read 'Gone to get pummeled into the ground by the Slayer and have lunch.  Bronze tonight?  Call me. T.'

He dialed her cell.  It rang until her messaging system picked up.  She must be at the Magic Box.

"Magic Box.  The answers to all your casting needs."

"Anya.  Is Latitia still there?"  He listened to her long-winded reply

"God damn it, girl.  Just put her on.  I don't care about company resources."  Anya could be so infuriatingly human for an ex-demon.  He had a muffled discussion in the background and then silence.

"Hi Spike," came Titia's voice after a few minutes.  She sounded slightly out of breath.  He felt some tension ease at the sound of her voice.

"What are your plans, other than the Bronze, for tonight?"  He wanted to move but he was captive to the length of the curled handset cord.

"I was going to finish here and go for a coffee.  I was planning on bringing supper back to the hotel, why?  You going out?"

He'd managed to untangle the phone cord and was able to move about with the base in his hand. "No.  I think I'll hole up here if your coming back."

"Was there anything you needed?"

"If you wouldn't mind picking me up a pack of fags?  I seem to be going through more than usual."

"William my love, you are the most neurotic vampire I've ever met.  Yes, I'll pick some up."

He sat back on the bed calmed by the warmth in her voice.  "See you later, pet."

He hauled on his t-shirt and pants.  Then unsuspended Titia's computer.  While a second bag of blood warmed, he ordered coffee and a piece of chocolate torte through room service.

'Spoiled and Rotten' by Darling Violetta had been randomly selected by the mp3 player, as he licked chocolate from his fork.  He was not necessarily happy about the turn of his thoughts.  But it made the acceptance of Titia's offer all the easier.  The anxiety he had felt waking up alone made him realize that there was more than pleasure that drew him to her side.  He had more rationally, and maybe selfishly, come to the conclusion that Titia could give him things that Buffy couldn't.  Understanding, and a long life.

Buffy burned hotter and brighter because her life was short.  Even if she wasn't a slayer, her youth and vitality would fade until she died at the young age of eighty or ninety.  Being a slayer she may not have more than ten years left.  Would he live through the loss of another precious love?  He didn't think so.  He would have loved her with all his being. And you wouldn't with Titia?  Yes, maybe, but I could get a lot of loving in before that bridge would have to be crossed.  He knew that if he let himself he could love her with a passion that would eclipse what he'd had with Dru.

He owed Titia his life.  Her presence that first night in his crypt had derailed the train he had set hurtling toward suicide.  He had been deathly determined; he would have been dust.  She stayed in Sunnydale, even though she had finished the tasks that where set out for her.  Her continued presence had led him here, having accepted her partnership.  He licked the remains of chocolate torte from his fingers.  The more he thought about it the more he realized that, had she left after receiving the Clothe of Tangier, his path would have lead him to Buffy.  Everywhere he turned in his reasoning, he owed her and he wanted her.  A part of him already considered her his and demanded fulfillment.

"Bloody hell."  He muttered to himself.  All this thinking of her had made him horny again.

He was up and across the room before Titia could open the door.  "Hello, pet," he relieved her of the paper bag wrapped package and set it on the bar.

"Hi, Spike."  She said as he took her coat. Without further adieu, he picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. "Ah, sweetie, my supper's going to get cold."

"If I have to use the microwave, so can you."  He threw her top over his head and undid her pants and pushed her down to the bed, so he could haul on her pant legs.

"Don't I get any say in this?"  She said as he chucked her bra to the floor.  She laughed as she removed her scarf.

"Sure you do.  If you didn't want it you would have dented my head."  He pulled her panties free and stripped himself.  He curled himself around her warm body. "Oh, damn,"  he murmured.  "I missed you."

It was almost eight by the time they came back to reality.  Titia was pushing him out of bed, claiming that if they didn't seize the moment, they'd be there until morning.  He couldn't see this as a bad thing.

Sighing, he went to gather his things.  He shrugged on the silk shirt and stepped into the buttery softness of the leather pants.  They were perfect.  The shirt was just tight enough to set off his shoulders and chest without losing its drape.  The pants felt wonderful and seemed to do all the right things.  He left the short cut shirt untucked and went back to the bedroom to get his new boots.

A wolf whistle greeted his arrival.  At Titia's twirled finger, he turned around once, for her inspection.

"Am I good or am I good," She said as she fondled his ass through the soft leather.  "You should have a short jacket to show that off."  Stepping back to get a better look. "Then again, maybe, I should get you a cassock."

"Now, love.  I couldn't set you off in brown now could I?"  He nuzzled her neck, satisfied in his power to make her tremble.  Spike, you are on your way to being Big Bad again.  He felt great.

He took Titia's hand and spun her like her used to do with his Princess.  Leading her through a few steps of the Merengue.  He was delighted to find she knew the steps.

"I hadn't picture you as the dancing type."

"My mother, William's mother, made him learn, so he would show himself well at balls and gatherings.  It had delighted Dru.  My Black Beauty loved to dance, and with Angelus taste for the upper classes . . .well."  He shrugged.  It was part of the disguise, the sheep's clothing.

"When we get back to Montreal, we go dancing."

He nodded, chuckling at her simple joy.  She wrapped her arms possessively around him.

"You're wonderful.  Dillon would never go.  He's into that whole hang in the shadows creature of the night thing."

He felt the hairs in the back of his neck stand up at this naming of another male.  One, who probably knew her intimately. "Who is Dillon, love?"  He tried to keep his voice neutral, but it came out deeper than intended.

She pulled away, and hugged herself, "He was . . .is, as far as he knows, my lover.  And he will be your biggest rival, when you issue your challenge.  I have been thinking of ways to save him.  He's smart and a good leader, but he's still young yet and way too ambitious.  He will die, because he thinks he should be master and will call you on it."  She shook her head.

Good, is all I can say.  He bit back the vocalization of the thought.

She drew against him again and traced his face with her hand.  There was remorse in her copper brown eyes, "I feel guilty even though there was no love between us.  I haven't given him more than a passing thought since I saw you the first night at the Bronze.  I don't want you to think I'm fickle.  There was never any commitment."

He nodded, knowing it was human of him to consider sex as anything other than simple, immediate pleasure.  There were times when it had been a free-for-all in their little group.  Sometimes even all four of them, Darla, Dru, Angelus and himself, would be in the bed together.  It had been great times; it never detracted from their true pairings.  It wasn't the same when Angelus had come back.  He had wanted Dru, not for the warm pleasureful bonding they used to do, but to torment him.  To separate them.  And he hadn't been wanted.

No, the thought of Titia with another, vamp or not, made him angrier than it should.  If he was going to commit to this relationship, he had to have her body and soul.  He didn't want to repeat the heartache he felt at Dru's fickleness.  He must know how far she would go for him.  He was ready.

He came out of contemplation, to see Titia was dressed in her new leather pants.  Their soft sheen accentuated her curves.  She'd topped them off with a black lace bra and a sheer black silk shirt.

He grabbed his duster, as she donned her leather jacket.  They made their way to the door.

"Titia, have you ever shagged at the top of the Eiffel tower?"

"No."  She raised her eyebrows at him.

"Good." He nodded, as he pulled the door closed behind them.