“Bloody hell, Slayer!” Spike raged, wiping the trickling blood from his nose.

Buffy cringed. “Spike, you got in the way. Next time move when I tell you to!”

Grumbling to himself, Spike looked over at the mess that was the latest demon to be dispatched by the Slayer. Admitting to himself that, had he actually been focused on the fighting instead of watching the Slayer’s cute little arse, he probably would have escaped the now throbbing pain encasing his sinus area. The roundhouse kick that was meant for the ugly monstrosity in orange had instead brought bursts of starlight and pain sweeping across his face.

“Bollocks,” he muttered.

“I heard that,” Buffy panted with exhaustion. “You really need to pay attention if you’re going to continue patrolling with me. I’ve warned you.”

“Well, dangling certain bits in front of m’face doesn’t help with the concentration, love,” Spike snarked.

“Shut up, Spike…you’re such a pig,” she groused, too tired to really get into a verbal battle with the annoying pest.

He just leered at her and waggled his eyebrows, the smirk he was sporting showing just how much of a pig he could be, given the chance. Buffy shook her head in exasperation and turned away, barely noticing the slight frown starting to mar Spike’s handsome visage.

Handsome? Buffy, girl…you’ve been dead way too long!

“Slayer, is this demon known for carrying…doilies?” Spike asked in sincere curiosity, cocking his head and looking at something lying on the ground near them.

Buffy focused on what he was staring at and frowned. She moved between the headstones and bent down to pick up what looked like a very frilly, white doily. Buffy rubbed her fingers over the material and realized it was satin, not the normal material for a handkerchief. She touched the fine lace stitching that had bordered the entire cloth and noticed an M monogrammed on one of the corners.

“Hmmm, wonder if his name was ‘Monty’ or ‘Mickey,’” she mused aloud.

“Demons’ got hankies now? How considerate of ‘em. First you slay their gooey arse, then they leave a rag for you to clean up with. Bloody brilliant!” Spike laughed as he took in the look of extreme skepticism and annoyance from the Slayer.

Buffy rolled her eyes and stuck the demon hankie into the back pocket of her jeans, leaving just a little frill peeking out over the top. She checked her watch and groaned softly. It was only 9 pm and it felt like 2 am to her. She’d been alive for about a week and a half, feeling tired and useless for the majority of it. Plus, her friends treated her like some fragile Ming vase, or something as equally priceless, by constantly asking if she was all right – which was getting on her very last nerves.

No, I’m not all right. I want to go back to where I was. I was so happy there, and I feel dead here. Buffy’s eyes misted and she bit her lip to keep the tears at bay. The only thing that kept her functioning at this moment was Spike’s presence. Go figure.

Buffy remembered, back in her other life, that Spike had declared his love and devotion to her, albeit in a totally Spike way – by chaining her up. After she had gotten free, she immediately revoked his invite to her house, promising him that he’d be dust before she’d let him cross that threshold again. It turned out to be an empty promise. Time and time again, he’d proved his professed dedication to her and her loved ones by putting himself in harm’s way. Glory had nearly killed him for the information concerning Dawn. And baring the ‘Buffy-bot’ incident, Spike had earned the right to call himself a Scooby. Regardless if the others thought so or not.

Which, case in point, everyone had turned their eyes towards Spike when Buffy had said she needed to start patrolling again. Whether they wanted him to make sure that any demons or vamps didn’t take a bite out of her while she was rallying or to make sure that she didn’t off herself, she never knew. Willow and Tara seemed to tolerate Spike more often than not, especially Tara. Anya cast no aspersions, as she was an ex-demon herself. Xander and Giles, however, were barely civil to the vamp that had probably saved their butts more than once throughout the summer.

Buffy sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. She watched as Spike tilted his head back to keep the blood from pouring out of his broken nose, flinching when a flash of pain clouded his beautiful eyes. She really was sorry about that misdirected kick, but he happened to be in the way as she brought her foot down, nearly hurling when she heard the bones break.

So the million-dollar question was: When did Buffy start caring about what happened to Spike? If Buffy was honest with herself, it was when he nearly sacrificed himself for Dawn. And had she not have died, Buffy could see herself falling mighty hard for the vamp with no soul. But her dying had changed everything, making her feel twisted and empty inside. How could she give herself to someone in a relationship when there was nothing to give? Spike had done too much for her and the Scoobies to be treated that way.

And so, Buffy remained distant and isolated within herself.

Patting her pocket to make sure the cloth was still there, Buffy quietly started on her way home, counting the cracks in the sidewalk and listening to Spike follow her. Every time she moved, the frilly fabric teased and tantalized the lovesick vampire behind her.

Spike flared his sore nostrils at the sight, grousing quietly. “For Christ’s sake, Slayer…could you please try not to be so damn tempting?”

Buffy turned her head, looking back at him, without stopping. “What? I didn’t quite catch that,” she questioned, trying not to smile. She didn’t mean to tease him, but in a way, she felt alive when he looked at her…like an angel come to save a dying man. Oooo, bad choice of words, Buffy. Angel…dying…yeah, so unmixy!

Spike plastered on a fake smile and gritted his teeth. “Not one word did I say, Slayer. Best keep your eyes forward and pay attention to where you’re going, else you’ll trip and fall…and I’ll have a right laugh at you, pet.”

Buffy rolled her eyes and shook her head, turning back to the road leading home. Feeling Spike’s gaze on her, she dared to be flirty Buffy, just for once. She sauntered her hips just enough to hear a low growl issue from the vampire behind her. She smiled lightly, and quickened her pace, trying to outrun emotions that were starting to creep up on her.

Even though he made no move to touch her, Buffy felt his burning gaze on her form as she neared her house. She really shouldn’t have teased Spike like that and a wave of guilt hit her hard in the chest area. Why was her relationship with her formal mortal enemy so complicated? Most likely because of just that – he was her mortal enemy. Or was, but even that excuse was starting to lose ground. Her continuous mantra of Vampire equals bad, Human equals good was starting to sound thin, even to her own ears. Confusion clashed with years of ingrained training and she decided to, once again, avoid reflecting on where her life was headed. Blissful oblivion had its perks.

Reaching her back porch, she turned to watch Spike as he hesitantly followed up the steps and waited by the door. “Can I have a nip?” Spike asked innocently.

Buffy’s eyes widened and then she frowned in confusion. Nip? Did he just ask for a nip?

“Of hot chocolate,” Spike said, rubbing his hands up and down his sides. “S’bloody cold out tonight, luv. Mum always made me some,” he pouted, sticking out his bottom lip. “Sides, it’s the least you could do, after this,” he cajoled, pointing at his swollen nose.

Oh that lip…that wonderful, sexy, pouty lip. Buffy’s eyes glazed over, as she recalled tasting that lovely piece of flesh over a year ago. Snap out of it Buffy! He asked for some hot cocoa, not a kiss!

Spike noticed the look in Buffy’s eyes and held his breath. Internally, he was begging the Slayer to let him in, to let him touch her, taste her…love her. But then he mentally kicked himself as he realized that the Slayer was tired and appeared completely worn out. Chit needed some good, deep kip. Needed some TLC and he hoped that she would let him take care of her. Good luck with that, mate.

Buffy averted her eyes quickly and unlocked the door to the darkened kitchen, only turning on the small light above the stove. She bustled around the kitchen to find the supplies her mother had kept on hand for Spike, even finding a bag of little marshmallows hidden in the pantry. As she bent over a lower cupboard to obtain a saucepan, her rounded arse drew Spike’s stare as he watched the frilly handkerchief bobbing along with her movements. Before Spike could register that she was watching him, he let slip a groan of longing. Seeing Buffy observing him with curiosity instead of the expected disgust made him pull into himself and pinched the bridge of his nose in a gesture that reminded her so much of Giles.

“Right…well I-I,” Spike stuttered. The normally verbose vampire was at a loss for words, his mouth dry with want.

Buffy just continued to look at him strangely, as if she were a deer caught in the headlights. After a few tense moments, she lowered her eyes and quietly began making the hot chocolate.

With a heavy sigh, Spike took a seat at the breakfast bar, waiting for her to finish. Way t’go mate…scare the chit to her third death! Never one to keep his hands still, he began playing with the fake grapes that were in the fruit bowl, flicking them across the room to see if they’d land in the sink.

Hearing the plunk of objects hitting the sink, Buffy turned to see a miserable-looking Spike, flicking plastic grapes into the drain. She tried to hide her smile, until one accidentally hit her on the forehead. “Hey! Those are expensive, bud, even for plastic!”

“Sorry pet! I’ll replace ‘em,” he apologized. “I’ll even get real ones, the Bit likes the green kind.”

Buffy smiled to herself at the slip of domesticity from Spike. Spike had taken care of Dawn all summer, making sure she ate and stayed safe from the local baddies. And for the first time since she’d been pulled from the warmth and comfort of ‘heaven’, her heart grew a little warmer at the thought of Spike. He had kept his promise to her, even after she was gone.

Buffy sat the steaming mug of cocoa in front of Spike and handed him the bag of marshmallows. He smiled gently and dumped a handful in the cup, watching some of them dissolve into creamy foam. He took a tentative sip and found it a bit too hot, so he decided to let it cool.

“You’ve got a mustache,” Buffy giggled, as she wiped away the milky foam that had attached itself to Spike’s upper lip with her thumb. She then sucked it off her finger, her tongue darting out to taste the sweet confection.

Spike’s left eye twitched. He was still trying to come to grips with the fact that the Slayer had, of her own volition, touched his lips with her fingers, when he heard her talking.

“I’ll talk to Giles and ask about the demon hankie. Maybe he’ll have some ideas and we can go from there,” Buffy said, trying to ease some of the tension in the room.

Spike nodded silently, not trusting his voice. The woman was suffocating him with her nearness, and all he wanted to do was drown in her. Needing the distraction, he grabbed the cup of steaming liquid and drank it down in one gulp, scalding his throat in the process. Spike then took the mug to the sink and rinsed it out, like he had done a thousand times when the Slayer was gone.

Spike then turned towards the door, twisting to look back at her with his hand on the knob. “You’d better get to sleep, Slayer…more nasty buggers on the horizon, and all that.”

A look of confusion flitted across Buffy’s face as she came to stand near him by the door. “Did I say something wrong, Spike?”

Spike bit his bottom lip, shaking his head no, and smiling tenderly at her before chucking Buffy under the chin. “I’ll catch up with you tomorrow night, yeah?”

She nodded, still confused, cocking her head to the side. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry…about this,” she said shyly, carefully touching his nose. Nothing like this should be inflicted upon his beautiful face. Since when do you think he has a beautiful face? Oh get over yourself Summers; he’s got the face of a freaking God! Buffy didn’t stop touching Spike’s nose, continuing to stroke his beautiful high cheekbones, and finally laying her heated palm against his cool cheek.

“Slayer…Buffy,” Spike whispered, as he nuzzled against her hand, longing audible for both of them to hear.

Buffy bit her lips tight, trying to stifle the whimper that begged to escape. She clamped down hard on her emotional response to his whispered plea, her name sounding like a revered hymn being sung. “Spike…I,” she faltered, failing to suppress the longing in her own voice.

“Buffy, don’t!” Spike pleaded as he held onto the hand that cupped his cheek, his eyes begging for a crumb.

With a moan, Buffy tore herself away from Spike’s grasp and scurried to the other side of the kitchen. “You know nothing good would come of it. You’re a vampire for Christ’s sake! I kill your kind every night!” she tried to reason, even though tears were silently falling down her face. “You’re like a drug that makes me wig out every time I’m near you, making me crave you like an addiction. And that’s just what you are, an addiction; one I need to cure myself of…because I can’t have you, not supposed to have you!” she cried, burying her red face in her hands, her whole body shaking.

Misery edged over Spike’s face as he absorbed all that she had revealed to him. “An addiction…” he murmured. “A bloody, fucking addiction?” he roared. “Pet, do you have any idea what kind of addiction you are to me? I wake up, I want you…I sleep, I want you…I exist, and I want you! If I could inject you into my bloody system there is no price I wouldn’t pay to have it. But instead, I have to make due with a placebo, one that highly pales in comparison to the drug of choice. And you know what, Slayer? I don’t want to cure myself of this addiction. But you? You do what you need to…go to AA meetin’s and all…or better yet, try going cold turkey!” he said in a rage and stormed out the back door.

Buffy stared at the closed door, the curtains swaying slightly from the wake of an angry vampire. Never could she have imagined the ferocity of his words, the anger, the hurt…and it made her tremble. She slowly sat on the stool that Spike had occupied at the breakfast bar, noticing that a few drops of his blood had fell from his battered nose onto the counter. The drops were still wet and she lightly dabbed her finger in the crimson liquid until it coated her fingertip. Buffy held the fluid up to her own nose and inhaled deeply, trying to gain a sense of how vamps scented blood. Smelling only a coppery overtone, she tentatively stuck her tongue out to taste the precious lifeblood of Spike.

Thousands of tiny shivers shot up her arm and it made her giddy the moment the tang touched her tongue. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she gave a full throaty laugh at the sensory overload. She then quickly cleaned up the rest of the spilled blood with her fingers and suckled them clean, feeling the same, overwhelming sensations.

Oh my God, if a few drops can do that, imagine what a lot more could do!

Slipping from the stool, she turned off the stove light and headed towards bed. “I’m already addicted to Spike. Problem is…I don’t know if there is a cure, or if I’d even want one if there was,” Buffy said to the empty and dark house.

She never registered the shadow that followed her every movement.

I want to be in bed, not at my Watcher’s door, banging on it to let me in. Why did he have to ask me to come over so flipping early anyway?

Buffy knocked on his apartment door and rubbed her gritty eyes. Before she had gone to bed last night, she phoned Giles, informing him about the ‘hankie’ that Spike and she had found. He then said he would be available first thing in the ungodly morning and she was to bring the item by so that he may examine it. Initially, she had agreed. But that was before the dreams began the previous night. They’d been downright disturbing to say the least, and kept her in a constant state of confusion. The emotions they provoked ranged from the most sensual release to the most paralyzing fear, and everything in between, and she awoke feeling more tired than when she went to bed. Leaning her forehead on the door, she yawned and waited until Giles answered her knock.

He opened the door while Buffy was leaning against it and she lost her balance, falling right into his arms. “Buffy, good Lord…are you all right?” Giles’ concerned tone filtered through her bleary mind.

“Oh Giles, sorry about the fainty-thingy,” she yawned again, as she disengaged herself from her Watcher’s grasp. She straightened her weary body and walked into the apartment, perching on one of Giles’ dinning room chairs. She rubbed her eyes again, making grumbling noises and sighing heavily. “Sorry, didn’t get much sleep last night after I talked to you,” she grumbled.

Giles frowned slightly and took in the increasingly dark circles under her eyes. Granted, the poor girl had literally been dead only two weeks ago, but she had rallied in that time, looking somewhat healthy. Today, however, she looked pale and exhausted, the effect of more than one sleepless night showing on her face.

He stood in front of her, avoiding the slight swinging of her legs and laid a hand on her forehead to feel for a fever. She felt cool enough to the touch, so he turned his gaze to her dark eyes. They looked haunted, and he wondered not for the first time where Buffy had been before Willow brought her back. He also asked himself if her Slayer duties should be postponed until she felt capable of taking on such a heavy responsibility again.

“Buffy,” Giles started hesitantly. “Do you know why you’re not sleeping as well as you should?”

Her eyes darted up to her Watcher’s face. “Sometimes I…” she paused, gathering her thoughts. “Sometimes I’m afraid to close my eyes. I’m afraid that I’ll wake up here, or wake up there…or not wake up at all,” she confessed quietly. “And last night…there were just too many dreams.”

“Were they Slayer dreams?” he questioned. It was important to know if they were prophetic or just ordinary dreams. Slayer dreams had a nasty habit of coming true, especially if Buffy was the one having them.

She shook her head. “No, these were…they were ah…” she stuttered. Heat immediately flared up her neck and into her cheeks at the thought of all the dreams she’d had last night…about Spike. The ones where he was caressing her, touching her, tasting her, cherishing her…loving her.

Buffy pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around her knees, leaning her chin on top of them. She couldn’t tell Giles about those dreams…they were private, very private, and would probably only serve to agitate him. No, those dreams, and oh how wonderful they were, she would keep to herself. She did, however, remember one dream that was odd, and didn’t involve Spike at all. Maybe that dream was a portent, so she told Giles about it.

“There was a shadow,” she said finally. “It followed me around, but never revealed itself. I think it was a male, it gave off a certain vibe, you know?”

Giles pinched the bridge of his nose and her heart lurched, remembering the way Spike had done the same thing last night when his nose was a mess. Must be a British thing.

“Did this shadow feel menacing at all? Did you feel threatened?” he waited patiently while she tried to remember.

“No, but I did get a feeling of…well…curiosity and disappointment. It was odd,” she shrugged and went on. “It followed me around, like on patrol, or to Scooby meetings, and into the house. But it never went near my bedroom. It had an older quality to it, a certain feeling of wisdom,” she chuckled lightly. “Felt like my grandpa, or an uncle type person.”

Even though it cheered his heart to hear her laugh a little, Giles felt she wasn’t taking this dream seriously enough. “You mean a degenerate old man is following you around in your dreams?”

Buffy’s jaw hung open in shock. “Ewww, no! Gross Giles, it definitely didn’t feel like THAT! It wasn’t like he was some perv out to look at my dangly bits!” She scrunched up her face at the thought of a sexual predator sneaking about in her unconscious mind.

“Dangly bits? Excuse me, but did you just say dangly bits?” Rupert’s eyebrows lifted high on his forehead.

Confused, she cautiously answered. “Yeah, why? Is there something wrong with saying dangly bits?”

His only logical conclusion didn’t leave him with a feeling of reassurance. “Buffy, you do realize what dangly bits are, don’t you?”

She looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “Uh, they’re these…right?” she said as she pointed to her boobs.

He couldn’t stifle the snort of laughter that erupted from his chest. He really hadn’t meant to laugh at her, composing himself immediately after taking in the scowl that formed on her face. “Ahem, well, uh no actually. Dangly bits refers to the slang British term for umm, to the, er uh…good Lord, how do I say this…the slang term for the male appendage.”

Realization dawned in Buffy’s foggy brain as she dropped her head into her hands, mortified. “Oh my God! I did not just say dangly bits!” she moaned.

Giles ventured a guess as to her use of such slang. “Buffy, exactly how much time have you been spending with Spike?”

“What does Spike have to do with dangly bits? Oh wait! He used that last night, when we…” but she didn’t finish because of the stern look of objection on her Watcher’s face. Again, she felt embarrassment well up inside of her. She must have been around Spike a lot if she felt comfortable using some of his colorful idioms. What was next? ‘Allo mate, fancy a cuppa?’ Funny how she never realized just how much time she spent with Spike lately, him falling into place at her side like an old friend.

Giles ignored her embarrassment and pressed on, “Maybe you should ease up a bit on the patrolling, just for a while.”

“But I…yeah, sure…fine,” she muttered as she looked the resolve on his face. It would be nice to have a night off, but she knew Spike would look for her and thus end up at her house to see if she was still alive. And thoughts of Spike lead down the path of her dreams…and the kissing…and the touching. Gah! Buffy stop! Again with the non-working thing between you and the vamp! Giles already wants you to take a night off because you’re spending way too much time with Spike. But he makes me feel… she immediately clamped down on her traitorous thoughts.

She sighed heavily and rubbed the back of her neck, figuring she’d better head home to look in on Dawn and clean the house. But then, she remembered why she came to her Watcher’s apartment in the first place as she reached into her back pocket. “This is what we found last night at the last demon kill. Does it look familiar to you?” She handed the ‘demon hankie’ to Giles.

He frowned hard in concentration as he examined the frilly lace around the beautiful handkerchief. Nowhere in any literature, supernatural or otherwise, was there a mention of handkerchiefs that were associated with demons or vampires. “It’s very unusual, to find this on a demon,” he mused aloud.

“Well, we didn’t exactly find it on the demon. More like three rows over from the kill. I think it was dropped during the fight or something,” she clarified.

“Hmm, very strange and interesting indeed. I’ll research it in my texts and see if Willow or Tara can come up with something,” he said absentmindedly, his attention now completely focused on the handkerchief.

Knowing her Watcher was completely lost to any more conversation, Buffy shrugged and slid off the chair, heading for the door. “Let me know when you find something. I really don’t like the idea of slaying demons with uh, hankies as their weapon of choice. My mother would have seriously frowned upon it.”

“Yes, yes…I will,” he muttered as he searched through his library, paying no attention to her.

She shook her head and quietly left the apartment, heading home to Dawn and a dirty house. She really needed more sleep, but her mind wasn’t settled enough to attempt the voyage into dreamland again. She didn’t count on her sister Dawn to help with the housework, being the teenager that she was, so she resolved to get her work done as quickly as possible. Besides, she needed to find an outlet for the tense energy that had been building since last night. And cleaning didn’t involve highly volatile, sexually tense encounters with a finely sculpted, sea of blue-eyed vampire.

As Buffy walked through the door, the phone began ringing, causing her to stumble in her rush to answer it. “Hello?”

“Hey pumpkin!” greeted the man’s voice on the other end.

“Dad!?” she choked, blinking back sudden tears. Her father hadn’t even realized that she was dead over the summer, so the last thing she expected was for him to call her.

“Yup, it’s your old man! Hey listen…is Dawn around by chance?”

She bit her lip to keep from crying bitterly. “She’s still asleep I think. What did you need?”

“Well Diane and I are going to be driving through there on our way out of town, and wondered if Dawn wanted to go with us on a little weekend get-a-way. Where’s your mother, by the way? Out on one of her many shopping trips?” The way Hank Summers said ‘shopping’ made it sound lurid and cheap.

Fucking moron! He doesn’t even know mom’s dead! Didn’t even know I was dead! “Yeah, she’s on a shopping trip. She’ll be gone a long while,” she murmured.

“Figures. Well, tell Dawn we’ll be by this evening to pick her up. And we’ll pick up something for you too, Buffy.”

“Thanks. I’ll see that she gets packed,” she whimpered, saying her goodbyes before she broke down in sobs. Everything from jealousy to anger and hatred rolled through her and she collapsed to the floor, rocking back and forth until she let it all out.

Sniffling and wiping her already overly sensitive eyes, Buffy stood up and then sat at the kitchen counter, pulling out a sheet of notepaper to write on. It was the only thing she could think of to keep her thoughts at bay as she wrote down a list of chores that needed to be done. That’s how her sister found her.

“Hey, Buff,” a sleepy Dawn mumbled as she grabbed the cereal from the cupboard.

Buffy didn’t want to look at her with tear streaked red eyes, so she just muttered, “Hey Dawnie.”

“Was Spike here last night?” she asked after noticing the marshmallows that were left out.

Buffy smiled to herself. “Yeah, he was cold so he wanted hot chocolate.”

“Figures.”

“Dad called. He wants to take you out of town…with Diane,” she said hesitantly.

Dawn groaned around a mouthful of Rice Krispies. “I hate Diane. Where does he want to take me? And why me? Why not both of us?”

“I’ve got slaying to do here. Dad…” Buffy faltered. “Dad doesn’t know I died, Dawn. And he doesn’t know about mom either. I’d like to keep it that way.”

“I hate him,” she fumed with loathing.

“I’m sorry…I really am. I know he’s not your…” Buffy stopped before she said father. “But he really seems to want to spend time…with you.”

“He can take a flying leap off a tall cliff for all I care,” Dawn spat, losing any appetite she’d previously had.

Ignoring her sister’s protests, Buffy continued, “He’ll come by this evening to pick you up.”

“I don’t want to go!” she screeched and threw her half empty bowl into the sink.

“Look, Dawn, I’m under enough pressure as it is,” she said in a warning tone. “Please, just do this for me. You’ll have fun. And I’m sure he’ll take you shopping.”

Dawn crossed her arms and stared out the kitchen window. “Fine. I’ll do it for you. But I won’t enjoy myself.”

A grin tugged at Buffy’s lips. “Thank you. Now please…go get packed and clean up.”

She watched as her sister walked out of the kitchen and stomped up the steps, making her displeasure quite clear. Buffy knew that once Dawn was immersed in the shopping trip she would forget about her promise to ‘not enjoy herself.’

After completing her chore list, she delved into the tasks with gusto, finishing her work around the time her father arrived to pick Dawn up. Buffy refused him entry into the house, instead yelling for her sister to get her ‘skinny butt’ down to the foyer. Dawn appeared with a small suitcase in hand and a large backpack.

“I love you, please remember that,” Dawn said as she hugged Buffy tightly.

She hugged her back just as tight. “I know. I love you, too.”

She then watched as her sister and wayward father drove off into the evening, envying them the fun they would have…even if it were with Diane in tow. Sighing heavily, she threw her dust cloth under the kitchen sink and leaned against the counter, rubbing her neck from exhaustion. She then decided she was sorely in need of a hot bath.

Moving from the kitchen into the living room, Buffy eyed the shelf of old books that her mother had owned and pick a rather trashy romance novel, the kind where everything turns out all right in the end. She needed an escape, even if it was only for one night, she thought, flipping through the pages as she climbed the stairs to the bathroom.

As she drew her bath, she kept thinking back to the dreams that featured Spike. He’d taken such good care of her, rubbing her back, caressing her face, keeping her safe from the loud noises and bright lights of the here and now. Watching the foam start to spread out on the surface of the water, she quickly shed her clothes and sank into the hot luxury that was her lavender bubble bath.

Buffy closed her eyes and sighed, noting she seemed to be doing a lot of that lately and it bothered her. She should be happy to be back…shouldn’t she? So why did she feel like she was dead inside? Her friends thought she should be grateful for being brought back, but she wasn’t. The only people that didn’t expect anything from her were Dawn and Spike. Spike… she thought wistfully, touching her fingers to her lips.

Why him? Why now? Oh God, I’m going insane!

Silent tears coursed down her cheeks and she sunk further into the steaming water until muscles began to relax, her book lying forgotten on the floor. Several candles lit the room as the overhead light was too garish and bothered her eyes, their scents mixing with the lavender to soothe her frazzled nerves.

After a few moments of sobbing, she finally opened her eyes and looked towards the ceiling. “I want to go back…so tired. Please? I want to go home.”

“What’s going on?”

“Simple. I’m gonna prove something. I love you,” Spike said, rather proudly.

“Oh my God!” Buffy gagged, turning her head away from the sight of Spike standing in front of her, and Drusilla chained up to a post in the cave.

“No, look at me,” Spike growled, as he grabbed hold of Buffy’s chin and forced her eyes to meet his. “I love you. You’re all I bloody think about! Dream about. You’re in my gut…my throat. I’m drowning in you, Summers…I’m drowning in you.”

Drusilla sent up an insane cackle at that moment, smiling widely because she had known…known for much longer than the vampire who wore his emotions on his sleeve.

“I can do without the laugh track, Dru,” Spike snarled as he looked over his shoulder at his sire.

Drusilla smirked. “But it’s so funny! I knew…before you did. I knew you loved the Slayer. The pixies in my head whispered it to me.”

He rolled his eyes and turned back to gaze longingly at Buffy. “You can’t tell me that there isn’t anything there between you and me. I know you feel something!”

Buffy frowned so hard she thought her face would break. “It’s called revulsion,” she spat. “And whatever you think you’re feeling it’s not love. You can’t love without a soul!”

Drusilla felt the need to correct the naïve Slayer. “Oh we can, you know,” she whispered, a haunted look in her eyes. “We can love quite well, if not wisely.”

Buffy startled, waking up in the cold bathwater, clutching the side of the tub in panic. Her breathing was coming in gasps and pants, her insides aching from the lingering dream. She felt hot tears making their way down her cheeks, giving in to the emotions bombarding her from all sides. She put her hand over her mouth to muffle the sobs, but it didn’t help.

It was as if she were experiencing that whole thing over again, except this time she was Spike. This time, she felt the rejection, the frustration…the heartbreak. When Drusilla imparted those words of wisdom about vampires being able to love, something broke inside Buffy. And she knew that Dru was quite lucid in that moment, glimpsing at the haunted far away gaze…the pain of which she spoke from experience. Who had she chosen to love unwisely? Spike? No…Spike was her protector, her hero, as he always seemed to be for the ones that he loved. No, Buffy knew who it was. The one who’d made her as crazy as she still remained. Angel… or rather, Angelus.

Starting to shiver, she got out the bathwater and wrapped herself in a big fluffy towel, uncomfortable with the sensations it was causing on her skin. Some of the candles had gutted out, so she extinguished the rest and moved to her room, towel drying her hair as she walked.

Willow and Tara still lived at the house with her, having taken Joyce’s bedroom as their own. But they were at a Wiccan retreat and wouldn’t return until tomorrow, so Buffy had the house all to herself, at least for the night. No noises…no Dawn…no nagging friends who kept asking you, ‘Does your head hurt? Is that too loud? Are you all right?’ She wanted to scream from all their concern.

After drying her hair, she slipped on her yummy sushi pajamas and sat down at her vanity, looking in the mirror at her reflection. She frowned heavily at the face staring back at her. The image had dark circles under her eyes and hollowed out cheeks, a pasty complexion rounding out the look of death that hung over her. She picked up a heavy gilt brush, which was an antique that once belonged to her grandmother, and started brushing the limp strands, uncaring if she got all the tangles out. She continued to brush her hair for a long while, never really seeing her image anymore, numb to all that she was experiencing.

She didn’t realize how much time had passed until she looked at the clock, noticing she’d been sitting there just staring at her reflection for over an hour. She sighed and rubbed her forehead, wondering if anything could help her sleep…or keep her from dreaming for that matter. Thinking back, Tara had told her that music often helped her find her focus, so she thought she might give it a try.

She didn’t have such a great selection in her room, so she pilfered something from Dawn’s collection, taking several CDs with her. Once she returned to her room, she glanced at the covers until she came to one that had a picture of a woman on the front with blue and black overtones. She recoiled instinctively and not without a fair amount of jealousy attached to it. God, this woman looks just like Drusilla!

It’s always good to try new things. How will you learn if you like them or not? Joyce’s voice flitted through her mind when she set the CD aside, never to be played.

Ugh, mom! Drusilla? Fine…but only because you forced me to! Buffy reasoned with herself. She popped the CD in her little stereo and hit ‘random play’ as the option, returning to her vanity to continue brushing her hair.

I’m so tired of being here…
Suppressed by all of my childish fears
And if you have to leave
I wish that you would just leave
Because your presence still lingers here
And it won’t leave me alone…

Buffy’s hand stilled as the haunted and pained voice floated through the air, straight towards her heart.

These wounds won’t seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There’s just too much that time cannot erase…

Her lips quivered so badly, tears filling her eyes once more. The lonely piano coupled with the aching female voice caused her to start shaking all over.

When you cried I’d wipe away all of your tears
When you’d scream I’d fight away all of your fears
And I’ve held your hand through all of these years
But you still have all of me…

Uncontrollable sobs wracked her thin frame as she curled into a ball on her vanity bench. Gasping, wretched grief poured out of her as if something had given her permission to feel again.

You used to captivate me
By your resonating light
But now I’m bound by the life you left behind
Your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams
Your voice it chased away all the sanity in me…

I’ve tried so hard to tell myself that you’re gone
And though you’re still with me
I’ve been alone all along.

“Shh, pet…I got ya.”

Strong arms wrapped themselves around Buffy’s body and lifted her from the bench, cradling her against a familiar form. She didn’t care that he was in her room; all she cared about was never leaving his embrace again.

Hearing the music, Spike kicked the plug to her stereo free from the socket and muttered, “Soddin’ vamp crap.”

Buffy never registered that the music stopped, only that she was being held by Spike, clutching the lapels of his duster in a death grip. He pulled her shaking body closer to his and nuzzled her hair, inhaling her scent and trying to prevent himself from crying as well. She felt so broken in his arms, his little Slayer. Something had changed from last night to this one and he was determined to find out what it was.

~~~*~~~

Last night, as Spike was making his way back home from the Slayer’s, something happened. Something had pulled at him, inside his chest, making him double over in shock from the awareness tingling throughout his body. It felt like someone tugging a thread through his skin to stitch up a gaping wound, but it wasn’t an unpleasant sensation, quite the contrary. It felt as if he were now connected to someone or something, he just wasn’t quite sure which. He didn’t figure out what ‘it’ was until the awareness subsided into a slight hum that was peaceful inside him, like someone was asleep. What the Hell! What the fuck is going on here?

He tried to sleep, but thoughts of the Slayer sensually slid in and out of his conscious all night long, making sleep virtually impossible. At one point, he even gave into the fantasies that were clouding his mind, touching ‘her’ in his dreams the way he knew she would like. It was as if he had tapped into a one-way current, her thoughts and feelings opening to him, her essence singing through his veins.

He awoke that morning with his sheets sticky from his nocturnal spendings and he ripped the sheets off the bed as he groused about not having a ‘good shag’ since…well… He couldn’t really say, as Harmony prattled too much and killed whatever good will he might have had towards her. Dru was always unfaithful and his love for her as a childe to a sire just wasn’t the same. It should only be about blood, sex and violence to normal vamps. But then again, William the Bloody was never a normal vamp.

Spike paced his crypt all day long, itching to get back to the Slayer. He’d realized it was Buffy that had a connection to him last night when he heard her sweet voice whisper his name, pleading for something in abject misery. He was gob-smacked, confused beyond belief as to the how’s and why’s of the bond and had to physically restrain himself from going to her because he really didn’t fancy another broken nose.

The pull became too much towards the evening of the next day, though, and he left his crypt as soon as he wouldn’t end up burnt to a crispy critter. He watched from the shadows as Dawn was picked up by Buffy’s father, suitcase in hand. Buffy’s alone tonight – not good. Best keep an eye on her then, he reasoned and perched himself in the tree just outside of her bedroom window, keeping to the shadows.

He’d watched her as she brushed her hair, the scent of lavender and Slayer drifting out the open window to assault his already overwhelmed senses. He’d seen her stare off into space for a least an hour, finally coming out of the trance-like state just as he thought about entering, the thread pulling tighter with each passing moment.

He’d said ‘to Hell with it’ though, when Buffy began her uncontrollable sobbing and curled into a fetal position on the small bench. The bond vibrated stronger than the music playing, forcing him to act on its behalf. He climbed through the window and scooped up her trembling form, cradling her against his chest and cooing softly in her ear. He would expect retaliation tomorrow, but Buffy was in no condition to take care of herself tonight.

Spying an old rocking chair in the corner, Spike carried his slight burden and sat down with her on his lap, rocking and stroking her hair. “Buffy, honey? Tell me what’s got you so upset, love,” he mumbled against her damp forehead.

Her sobs turned into a keening wail and Spike became truly afraid that she’d been in this state so long that she couldn’t be brought back. “Love, you need to talk to me!” he said a little more forcefully this time. The bond felt like a massive orchestra resonating within his chest and he sensed what must have been her soul shattering. He had to get through to her, to stop the pain that was flooding her and filtering over to him as well.

Again she said nothing, her sobs drowning out anything he could say. So he reached out by touch, rubbing slow circles on her lower back as he nuzzled his nose against her cheek and hairline, hoping she would realize she was in a safe place and return from wherever she was. Buffy’s forehead was buried in his right shoulder, his t-shirt growing wet with her tears as he gently stroked her damp tresses and rocked the chair. Her body slowly stopped shaking once he began to hum softly as he laid his cheek on top of her head. He then remembered a lullaby he’d heard in the 40’s from some silly movie about flying elephants and began to sing tenderly.

Baby mine, don't you cry.
Baby mine, dry your eyes.
Rest your head close to my heart,
never to part, baby of mine.

Little one, when you play,
pay no heed what they say.
Let your eyes sparkle and shine,
never a tear, baby of mine.

If they knew all about you,
they'd end up loving you, too.
All those same people who scold you,
what they'd give just for the right to hold you.

From your hair down to your toes,
you're not much, goodness knows.
But, you're so precious to me,
sweet as can be, baby of mine.

Spike stopped once the pull was reduced to a subtle ‘twang’ and Buffy had quieted, sniffling every now and then. “Love? You here with me?” he whispered into her hair.

She lifted her red rimmed, swollen eyes to his worried ones and lightly swept his lower lip with her fingers before whispering, “Spike… (hiccup) thank you.” Wearily, she leaned her forehead against his and let out a heavy sigh.

“S’ok, Slayer. Wasn’t like I was doing anything important when I happened by,” he teased and relaxed when she tentatively smiled. But his worry didn’t completely abate as he assessed her pallor with increasing fear. “We need to talk, Buffy.”

“I’m s-so tired…could we do it later? I’m so c-cold,” her teeth chattered and Spike could feel her body begin to shiver.

He leaned down and picked up a quilt that was near the rocker and wrapped it around them both as she settled deeper into his embrace. He rubbed her arms and hoped the friction would produce some warmth. “Don’t think it can wait, Slayer. It might be affecting you right now,” he warned.

But she didn’t hear him. “S…Spp…Spike,” her voice stuttered uncontrollably. “Ssssomethings wwrong with mmmme!” She couldn’t stop her speech from slurring and looked up at him with panic in her eyes. “Helppp meee pppplease!” she cried.

He closed his eyes in panic, trying to draw on all his training from his human days as a medical student, praying it would be enough to help the woman he loved. Gripping her biceps, he pulled her up and shook her a bit to get her to focus. “Pet? Buffy, you’ve got to listen to me and you have to understand, you hear?” She nodded weakly as trembles overcame her body.

Pulling her face close, he looked her straight in the eyes. “You and I have a connection.” He posed it as a statement, not a question. “That only happens if we share blood. And I know I haven’t had the pleasure of taking a sip, so you need to tell me what’s going on. Do you have my blood in your system?”

Her eyes darted away from his intense gaze and Spike knew she was considering lying to him. He gave her a little shake to dissuade her, knowing she couldn’t mislead him about this as he glared at her hard.
She paled at being caught in an attempt to deceive him. “Lasttt nnnight, aff…after you lleft,” she pushed between her lips; shame and embarrassment filling her as she continued, “Ttthere were a ffew drops on the cccounter… fffrom your nnnose.”

Spike stared at her in shocked silence. He was beyond flabbergasted, never figuring ‘his’ Slayer as one who would be curious enough to ‘taste’ vamp blood. He’d heard of a human or two and an occasional Slayer taking a nip, either by accident or on purpose, and they’d ended up having enhanced abilities. But Buffy? Never in his wildest dreams would he have guessed at this scenario.

He didn’t know how much of his blood he’d left on the counter but it must have been a sizable amount to produce this reaction within her. It explained the bond and everything he experienced from it. It gave them both wild and intense dreams and allowed for him to feel what she was feeling. He didn’t know all of the side affects of a small ingestion, so he was in new territory, hoping the Slayer remained just as she was. The more immediate problem, however, was Buffy’s pallor. She was as white as a sheet and her lips had taken on a blue tint.

Buffy turned around on his lap and straddled his thighs, still shivering. Her head began to loll to the side and Spike steadied her face between his palms. She stared at him, not really seeing him, caught in some foggy haze. Her breathing became increasingly shallow and she started to claw at her throat as if she were drowning.

Now Spike was well and truly scared. “Buffy, baby…I don’t know what to do!”

Suddenly, her eyes went wide and she wrapped her fists in his t-shirt, tensing as her breathing became so labored that she began gasping for air. Then she screamed in agony as the blood vessels in her temple bulged from the pressure.

“Buffy!” he yelled as he held her cheeks between his cool hands.

Her face took on a confused quality right before she fell limp in his arms, her chest ceasing to rise.

“Don’t you dare do this to me, Buffy!” he roared and began pounding on her chest, his fear growing because the chip never fired as his fists hit her still body. “Breathe, damn it, Slayer!”

Nothing. Then suddenly, a gasping breath shook through her and she lurched forward, falling once again into his arms.

“Bloody hell, pet!” he ground out, clasping her tightly to his chest. He heard her heartbeat slowly come back to normal and felt her relax against him.

She was dripping with sweat now, her skin flushed with heat as she tried to get closer to his cool flesh, seeking some relief. “Ugh, Spike… I feel like…like I’ve been hit by a truck. Did you get the license plate number?” she asked as she licked her dry lips.

Spike was too shaken to respond. He just kept brushing back the damp strands of her hair and tucking them behind her tiny ears, giving her a watery smile as he tried to keep his tears from falling.

She cocked her head to the side and gazed at the trembling vampire. She ghosted her fingertips over his high cheekbones and frowned. “I feel…really strange. What the hell happened to me?”

“S’all your fault, Slayer,” he said gently. “Apparently I was a little too tempting and you indulged in somethin’ that’s usually reserved for claiming and turning and… uhmm, well, we won’t go there.” He swallowed the rest of his statement as he took in her horrified look.

“What’s happened to me? Am I a vampire now?”

A sad moment passed over his eyes then flitted away. “No dearest, not a vampire. You didn’t take enough for a full transfer so no; you’re not a vampire. But…you did take a drop or two, and you can’t escape that, pet. You’re still the same pain-in-my-arse Slayer, just…well, somethin’ that’s better. Even I don’t know what you’re capable of now.”

She nodded then looked away, her posture becoming rigid. Spike closed his eyes and sighed. Chit’s gonna go barmy if she doesn’t figure out what the hell she can do. “Let’s see…” he said hesitantly. “Close your eyes and listen…tell me what you hear.” He gently brushed his fingertips over her lids until they were lowered.

Buffy relaxed and listened. Really listened. Her mouth fell open with a small gasp and a smile blossomed on her face. She could hear a couple arguing five streets over, listening to them argue about the man taking out the trash. The normally silent wings of the owl in Sunnydale’s zoo sounded so loud in her sensitive ears that she bit her lip to contain her excitement. She then focused on her own heartbeat and opened her eyes to see Spike gazing at her tenderly.

Shyly, she ducked her head and started fidgeting with some loose threads from the quilt that still covered them. He laid a hand over hers and softly murmured, “Pet, you need your sleep…remember, Big Bads are always on the horizon. Can’t have you kipping on the job.”

She nodded and yawned widely as she situated herself in his lap to where they were both comfortable, wrapped in the warmth of the blanket. “You’ll stay?” she asked, uncertain if he wanted to be near her after what happened.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m still here, aren’t I? `M not going anywhere, Buffy,” he whispered. “We’ll find out tomorrow what else you can do, yeah?”

She mumbled something unintelligible and he took it as her assent, her small form snuggling closer to his chest. Hearing her heartbeat slow to an even pace as sleep came to claim them both, the bond pulled him into her dreams once more as he settled in for a long night with his lady-love in his arms.

“Well, this certainly isn’t Kansas anymore.”

Tinkling laughter floated on a perfumed breeze to where Spike was standing, making him turn his head to find its source. He spied a young woman, her back turned towards him underneath a massive oak tree, its leaves nearly obliterating the weak light that was filtering through the clouds.

And said light was not making him the next poster boy for dustiness. Odd. He took in his surroundings a little more. Everything was a muted pastel color…no vibrant greens, no vivid blues or garish reds. Just dull and blah colors merged together to form a very bad watercolor picture.

“Well…lessee. I’m not Kirk, Spock, Luke, Buck, Flash or Arthur fucking Dent. So yup, I must be Dorothy Gale,” he mused aloud as he approached the girl beneath the tree, thinking he was definitely on his way to Oz.

When he set out to talk to her, he figured it was maybe about 100 feet from where he originally stood. But now, after what felt like hours of hiking, he was still around 5 feet away from her presence. “Bloody Hell!” he wheezed.

“You shouldn’t swear like that…at least not here,” the woman said in a familiar voice.

Spike took a deep gulping breath. Wait a minute. Why did he need to take a huge breath? Curious, he held his breath until the pressure in his lungs forced him to gasp, sucking in a chest full of much required oxygen. “Bloody HELL!” he roared this time.

“If Hell is that bloody, no wonder you vamps love it so much,” the voice chuckled.

“Buffy?”

The woman slowly turned her body to face him. It was his Slayer alright. But she looked different; she looked tranquil, at peace…happy. She smiled brightly and held out her hand to encourage him to sit next to her under the shade of the tree.

Spike silently moved to grasp her hand and sat on a protruding gnarled root next her. The moment he touched her hand, the colors surrounding them burst to life, causing him to nearly fall off his seat from the shock.

The faded pinks became deep reds, streaking the flowers with crimson life. The gray clouds that formally filled the sky turned white and fluffy, the clearest blue shining from the heavens. The dried up yellow and brown grass became lush with a thousand different shades of green. All he could do was stare in wonder.

“Where are we?” he whispered as he scanned the scenery, clasping Buffy’s hand in a death grip. He’d never seen colors like this before, either as a vamp or human.

“I-I don’t know, but I’m happy here, at peace,” she said wistfully. “Time means nothing here. And I can change things to suit my moods,” she whispered conspiratorially. Then she closed her eyes and wished for the moon to come out.

Spike watched as the sky grew dark and the moon appeared on the horizon. But for some reason, the swift change did not comfort him. “Put it back Slayer,” he chided softly.

She opened her eyes and pouted. “I always thought you looked particularly handsome in the moonlight,” she muttered, asking for the sun to be back in the sky again.

“Thanks pet, but until I figure out where ‘here’ is…I don’t really wanna mess with things we shouldn’t have control over.”

She looked down at their hands in her lap, fingers twining together. “This is where I was.”

“Come again?” he asked, sure that he’d heard her wrong.

“Remember when you asked if you could help me, in the alley?”

He nodded.

“I said you couldn’t, and you mentioned Hell, and then I said…”

“That you were happy there. That you were warm and loved,” he finished, nearly choking on her forlorn look.

“Yeah. I think I was in Heaven…this Heaven. I-I thought, since we’re dreaming…at least I think we’re dreaming…are we dreaming, Spike?”

Her nervous prattle charmed him. “We’re dreaming pet. How else could I stand in the sunlight? And have a set of bloody lungs!”

“Like that part, huh?” she giggled before turning shy. “I wanted to show…to show you where I was, what it was like…to let you see the sun.”

Tears formed in his eyes and he quickly looked away. “Awfully generous of you, Slayer,” he said gruffly, swiping at the tears that refused to stop.

“I’ve realized something since I was…brought back,” she managed. What she really wanted to say was ripped from a safe place and forced into a hellish existence where everything was hard, bright, and violent. But she knew neither Spike nor Dawn had any part in it, so she spared him those feelings.

“Even though I was loved and warm in this place, I was…lonely. I mean, I got to see my mom once,” she said with a sad smile. “But then she was gone again, to her own Heaven I suppose. I know I was finished with the Slaying, and it felt so good to lay that burden down, but still…something was missing.”

Spike felt he was composed enough to look her in the eye as he asked her, “What was missing?”

A sudden low rumble of thunder drowned out her reply. He growled at the heavens for issuing a thunderclap at that precise moment, though she seemed unaffected by the noise, chattering on as if nothing happened. He became suspicious when he waved his hand in front of her face and still she didn’t respond.

“Well, tie me up and shag me sideways till I’m blind,” he growled low in his chest. Why is it, whenever a life altering moment comes along, I get the royal SHAFT! he yelled in his mind. He opened his eyes to see that Buffy was still ensconced in dreamland and he sighed wearily.

A series of thunderbolts rolled across the heavens and made the house tremble with the vibration. Spike shifted his slumbering burden so she would be more comfortable, not wanting to disturb the miracle that he held. He laid his cheek against her hair and listened to her. She was still dreaming, he could all but hear it, feeling the pull from her again and wondered what was going on within her body and mind. She’d tasted his blood and there was no telling what would happen to her. Of all the changes, one was undeniable; her blood sang to him in desperate longing, waiting for completion.

Rain started tinkling on the roof, a mild wind buffeting against the windows. There would be no sun today, which was just as well. He intended to stay here as long as she would let him, tightening his hold on her when she moaned softly.

“Shh, baby, you’re safe,” he whispered, pressing his cool lips to her damp forehead.

Buffy shifted suddenly and stiffened in his arms. Great, she’s awake and now my face’ll be a bloody punchin’ bag, he winced. Instead, she started talking in her sleep.

“No, come back…I want you to stay,” she murmured in a distressed tone. Soon after, she started to thrash about in his grasp and he nearly ripped her arms off trying to keep her from falling off his lap.

“Buffy, wake up or you’re gonna hurt yourself!” he practically yelled.

She stilled the moment she heard his voice, turning her head towards him, eyes closed as if responding to him from a deep state of unconsciousness, whispering his name. “Spike?”

He cupped her face in his hands, brushing away the tears that had started to creep down her face with his thumbs. “Slayer, you in there?”

Buffy heard something familiar through the thick haze. Familiar and safe. Gasping as if she were drowning, she grabbed Spike’s shoulders to steady herself, prying her tired eyes open. She frowned in confusion when she saw his stunned look.

“What?”

“Uh, Slayer.” But he didn’t get to finish as a particularly loud crash of thunder startled her so badly she fell backwards, taking him with her.

They landed with a mutual “Oof!” on the floor, his body lined up perfectly with hers from shoulder to toes. At least, it was perfect for him. He couldn’t help himself, as he splayed his long nimble fingers on each side of her hips, holding her in place so that he could indulge in her heat. It might be the only time he caught her unawares and he wanted to savor it.

Even though it was very dark in the room, she could see Spike’s face clearly, and she wondered at that. She could also see the muscle in his jaw ticking, knowing he was frustrated about something. Then she became aware of their position…and her mind didn’t object. Huh? Since when do you not object to the evil undead touching you? Since he took care of Dawn all that time…since he patrolled with your friends all summer…since he loved… Enough! I suppose I could give him a kiss to make up for all the punches to his nose. A kiss?! her mind screamed at her, about how stupid she was for thinking a ‘kiss’ could even come close to rewarding the vamp staring at her like he was lost.

“You in there pet?” His voice was laced with concern, noting her far away look.

Lightening lit the room and caused her to shy away from the brightness. When she turned back, Spike was still watching her with something akin to wariness. But why was he wary? Did he think she would throw him out of the house for daring to comfort her last night? Had she done that to him? Yes, you have…many times, came the insidious voice inside her head. She couldn’t let him think that anymore.

“Spike.” She smiled tremulously. It broke her heart when he closed his eyes in relief, glad that his nose was safe for the time being.

“Slayer,” he responded softly as he rose up until they were face to face and Eskimo kissed her with his nose. He stopped once he realized what he was doing, moving to roll off of her, feeling torn between wanting her to feel safe in his presence…and just plain wanting her.

She stopped him mid-turn and brought him back to his original position. “I liked that…it tickled,” she said so quietly he barely heard her, even with vamp hearing.

Hesitantly, giving her enough time to say no, Spike lowered his lips to hers in a chaste and tender kiss. When he felt her body relax underneath his, he moved his hands up to cup her face, memorizing it as he kept his eyes closed. It was their first kiss since their fake engagement, and he wanted her to remember it, to brand himself upon her like she was in his heart.

“I saw you, Spike…in my dream,” she said between kisses, drawing in a much-needed breath.

He slowed his kisses to light pecks on the cheek and chin as he thought about what to tell her. “I was there pet, you pulled me in.”

Gasping, she suddenly stilled. “That was really you? You were there?”

He eased away from her beautiful face and looked her in the eyes. Her eyes! “Oh…. balls!” Growling, he shifted his weight off of her and stood up.

“Not exactly what a girl wants to here when a cute guy is kissing her,” she muttered, sitting up and scooting back to lean against her bed.

“Pet, I think you should…wait a tic,” he halted, finally digesting what she’d said. “You think I’m cute?”

Buffy rolled her eyes playfully. “Men.”

He smirked and stuck his tongue behind his teeth, oozing pure sex. “You bet, love.” But then he sobered as he looked at the tired girl on the floor. “You’d best come over here and sit down, pet,” he said quietly as he patted the seat to her vanity.

Sensing his uneasiness made her want to panic. “Why?”

“Stubborn bint,” she heard him mutter under his breath. “Come sit with me…please. I need to have a good look at ya,” he pleaded gently as he sat on the bench with enough room left for her.

She got up and drudgingly shuffled over to where Spike straddled the stool and sat opposite from him. Her hair hung in soft waves over her forehead, shadowing her eyes. He slowly raised his hand and gently moved it away, tucking a couple of strands behind her ears, trailing his fingers down to her chin to lift her face to his, her eyes remaining closed.

“Love, let me have a look at ‘em beautiful peepers, yeah?” he coaxed.

Heaving a sigh, Buffy slowly lifted her eyelids and stared into Spike’s amazed face. She watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down repeatedly – not a good sign. His wide eyes and stunned looked did nothing to reassure her either.

“God! Will you just tell me what’s wrong?” she finally asked in exasperation.

Instead of answering her question, he asked one of his own. “Can you see me in this dim light?”

“I can see everything, including you,” she groused. “And it’s not dim in here. It looks like a couple of lights are on. Now, will you tell me what’s wrong?”

“There aren’t any lights on, pet. It’s near pitch black in here…for human vision,” he said reluctantly.

“What?” she whispered breathlessly.

He didn’t even try to explain, because he knew he’d make a right mess of things. Clasping her shoulders, he gently turned her body to face the mirror, but she squeezed her eyes shut again. He moved closer to her body and wrapped his arms around her, preparing for her struggle, leaning down and to speak softly in her ear.

“Open your eyes, love.”

She tensed from the restraint but did as he asked. The moment she opened them, she knew Spike was right to hold onto her because if he hadn’t, she would have screamed then probably fainted. She quickly turned her head away in fear as Spike held on to her.

“S’ok, Slayer,” he said tenderly. “Still got bloody gorgeous peepers, just a different shade is all.” Kissing the top of her head, he closed his eyes when he felt her shudder.

Timidly, she slowly turned her head back around to face the mirror and opened her eyes again. Her irises had lost their jade green quality and acquired an almost ice blue one, a thick ring of navy blue on the outer rim. They were also iridescent, she noticed, changing between many shades of blue and green, as if her mind couldn’t decide which color they should be. It made for a startling sight, literally, and she couldn’t stop her own gasp.

Feeling her relax somewhat, Spike released her and sat back to watch as she gingerly touched her face, pulling down one of her lower lids. He had to muffle a laugh when she leaned forward really far and lifted her upper eyelid as well, looking quite ridiculous. She turned her head this way and that, then kept her head stationary while moving her eyes. He would have laughed himself to life if the situation hadn’t been so serious.

“I wager your eyesight is extremely acute. What can you see, pet?”

She nodded. “Everything…beyond everything, almost like I can see through things!”

Even though it must be terrifying for her, he smiled as her excitement shone through. Heaven knew he was scared witless and he hadn’t done a thing except bleed a little on her kitchen counter. He watched as she touched her eyes and blinked several times, possibly to come to grips with the change in visual coloration and clarity.

“Hearing still there, too?”

She cocked her head to the side and listened as she had done last night. She could pick up her own heartbeat, which thumped along with a very faint hum she attuned to. “I hear something… something low, and constant.”

Spike didn’t dare tell her that she’d more than likely picked up on the bond that he had with her, knowing she wouldn’t believe him anyway, so he tried to direct her away from it. “P’rolly some git with his music blaring a mile away.”

She gave him a ‘look’ in the mirror, directing it towards the area where he would have been, had he cast a reflection. One that said I know what THAT would sound like, and this is something entirely different, but she said nothing as she continued to test her newfound ability. Feeling somewhat fragile about her appearance, she quietly asked Spike what he thought about her new ‘look’. “Do you think…am I pretty this way?”

Sitting behind her as he was, he groaned and leaned his forehead on the back of her right shoulder. “God, Buffy…you’re kidding me, right?” Seeing her eyes dart away self-consciously gave him his answer. “You couldn’t be lovelier! Venus herself is one jealous bint, I tell you!”

Her cheeks flared hot with embarrassment as she tried to ignore the tingly feeling his words evoked within her. Spike felt them, however, and he slowly wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her back so that she leaned on him. He lowered his face to the crux of her neck and inhaled deeply, just behind her ear.

“So bloody beautiful,” he whispered against her ear and she shivered, leaning her head back to rest against his lips at her temple.

He pressed a fervent kiss there and continued down her cheek. She didn’t stop him and had, in fact, leaned into him a little more, seeking his attentions. What the lady wants, the lady shall have. He then began pressing small kisses on her jaw as his fingers floated over her face, tilting her head back so he could press his lips to hers softly, the touch all-consuming.

“God, what’s happening to me?” she moaned, arching into Spike’s body. He growled in response and pulled her tighter against him, her firm ass cradling his erection.

“What do you feel?” he asked breathlessly, forcing the situation to be addressed by her. He stole his hands around the front of her body and started unbuttoning her pajama top, pulling it down shoulders once he’d completed the task.

“I feel…” But she didn’t complete her sentence when his hands found her nipples and began tweaking them, pinching them between his knuckles, causing her to lose all sense of thought.

She relaxed in his arms and gave herself over to the sensations he was creating in her, had always created in her, though now they seemed heightened. Now that her shirt was pooling around her waist, she raised her right arm and curled it behind his neck, threading her fingers in his soft sleep-mussed hair. This gave him greater access to her breasts and he took full advantage of it.

Spike cupped her breasts and began kneading them, flicking the nipples to see them pucker, listening to her breathy whimpers. The bond pulled and tugged at his unbeating heart, drawing him near her jugular as he nipped and laved the skin. It’s fucking agony, not doing this all proper like! She’s had me by the short and curlies for over a year now and I need t’be put outta my bloody misery! he grumbled in his mind, hoping he wouldn’t succumb to the lure of her blood demanding that he complete the claim she’d inadvertently started. He didn’t dare tell her that’s what she’d done by ingesting some of his blood. But it was proving more and more difficult as the minutes passed, her responses to his touches and murmurs deepening the bond.

Without knowing it, he’d vamped out and began nipping harder at her throat. “S’bloody soft and perfect, you smell delicious,” he muttered between kisses to her neck. Snaking his hand down to her pajama bottoms, he slipped his fingers beneath the waist band, finding her core and pressing her further back onto his painfully hard shaft. He completely lost any semblance of control he had when she began grinding her luscious bum against his throbbing member, pressing the denim of his jeans to his sensitive flesh.

“Buffy…want you,” he ground out as he gripped her possessively, his hips responding to her movements.

“Arrgh! Too loud, too loud!” she screamed suddenly, covering her ears when the phone rang, curling into herself when the noise didn’t abate.

Cranky about their ruined moment, Spike ran over and picked up the phone. “Who ever this is better have a bloody good reason for calling!” he ground out.

“Spike? Is that you? What are you doing at Buffy’s house? Why are you answering her phone?” Giles couldn’t get the words out fast enough.

“Breathe, Watcher. She’s a bit uh, indisposed at the moment,” he explained, cringing that he couldn’t come up with something better. He watched her unfurl herself from the bench and slowly turn to gaze at him, lust still reflected in her eyes. His nostrils flared upon inhaling the scent of her aroused state and he had to bite back a groan of longing. “She’s a bit tuckered, you see. Seems she was havin’ a nasty bugger of a dream. So me, bein’ the heroic bloke that I am, stepped in to rescue the beauteous damsel herself.” He spared a guilty thought about not telling the whole truth to Giles, but figured any information about her changes should come from the Slayer directly.

Spike could actually feel the sneering contempt coming from the other man before he said anything. “If you’re a ‘heroic bloke’ then I’m the Queen of England!”

“I’ll make sure to ring up the Queen mum when I get back across the pond. Tell her she’s an imposter – the real Nancy poofter is right here.”

“I don’t want to even contemplate why you’re there at this hour, answering her phone.” A horrid thought crossed Giles’ mind. “Is the chip still working?”

“Nope. Sticking my fangs in her lovely neck as we speak. Of course it’s still workin’ you fucking prick!” he yelled the last part, unwilling to admit he was about to do just that before her Watcher called.

“Now, you listen here. Buffy doesn’t need or want you near her, and if you don’t respect that and be on your way out the door now then by God I’ll make sure she doesn’t have to worry about you anymore. The girl has enough on her plate without you making her life more difficult. Good Lord knows you do for the rest of us,” Giles muttered.

Spike couldn’t believe his vamp hearing. After all that he’d done over the summer, saving their pathetic arses night after night and Giles had the gall to talk to him like that? “Why you poncey, buggering wanker, I’ll…”

“Hey Giles!” Buffy cut in with as perky a voice as she could muster, grabbing the phone away from Spike before he said something that would really set her Watcher off.

Spike stomped across the room, anger and something unnamed smoldering in his eyes. Was that hurt she glimpsed on his weary face? Patting his pockets, he indicated to her that he was going downstairs for a smoke, hoping the rain shielded any lingering sunlight, at least enough that he could step out onto the shaded back porch.

Buffy watched him leave the room and sighed heavily as she started talking to Giles. “Was that really necessary?”

“Buffy, need I remind you that you let William the Bloody into your house, giving him free reign to do as he pleases? Why haven’t you revoked his invitation?”

“No, you needn’t remind me. In fact, you never let me forget it.” She rolled her eyes, wanting to cut off the lecture she heard brewing in Giles’ system. “He’s harmless, really. Just a lot of bluster and swagger, but no fang.”

“Oi! I heard that!” came a far away voice from down below.

Stupid vamp hearing, she laughed to herself.

“You can’t trust him. He may seem harmless now, but what happens if he gets that chip out? It could all go very bad, like the situation with Angel. For God’s sake, Buffy, Spike doesn’t even have a soul to lose!”

“Don’t,” she stated menacingly. “Spike isn’t like that.”

“How do you know?” Giles tried to make her see reason. “Are you…are you infatuated with him? Do you think you can just keep him as a pet?”

Her jaw hung open in shock that her Watcher would suggest such a thing. “He isn’t a lap dog, Giles. And according to you, Dawn, and the Scoobies, he helped you all summer…WHEN I WAS GONE!”

“We promised him payment!” he countered.

“Have you paid him yet?”

“Well, no actually…”

“My point exactly. I believe he’s changed, for whatever reason, and I think he’s earned enough trust that-”

“Christ, Buffy! He’s a vampire!” Giles cut her off, knowing where her line of thinking was heading.

“I KNOW! And he’s the only one who makes me feel!” she cried, covering her mouth to keep any more truths from slipping out.

Giles was silent for a few moments. “Maybe I should call Angel.”

“Don’t you even think about it,” she warned. “He may have a soul, but he doesn’t have what Spike does.”

Giles snorted. “Really. And what’s that?”

“A heart. It may be dead and unbeating, but that’s extrinsic.”

“Pardon? Forgive me, but did you say extrinsic?” Giles questioned, stunned she knew of the word.

“I do own a dictionary, Giles. Extrinsic. Not essential or inherent; not a basic part or quality; extraneous. As in Spike doesn’t need for his heart to be beating in order for it to work.”

“Ahem, yes, Buffy, I know what it means. Again, forgive me, but have you taken up reading the dictionary in your spare time?” He was amazed she knew what the word even meant. In all honesty, she was a smart girl; he just never pegged her for the bookworm-ish type.

“Well, before I…” She trailed off, shying away from any mention of her death. “I was running out of really good puns to use while I was slaying. So I started looking up words in the dictionary, a couple a day. Extrinsic was the last word I memorized before I…went away. I was kinda bummed I never got to use it.”

Giles stifled a snort. “I see. Be that as it may, I still think you should be cautious around Spike. He may have helped us while you were…gone, but his behavior was quite erratic and his moods even more so. While the more destructive side of his nature can be controlled due to the chip, I fear his volatile emotions cannot. He may find a way to disarm you without you realizing it.”

He already has, she thought to herself as she saw the vamp in question standing in her doorway, his eyes red rimmed from the crying he must have done. He’d heard the whole conversation, no doubt, and was probably waiting for her reaction. She gave him a genuine smile and witnessed him visibly relax as he walked back into her room and sat on the edge of the bed, watching her.

“Uh, Giles? Not to be rude much, but was there a reason you called?” she asked, not really paying attention to anything he’d said in the last few seconds, because her mind wandered to the vamp currently sitting across from her.

“Ah yes, I think we should meet today. I have some information regarding the handkerchief you gave to me yesterday. It’s not demon in origin, more along the lines of an ectoplasmic entity,” Giles answered, going into Watcher-Librarian mode.

She sighed. “Speak English, Giles.”

He blew out a ragged breath of relief. Buffy had not changed so drastically that she didn’t know the difference between Korlak demons and a Greog. “A ghost, Buffy.”

“Oh. Well, that’s a new one on my ‘to do’ list. Exactly how does one slay a ghost?” She shrugged her shoulders in response to Spike’s raised eyebrow. Damn it, does he have to do that? Makes me feel all gooey inside.

“One usually doesn’t. They’re typically exorcised.”

“They’re going to use my gym equipment?” She glared at Spike when his eyes danced with mirth, suppressing a laugh.

“No, Buffy, exorcised…as in an exorcism performed by a priest, not a trainer.” His patience was wearing thin. “Ghosts aren’t corporeal, unless they’ve been around for an extended period of time. Then they can move objects, touch and be touched at will, etcetera. But that’s a whole other area of the supernatural that we usually don’t deal with.”

“So are you saying we need to find a priest?” This time, she nearly did giggle when Spike’s eyebrows shot clear up to his hairline.

Giles sighed, exasperated with his charge. “Look, why don’t we discuss this further later today? Willow and Tara will have returned from their retreat and maybe they can come up with something a little more conclusive than I can.”

“Ok, how about this evening around six? That’ll give everyone time to get here and get settled. And Giles? There have been some changes, uh going on with me. I can’t really explain it over the phone,” she said, hedging around the super hearing and super sight. Giles was sure to go ballistic once he found out, and she wanted a little more time with Spike before that happened. “Really different changes.”

“You’re not pregnant, are you?” he asked the first thing that came to his mind.

“Huh?”

“Never mind.” It was impossible since she’d only been alive for two weeks. But it could be a demon baby…a particular blond pain-in-the-ass demon baby , the thought flashed through his mind before he could stop it. He mopped his face with his free hand, fearing he was losing what little wits he had left about him. “I’ll be there this evening. And I’ll let Xander and Anya know as well.”

She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Thanks, Giles. Spike will be there too. Just so you know,” she warned.

A frustrated sigh filtered through the phone. “Yes, yes…all right, Buffy. But for the record, I strongly object to including Spike in our activities, even more so than I already have. I just don’t want another incident on our hands like the one with Angel.”

“Strong objection to Buffy’s wishes duly noted.” Unable to keep the irritated edge out of her voice, she reiterated. “As I said, Spike is not like that. He wouldn’t hurt me,” she murmured softly, looking straight into said man’s eyes.

Spike covered his mouth before he muttered something unmanly. Tears in his eyes were bad enough, but he nearly lost it when she confirmed her trust in his ability to keep her safe. And to her Watcher of all people.

“Stubborn girl,” she heard Giles mutter under his breath. Before hanging up, he told her, “I’ll see you this evening then.”

Buffy glanced up to see Spike looking at her. “Sorry about that.”

Clearing his throat before speaking, he looked nervous, his eyes shying away from her bold stare. “S’ok, pet. Thanks…for stickin’ up for me and all.” He tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “But don’t wanna have the Scoobies’ knickers in a twist on my account. I can leave.”

She held out her hand and Spike rose to take it without hesitation, before kneeling down in front of her, playing with her fingers. She smiled at their hands then looked at him with those strange and disarming eyes she now had. “Please stay,” she pleaded quietly. “I don’t know if anything else new will happen with this gift, but I’d like you to stay close by. If you wouldn’t mind.”

Spike cupped her face and rubbed his thumb along her hairline, watching her eyes shift from green to a deep shade of blue. She called it a gift…she called her new abilities a gift. She trusts you…to keep her safe. She knows you have a heart. “I’ll stay, love,” he finally said, so softly that Buffy barely heard him, even with her advanced hearing.

The thousand-watt smile she graced him with bowled him over. “Thank you.”

He returned her smile, but sobered somewhat as he looked down at their hands. “I have something for you. Not really a prezzie, though. Don’t know what you’d call it.”

She laid her right hand on the top of his head and began stroking his curls gently. “Something that isn’t a prezzie and you don’t know what to call it. Hmmm, do I really want to know what ‘it’ is?”

He grinned mischievously as he reached into his duster pocket and pulled out a small purple velvet box, handing it to her. “I got it a while ago, before you…died,” he said, choking on the last word. “Tried to put it on you while you were in the casket, to keep the vamps from doing something nasty to you, but the Scoobies wouldn’t allow it. Bit said she’d do it after they were gone, but I forgot to give it to her. Been holding on to it ever since.”

Tears freely flowed down her face as she reverently touched the gem encrusted pendant that lay on the white satin. Four emeralds were lined up vertically, bisecting with two sapphires and set into a silver cross that was about two inches in length. It was finished off with a durable silver chain that looked nearly unbreakable. It was practical yet stunning at the same time.

“I know you like to wear pretty stuff,” he whispered, afraid of her silence. “An’ even in death, you were so beautiful…”

Spike lost any words he was about to say as Buffy seized his lips in a passionate kiss. She tried to pour all her thoughts and emotions into him through the act, but he felt the maelstrom inside already. She was happy, sad, heartbroken, and feeling undeserving of such a gift. He couldn’t let her think that, not after everything she’d gone through.

“Don’t cry, pet. You’ve shed enough tears for the world.”

“Would you put it on me?” she asked with a watery smile.

Taking the box from her, he pulled the chain from its nesting place and let the cross dangle between his fingers, careful not to actually touch it. She lifted her hair to one side as he reached around her neck and began fastening it. He also picked up on her accelerated heart rate and closed his eyes to keep from nipping at her throat. Steady mate, she’ll bolt if you move too quickly.

The kiss she laid across his cheek as he was finishing made him freeze. He moved slightly to the side and looked in her eyes, waiting. She returned his steady gaze, her eyes changing rapidly from green to blue and everything in between. “I…”

No, don’t say it! Cause I won’t let you take it back! he screamed at her in his mind as he pressed his lips to hers. It was the only thing he could think of to keep her silent before she said something monumental, at least to him, and then take it back. What was left of his heart wouldn’t survive that.

Spike broke the kiss to let her breathe, leaning his forehead against hers. Her heartbeat was off the chart and he smiled to himself, knowing he was the cause of it. He caressed the outer shell of her ear with his fingers and pressed a soft kiss there, feeling her shiver with longing.

Good. Long for me Buffy…please.

“So love, what’ll it be?”

Buffy glanced over her shoulder in the mirror at the spot where Spike should be standing. She hadn’t been able to keep her eyes off the beautiful pendent, watching the odd bits of light catch the gems, smiling at its dual purpose of being elegant and practical. He tried to keep you safe, even in death, whispered through her mind as she bit her lip to keep from tearing up.

“I’m still really tired,” she murmured then yawned as proof.

“Yeah, well, it’s time for all good Slayers to be up and about…not lazy slugabeds. What you need is some food. Your skinny arse would be blown away by a strong breeze.”

She turned to give him a patented ‘Buffy’ look. “Skinny arse? I’ll have you know that…well I-I train and…”

“Your body has lost muscle tone and mass, love. You barely eat enough to keep a bird alive, much less a human,” he admonished from his position on the edge of her bed. “Now get dressed. Gonna get some food down your gullet and fatten you up.”

“I don’t wanna be fat, Spike,” she pouted, sticking out her bottom lip.

His eyes glazed over as he stared at her mouth. The words escaped before he knew he was saying them. “Oh pouty…gonna get that lip.”

Buffy startled with recognition as she watched Spike slowly advance on her, sitting behind her once again on the vanity bench. Closing her eyes as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his body, she had to suppress the urge to giggle when he started nuzzling her neck, just beneath her hairline. Apparently it was his favorite place to do wicked things to her.

Spike felt mirth filter through to him and wondered what had caused such a reaction. “What’re you thinking ‘bout, pet?”

“Wondering if you still wanted to register as ‘Mr. and Mrs. Big Pile O’Dust’.”

He immediately stopped his attentions and withdrew, leaving her bereft and wondering what the hell just happened. “Spike? What’s wrong?”

His lips thinned and he glanced away from her. Can’t have her that way, mate. She wouldn’t have you that way. She doesn’t even know what she’s saying, never said she loves you or said she cared about you in that way. Poor thing’s just upset about being brought back and you happen to be convenient. He couldn’t stop his spiraling thoughts as he paced within the small confines of her room. Truthfully, he didn’t know which was worse, nearly losing his sanity because she’d died, or, completely losing it now that she was alive and he couldn’t have her.

“Spike? I’m sorry?” she apologized although she had no idea why. The tortured look on his face scared her, watching him pace like a caged animal.

“S’ok pet, just…memories, ‘s all,” he muttered after seeing what he was doing to her. He really hoped she’d drop the subject because he wasn’t in the mood to examine it further. Just remembering her snuggled up on his lap for those few hours was torment enough.

“O-ok,” she whispered. She got up and headed into her closet to pick out something to wear, biting her lip to keep from sobbing again, failing miserably. Instead, she buried her face in her arm as she reached above her to pull something off of a high shelf, squeezing her eyes shut. Stupid…stupid vampire! Why’d I have to go and lick that blood off my fingers? Why didn’t I just wash it off the counter like a sane person would do? Why can’t I stop looking at him? Why do I feel like he knows the very deepest part of my soul?

Sniffling as quietly as she could, she wiped her eyes as a thought occurred to her. She peeked her head around the corner of the closet door to see him clenching and unclenching his fists outside in the hallway. He looked like he was physically restraining himself to keep from entering her bedroom, which deepened her suspicions. “Spike?”

He never fully turned around and only inclined the back of his head in the direction of her voice. It was a few moments before he even responded, his words strained. “Yeah, pet?”

“How did you know I was…in trouble last night?”

“Bugger,” he grumbled, turning to look her in the eye. She stood near her bed with her arms crossed over her chest, her red nose a dead give away that she’d been crying again, as if he hadn’t felt every tear slice another wound in his chest. He’d had to control his reaction to her sorrow and feelings of inadequacy, forcing himself not to respond for fear of her realizing there was something he hadn’t told her. Clever girl figured it out for herself though. Bugger.

“Well? Were you being all stalker guy or-”

“You pulled me here,” he said. “I don’t know of any other way to put it, Buffy. Your emotions pulled me here. An’ when I saw you curled up like that, it-it scared me,” he admitted and entered her room again.

“I pulled you here?” She watched the struggle within him as he hesitantly made his way to stand before her. “How?” she whispered.

He reached up and began caressing her bottom lip, as if caught in a hypnotic state. “Told you last night, pet. You tasted something that’s usually reserved for turning…or claims,” he said quietly, putting emphasis on the last word.

Confusion clouded her eyes. “But you said I wasn’t a vampire, that I didn’t take enough for a full transfer…oh my God!” she said frantically as realization finally dawned on her. “Oh God Spike…what have I done?”

He backed away, just in case she felt the need to knock him senseless. He may love the chit, but that didn’t give her the right to beat on him when she felt like it. As if their roles had suddenly reversed, he now watched her pace, wringing her hands in agitation, and he felt helpless in trying to find any way in which to comfort her. It wasn’t like he could do anything to change the situation. He didn’t even know Buffy had done anything until it was too late, the changes already starting to take effect within her system.

“Spike, are you even listening to me?” she groused as she ceased pacing and glared at him, hands on her hips.

Apparently she had been speaking…and he wasn’t listening, caught up as he was in his own morose thoughts. “Sorry love, say again?”

“I asked what exactly has happened to me…to us?”

He shuffled from side to side as he debated exactly what to tell her. “You started a claim, pet,” he sighed. “Don’t rightly know what kind yet, ‘cause you only took a bit, just enough to get it started. And since I’ve never claimed anyone, I don’t have the faintest clue as to what will happen.”

Buffy frowned. “But I thought…didn’t you claim Drusilla?”

“Dru? Are you off your rocker? She was bleedin’ insane before she even turned me, she was circling the Fruit Loop bowl. She didn’t want me in that way, and I didn’t see the point in tying myself to a woman that would despise me later,” he said a little more harshly than intended. “Don’t get me wrong, I loved her – her and those damned dolls she dragged from city to city. But it was never reciprocated.”

“But you stayed with her. Why?” she asked softly.

He took her hands in his cool grasp and held onto them, waiting until she looked him in the eye. “That’s what you do when you love someone. You stay. Leastwise it’s that way for me.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it as she cocked her head to the side. “Someone’s coming.”

Spike closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, spreading his senses outward. “Red and Glinda are home,” he confirmed.

“Great,” she muttered, none too happy.

“Meet me at the IHOP in town. It’s gonna be dark all day, what with the rain an’ all. We can get some nosh while we talk…if you want?” he suggested as he neared the window and opened it to feel the breeze made cool by the rain that was still falling.

“What about my eyes?” she said in panic. “Won’t they ask about them?”

“Avoid em’. Tell em’ you’re taking a shower and gonna go out, that you’ll see em’ this evening.”

“You think that’ll work?” she asked skeptically.

“No, I just wanna imagine you naked…all that water running down your luscious body…Oof!”

Buffy pushed him out onto the roof with a smirk, closing the window before he could gain entrance again. She smiled when he tapped on the glass, watching the water drip down his handsome face, as he motioned her to come close. When she pressed her nose to the pane, her warm breath fogging it up, he winked as he pointed to her then his cheek as he laid it against the wet glass. Opening her mouth, she blew out a heavy breath, causing even more condensation on the barrier between them. Then she closed her eyes and kissed the place where his cheek was, leaving a kiss print in the mist.

Spike felt that kiss, even through the glass, and it made his heart burst with warmth at her easy affection. He looked at her through the window, his eyes saying all he wanted but couldn’t. The rain ran in rivulets down his cheeks as his curls relaxed from their gelled state, falling into his eyes because they were so long. He saw that Buffy was about to open the window again, knowing that if she did, he wouldn’t leave…ever. He stopped her with a shake of his head and mouthed the word later, then dropped to the ground and headed off in the direction of Restfield.

He didn’t see her draw a heart around her mouth print.

Spike’s left leg jumped up and down in a steady rhythm, his fingers nervously tapping on the Formica table attached to the booth he was sitting in. Glancing between the clock and the door, he waited for Buffy to appear, worrying himself into a fidgety wreck in the mean time.

“Can I get you anything, sweetness?” the waitress asked him for like the tenth time since he’d sat down.

“I-” he started but then zeroed in on the girl who quietly slipped into the restaurant. “I have everything I need,” he finished, watching Buffy approach his table and slide into the booth.

The waitress took one look at the skinny girl with her eyes lowered to the top of the table, and turned pea green with envy. Some girls have all the luck. Probably has no clue the guy is a goner for her. She huffed a little at how unjust it seemed. “What can I get for you?”

“I’ll-”

“We’ll start with coffee, strong. Then she’ll have the Chocolate Chip Pancakes and the Rooty Tooty Fresh ‘N Fruity with strawberry compote,” Spike interrupted. He knew if he didn’t order something filling, she wouldn’t get enough for herself to feed a flea. “Double that, luv,” he added with a flirty wink.

The waitress smirked, writing down all that he’d ordered and watching the girl tense with barely repressed anger. “I’ll bring your coffee right out. It’ll be a few minutes for the food.”

“I may have been dead two weeks ago, Spike, but I can order for myself,” Buffy ground out between clenched teeth after the waitress left.

“Admit it, love. You were only going to order the Cottage Cheese, weren’t you?”

She looked away, pouting slightly. “I wanted something light.”

“Any lighter and you’ll cease to exist, Slayer,” he groused. Then he thought over what he’d said and mentally groaned. “I’m sorry-”

Buffy snorted. “Don’t be. Casual statements about my death are of the good. At least you aren’t constantly asking me if I’m alright.”

“Are you alright?” he said with a smirk, waggling his eyebrows.

She narrowed her eyes on him. “It’s a good thing I like you, mister.”

That brought him up short. “You do?” It wasn’t a declaration of love, but it was a start.

“And here I thought I was being obvious,” she muttered under her breath.

“What was that?” he grinned unrepentantly, feeling on top of the world from her admission.

“Coffee?” the waitress interrupted, turning over the cups that were already on the table, pouring Buffy’s first.

“Thank you…. AHHH!” Buffy screamed as scalding hot liquid was poured over her hand, the waitress shaking as she stared at her eyes.

“Fucking clumsy bint!” Spike roared, and with a lightening quick backhand, sent the steaming decanter flying across the restaurant to smash against the wall. He clenched his jaw to keep from screaming as well, feeling the searing pain reverberate from the girl clutching her hand straight into him.

“Oh my God!” the waitress cried, mopping up the spilled coffee with the hand towel she kept attached to her apron. “The meal will be free, please don’t sue, I-I don’t have any money!”

“What’s wrong here?” A stern man had approached when he heard the commotion.

“Vera here tried to boil the skin off my girl, that’s what!” Spike bellowed, making the sobbing waitress cry even harder.

“Elaine, go back to the kitchen. On second thought, you better take the rest of the day off,” the man told her in no uncertain terms. He returned his attention back to the odd couple. “My deepest apologies, sir. I’m the manager of this establishment and of course, your meal will be free. And we’ll take care of any medical expenses arising from this incident as well.”

“It’s ok, really,” Buffy said softly, cradling her hand. It really wasn’t that bad, now having decreased to a dull sting, but Spike’s eyes were alight with righteous anger and she was afraid to draw any more attention to her shifting eye color.

Even the manager was now staring at her with something akin to obsessive curiosity, further goading Spike into some sort of action, which she hoped, would only be verbal.

“What you staring at, you bloody git?”

“Uh, I…uh, nothing, sir. I’ll just…I’ll-” the man stuttered as he continued to stare between Buffy’s strange eyes and the flashing gold in Spike’s.

Growling, Spike told the man, “Try not to let your mind wonder there, Gump. It’s too small to be out by itself.” Satisfied, he watched the man slink away back to the kitchen.

“Was that really necessary? I’m fine now, see?” She showed him the back of her hand, gasping lightly when his cool fingers soothed over what was left of the burn mark.

“It still hurts.”

“How did you…”

“The blood, kitten. I can feel shadows of things from you. If it was a full-on claim, I’d feel them with sharp clarity.”

“W-What else do you feel…from me that is?” she asked quietly after a different waitress laid their orders in front of them and quickly hurried away.

But he didn’t answer her. Instead, he poured several ounces of Tabasco sauce over his food, and began eating with gusto. “Tuck in,” he ordered her around a mouthful of eggs.

“But what about-”

He pointed at the large helping of food in front of her with his fork. “Eat! Then we’ll talk.”

“You’re so annoying,” she mumbled and nibbled on a slice of bacon.

“I’m multitalented, love. I can talk and annoy you at the same time.”

She chuckled with mirth and shook her head. “Don’t I know it.”

“Oi! If you don’t start eating, I’ll natter on about the time I was stuck in Harris’ basement…in Bermuda shorts and a tacky flowered shirt,” he threatened, watching her eyes shift to a deep green.

She shuddered. “No thank you! Although…I would give anything to have a picture…purely for remembrance sake of course.”

“Cheeky cow, you’d use it for blackmail!” She batted her eyelashes at him innocently.

“Nuh uh…and did you just call me a cow?” she said in mock outrage. “I thought a stiff wind would knock me over?”

Something stiff would, he thought, shifting in his seat as he returned to eating. “It’s a term of… affection,” he explained, stuffing a slice of pancake in his mouth so he couldn’t say more.

“Oh. Well I-I like ‘pet’ or ‘kitten’ or even ‘love’ much better.” She whispered the last endearment and looked him in the eye.

This left him at a loss. He wanted to pull the broken Slayer across the table and snog her until she had no breath left in her. But he didn’t kid himself that he anything more than just cold comfort to her. And that he couldn’t live with. He settled for wrapping his booted feet around her smaller ones under the table, interlocking them so they were at least touching.

They ate in companionable silence until Spike finished his meal and slid the dishes to the edge of the table, ready for the wait staff to get enough courage to pick it up and whisk it away to be washed. He watched Buffy still picking at her food with the fork and sighed internally. Chit’s gonna be the death of me.

Ignoring her gasp of protest, he selected the Buttered Pecan syrup from the wall caddy and began pouring it over her hotcakes, coating them liberally. He then sliced them up into bite-sized pieces and held a mouthful out to her, dripping with the liquid confection. “Eat.”

She just frowned with a moue of petulance and crossed her arms. “I can feed myself, you know.”

“Well, since you don’t seem to be doing that, I thought I’d help.”

“Were you this helpful with Dru? No wonder she left…” she drifted off when she realized that, yes, those words had indeed come out of her mouth. And from the look on Spike’s face, she might as well have staked him.

He dropped the fork on the plate with a clang and moved back to the furthest corner of the booth, staring out the window at the dark sky as bolts of lightening flashed across it. Sure he’d felt her ire at being force fed, but she didn’t seem to want to take care of herself so what was he supposed to do? He also felt her deep regret over making the comment about Dru, but he reasoned with himself that he deserved that mental slap – for making her do something she didn’t wish to. And underneath it all, a deep sadness that stemmed from being yanked from Heaven. Fucking Scoobies really did a number on her this time!

It must have been some time later that she grabbed his attention again with her sniffles. “I cleaned my plate,” she murmured, eating the last bite of her toast.

Glancing down, he saw she had indeed eaten everything that was put before her. He shifted his gaze to her face and saw that her eyes were a deep indigo, tears swimming in them as she swallowed her bread. His first instinct was to apologize profusely that he’d guilt-tripped her into eating, knowing that she’d finished off her food as an apology of sorts, but the full and satisfied look on her face prevented him from doing so.

“Feel better?”

She smiled tremulously as the tears spilled over. “Stuffed…and sleepy.”

“Good. Maybe you should get back home an’ kip a bit before the meeting tonight,” he suggested, but thought better of it once he saw her face fall.

“It was kinda hard getting out of the house. Willow was all like ‘Hey Buffy, did ya miss us?’ And Tara kept asking her to be quiet, saying that I just wanted to be alone…all while I was locked in the bathroom. After my shower, I practically ran to my bedroom to get dressed. Then I snuck out the door while they were in the kitchen making breakfast. I really don’t wanna sneak around all afternoon. Can’t we just stay here until this evening?” she pleaded miserably.

“The staff is giving us strange looks as it is, pet. Best we move on. We, um, could head back to my place…if you want,” he offered hesitantly. His crypt was somewhat tidy, but it was also…a crypt. Plus, the last memory of Buffy in his home was not one he wanted to repeat, her blank stares as he tried to explain his actions just before she died. He didn’t know if she’d even absorbed any of the information, but choose not to repeat the scene – just in case it would send her packing.

“Yes, that would be nice.”

Throwing the manager a glowering look, he ushered her out the door before she could rescind her answer. Once outside, Spike draped his duster over her head and wrapped it around her body so she wouldn’t get thoroughly soaked from the drizzling rain. “We’re gonna have to make a run for it, pet!”

They ran through the edge of town until they came to Restfield, weaving their way through the headstones until she spied his crypt. The route was familiar to her, having been there several times before she died, then once when she was brought back. She’d wandered aimlessly that night, finding his door opened slightly and entered quietly to gaze at the items in his living area. That’s all she remembered, to be honest, because being on autopilot only allowed instinct to control her actions. There hadn’t been any time for living or remembering up to that point. Lately though, she felt an influx of memories rush through her mind, be it from actually ‘living’ or because they were Spike’s thoughts she had no idea.

“I know you’ll never love me.”

She nearly whimpered when that particular flash of memory surged through her. Spike…standing at the bottom of her staircase, looking up at her as if she were his salvation, before the battle with Glory. He had no hesitation about joining the fight, looking forward to it with relish she supposed, even after she admitted that they wouldn’t all make it.

“Yeah,” he agreed as he swung a rather large ax, looking back at her. “Always knew I’d go down fightin’.”

She shook her head. “I’m counting on you…to protect her.”

He gazed earnestly at her, never batting an eyelash. “Till the end of the world. Even if it happens to be tonight.”

She looked at the thoroughly soaked vampire now, fiddling with the latch on the door and opening it to admit her first. So much had changed since that night. She shrugged off his duster and gave it a good shake, dispelling all the water that had gathered on it. Spike just shook his head like a wet dog, water spraying everywhere, including on her.

“Hey!”

He just gave her a wicked smile and shook his head some more, moving closer to her, making her laugh. “What can I say love? Always been evil!”

“I know I’m a monster. But you treat me like a man. And that’s…”

Tears suddenly filled her eyes and her knees buckled beneath her. Sensing the rush of emotions flooding her, he quickly grabbed her before she hit the floor and carried her to the dusty couch in the corner. By this point, she was crying so hard she couldn’t breathe, so he began patting her back lightly, not wanting the full tilt headache that would certainly resound in his head if he pressed any harder.

“Easy, kitten, easy. What’s got your knickers in such a bunch?” he asked quietly, rubbing soothing circles on her back.

“I’m sorry – so sorry,” she sobbed, covering her mouth to keep the screams from escaping.

“For what? Getting my duster wet?” He was confused by the emotions bombarding him; deep regret being the strongest one.

“God, how can you,” she hiccupped, clutching his duster to her face. “How can you even think of touching me?”

Spike was across the room in seconds, hunched over the sarcophagus. Slayer didn’t want him touching her then he wouldn’t touch her, simple as that. Except it wasn’t that simple. Nothing ever was with her. He turned to look at her with a miserable expression, one that mirrored her own.

“Do you wanna go back home, Buffy?”

“Do you want me to?” she whimpered, her nose red from crying and her eyes bloodshot from exhaustion.

“Doesn’t matter what I want, Slayer. Never has. And quit answering a question with a question, damn it!”

“NO! I don’t want to go back there! I want to stay here, with you! But I can’t even comprehend how you could stand being around me, like this, when all I have ever done is treat you like…like…”

“A vampire?” he answered quietly amid her shrieks.

She glanced away in shame, shuddering in self-hatred. “If I were you, I wouldn’t be able to stand my presence.”

“Ah, but you’re not me, least wise not the last time I checked, which is a good thing.” Maybe I’m wrong…maybe she’ll let me touch her…

“How can you be so glib about all of this?” she yelled in outrage.

“I’m not glib about it! I’m dealing with it, the way I’ve always dealt with people who tolerate my presence. I annoy the fuck outta them!” he roared back at her, silencing the next words on her lips.

She couldn’t help herself at that point. She started laughing. Laughing so hard she doubled over, giggling so loudly and for so long that it was infectious. It pulled Spike into a peal of laughter as well, in part from the feelings trickling from her to him through the bond and some of it from simple fatigue.

Many moments later, they quieted down as Buffy patted her hand on the coffee table in front of her, indicating she wanted him to sit down. “Tell me.”

As he sat down, he grew uneasy at her request. “Tell you what, exactly?”

“I-I don’t remember that night, when I came here…a-a couple weeks ago. I mean, I remember showing up, but the rest is kinda blank. Tell me I didn’t say something really terrible to you.”

Clearing his suddenly parched throat, he wondered what he should tell her about that night. “I found you, just staring at one of my mags on the floor. Didn’t even know I’d come up from below, with a dagger no less. Warned you about villains with knives at your back. You didn’t seem to care at that point,” he said softly, taking one of her hands in his, rubbing the knuckles with his long thumb.

“Your hand! Your hand was all…well, it looked like you’d smashed it into a rock wall!” she gasped, clinging to his left hand as the memory emerged. She looked at his knuckles only to see some slight scaring, the wound itself already gone.

He stared at her. How had she guessed that’s precisely what he’d done? He’d been so enraged with the Scoobies, not to mention overwhelmed by the fact that she’d appeared at the top of her stairs alive, he just had to let something go. And shattering his knuckles against a harmless wall seemed like the thing to do at the time. “Yeah, I-I just banged it up proper like.”

She crooked an eyebrow. “How?”

“Never you mind, Slayer. You wanted to know about that night, I’m tellin’ you. Shut yer gob,” he snarled, watching her smirk in response.

“Didn’t say much, really,” he continued. “You just sat an’ listened to my ramblings.”

“That’s it?”

“What? Not gory enough for you?”

“You know, you get so defensive over the least little thing,” she observed. “No wonder you and Dawn got along so well. I bet it was like two teenagers trying to baby-sit each other.”

“Speaking of the Bit,” he said casually, trying to steer the subject away from the time during her death. “Saw her drive off with some git. Was it your da?”

Buffy sigh heavily and nodded, looking down at their intertwined fingers. “She’s visiting with him and his latest ‘secretary.’ Some spa weekend thing or something like that. She didn’t really want to go, but…and I know this sounds bad, but I-I needed a break. And since he is the parental unit, I couldn’t really say ‘no’. He’s just a factor I really don’t want to deal with right now, and it was easier to agree with his plans. Still doesn’t mean I liked it.”

“Bloody prick, if you ask me,” he complained on her behalf. “Did he ever make it to Joyce’s grave? Did he even care that she died?”

Her far away look told him the answer before she did. “He never called and I haven’t spoken with him until just recently, about Dawn. So…he doesn’t know she’s…she’s gone.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to keep from crying. “He didn’t even know I died,” she whispered.

Spike pulled her wringing hands into his own at that admission of hurt. He squeezed her fingers until she finally looked up at him, blinking away the tears that gathered there to give him a watery smile.

“Buffy,” he began, choking back his own emotions as he tried to explain things she didn’t know had happened, to make her understand that her sacrifice hadn’t been in vain. “Buffy, we all watched you die…Willow, Xander, Anya, Giles, Tara…Me. And especially Dawn. Dawn knew better than anyone, what your sacrifice was about. Love is a powerful thing, pet, probably the most powerful thing this world has to offer. Don’t go wastin’ it on a buggerin’ git like your da.”

“I know you’ll never love me.”

She closed her eyes, tightening her grip on his hand. “I missed you,” she whispered, opening her now deep blue eyes to stare at him.

Whimpering he laid his forehead against hers. “I missed you so much…and…I’m so sorry I failed you when you needed me most.”

She looked at him with confusion. “But Spike, you never failed me.”

He practically gagged on his next words, but they needed to be said because she didn’t remember. “I promised to protect her…” he paused, trying to keep from making a bloody sodding Nancy boy out of himself. “If I had done that…even if I didn’t make it…you wouldn’t have had to jump.”

Gently, she laid a hand on the hollow of his cheek and caressed it, willing him to believe her. “Of all the people I’ve known in my life, you are the only one I could count on to always be there…for better or worse.”

His raised eyebrows prompted her to continue. “Spike, I knew before Glory even took Dawn that I wasn’t strong enough to defeat her in ‘life’. I told you that we wouldn’t all make it. I included myself in that as well. The First Slayer said death is my gift. I just needed to come to terms with that knowledge. Towards the end, I finally realized what I had to do. And you know what? You bought me the time I needed – to make sure that what I did mattered.”

Leaning into the hand that was pressed against his cheek, he let the silent tears course down to mingle with her fingers. “I want you to know I did save you,” he said, fighting the sobs. “Not when it counted, of course, but ... after that. Every night after that. I'd see it all again ... do something different. Faster or cleverer, you know? Dozens of times, lots of different ways,” he rambled, finally stopping and gazing into her eyes.

She wiped the tears away softly with the pad of her thumb. “Sounds like you’re asking for forgiveness.”

His silent nod confirmed her suspicions. “You know, for such an insightful vamp, you really don’t use it on yourself much, do you? You realize you had no control over me dying, right?” She waited for his response but got none as he hung his head in shame for some supposed crime.

She tenderly laid her other hand on top of his head, running her fingers through his soft, damp curls. “There’s nothing to forgive. I know, had you been given the choice, you would have saved both Dawn and me. You even said that you’d sacrifice yourself if it came down to that.”

“I saved you every night,” he repeatedly murmured, taking deep, unneeded breaths.

“But I needed you here, with Dawn. I knew she would be safe with you, with me being gone. You kept your promise, Spike…just like I knew you would.”

His body became wracked with sobs as he laid his head on her knees, clutching her calves. She continued stroking his loose locks, trying to keep from crying any more than she already had that day, but he was making it difficult.

“You know, you’ve always seen me, the heart of me with your insight. Which when I first noticed it, it gave me a major case of the wiggins. But then it became disconcerting and I chalked it up to ‘it must be a Spike thing.’ Then it became comfortable, and normal. Now? I kinda need it, cuz sometimes even I don’t know half of what’s going on with me. You’ve steadied me, helped me through some really crappy stuff to get me here…to this moment.”

As his head lay in her lap, he finally ceased sobbing while listening to her talk, gently stroking her calves. He wanted to always remember this, because even if she said she didn’t want him around anymore, he would still have this moment. But he was totally unprepared for her next sentiment.

“You know, in those last days…when Glory kidnapped and tortured you?” she asked with a gulp and felt him nod his head. “You proved yourself so much that day, and after that. When I told you that we weren’t all gonna make it, I think I knew it would be me.” She rubbed his back up and down when he clutched desperately at her legs in reaction to that statement. “It’s ok. I’ve figured it out now…what was missing in the place where I went. I was homesick for you, even in Heaven.”

He began crying in earnest now, sobbing against her legs. “I saved you, so many nights,” he whimpered.

“I know,” she crooned while stroking his head and rocking him back and forth. “Forgive me for being so slow on the uptake in this?”

There was no answer needed by either party. Both had been through Hell and back in such a short amount of time that words seemed to pale in comparison to the experience. Of course Spike forgave her, that was a given. And he had received his mercy from her as well, feeling that she was actually trying to nurture the growing bond between them.

“It’s almost six, pet,” he said with a muffle against her thigh.

“I could’ve gone a couple more hours without reality rearing its ugly head, you know,” she complained. “Do we really have to do this?”

He pinched her hip. “You started it. I’m just helping with damage control.”

She swatted him playfully on the back of the head before he raised his face near hers, the signs of his grief written in the lines at his mouth. “What are we going to say?”

“Well, four out of the five voices in my head say kill.”

“Only four?” she chuckled. “What does the fifth say?”

“Not right to mention it in polite company.”

Ah, must be something lewd. “I’m not in a polite mood. Tell me anyway,” she coaxed.

He nuzzled her cheek with his, his soft breaths lifting the hair near her ear. “Fifth isn’t really ‘saying’ much. A bit more of an action bloke, though.” He kissed the skin near her earlobe and smiled when he felt her shiver.

“Actions, huh?” she panted heavily, pressing small kisses along his rigid jaw line.

“Unless you want me showing up to your little Scooby meeting with a raging hard on, pet, I suggest you stop what you’re doing,” he admonished gently, pulling away while cupping her cheek.

“Sorry. I just feel like I have to make up for lost time.”

His thumb stroked her silky skin as he smiled tenderly. “Got all the time in the world, Slayer. And it’s all yours.”

“Good to know.” She grinned at him before heaving a very put upon sigh. “Come on, Custer, let’s go make our last stand.” Pulling Spike to a standing position, she handed him his duster.

“Yeah, love. Odds are about the same,” he agreed and followed her into the damp night air.

The shadow waited until they were some distance away then finally emerged near a streetlamp. It smiled and doffed a hat, following the Slayer and her vampire. “Things are about to get very interesting, indeed.”

“So how you wanna do this, pet?”

Buffy heaved a sigh. “Maybe you should wait on the back porch…until they’re used to my eyes at least. Hopefully, by then, they won’t wig out too much when they find out about the hearing.”

Spike nodded, agreeing with her that to face the Scoobies ‘alone’ initially, would be best for all parties involved. Only Giles knew that Spike would be making an appearance, but how would he react to the vampire’s presence was not that difficult to imagine. And who knew what Willow and Tara, along with Xander and Anya, would do once they understood the full extent at which Buffy had changed.

They’d laced their fingers on the walk from Restfield to Buffy’s back porch, Spike’s long thumb occasionally caressing hers when her trepidation over the meeting filtered through to him. In return, she would squeeze his hand in silent thanks for the support.

The nearer they got to her house though, the more apprehensive she became, until it was overwhelming for her and she began panicking…which in turn made him feel like spiders were crawling through his veins. It was enough to drive a sane person barmy.

He gently tugged on her arm, stopping just on the edge of her back lawn and pulling her into a soothing embrace. “Going a million miles an hour inside, love. If you’re not ready…”

“I am,” she murmured against his neck, breathing in his scent and calming down. “I’m just…afraid.”

He laid his cheek on the top of her head and gently rocked her back and forth. “Of the Scoobies?”

“Yes,” she whispered meekly. “I’m afraid of what they could do to me.”

He tightened his embrace and growled. “No soddin’ half-wit is gonna lay so much as a finger on you, Buffy. I promise…even if it gets me the mother of all headaches.”

She nuzzled into his neck. “My knight in tarnished armor…what would I do without you?”

“Well, lessee…there was that unfortunate incident with Peaches trying to send the world to hell in a hand basket. And of course there was the time I kept you and your mates safe while defeating the Frankenstein wannabe. Want me to get into savin’ you from G.I. Whitebread?”

“You know, you destroy all meaning to the term ‘rhetorical question’.”

“Told you love, I’m still evil,” he smirked.

She shook her head in silent laughter. “You’re so evil you’re good,” she drawled as a light came on in the kitchen, illuminating a small portion of the back yard and drawing her attention.

Through the small window above the sink they could see Tara, washing dishes. Occasionally, she would lift her head and peer outside, trying to see through the bushes, but after a few moments she would return to the washing up.

“I’d better go,” Buffy murmured as she slowly separated herself from Spike.

Halfway across the yard, she turned and looked over her shoulder at the vamp, which had a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. He smiled full on at her and she returned it, grinning like a fool herself. She then turned and quietly walked up the steps, hesitating at the back door. Taking a deep breath, she turned the knob and entered the kitchen.

“Buffy!” Tara started, nearly dropping a glass on the floor.

“Shh! I-I don’t want Willow to know I’m back yet,” she said in a panic, keeping her eyes lowered upon entering. If she knew Tara, however, it wouldn’t be long before she figured something was up. Best get it over with.

Tara frowned in confusion at her request but complied. It wouldn’t be as if Willow could hear her anyway, she’d just started a shower upstairs. “Woah,” was all she could say next.

“What?” Buffy was puzzled at Tara’s words since she had yet to raise her head.

“Uh…well…I-I-I…”

“I can explain,” Buffy hurried to assure her as she lifted her eyes to look into Tara’s.

The glass Tara was holding fell to the floor, shattering and sending shards everywhere, neither girl moving. “Oh, Holy Earth Mother!”

“I swear I can explain!” Buffy whimpered, advancing on the gentle Wiccan.

The crunch of glass under her foot stopped Buffy from coming closer as she pleaded with her eyes for Tara to hear her out. She wasn’t prepared, however, for the serene smile and near giddiness that radiated from her friend.

“It’s astounding,” Tara breathed as she clutched her dishrag, hiding her goofy smile behind it.

“My eyes?”

“Your eyes…and your aura,” she added, drawing a circle in the air to indicate the space around Buffy.

“My whata?” Buffy frowned, never having heard of an aura.

Tara chuckled lightly. “Your aura. Everyone has one. It’s an energy field that surrounds us and it’s made up of colors that reflect every facet of ourselves. Each color has a different meaning.”

“Oh! Is-is mine like an orange or-or a puke green or something?” she asked, afraid of the answer.

“No sweetie, actually it’s very beautiful,” Tara reassured her gently, stepping out of the pile of glass at her feet. “I was really worried about it…before.”

Buffy watched her sweep up the broken glass and dump it in the trashcan before she could bring herself to ask about ‘before’. “What did it look like?”

Tara sat at the kitchen island and began running her index finger along the grove in the tile. “It was…a murky gray, borderline black, with brownish yellow undertones,” she murmured, not looking at Buffy who joined her at the island.

“Oh,” she said quietly. “That’s bad, isn’t it?”

Tara nodded her head. “It meant that you had a lot of fear and unreleased grief within you, that you felt trapped in your life. Also, insecurities with others, introversion.”

That ain’t the half of it! “And now? What’s changed?”

Tara raised her eyes to look at the Slayer. “You’ve…well, for lack of a better term, evolved.”

“You mean I was a lowly amphibian and now I’m a primate?” she giggled, her eyes flashing green and silver.

“Wow! Your eyes shift colors with your moods, too!” Tara gasped.

“They do?”

“Oh yeah, almost like a mood ring.”

Buffy glanced down to see her fingers playing with the hem of her navy blue peasant blouse. “What…what does my aurora look like now?”

“Aura,” Tara laughed, correcting her. “Well, it’s like a royal blue with lavender and silver…which is MUCH better.”

“Oooo, cool colors! What do they mean?”

“The blue means you’ve found your path in life after a difficult journey. The lavender is usually etheric or otherworldly, having passed through that boundary between life and death, which we all know that you’ve done. Silver means something inside of you is awakening, that you’re becoming one with something,” she explained, slightly flustered. It was hard to put into layman’s terms what she was actually seeing.

“Woah.”

“Exactly.”

“Hey Buf-” Willow stopped in mid sentence as she entered the kitchen and her best friend turned to look at her.

“Hey Wills.” She gave the redhead a little wave of her hand.

Willow peered closer into her eyes, watching them flash into a dark green. “Woah!”

“Seems that’s the word for the night.” Buffy slid off her stool and began pacing between the stove and the sink, her arms crossed.

“How’d you get your contacts to switch colors like that?” Willow took the seat Buffy vacated. “I’d love a pair.”

“Willow, I don’t think-” Tara started but Buffy cut her off.

“My vision is fine, Wills…it always has been. Why would I need contacts?”

“Well, there was the whole ‘being dead’ thing. Maybe your eyesight needed a boost? I mean, it must’ve been hard with…you know, all the fire and brimstone,” she reasoned as she grabbed a bottle of tea out of the fridge.

Tara noticed Buffy’s eyes practically glow with irritation, as they became a vibrant shade of iridescent turquoise. But she had no chance to respond as the doorbell rang…right at six o’clock.

Taking in a deep and shuddering breath, Buffy tried to compose herself long enough to open the door. Forgetting her strength, the door whooshed open to reveal Giles standing on the porch with his finger poised to ring the bell again.

“Buffy?” He frowned, still standing in the entryway. “What on earth is happening with your eyes?”

Judging by the thunderous expression on her Watcher’s face? Quite a bit was happening with them. “Uh, come in, Giles. Want some tea?” she asked, a little too cheerfully.

Ignoring her obvious attempt to distract him, he stepped over the threshold and cupped her cheek, pulling down her lower eyelid to peer into her eyes. “My god…the color keeps changing!” he breathed.

She nervously backed away from him and fidgeted. “I was waiting till everyone got here to tell them about…everything. I don’t really want to have to go over the same stuff two or three times. Knowing Xander, it’ll take him long enough to get it the first time around.”

Giles just stared at his Slayer’s ever changing eye color, completely unaware that it was making her edgy. The reproach she saw on his face was enough to make her stomach sink and she let her gaze drift to trace the patterns in the wood flooring. After a tense moment, he moved towards the living room to sit on the couch. Heaving a huge sigh, she rubbed the back of her neck and moved to shut the door, just as Xander and Anya were arriving.

“Hey, Buffy, wait!” Xander winced as he got his fingers caught on the edge of the doorjamb.

She reopened the door to find Xander with his digits in his mouth doing the I’m in extreme pain dance with Anya looking on in amusement. “Sorry, guys, wasn’t paying attention!”

Xander mumbled something around his fingers as he joined Willow, Tara, and Giles all gathered in the living room. He immediately got the sense that this was going to be the meeting to end all meetings when Giles covered his mouth with one hand and tucked the other against his side. He sat near the Watcher, noticing Tara with her hands clasped together tightly and resting on her knees, her face pinched with some unknown emotion, as Willow babbled on about their retreat.

Anya lingered at the door as she stopped to look at Buffy for a few moments. “You’re going to tell us how this happened, aren’t you?” she queried.

Buffy smiled thinly and nodded, her eyes flashing a disturbing shade of yellow for a few seconds.

Anya patted Buffy on the shoulder patronizingly. “Good luck with that, ‘cause I don’t think Giles will understand.”

She then joined the others as they sat spread out in the living room, leaning over to whisper in Xander’s ear. “This will be interesting. She won’t be able to worm her way out of this, that’s for sure.”

Clueless to what she was blathering on about, Xander finally focused on Buffy as she entered the room and faced the whole group.

“Ay Caramba!” he yelled, startling everyone to include Buffy. “What the hell happened to your eyes? Did you stare too long at the TV or,” he turned to whisper to Willow. “Is this a side affect of the spell that brought her back?”

Buffy narrowed her eyes at both of them. No one could have heard his question…no one but her. So, Xander was a part of the bad mojo that brought her back, huh? She was so gonna kick his ass.

Slipping her hands into her back pockets to keep from strangling him, she cleared her throat to gain everyone’s attention. “Look, I’m only going to tell you what’s happened once, ‘cause to be honest, I’ve had a really strange day and I need to…well, I need to…oh, just, ugh!” She threw her hands up in the air, filled with frustration.

“W-why don’t you start at the beginning,” Tara offered quietly, earning a smile from Buffy for the support.

She bit her bottom lip and exhaled. “A couple nights ago, Spike and I were patrolling…”

“Lord, I knew he was involved in this,” Giles muttered as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

Buffy spared him a dirty look but continued. “And while we were fighting, I accidentally kicked him in the nose…and broke it…again.”

Xander snickered. “Was that really an accident?”

“Yes, it was,” she growled, her eyes flashing silver and emerald green. The effect was so startling to Xander that he immediately shut his mouth. Seeing that he wasn’t going to make any more snide remarks, she continued her explaination.

“Anyway, he was bleeding and I let him come home with me so he could clean up.”

“Why were you worried about Spike cleaning himself up?” Willow asked. She, most of all, seemed oblivious to the state of change within Buffy.

“You know, I’m really surprised at you all…truly,” Buffy accused with disdain, hands on her hips. “He helped you all summer and you couldn’t give a rat’s ass about his position in all of this.”

Giles tensed with anger. “He had to be coerced into helping us!”

“No, he didn’t,” Tara countered with a frown. “He was just so…so sad that it took a lot to get through to him. Once he knew we needed him, he was always there, protecting Dawn and us.”

Buffy bit her bottom lip as she smiled tremulously at the gentle woman while the others just stared in shock. She alone defended Spike, and for that, she was eternally grateful.

“So now that we’ve established, in an alternate universe mind you, that Spike is the patron saint of Buffylites, what has he got to do with your stylish choice in eye colors?” Xander quipped, earning him a pinch in the side from Anya.

Buffy glowered at him. “Some of the blood from his broken nose fell on the counter. Quite a few drops, if you must know. And I-I…well I-”

“She’s in limbo at the moment, caught in between something she started and only I can finish,” Spike said softly from the kitchen doorway.

All eyes turned towards him as he cautiously moved into the living room, stopping behind Buffy to lay a gentle hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly. “Don’t know myself what’ll happen with her, but she’s got a few new traits, that’s for sure.”

Before anyone realized what was happening, Giles had Spike slammed up against the banister, a stake pointed at his heart. “You bastard, you’ll die this time!” he seethed in full Ripper menace.

Spike closed his eyes and waited for the plunge. He supposed it was a fitting end to the unlife he’d lived up to that point. He just wished he could’ve had a little more time with Buffy. Forget the wrong that I’d done, love. But…even though Giles was pressing with all his might, nothing was happening.

Seeing her chance at happiness about to become dust, Buffy grabbed Giles’ wrist and squeezed, hard enough to hear a few bones crack. “No,” she hissed.

Pain contorted her Watcher’s face as he tried to withdraw his now useless hand from her grasp, hearing the stake clatter to the floor. Panting, he looked at her colorless eyes, suddenly reminded of her appearance when she’d fought Adam. Even though he was well and truly afraid, he needed to reason with the girl.

“Buffy! For God’s sake, release me!”

Tilting her head as if to size him up, she spoke in a tone that brooked no argument. “Never try that again. If you do, I’ll break more than your wrist.” She then released him, watching him cradle his arm against his chest.

Trying to plead his case one last time, he begged. “Please, listen to reason!” He turned to look at Spike in loathing as he spat. “He thinks you’ll care for him…that you’ll…love him!”

Spike glanced at her with a sad smile. “It’s all right, pet. Don’t fash yourself over it.”

But Buffy wanted this settled, once and for all. She reached out and grabbed Giles’ shirt, pulling him close, her mouth turning down in a heavy frown. “Listen hard, Rupert Giles. I love you, like a father…but this is my life, my choice…my heart that I lay on the line.

“Spike knows me, he knows what I have to do and he lets me do it…my way,” she ground out, tears skimming her lashes. “And he doesn’t do it thinking I’ll care for him, or love him.”

Giles breathed a small sigh of relief at that. At least she wasn’t going to allow Spike the freedoms that she had with Angel. That reprieve lasted all of five seconds.

“I've never told him that I care for him...until now,” she said quietly, shifting her gaze to the dumbfounded vampire. "I love him.”

Spike closed his eyes in sweet agony as a collective gasp ushered from the entire group. She was right on all accounts. She’d never said I care for you and definitely never said I love you. Hell, she’d only told him in a round about way that she liked him earlier. Of course, at the time, he’d chalked it up to just needing someone to talk to.

Buffy glanced to Giles, seeing the simmering anger underneath while he said nothing. She then turned towards the group in the other room and waited for the gnashing of teeth to begin. She didn’t have to wait long.

Both Willow and Xander jumped right in while their respective partners flamed with embarrassment. “He’s got some hold over you Buffy, like Drac did!” Xander said in a raised voice.

“Uh, hate to break it to you…Renfield…but I’m not under anyone’s power,” Buffy countered.

“She can’t be thralled anymore, Whelp. Once my blood hit her tongue it neutralized any sway that was held over her…from any source,” Spike added, noticing Buffy’s raised eyebrows.

“That’s utter malarkey! Why didn’t it work with Drac then? Buffy tasted his blood and she didn’t get all psychedelic with the eye chart,” Willow pointed out.

“That’s because she wasn’t his mate,” Anya said calmly. Everyone, including Spike and Buffy, turned to look at her. “What? You humans seriously need to brush up on Vampire Rituals.”

Expectant faces waited for her to continue as she sighed. “Ok, free lesson in Vampire Rites. The next one will cost you…a lot,” she said with a glint in her eye. “It’s rare to find a vamp wanting to mate in the first place but since we all know Spike is not your normal ‘shag a few bints there, eat a few hussy’s here’ kind of vampire, then it’s safe to assume he’s special.”

Xander snickered. “Short bus kind of special?” He never had a chance to deflect the slap to the back of his head. “Ow!”

“As I was saying,” Anya continued, glaring at her whiney fiancé. “When certain powerful vamps find their mate, they’re immediately attracted to them.”

Buffy glanced at Spike and he nodded in agreement. “Didn’t want to admit it, but Dru knew.”

Anya confirmed his statement. “I’m sure you gave off a certain pheromone or vibe that was meant to attract Buffy, hence repelling all other females. That’s probably why Dru didn’t stay long after you met her.”

Thinking back on it, Spike could see it all clearly now. The moment they’d roared into Sunnydale everything had changed. The minute he laid eyes on the Slayer he was a goner. He’d never slept with Dru the whole time they were on the Hellmouth, making one excuse or another. And while listening to her shag Angelus senseless wasn’t appealing, it wasn’t the end of all things because he had the Slayer to concentrate on. No wonder Dru got sick of his ‘obsession’.

“So, ok…why didn’t she respond to his…icky sex smog then?” Willow asked with disgust.

“There was another powerful male vamp around, vying for her attention. And by the time Angel was no longer an issue, neither was Spike. The next time you came in contact with him was around Thanksgiving…and we all know how that turned out,” Anya explained, reminiscing about Xander’s various ailments while she coddled him.

“Why did I fight it so hard then?” Buffy asked herself quietly.

Anya turned her eyes to Giles and frowned. “Because certain prejudices were programmed into you. To be honest, I’m surprised you’re admitting them now. But then, it could be that Spike’s skin is cool and Hell’s fire is hot, so it’s probably a total comfort thing and you’re just using him.”

A chorus of “What?” rose up from everyone, all for different reasons; Spike was still trying to figure out why they all thought that Buffy had went to Hell after she died. Buffy never wanted to be accused of ‘using’ Spike in that way and Giles balked at the insinuation that he taught Buffy to hate all things demon. Xander and Willow were trying to shut out the images of cool Spike skin, having no success. Tara was the only one that voiced no opinion.

“To ah, what extent has Buffy changed then?” Giles asked, wincing in pain as he tried to realign the small bones in his wrist.

“Well, she’s ingested some drops of blood, so it’s started,” Anya said. “That’s why her eyes keep changing. Spike hasn’t taken her blood and neither one has staked a claim on the other, so they’re both kinda in Limbo for the time being. He can probably feel emotions from her and she can sense shadow images from him. But it would need the words and the blood to complete it. Otherwise, they’ll both be miserable until it’s done.”

“Complete what?” Giles and Xander huffed in unison.

Anya rolled her eyes in exasperation. “A mating claim.”

“So not hearing this,” Xander denied and looked at Buffy as if she’d kicked him. “Why would you voluntarily play connect the dots with something you’re supposed to kill?”

She answered the entire lot of them. “God, I’m sick and tired of this!”

“So are we,” Giles muttered, sitting on the steps and taking a deep breath to fight the pain.

Buffy’s eyes became a dark blue, almost black as she approached the group, ignoring her Watcher’s comment. “I’ve got advanced hearing as well and it’s so amazing!”

“Will wonders never cease,” she heard a sarcastic complaint from behind her.

She turned around to glare at him. “I would think you’d approve of these abilities, Giles, they’re an asset to my Slayer duties. Think about it…no more demons or vamps catching me off guard, no wonky hypnotics ‘cause I’m immune, and I can see things before they appear. Exactly how is this a detriment to me?”

Giles turned his hate filled eyes towards Spike, who hadn’t moved an inch from the position he’d left him in. “You’ve sold your soul for a few trinkets in my opinion.”

“Back off you bloody git!” Spike growled threateningly, but stopped as he watched Buffy slowly move forward and squat down, face level with Giles.

“You try anything again, and Spike will kill you,” she said matter-of-factly, paying no heed to the outrage from the group.

“Buffy, love…I don’t think that’s a wise thing-”

“More importantly,” she emphasized by griping his broken wrist again. “I’ll let him.”

All the blood drained from her Watcher’s face as he audibly gulped, wincing in excruciating pain. “I understand,” he whispered, sweat gathering on his brow as he was near to passing out.

“You can’t do this! Tergum absentis!” Willow yelled as she threw out her hands with a spell meant to push Buffy away.

Spike quickly stepped in front of her, preparing to take the full brunt of the spell, but was shocked when he felt only a shift in air movement as the spell was repelled from him…and back to Willow.

The redhead flew backwards across the room, landing with a resounding ‘oomph’ on her backside in the dinning room. “What the hell was that?”

“Oh, did I forget to tell you that little detail?” Anya cooed with a smirk, watching the angry witch push herself off the floor, gearing up to do something a little stronger. “I would advise against it.”

She glared at Anya. “I can do this, he can’t beat me,” she said with menace, turning her fury on Spike. “Incendio!” She flung out her right hand as a fireball shot straight towards the vamp.

This time, Buffy stood in front of Spike and the flame bounced off both of them as if hitting a barrier. It then returned, with great speed, back to the person who had issued the threat. Willow stopped the inferno with an ice shield just before it singed her eyebrows.

“STOP!” Tara screamed and immediately, Willow’s hands became bound behind her back.

“Tara’s the only one of you with any common sense, you know?” Anya observed as she inspected her nails.

Willow panted with exhaustion. “Baby, please? Release me! I can do this, I know I can!”

“It’s not a matter of if you can, sweetie,” Tara said morosely. “You shouldn’t.”

“No, you really shouldn’t. It’ll just come back to bite you on the ass…times three,” Anya pointed out. “They’re protected. Once the claim starts, they’re guarded from outside interference until it’s complete. Then…well…they’ll be damn near indestructible.”

“And if it’s not completed?” Giles asked from the stairway.

“Misery, suffering, the bowels of Hell kinda of stuff,” she replied nonchalantly. “But then again, Buffy might be used to that kind of treatment and gotten accustomed to it. She may want Spike to beat her and call her his bitch.”

Both blonds just stared, open mouthed, at the ex-demon. Xander, who had yet to voice anything during the entire scene, still couldn’t believe his ears and eyes. Giles grumbled a few Good Lord’s and one May the Saints Preserve Us to cope with everything. Willow groused and whined until Tara finally released her on the promise that she wouldn’t do anymore magick.

Shaking her head to free it of the image that Anya had provided, Buffy turned from the group and spoke softly to Giles. “I’ll splint your wrist for you.” She then weaved around his form and headed upstairs for the supplies.

Spike stood well on the fringes of the group, not really fearing them now, but still with a healthy dose of respect for their underhanded ways. The only ones he remotely trusted were Glinda and Demon girl, but beyond them, it was asking too much.

Xander finally cleared his throat. “Does this mean we have to be buddy buddy with Spike now?”

“Is that a problem? You’re kissy kissy with me and I’m an ex demon. Your double standards will not get you orgasms, mister,” Anya pointed out.

“Ahn!” he blushed, mortified. “I just don’t want him shacking up in the extra bedroom is all!” he said indignantly.

Buffy had returned at that point with a bandage and a Velcro splint for Giles, wrapping his wrist as tightly as she dared. She could feel the undercurrent of emotions rolling over her like waves, but the strongest was the one from Spike. She glanced at him and butterflies exploded in her stomach. He was looking at her in that way, the way that said he’d love her past the end of time. She felt horrible that he’d found out this way about her love for him, but it couldn’t be helped. Had she tried to keep it under wraps any longer, the situation tonight might have been worse. The truth seemed to make everything a little easier to deal with, even if it caused more pain in the end.

“I think I’ll take that cup of tea you offered earlier, Buffy,” Giles spoke hesitantly. His nerves were shot and he needed to cling to a creature comfort, tea providing a soothing lull to his frayed constitution.

Buffy looked up at Spike and he nodded, heading towards the kitchen. Giles watched him disappear and then turned back to Buffy. “Nothing I say will make a difference, will it?”

She silently shook her head.

Giles sighed and watched as she deftly wrapped his wrist and set the brace. He dared not voice any more worries tonight, lest he incur her wrath once again. He needed at least one hand to hold his cup.

“So…” she drawled after closing the clasp on the brace. “What have you found out on that handkerchief?” She helped him to a standing position and ushered him into the living room with the rest of the Scoobies.

“Well,” he rasped as he gathered his thoughts. “It seems the material was made within the last twenty years or so.”

“What was made?” Xander piped up as Spike returned with a tray full of teacups and a rather large kettle.

“This,” Giles said with a little groan as he reached inside his pocket and withdrew the white cloth, laying it on the coffee table in front of everyone.

Spike set the tray on the table and stepped away from the group, retreating to the shadows to sit. He watched as Xander poured Giles a cup of tea and the ensuing argument about how much sugar should be added, most of it ending up in the whelp’s lap.

“Come sit with me?” Buffy whispered in his ear, pressing a soft kiss to the spot just under his lobe.

“You sure, pet?” It would be an open declaration of their ‘relationship’, whereas everything else was only speculation.

“You love me, right?” He nodded firmly. “Then yes, I’m sure.”

He smiled brilliantly and pulled her face to his for a gentle kiss, touching his lips to hers. “We got a lot to suss out, you and me.”

“Later,” she said with a wink and pulled him with her to sit on the floor across from the Scoobies.

“I do have to grudgingly admit, Spike makes a good cuppa,” Giles said, savoring the creamy goodness of PG Tips straight from England.

“Knew you’d appreciate it, Rupes,” Spike agreed, trying not to be snarky. He didn’t want to push it, but apparently even his un-living on the same plain of existence was enough to irritate the Watcher.

“Shut up, Spike. I was merely making an observation.”

“Rude bugger,” he mumbled under his breath, causing Buffy to snicker.

“Uh, yeah… about that handkerchief…anything else?” Buffy asked, trying to avoid another stand off.

Nodding as he sat his cup down, he tried awkwardly to clean his glasses with his injured wrist. “Yes, well, I did explain that this seemed to belong to an ectoplasmic entity, within the last twenty years. There are also traces of shoe polish and what looks like…leather, I believe.”

“Want me to do a tracer spell, Giles?” Willow asked quietly. “It’ll tell us where the ghost is from or why he’s here.”

“Does it involve highly developed magicks?” He was extremely wary. Willow had been dabbling too much in the darker arts, the raising of Buffy a prime example of it, and although he’d warned the budding witch, he doubted she took anything he said to heart.

She snorted. “Hardly. It’s just a simple enuncio spell.”

“If anything goes wrong…”

“I’ll stop it,” Tara said softly.

Giles reluctantly nodded and watched as Willow held the cloth in her hands. “Dico nos quisnam vos es.”

As if on cue, the material began to smoke a putrid green, even though there was no fire. Gobs of slime dripped down her hand to land on the table and her shoes. Finally, she flung the fabric on the floor, her hand beginning to burn as a disembodied voice eerily whispered through the air.

The rest is silence…you were not ready for Lothos.

Buffy tensed and wrapped her arms around her legs, frowning. No, it couldn’t be…could it? That was so many years ago, the painful memories buried deep inside. Had Lothos found a way to return? No, that couldn’t have happened, not after she’d lopped his head off before she burned down the building. It might have seemed overkill, but he’d taken something from her that was precious and she wanted to make sure he’d never be able to do so again. Spike’s musings brought her back to the present.

“Lothos…hey, I knew that Nancy-boy ponce. Looked like a Phantom of the Opera reject. Too bloody frilly for my taste, that one,” Spike ventured. “Had a lackey named Amilyn. He was a bit of all right, but wasn’t exactly known for his brains, that’s for sure. Heard they were dusted in Los Angeles a few years back.”

Everyone turned his or her eyes towards Buffy as she bit her lower lip and looked away. It was then the vampire’s eyes widened, finally comprehending the link to Buffy. “It was you, wasn’t it, pet,” he whispered.

Buffy just turned and stood up slowly. “I think I need some air.”

Spike rose to go with her but she stopped him with a hand pressed lightly against his chest. “Stay, please? I-I need to do this…on my own,” she pleaded.

His jaw ticked with frustration and hurt, but he saw the resolve in her eyes. He ducked his head and agreed to her request, his eyes never leaving her as she moved to the back porch door. She turned to look at him as he felt the thread pull and nodded slowly.

Knowing Spike would do as she asked, Buffy turned and walked out the back porch door into the warm, breezy night. The clouds drifting by made the moonlight alternate between dim and bright, the shadows seeming to breathe life. She sat on the steps as she’d done countless times before and listened to the silence.

Closing her eyes, she whispered, “Merrick?”

Spike longingly watched Buffy slip out the back door then turned and looked at everyone sitting in the living room. Bugger it all. Why do I feel like bleedin’ Christ on his way to face the Pharisees?

Oh that’s right…because I’m about to be crucified! And the first Pharisee will be…

“What have you done to her?” Giles asked bitingly. The four others shifted their eyes from the Watcher to Spike.

Spike grimaced at the thinly veiled threat, knowing if he didn’t give the proper answer he was likely to end up with a chest full of coat rack, or whatever else was handy despite what Anya said earlier. “To be honest, I don’t know how much has changed, other than the hearing and the vision. I believe her strength has increased, but only marginally. She only took a few drops.”

“And exactly how did that happen? I can’t imagine Buffy doing so of her own free will. You must have used a thrall to induce her to accept the blood.” Giles unbelieving stance regarding Buffy taking Spike’s blood willingly was starting to grate on said vampire’s nerves.

Lips thinned and nostrils flaring, Spike explained impatiently. “I didn’t make her do anything! I’d no clue she’d even done anything until I was half way back to the crypt.”

Giles snorted in disbelief, but Anya agreed, “It’s very possible. William the Bloody wasn’t known for his thrall.”

“That was Dru’s gig, not mine,” Spike added.

“Yes, I remember quite well,” Giles ground out, glaring at the blond vampire. “That doesn’t preclude your ability to do so.”

“You just don’t get it, do you, Watcher? If I’d wanted to place a thrall on the Slayer, don’t you think I’d have done it a long time ago?”

“He has a point…and my God, I didn’t just say that,” Xander said, recognizing the logic, but somewhat disgusted with himself.

“I’m proud of you, sweetie, that must have been painful for you to admit,” Anya replied, patting his leg.

“You have no idea.”

Spike tilted his head to the side and stared at the whelp. He knew if he openly thanked the boy for slightly agreeing with him he would deny it vehemently. So he settled for a barely perceptible nod to which Xander’s eyes widened and then suddenly glanced off in another direction.

“Could we please return to the topic at hand?”

Spike heaved a pained sigh, pulled a chair from the corner, and sat. He was tired of standing, knowing that Giles would continue with his questions all night if he had the chance. “I haven’t done any type of thrall. What more do you want to know?”

“How is it that she’s now part of a mating claim?”

“Hell if I know!” he growled at the Watcher. “From what I know, claims – any kind of claims – are permanent. Why would I do that to the Slayer?”

“To torture her, of course.” Giles saw that as the only explanation. Anything else was unthinkable.

“You mankey twat-”

“You’re extremely uninformed,” Anya interrupted and Tara was secretly glad. Things were becoming highly unstable.

“I beg your pardon?” Giles spluttered.

“You may beg, but I’ll doubt it will do any good. As I said before, once the claim begins, the pair is immune to outside forces. The one who initiates the claim is the one who has control over the other until the claim is finalized. So, if anything, Buffy has power over Spike, not vice versa…at least, not until they complete it.”

Although Spike loved Buffy beyond himself, it did make him cringe to learn that, in essence, he was her puppet. Even though he never read up on claims he’d heard about them from Darla. She’d scoffed because Angelus wanted to become her mate and she’d refused… profusely. And after he’d caught Dru with Angelus, he knew she would never reciprocate any type of claim, especially a mating one.

“That’s somewhat of a relief then. Now if we can just keep the claim from being completed, then at least we’ll be assured of Spike’s compliance.” Giles tried to find the one redeeming factor in what he saw as quite the debacle.

“But, won’t that keep Buffy in pain, as in the hellfire variety?” Xander asked the question on everyone but the Watcher’s mind.

“Apparently he doesn’t give a fuck,” Spike muttered, shooting daggers at Giles.

“Well, I give a fu- I mean, I care,” Willow piped in. She may not be a fan of Spike, but she didn’t want Buffy to suffer, not after what she just went through.

“Have to agree with Willow on this one. Buffy’s already been to hell and back… literally. Why would we knowingly put her through it again?” Xander asked hesitantly. He didn’t want to appear to be on the vampire’s side, but he was being backed into a corner that left no other alternative.

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this, and from you, Xander,” Giles countered.

“I think everyone wants what’s best for Buffy, don’t they?” Tara asked the group. Seeing no one refute her assessment, she continued. “If Spike is best for Buffy, then shouldn’t we accept that?”

Spike grinned at the shy Wicca. “Best thing I’ve heard all night, pet.”

She ducked her head. “No, I think Buffy saying that she loved you was the best thing you’ve heard tonight.”

“That was a mistake-” Giles began to argue before being interrupted.

“No, I distinctly heard her say ‘I love him’,” Anya corrected him.

“Face it, Rupes, I’m in her blood. No way am I letting go of that,” Spike warned the Watcher.

Giles pursed his lips. “How can she continue slaying if she’s a vampire?”

“Uh, yeah… is Buffy on her way to becoming a member of the fangy undead?” Willow asked.

“Stupid humans,” Anya muttered under her breath.

Spike looked incredulously at the concerned group. “You fools actually think I’d do that to her, after all that she’s been through? You’re a bloody stupid lot!”

“Answer the question Spike,” Giles pressed through clenched teeth.

“Of course not, now sod off!” he roared and shoved the chair he was sitting on back against the wall, watching it splinter.

Paying no attention to the mangled piece of furniture, Spike began pacing furiously, glaring at each person in turn. “You bloody, self-righteous, meddling fools! Don’t know when to leave well enough alone! She was fucking happy where she was!”

Xander frowned in confusion. “She was happy in Hell?”

They still have no idea she was in Heaven. Time to enlighten them.

“Whelp… do you honestly think the chit was in Hell? She’s the Slayer for Christ’s sake! It’s like an express ticket to St. Peter himself!”

A collective gasp issued from the group. “Just what are you saying Spike?” Giles asked for clarification.

“My God, you’re thicker than Angel’s broody forehead. I’ll use simple terms then, Watcher.” Spike squat down in front of Giles and raised his eyebrows as if speaking to a child. “Buffy wasn’t in Hell… she was in Heaven.”

“No…” Willow murmured then trailed off.

“Oh Goddess!” Tara cried.

“Dear God!” Giles and Xander said in shocked unison.

“In retrospect, it makes sense,” Anya said with a nod, practical as ever.

“But wait… how do you know this?” Giles asked with a confused frown.

“She told me, you git!” He stood back up and moved away from the group, facing them. “I’ll love her to the end of my existence, but I wouldn’t want her back if she were in Heaven, even though it killed me every night to listen to Dawn cry herself to sleep. You try to do all these things to ‘help’ her, but all you do is bugger her life up more.”

“Hey!” Willow snapped.

“Red, I expected better from you. You ripped the poor girl from the bosom of Heaven and you wonder where her gratitude is? You’re lucky she even lets you live, let alone stay here!” Spike condemned the witch that had brought them all to this point.

“Why you…”

“Try it, Red… I want you to try something,” he said menacingly.

Tara’s hand on Willow’s thigh kept her from attempting anything.

Seeing Tara held her in check, Spike turned his gaze on her. “Glinda…you should’ve come to me, knowing they were cooking up this little ‘after life’ party. But I guess you knew I’d have nothing to do with it and that’s why you didn’t tell me.” His gaze softened when he saw the tears misting in her eyes. “Should’ve persuaded your girl against it.”

Tara nodded her head, mutely agreeing to all that Spike had pointed out. She was so stupid to think that anything of that magnitude wouldn’t have dire consequences. And now, they were all faced with the results of Willow’s dark magic.

Spike then shifted his attention to Anya and Xander. “Whelp, you knew it was wrong, I can smell it on you.”

Not denying anything, Xander tried ignorance as his scapegoat. “I didn’t actually think it would work. I mean, she didn’t even get to finish the ritual because of those Hogs from Hell or something.”

“But she had the Urn of Osiris, Xander. There was at least a seventy-five percent chance of the spell producing the desired effect,” Anya commented, blowing his excuse out of the water.

“You knew, Anya… knew what that mojo shit would do, and yet you still went along with it,” Spike accused, watching the guilt creep across her face. “You’re worse for not stopping them.”

“You didn’t think I tried? I remember saying, ‘Xander, this is a very bad idea! Willow can’t control the kind of forces she wants to call up.’ But no, no one ever listens to me, ex-demon with hundreds of years of experience! What do I know?”

“Ok, pet, I see your point.”

“I’ll have you know I could’ve told you something like this would happen…that because she didn’t have the portal mapped that Willow couldn’t be sure where she’d gone, and-”

“Breathe, Ahn,” Xander interrupted her, trying to soothe her agitated state.

Spike nodded once again to Xander, turning his head slowly to Buffy’s Watcher. “And you,” Spike sneered, holding up a hand to prevent Giles from saying anything.

“You were her world, her father and you just decided to sell the store and leave her family cause you couldn’t live with the bleedin’ pain of being here anymore? What was going to happen to Dawn? She sure as hell can’t go to that prick of a man that isn’t her real father!” Becoming extremely worked up, Spike paced the length of the room as he admonished Rupert for planning to leave the States. “And news flash, Rupes… we all lost Buffy that night, not just you.”

Spike fell to the floor at that point, physically drained, his emotions surfacing even though he tried to keep them at bay. “I watched her beautiful soul sacrificed for something you lot could hardly grasp. True and unconditional love! She gave it all up for Dawn, to save the world, to keep us all safe. And what do you arrogant bunch do? You violently rip her away from a place where she was loved, where she felt warm and finished…all for your stupid, selfish notions of remorse or self-pity ‘cause you lost someone.”

He was tearing up at this point, all his frustrations pouring out at the people that had caused Buffy so much grief. He sobbed into his hands as his body shook. “She was my salvation… my bright, golden light. Now, she’s barely half a person.”

The only dry eyes in the room at that point were Willow and Giles, not able to see beyond their mistakes to the pain that they’d caused the Slayer. Seeing Spike so completely lost in his despair, Tara slipped away from Willow and crouched down beside the mourning vamp.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” she whispered, rubbing soothing circles on his trembling back.

Spike looked at her with swollen eyes. “If I could send her back, I would…even though it would destroy me,” he wept.

Tara’s eyes renewed their tears. “Oh sweetie.” Without further thought, she pulled him into a comforting embrace, crooning as she rocked him back and forth.

”I would be pissed off too if Xander pulled me from eternal comfort and security,” Anya offered, tears nearly choking her. “But you should know that magic like this has major repercussions. There will be penalties,” she advised in a low voice.

Spike looked up and nodded, watching the rest of the group, gauging if they truly understood her warning. Xander’s face was aflame with guilt and shame as silent tears made their way down his cheeks, closing his eyes as he grasped the scope of what they’d done. Giles and Willow, however, refused to glance at Spike, feeling if they did so they would be acknowledging the fact that he was right.

Spike slowly rose from his crouched position next to Tara, tense with anger. “Have you two got nothing to say?” He directed the question to the witch and the Watcher.

“I didn’t know where she was,” Willow said evenly, but Anya snorted in contempt.

“I asked if you did an astral map of the dimensions that night. You told me you did. Your easy deceptions will catch up with you soon.”

“Ahn…” Xander admonished. “If Willow said she-”

“You defend her?” Anya cut him off, hurt welling up inside her. “This is why she’s getting worse, not better… because everyone believes she’s just ‘poor geeky lesbian Willow.’ What you don’t seem to realize is that she’s a borderline Black Siren.”

“That’s not possible,” Giles refuted, glancing at the red haired witch. “It takes decades to even reach the lowest potential of a Black Siren.”

“Seems you don’t like seeing things that are clearly apparent to other people, Watcher,” Spike groused, not just referring to Willow’s advanced abilities.

Giles turned his eyes on the vampire, deep distrust smoldering behind them. “And you’re the paragon of observation, right Spike? How many times did Buffy tell you that she wanted no part of you in her life… and rather bluntly I might add?”

“I know some of the things I’ve done aren’t the best examples of clear thinking, but you know what? I pay daily for my sins. My hell is here and now, watching her go through life as if she’s in some hypnotic trance and can’t respond. You? You’ll just have to wait for your hell.”

Giles looked affronted. “Why you ungrateful-”

“Stop. Now.” He spoke with cold finality, which left Giles with his mouth hanging open. Spike then focused on the group as a whole. “Buffy needs me around right now, if for nothing else than to help her with this ‘transition’. I advise you all to let it be for now,” he warned.

With that, he silently walked into the kitchen, tired of Giles’ self-righteous attitude and no longer in the mood to deal with any of them, save Glinda or Demon girl. He paused at the back porch door, listening for Buffy. He could feel her anxiety over the noises she’d heard earlier, but he wasn’t about to apologize for them. She was speaking softly to someone, but he couldn’t discern to whom she was talking. Sensing no threat or danger, he moved back into the kitchen and started to prepare a cup of hot chocolate.

As the chocolate was beginning to boil, Xander crept in and sat at the kitchen counter, saying nothing. Spike eyed him cautiously, waiting for another outburst with a sarcastic quip or derogatory slurs, but was taken aback when the boy finally spoke.

“Can I have a cup?”

He raised his eyebrows and nodded mutely. He could tell the whelp was nervous, practically nauseous if truth be told about being in his presence, but he backed off from being a complete menace.

“I-I know… um, that you care for Buffy… we all do,” Xander started.

Unprepared for this, Spike waited for him to continue, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard.

“And I’m sorry for my part in all this… mess. It’s just… well… seeing her like that… well… it’s just, different.”

Spike began pouring the hot liquid into the mugs, plunking a handful of mini-marshmallows in the cup and scooting the beverage towards the young man. “I know you love her, Whelp. Know you can’t help it. Neither can I,” he whispered.

“She does kinda get under your skin, doesn’t she?”

“That she does. But Harris, your bird is amazing, too. She’s got all kinds of demony knowledge stored up. You Scoobies should take advantage of that, quit taking her for granted. She shouldn’t be a replacement for Buffy,” Spike pointed out quietly.

Xander blushed disconcertedly. “It’s not like that… I mean, not anymore. I used to… God she was… Buffy was my Wonder Woman! Now, it’s as if she’s Rogue and I’m Wolverine, ya know? They always looked out for each other… loved each other, but in a non-mixy kinda way. With Anya… well, she’s my Jean Grey,” he said with a final sigh.

Spike tried to hide his grin at the analogy but it slipped through anyway. Never in a million years would he have guessed that he and Xander Harris would be sitting at a kitchen counter discussing women and comic book heroes. To say that the situation was surreal would be an understatement.

Taking a chance, he leaned over and tapped Xander’s knuckles. “Too bad you don’t have those claws of his, mate. Be right handy in a fight, you know?”

“In my dreams, blondie,” Xander snarked, apparently comfortable with Spike’s presence. And, he had a sneaking suspicion that Spike might not be too bad to hang around with, since it was apparent he knew who the X-Men were. Not too bad at all.

“Oi! Call me anything you want – just leave off ‘blondie’.” Spike said with a shudder. “Have horrible déjà vu’s of Harm’s prattle.”

Xander snickered. “Guess even you have your limits, huh?”

“You have no bloody idea, mate.”

“Actually, yeah, I do. I went to school with the vacuous ding dong, and THAT was too much.”

“Hmm… forgot about that. And for the record, I would have shagged Jean Grey myself… poor Logan didn’t stand a chance against her charms.” Spike waggled his eyebrows.

Xander laughed and nodded in agreement. “Speaking of dreams, you know I had a dream about you once… or was it a nightmare? Nightmare, yeah, definitely,” he volunteered as he sipped at his cocoa.

“Bloody hell, Whelp! If I’m naked in this dream-”

“That would be a big HELL NO, with a side order of gagging noises!” Xander responded rather loudly. So loud, in fact, that it caused the conversational lull in the living room to cease, the young man’s guilty grimace apology enough.

They both listened for a few moments for the discussion to continue before Spike’s curiosity got the better of him. “So no naked Spike…”

“No, but tweed was involved.”

Hot chocolate nearly came through Spike’s nose. “Fucking Hell! Tweed?”

Ignoring him for the moment, Xander started describing the dream he’d had a couple years ago that involved the Scoobies, Spike and… cheese. “It was the strangest dream, really. I was at a playground…Buffy was in a sandbox making sand… thingies. And Giles was swinging on the swing set…”

Spike’s incredulous look told Xander enough. “Yeah, I know… but I swear I didn’t drink the Kool-Aid before I fell asleep!” Spike just cocked an eyebrow in disbelief.

“Anyway, Giles was wearing his usual tweed and there next to him, swinging… was you! Dressed in the same damn thing. One man in tweed is scary… two… well, you realize my mind is scarred at this point.”

Spike’s mouth hung open at the picture Xander was creating. Him and Giles…playing with the kiddies at the schoolyard…and in tweed no less! Just what kind of hellish nightmare was this? “Please tell me there wasn’t more?”

“Trust me, I wish there wasn’t. I stood there watching you guys… ah, swing and Giles told me that you were like a son to him and he was going to make you a Watcher. I think I told him I had considered the position, but decided against it. But you seemed rather, uh, happy with the idea.”

“Take it back, Whelp! I’m not gonna be a bleedin’ Watcher! And I’ll never wear tweed, disgustingly scratchy stuff!” Spike grimaced as he thought about such a distasteful thing.

“Hey man, can’t help what I dreamt. And I promise to remind Giles how much he hates you if he ever contemplates making you a Watcher.” He laughed but then sobered quickly. “He won’t stop you know…”

Spike scowled into his cup. “Doesn’t matter. I won’t give her up.”

“We should all know that by now.”

“I think you’re comin’ around,” Spike said with a smirk.

“Maybe.” That was all Xander would agree to. He then hesitated as he asked Spike about something that had been bugging him since earlier that evening.

“Did you know this Lothos they were talking about? I mean, is there any chance that he could come after Buffy?”

Spike tried to remember what he’d come across as he was tracking the Slayer before leaving for Prague. “Don’t think so, Whelp. I happened to breeze by LA during that time and took in the carnage.”

He gulped. “Carnage?”

Spike chuckled. “Slayer was sloppy back then, left a mess with what she did to the school. Bodies of kiddies lying all around, bleedin’ from vamp bites, a soddin smorgasbord it was. Had a few nips myself.” He stopped once he realized the boy’s pallor. “Er, yeah… that’s when I was, uh, evil.”

Xander looked at him skeptically. “Sure.”

“Well…there wasn’t much left in ‘em really,” he admitted. “Did find the bloody poof’s cane though, dust all around it.”

“That was it?”

“Not really. Found Amilyn, Lothos’ lackey, hiding in the basement of the school. Soddin’ wanker just kept moanin’ about his bloody left arm and all that rubbish. Got sick of his ‘oooing and ahhhing’ and did the bloke a favor… staked him good and proper. By then I smelled the gasoline and smoke, so I hightailed it out of there before the school burned. Felt her all around the place, but she was gone by then. Took Dru to Prague after that… nasty nightmare it was.”

Xander nodded, taking Spike at his word, which was an odd feeling for him. He chalked it up to the fact that, if anyone would know about this Lothos, Spike would. He also struggled internally, wondering if he should tell Spike about what happened to Buffy before she came to Sunnydale. He knew that she was having trouble dealing with her Slayer duties and such, so he decided to take a chance and tell him. If anything, he could help her adjust to life again, knowing that he’d take care of her.

“She didn’t come directly here, you know… after what happened in LA,” he ventured.

Spike hadn’t known where she’d gone, losing her trail shortly before leaving for Prague. The whelp was volunteering information, and with the things that had been going on this evening, he wanted to endear a trust towards Xander. “I’m listening.”

Harris looked down at the cracks in the tile on the counter. “Her parents put her in a mental institution… for a couple weeks… for talking about vampires and being a Slayer. Told her there was no such things, that it was all in her head.”

Spike stopped the cup midway to his mouth. “What?”

“They tried to make her believe she wasn’t who she was,” he whispered, looking extremely uncomfortable.

Spike’s breath left him. He couldn’t believe Joyce would ever do such a thing, or allow her husband to recommend it. His jaw ticked with thinly held anger. “What did they do to her?”

Xander shifted his eyes from Spike’s heated glare. “She only told us about the group therapy sessions, but I think they sedated her a couple times, from what I can tell. She wasn’t too forthcoming with the ‘four-one-one’.”

Spike closed his eyes and swallowed against the sorrow he felt for Buffy. No wonder she was against letting people get close to her. How could you bring yourself to trust people who say they love you when they do something like that to you? Many, many things finally fell into place as Xander explained what had happened to Buffy.

“I think they kinda brainwashed her…they wouldn’t let her go until she renounced everything she’d been told to believe. Guess she convinced herself for a while that she was just an ordinary girl… ‘till she showed up in the library on her first day at Sunnydale High. Giles gave her a tome on vampires when she came in for some text books for her classes, which is not too subtle if you ask me.”

Xander heard Spike mutter bloody fucking wanker under his breath.

“I’m actually in agreement there…which in itself is scary.” Xander rubbed his forehead, heaving a deep sigh.

“You’d be surprised, mate, what we agree on,” he pointed out.

“I have a feeling you’re right – but don’t ever tell anyone about it. Have to keep up my image you know… of despising your guts and all.”

“As long as you don’t tell ‘em I the one nicking Burba Weed from the shop, we’re right as rain.”

“Anya wondered where that went to…”

“Not gonna be a ratfink are you?

“Got any first edition Superman’s?” Xander asked, trying to bargain.

“Pinched one back in the day, still in the plastic. You want it?”

“Deal.” Xander looked askance at the contemplative vampire. “I just made a deal with the undead. How the mighty have fallen.”

“Shut yer gob. Tell me more about Buffy.”

“Well, those first few days, Buffy looked really afraid, scared of her shadow… literally.” Xander stood up with his mug in hand and crossed to the sink to wash it out. “I mean, all this time she’d been programmed to believe this stuff wasn’t true. And then, to have it thrust into your face that Yes, Buffy, there is a Santa Claus – he just happens to be a demon is just a bit too much for some people to deal with. At one point she did accept it, but it was like a mask that she put on. Like, she went away… and only came back once in a great while.”

Spike nodded absently, urging him to continue. “Before she died though, you could catch glimpses, but after she came back… there was nothing there.” Xander turned to face him, his resolve hard and unflinching. “I know there’s a happy Buffy somewhere in there… and, God I can’t believe I’m saying this. I-if you’re the one causing her to be even the least bit happy and helping her… then… well… I want to help, if I can.”

Spike was, to say the least, astounded at the whelp. The boy had finally come to his senses, which spoke volumes about his character compared to his mates. Not wanting to rock the boat further, he nodded. “Thanks, mate. Glad to know you have her back.”

Xander nodded firmly and rinsed out his cup. “We’ve always had her back, even if we screwed up every now and… well, always I guess.”

“Road to Hell is paved with good intentions, they say. But I know you’re only tryin’ to protect her. Giles is another matter, however. Don’t know if he’ll let it go, mate. Might need a bit more convincin’.”

“It’s way wiggy for him right now, Spike. Truth be told, it is for all of us. I mean… she was always Super Buffy before, but now? She’s like Ultra Buffy. It won’t be easy for any one until we’re all comfortable with this… thing… that’s happening between you and her. Anya seems to understand what’s going on, but hell if I know. Right now, I’m just too tired to make sense of anything. I’ll ask her tomorrow…or maybe I’ll wheedle it out of her as I’m giving her many orgasms,” he preened, laughing lightly.

Spike laughed at Anya’s trademark description of her and Xander’s sex life. His laugh slowly died when he felt Buffy’s overwhelming sadness, cocking his head to listen more intently. He could still hear Buffy speaking, but it was muffled and far away from the house, so he walked over to the door and peeked out the blinds. She stood on the edge of the lawn, just beyond the shrubs. He narrowed his eyes, but again, nothing appeared to be there.

“Is she still out there?” Xander asked

“Yeah, she’s got her gob workin, but I can’t suss out who she’s jabberin’ to,” he muttered. “I only feel her heartbeat, but there’s something out there… and it ain’t human. Don’t smell or sense any danger, but I’m listenin’ just the same.”

Xander placed his cup in the drainer and wiped his hands on a dishtowel. “Maybe it’s a ghost,” he joked.

Spike looked askance at him. “Ghost my bloody arse. I’d still be able to sense that, Whelp.”

“What if the ghost didn’t want you to know, would you be able to sense it then?”

Spike thought for a moment. “Who knows, Harris, who knows…”

“Merrick?” she whispered into the night.

“Hello Buffy.” The gruff reply came from the shadows near her shrubs.

She focused her highly developed sight into the darkness enveloping her backyard, sensing his presence, hidden from prying eyes. With her advanced hearing, she could listen to his movements as he came into view near the large oak, smiling slightly.

He looked much as he had when she’d last seen him… on the night he’d died. A long brown coat with a fedora hat, leather gloves and a plaid scarf, a neatly trimmed goatee and mustache rounded out the figure of her first Watcher.

“I’ve missed you.”

A wide smile graced his lips. “The feeling’s mutual. Although, I must say even in the afterlife, your name came up quite often.”

She grimaced and shrank back into herself. “That bad, huh?”

“No, nothing bad, I assure you. Quite the opposite really. The Powers That Be were rather excited to have you among them for a short time.” He retreated further into the shadows.

She quirked a grin, focusing her gaze on his shadowy form. “I can still see you.”

“Yes, I’m well aware of your new abilities. That’s why I’m out this far - didn’t want anyone with curious eyes to see me, too. Bit disconcerting for them, you see,” Merrick said as he nodded to her porch door. “A certain someone already knows something is out here with you. But this is a private conversation and I’d prefer that there would be no interruptions. It’s better this way.”

Buffy tilted her head, listening as Spike moved away from the kitchen and went to the living room to sit with the others, low words being murmured all around. Feeling no threat to her vampire, she closed off her senses to better focus on Merrick.

“Can I come closer?” she asked softly as she pulled the handkerchief out of her back pocket.

He raised his bushy brow questioningly. “You won’t be missed?”

Rising from her position on the steps, she started approaching him. “They know I’m in the backyard, and Spike can feel me if I leave.”

“Ah yes, William the Bloody.”

She stopped her approach, her lower lip trembling. “You disapprove.”

“On the contrary, I rather like the chap. His temperament is well suited to yours,” Merrick assured her.

“Okay, who are you and what have you done with my old Watcher?” she snarked in disbelief. How could Merrick readily accept something that Giles was even unwilling to think about?

He smiled gently, a bittersweet look on his face. “I would have lectured you on your choices, but ultimately they are your choices, Buffy, not mine. I would have encouraged any relationship really, since Slayers have such a short life span.”

“Oh,” was all she could say, her voice so small she barely heard it herself.

“Did you want me to rant and rave that a vampire is not the wisest of bedmates?” he asked, tilting his head as she came to a stop in front of him.

Her eyes widened a bit. “No, but I kinda expected it. I mean I got the third degree about Angel from Giles, and rightly so-”

“No!” He made a slashing motion with his gloved hand, his features becoming hard as he leaned close to her face.

“You should have been told about Liam in the first place, and for that I fault Giles quite harshly. The Scourge of Europe should have been a major studying point in your training.”

She bit her bottom lip and looked askance. “I’m not so Einsteiny with the studying… in fact, I really, really hate it. Don’t blame Giles.”

“Nothing can dissuade me in this. The Scourge of Europe represented four different vampire fighting styles, each one lethal in their own merit. There are hundreds of documents outlining their techniques, documents that Rupert had access to and didn’t utilize. Blatant refusal to make use of such materials was sloppy and could have gotten you killed,” he said heatedly.

Buffy didn’t know what to say to his outburst. She’d never seen him so worked up in the short time she knew him, even when she refused to acknowledge her calling. His insistence that she was a Slayer, sans hairy mole of course, paled in comparison to the anger she now saw in his old eyes.

“But,” she whispered. “I was killed, er died.”

Merrick rolled his eyes and turned to pace, his hands behind his back. “What, the Master? Have you ever considered that Angel led you astray with the information he’d given you? Darla was his sire, feeding him information about the Master the whole time you were, uh… fond of him.”

“What? No, he wouldn’t have done that, he had a soul.” She shook her head, shuddering at the idea of Angel’s duplicity from the beginning.

“The soul didn’t preclude him from presenting you like a fatted calf to the Master for slaughter, did it?”

“But he-”

“Gave you vague warnings and cryptic information from the get go. And, Buffy, God bless your soul, you wanted him so much you took everything he said at face value. If Giles had shown you the detailed notes on Liam the Council had collected throughout the years you wouldn’t have been lured so easily into his trap.”

“But, he dusted Darla,” she argued.

“Before she told you too much. Do you realize that even with the soul, Angel had started having relations with Darla again? She thought she could… well, get rid of the nasty thing with torture and what not. But the soul Angel was cursed with had a conscience of its own, that it felt guilt at its underhanded behavior towards you and tried to rectify that by telling you about Darla.”

“He never said anything about Darla,” she murmured as she wrapped her arms around her body, trying to keep the chill away.

“Because ultimately, Liam was in control. The demon side of his nature wreaks complete havoc and mayhem. His human side was a womanizer and a drunkard, but mindful of his boundaries. The gypsies knew what they were doing when they cursed him with another man’s soul… his own being too weak to actually be much of a threat. His constant mulish behavior is a symptom of having another man’s soul constantly whispering in his ear that he’s wrong, that he’s an abomination. It’s a wonder he’s not completely insane right now.”

“That explains Drusilla,” she muttered, kicking the loose dirt surrounding them.

Merrick studied his leather boots. “She’s a victim you realize, even though you dislike her immensely.”

“Sticking up for vamps are we now, Merrick? First Spike, now Dru. One would begin to think you’ve got a soft spot for them,” she teased lightly.

He smiled. “I just understand them… especially the older ones. Some of my peers called it empathy, trying to drive home the fact that there was only one kind of good vampire – a dead one.”

She leaned against the tree and closed her eyes in exhaustion. “Nowthat sounds like Giles.”

“Mmm, I have no doubt.”

Buffy slid down the trunk and sat on an exposed and gnarled root, her chin resting in her hand. “How did I end up with two radically different Watchers?”

Merrick moved to sit across from her on a similar root. “I’m not quite sure of that myself. All my other charges had untimely deaths. I think you were my last shot at becoming something other than the butt of several jokes with the Council.”

“I know you wanted to be something else, but your family dragged you into this.” She smiled sadly, wishing her Watcher could’ve had his heart’s desire.

Sighing wistfully at a dream unfulfilled, he replied, “Ah yes, I would have been a wonderful boot maker.”

She grinned at the look of bliss on his face. “But you would have been totally bored. And as it happened, I came around in the nick of time.”

“That you did, Buffy, that you did.”

She folded and unfolded the handkerchief she planned to return to him, pulling at loose threads along the lacing. “I had no clue you were, uh, all ghosty until Willow did that puff the magic dragon thing. Is that why I didn’t see… uhm, didn’t see you in Heaven?” she asked quietly.

He looked down, pretending to study the ground. “I had so much to do… and I still do, unfortunately. My time is not really finished here yet, even though my body lies rotting in the grave.” He grimaced at the wording. “But I think next time around, I’ll be there,” he said gently.

Buffy smiled softly and nodded. “Hopefully that won’t be for a while yet. I mean, yeah…I miss it, but I think I can wait now.”

Merrick quirked a grin and looked towards the door, knowing the reason that his Slayer wanted to stay longer. “He’s loved you a long time, Buffy, even before he met you, I believe.”

A dreamy quality overtook her changeable eyes and she couldn’t help but sigh heavily, peace stealing over her whole being. “Somehow I believe that.”

Raised voices originating from the house filled the air followed by a loud crash, like furniture breaking. She moved to approach the house, but Merrick’s voice stopped her.

“They’re all right. He’s just a bit upset at the group,” he confirmed, nodding at the door.

“I’m just surprised he isn’t stapled to the wall with stakes and them using him as a bulls-eye dartboard.”

Merrick’s eyebrow notched up. “I must say he is very tenacious when he wants something, and the only drawback I see in him is that his tongue gets ahead of his mouth sometimes.”

Her gaze glazed over with what that tongue was capable of, finally shaking her head of the wicked thoughts crowding inside… just in case he could read her mind. “Only sometimes?”

“I was trying to be polite.”

“Well don’t. It’s weird.”

“All right then. William the Bloody’s mouth can curse a blue streak, bungle up the most assured bet, and kiss the pants off his favorite Slayer,” he rephrased with a snicker. “Is that better?”

Buffy’s eyes were round with shock. “Wasn’t expecting that much in-your-face facts!”

“I work with what I’m given.”

“That statement has a double meaning doesn’t it?” she posed, studying her Watcher’s profile as he began pacing again while she sat back down on the tree limb.

He looked at her from the corner of his eyes. “And to think I thought you the most vacuous choice for all those Slayer powers.”

She grinned and ducked her head, returning to play with the edges of the handkerchief nervously. “If it’s any consolation, I probably was at the time. Now? Not so much.”

“I think you’re selling yourself short. There’s a reason Spike came looking for you. He’d heard you were the best back then, picking up your trail while you were still in L.A. He isn’t any mere fluff and show like Lothos was. He’s a master vampire, despite his antics. I don’t think he would have harmed you though, even then.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He’s too human. He fairly reeks of humanity. It’s why he was ostracized from the group even more so than Liam was when he was ensouled. If one were to believe in destiny, as it were, then some could argue that Drusilla chose Spike to be her companion for the specific purpose that he’s now serving… and coming to understand.”

“The irritating thorn in my side?” she said with a frown.

Merrick chuckled lightly. “No, my dear. He’s meant to be your champion, your hero for lack of a better term. Your lover and mate as well.”

She bit her lip hard to hold back the tears. “But what if I just want him to be free? You know, to have free will… a choice over his destiny instead of what’s been dictated to him from the beginning?"

“But, Buffy, he’s had that all along. And what’s truly amazing is that, despite interference from outside forces, Spike has made the right choice a great deal of the time because of the one thing that Liam lacked… a conscience. Soul or no soul, that man loves you and would have gladly traded places with you that morning quite a few months ago.”

She nodded mutely, tears skimming her lashes, absorbing the truth of his words. “Merrick… I’m so confused. I don’t know what I need to do anymore. I mean, I feel like I need to continue with the Slayer duties, but my heart isn’t in it anymore. I feel so dead inside sometimes… but then he comes and saves me from myself,” she gestured helplessly.

He sighed, compassion weaving its way towards the bewildered girl. And that’s all she was really, just a girl, but with centuries embedded within her soul. He tentatively laid a hand on top of her head. “Do you remember what I told you, before I died?”

She ran her fingers through her hair trying to control the tears that were filling her eyes. “I can’t remember,” she apologized.

“I told you that you did everything wrong.”

She quickly looked up, fearing she would see disappointment in his eyes, only to catch the glimpse of a light smile before he continued. “I also told you to do it wrong, as I recall. Not to play our game. Remember, it’s about the music. When the music stops-”

“The rest is silence,” she finished quietly.

He nodded, proud of his Slayer. “You are the most unique Slayer ever born, Buffy. You have friends, family, and loved ones that most Slayers have never known, nor are they likely to in the future. There is just something special about you. There is no one thing that anybody can put a finger on. Maybe it’s a combination of things, but I’d like to think it’s your warmth, compassion, and courage. These things draw people to you like a beacon, and you serve your legacy well, my dear. You’ve outlived most Slayers, if not the longest living one. Why is that, do you think?” he prompted.

“Because I’ve danced to the music of life,” she whispered as recognition lit her face.

Spike had been telling her all along that she loved and needed to dance, even going so far as to demand that she dance when she had nothing left in her. ‘Every Slayer has a death wish,’ he’d told her. But he knew that she was different, that she loved life. Life was music - painful and pleasurable, hard and soft. After that, there was only silence, the end of the story. She’d ended her story too soon, and she realized that even though Spike had nothing to do with ripping her out of Heaven, there was no way he was going to let her retreat to the silence again… at least not without a fight.

Thinking of the blond vamp, she could hear him approach the kitchen door again, could feel his irritation and slight worry when she wasn’t to be found on the porch step where he’d last seen her. The blinds shifted with the weight of his fingers and then she felt a sense of relief wash over her once he spotted her form further in the shadows. Her eyes darted to where Merrick was standing only to see him vanish from sight before Spike could get a fix on him.

“I should go soon,” his disembodied voice floated towards her.

The finality in his voice made her panic. “No! Not yet! I’ve missed you so much. Can’t you stay just a little while longer?” She glanced over her shoulder at the back door, noticing Spike’s shadow moving around the kitchen and the light finally gone as he moved back to the room that held the Scoobies.

“A little while then,” Merrick whispered near her ear, startling her.

Truth be told, he’d missed her just as much. One of the first things he wanted to accomplish once he found out that he wouldn’t be enjoying his promised heavenly rest for quite a while, was to pressure the Council to send Giles to her, feeling the man was the next best thing for his Slayer. Now he wasn’t quite so optimistic of his choice.

“So…” she started. “You’ve been ghosty from the beginning?”

He scowled. “Unfortunately. It’s a damn nuisance trying to move objects when you’re not corporeal.”

“How do you do it then?”

“With massive amounts of energy. But it becomes easier the longer one is a ghost. At the start, I bungled it up quite badly. Now I can do almost anything to include touching people and becoming visible to those with whom I wish to converse. Gave the Council quite a fright the first time I popped up the meeting chambers, I can tell you. I’ve never seen Travers become so unnerved at that point.”

Buffy grumbled something unflattering about the man under her breath, causing him to snort with laughter. “If it’s any consolation, he did disappear quite suddenly to the lavatory.”

She couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her lips as she imagined Merrick scaring the crap out of Quentin Travers… literally. “You wouldn’t think a ghost would have that kind of effect on the stodgy old coot.”

“Well, in all fairness, they’re more concerned with demons, vampires, and such. Ghosts aren’t really on their ‘to do list’. I don’t think they actually have much experience when it comes to that shady area of spirits.”

“You would have to play fair,” she muttered, breaking a twig in two. “Why were you there to begin with?”

He sat down next to her, shoulder-to-shoulder, yet felt nothing to make her all nervous and twitchy like with vamps. “I wanted to make sure your next Watcher was Rupert Giles. I’d studied with him for brief time before I was assigned to you in L.A. I was impressed with his knowledge of demonology and his library was the stuff Watcher dreams were made of.”

She just stared at him in complete shock. “You knew Giles back in the day?” At his curt nod, she continued. “What’d you guys do, drink a few here and twirl a stake there?”

“I admit to a bit of, umm, outlandish behavior during our studies… but for the most part we were teacher’s pets.”

“Know-it-all’s, huh?”

He cocked his head and glared at her. “You make it sound distasteful when it truly allowed for quick advancement.”

“Again with the non-mixy of studying and training. Guess you both wasted time and energy trying to teach me things I just wasn’t ready, or willing for that fact, to learn,” she apologized. “Although…”

When she didn’t elaborate further, Merrick nudged her shoulder. “Although what, Buffy?”

She returned to playing with the edges of the handkerchief nervously. “Our training saved my life, more than once,” she ventured, willing him to understand just how she had survived because of him.

“Giles didn’t really like practicing with knives or swords… and without you, I really didn’t have that much work with them. I practiced on my own with what you taught me before you…” She trailed off, thinking about the night her first big mistake cost her someone she loved. “I remembered what we worked with and it saved my life.”

He smiled slightly and cursed Giles for a fool. Defensive and offensive knife work and swordplay were essential Slayer tactics not to be pushed aside in favor of stakes and karate. “I’m sorry, Buffy. Maybe I should have asked the Council to send someone more suited to, ahem, your unique personality.”

“I’ll admit Giles was a little in-your-face at first, but now? I think he’s just as tired of this as I am sometimes. I like him… I’m comfortable with him. He’s treated me better than my own father ever did, even scolding me when I’ve done something I shouldn’t have.”

“Like having romantic relationships with vampires?” he asked with an arched brow.

Heat flared up her neck and into her face. “Yeah,” she whispered, thinking about the night Jenny Calendar died because she couldn’t dust Angel.

“You were drawn to Lothos as well.” He made it a statement of fact.

She glanced away, afraid to admit the truth, but her lips had other ideas. “He’d come to me in my dreams… holding me… whispering that we’d be one.”

“Hmm, makes sense. In a way, you were… one with vampires. It’s why you’re drawn to the master vampires in particular. Their strength and power lures you like a moth to a flame.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Great. I’m doomed to be burnt by the vamp bug zapper of life. First Lothos, then Angel… and now-”

“You do realize that William would never cause you that kind of grief, right?” he cut her off as if he’d read her thoughts.

“Hate to break it to you, Merrick, but he attempted to kill me on numerous occasions.”

He tried to hide his smile. “But he’s never succeeded. And you’ve not been able to dust him as well, yet you were able to dispatch Lothos and Angel with ease. Makes one wonder.”

She rubbed her hands up and down her arms as if chilled by the night air. A dusty ending to Spike made her whole person freeze with horror. “I couldn’t very well fight with him after the chip… it just wasn’t… it wasn’t fair.”

“Says the Slayer that plays by no one’s rules,” he teased.

She eyed him suspiciously. “Did Spike pay you to be here and bring up his good points?”

“Good heavens, no!” he barked with laughter. After a few moments, he grew serious. “I have a vested interest in my Slayer’s happiness, that’s all.”

“Let me guess… I’m one of your after-life missions?”

He looked away, staring into the dense foliage. “Something like that.”

“What aren’t you saying, Merrick?”

Becoming agitated, he stood and began pacing once more, stopping only to ask her a question. “Do you trust him, whole-heartedly?”

“I don’t know. What if he got the chip out?”

Merrick huffed a beleaguered sigh. “That chip will stop working at some point, Buffy. What will you do then?”

Her eyes widened and then filled with tears. “How do you know?”

He tapped the side of his temple. “I’m a ghost, free to move about in time. You do the math.”

“Why are you telling me this? Shouldn’t this strengthen my resolve not to get involved with another vampire?”

“I’m telling you because I want you to come to a decision regarding your heart. Knowing the chip will fail, will you still love him?”

She bit her bottom lip hard, practically drawing blood as she swiped at the tears threatening to fall. “Will he start killing again?”

He frowned harshly. “Think Buffy! No, better yet, feel within yourself! You already know the answer. You just need to be brave enough to admit it.”

She closed her eyes and reached deep inside, to a part she rarely visited, to a place where she’d only let one person touch her… Spike. Not even Angel had ventured this close to her heart and she couldn’t understand why until…

“You listen to me.”

His far away voice surprised her as she inclined her head to pay attention to Spike’s soft words as he told her something she knew would be monumental.

“I’ve been alive a bit longer than you and dead a lot longer than that. I’ve seen things you couldn’t imagine and done things I’d prefer you didn’t. I don’t exactly have a reputation for being a thinker. I follow my blood, which doesn’t exactly rush in the direction of my brain so I make a lot of mistakes. A lot of wrong bloody calls, a hundred plus years and there’s only one thing I’ve ever been sure of. You.”

Buffy ducked her head to hide from the conviction she felt in his voice, searing her to the bone. She couldn’t tell if what she was hearing was from a dream or some random conversation that she’d had with Spike before she died, but she figured she’d remember something this profound if he’d told her before. Her eyes were open, seeing nothing, only concentrating on his far away voice.

“I’m not asking you for anything. When I say I love you, it’s not because I want you, or because I can’t have you. It has nothing to do with me. I love what you are, what you do, how you try. I’ve seen your kindness and your strength. I’ve seen the best and the worst of you and I understand with perfect clarity exactly what you are. You’re a hell of a woman. You’re the one, Buffy.”

It was gone as suddenly as it appeared and she was left with an ache in the center of her chest. Not once had he mentioned the fact of her being the Slayer, only… Buffy. He didn’t think in terms of vampire and Slayer, only Spike and Buffy. He loved her for, well… her.

“Consider it a gift,” Merrick interrupted softly.

She blinked rapidly, rubbing at the tears that lingered, turning to stare at him. “A gift? What… did you do that? How-”

“He said those words shortly before…” He stopped before revealing too much. “It was different then.”

Desperation laced her frantic voice. “What was different, Merrick?”

He looked at her sadly. “I can’t tell you.”

“No! You can’t do that! You can’t let me know something and not tell me why it happened that way!” she pleaded anxiously, fear gripping her as her imagination delved into dark places.

“Calm yourself, child,” he soothed, gently patting the top of her head. “You know I can’t tell you. You must decide for yourself what you want from your life now.”

Tears spilled over as she buried her face in her hands. “He died… didn’t he?” she whimpered, not waiting for him to verify it. “He died for me.”

Merrick neither confirmed nor denied her statement, feeling she knew the truth already. He did, however, move away from her, sensing his energy wavering and knowing his time was nearly exhausted.

“It’s time for me to go, Buffy,” he said quietly, placing his hand on her shoulder, squeezing it until she responded.

She turned and found him smiling sadly at her, causing her heart and chest to constrict tightly. Without thinking, she launched herself into a crushing embrace with her former Watcher.

After the surprise wore off, Merrick returned the hug, laying his cheek against the top of her head and patted her back soothingly. “My dear, brave girl,” he said in a hushed tone.

She sniffled and buried her nose into his chest, inhaling deeply, smelling leather and shoe polish. A deep sense of peace welled up within her, knowing she would never forget him. “I’ll miss you so much, Merrick.”

He pulled back and looked at her with tears in his own eyes. “Oh, Buffy… I’ll miss you, too,” he managed as he cupped her cheek and pressed a kiss on her forehead. “Remember what I told you, it will help more than you know. And while you may not see me, I’ll always be here,” he said roughly, pointing at her heart as he smiled softly and stepped away.

Nodding and sensing time was short, she handed him the handkerchief. “Didn’t want you to forget this… what would you chew on when you get frustrated?” she said, smiling through the tears.

“No, Buffy, you keep it. I think you need it more,” he said pointing at the tears falling down her cheeks. She chuckled lightly and dabbed her eyes with the white satin reminder of her past.

He gazed at her one last time. “Take care of William. Giles will eventually come to accept him, just give him a bit to sort it out.” He winked at her, grinning.

“You know, don’t you?” she asked in amazement. “You already know my decision.”

“I have a hunch,” he said with a full smile, twirling his finger around the end of his mustache. “You’ll do as I ask?”

She nodded, moving to hug him once more. “I promise. Come look in on us sometime, okay?”

“You can count on it,” he assured her. He wrapped his arms around her and tried valiantly to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. “Be happy, Buffy… that’s all I ask.”

Her own tears continued to fill her eyes, but she brushed them away and leaned up to kiss his grizzled cheek. “You take care of yourself.”

He nodded and moved away, fading further into the shadows until she could no longer see or hear him. Once she had no sense whatsoever about him, she turned and headed towards the house. Climbing the steps, she stopped just before she opened the back door, turning to look at the shadows covering the grassy expanse of her yard.

“I love you, Merrick,” she whispered to the night and opened the porch door to return to her life.

In the darkness, Merrick smiled and knew the Powers That Be had chosen the right girl in whom their powers rested.

Buffy opened the back porch door, quietly slipping into the dark kitchen without alerting the Scoobies of her presence. She then leaned against the island, listening as voices floated to her from the living room and closed her eyes to better focus on what they were saying, the main topic being Spike and herself.

“I just think you should ease up on the guy. Trying to stake his undead ass will only upset Buffy further and you’ll get a whole lotta karmic vengeance aimed back at ya.”

She practically had to pick her jaw up off the floor at Xander’s words directed at her Watcher. Would wonders never cease?

“Do not preach at me, young man! My god, the nerve… coming from someone who couldn’t stand to be in his company, let alone make concessions for him! Seems like you’re another victim to fall to his charms.”

A chorus of outrage sounded throughout the house, Xander’s being the loudest. “Look, man, I know you didn’t approve of the way Buffy was brought back-”

“Am I that transparent? Your meddling, children, has probably unleashed something of Armageddon-like proportions that we’ve yet to experience!”

“Then it stands to reason we’ll need all the help we can get!” Xander yelled. “Anya and Spike will know better than anyone what we could be up against,” he reasoned.

Silence lingered for a moment and, not for the first time, Buffy wondered why Spike hadn’t piped up, being the source of contention that he was. She wasn’t curious enough to venture into the other room though, not when everyone in there was being somewhat hostile. She also wasn’t looking forward to dealing with Giles at the present moment, feeling a twinge of guilt about breaking his wrist, but she wasn’t above preventing further attempts from him trying to kill Spike either.

“I think that’s the smartest thing you’ve said all night,” Anya pointed out, pride evident in her voice. “Your ability to mature has increased exponentially in the short time we’ve been discussing this useless idea of thinking Buffy and Spike weren’t meant to be together.”

“Useless? Broken bottle threatening to slice my jugular here folks!” Willow whined. “Spike is not necessary for stopping apocalypses… apocalypti? Whatever! If magic intervention is needed then I can handle any-”

“NO!” resounded through the house from the group, shutting down any further argument from the witch.

Relief flooded through Buffy’s being upon hearing that they wouldn’t tolerate Willow using stronger magic… or magic period. At least they all agreed on that.

“Shouldn’t we try to help Buffy find some source of income?” Tara suggested, ever helpful. “I mean, with her mom being gone there’s no money coming in, not really. I just got a job down at the YMCA teaching yoga, but it doesn’t pay very much and-”

“Spike’s loaded,” Anya interrupted. “Just another reason for Buffy to shack up with him.”

Spike’s loaded?! Buffy put that little tidbit down on a long list of items that she needed to discuss with him.

She figured they were all staring at Anya like a bunch of guppies when she continued.

“Old money and all that, from before he was turned. He has a great demon investment banker, which I need to ask him about since my stock in Voodoo Dolls, Inc. has gone completely down the human waste receptacle.”

Xander coughed. “Ahn, you never cease to surprise me.”

“If only she’d cease to open her mouth,” Buffy heard Willow mutter under her breath, audible only to her.

Uncharitable thoughts flitted across her mind concerning her best friend. Best friend? Best friends wouldn’t rip you from Heaven! Best friends would own up to their actions once they’d learned how they’d hurt others! She could go on, but Tara’s soft voice halted the rage inside her.

“Spike and Buffy are very beautiful together,” she offered meekly. “Their combined auras’ are practically a life force of its own.”

Willow gave a snort of derision and Giles was damningly silent on the matter. Anya, of course, added her own suggestion.

“I bet when they have sex, it’ll light up the whole house! And with his stamina, she’s sure to have the happy ‘O’ face all night long!”

“Oh, dear God…”

That was the proverbial straw in Buffy’s mind. Running her hand through her locks, she moved to enter the room and diffuse the situation, when a cool hand gripped her wrist lightly, holding her back.

“Let ‘em be, pet.”

She tilted her head downward, looking a little over her right shoulder, but didn’t turn around fully. They stood still, linked only by their hands, unsure of each other now that certain truths had been revealed.

She loved him; she did, had for a while if she was truly honest with herself. Hadn’t she professed that fact to Giles just this evening? And Merrick, giving her a taste of what her life could be like should she reject the one standing behind her, well that was the icing on the cake, so to speak.

The really awful thing about this evening was not the yelling or screaming, the accusations or threats of violence… but the lack of courage Buffy had in telling Spike of her feelings. She hadn’t even bothered to look him in the eye when she’d said it, instead telling the group like a bunch of father confessors, begging for absolution from everyone but the person she’d sinned against.

Man’s been waiting years for those three little words and you don’t have the guts to say them to his face. Bravo, Buffy! The blush of shame crept up her neck and over her face as she tentatively tightened her grip on Spike’s fingers.

Slowly, so as not to spook her, he moved forward until his chest came flush with her trembling back, never removing his hand from hers. Before he’d seen her, he knew something was different, that she was more at ease than he’d seen her in a long time. Whatever she’d done in the backyard, whatever demons she’d lain to rest in the cold night made a difference within her, the roaring orchestra he normally felt through their connection having lessened to a peaceful lullaby.

Tired of their endless prattle about whether Buffy was still human or something else, Spike had quietly slipped out of the living room, desperately needing a smoke. He’d reached the backyard just as she’d reentered the house, turning to watch the shadows for any sense of what she’d been talking to out there. Not even a whiff remained of her nighttime visitor and for some reason it chaffed at him something fierce. Had the claim been in place he wouldn’t have to contend with maddening thoughts of possessiveness that plagued him continually since the night Buffy had licked her fingers clean of his blood.

The constant drive to complete the claim was still there, hounding him at every step, but she had to want it just as much as he did. He refused to be tied to someone that hesitated in giving her heart to him. In the beginning, he was willing just to be near her, to love her… but then she’d gone and done this unthinkable thing by cementing a thread of knowledge, a continuous awareness of her being within his mind and body.

And now, with her body so close, he lost any will power he maintained in the last few days.

He disentangled their fingers and wrapped both arms around her shoulders, leaning his forehead against the back of her head, inhaling deeply of her lavender shampoo. He heard her breathy sigh and felt her tense frame relax against his strong body as he began nuzzling her hair, her hands curling around the forearm that circled her neck in a possessively tender embrace.

She leaned her head to the side, her temple resting against his hard jaw line, eyes closed in bliss. This is what it was like to be cherished, to trust someone so completely, knowing that the demon inside of him was capable of utter annihilation yet refused to do so because of its love for her. Yeah, she so totally loved him.

Burying his nose further into her blonde tresses, he began placing short nips along her hairline, sending tingling sensations throughout her body with each one. He then shifted his attention to her neck as he kissed his way up to just below her earlobe, panting heavily and pulling the succulent flesh between his blunt teeth.

A low moan rose up within her when he started worrying the lobe, biting and sucking as he tried to pull a heated response from her by grinding his erection into the cleft of her ass. “A l’il louder, kitten, and they’ll come runnin’ to the rescue.”

She didn’t care; she’d scream if it meant that he’d let his lips continue what they were doing, realizing something had shifted in his demeanor. He was just kissing her, holding her closely and intimately to his body… and she’d never felt more alive in her whole existence. “Screw them.”

“Not bloody likely… you on the other hand,” he whispered as he began pressing open-mouthed kisses along her neck, licking her pulse point, feeling it throb and call to him like a siren.

Wanting better friction while his hands were busy, Spike moved their bodies away from possible discovery near the door to deeper within the shadows, her hips caught between the counter top of the island and the hard reminder of his passion for her. He then began thrusting shallowly against her ass as his fingers threaded through her long locks, massaging her scalp and tugging her hair over and away from her delicate column.

One arm remained around her shoulders as the other made its way down to the buttons on her shirt, flicking each one away until there was nothing left to keep her lush body from his view. Slowly, he slid his palm over the swell of her breasts, tweaking a nipple through her bra as he moved down to the indentation of her waist. When he reached her hips, he practically pinned her to the counter with his hard cock.

He thought to be gentle in his loving of her, but that was flung out the window when she reached between their bodies and cupped his aching balls. “Fuck, Buffy!” he panted in her ear, keeping her still.

“Spike,” she whimpered as she sagged against him in complete surrender.

“No more games,” he grated harshly.

Moving a callused hand down the flat plane of her belly until he reached the top of her jeans - the offending button soon joining the others that lay scattered on the kitchen floor - he twisted her thong to the side and grazed the soft curls lying in wait there. His questing fingers found her slick with want as she began her own thrusts, trying to find the relief he promised.

He swiped a digit across the lips of her sex, teasing her folds and tracing circles around, but never touching her throbbing clit. Her increased whimperings told him that she was close and that it wouldn’t take more than a few flicks of his fingers to send her over, but he wanted to keep her on the edge, like he was. Her low slung jeans began inching down further the more she bucked against him and he had to restrain himself from just splaying her across the tile and taking what he wanted.

Biting her lip to keep from crying out, she wound her hand behind her to cup his head and pull him in for a kiss, catching his lower lip between her teeth. His return groan and response had her digging her nails into his soft curls to keep him sealed to her mouth. Nicotine flavor tingled her tongue as she darted it in and out, tracing his lips and then inside his mouth, exploring the plump flesh.

Spike used the hand not exploring her pussy to pull her head closer for a deeper, more urgent kiss as a low growl rumbled in his chest. He then nuzzled the nape of her neck as if trying to crawl beneath it, moving down to just over her jugular and quickly inserting his fangs deep, the thrum to become one overwhelming.

The painless bite made colors explode before her eyes and Buffy moaned in delirious pleasure as he wrapped his strong arm around her stomach, his fingers stroking her pussy to finally press on her sensitive clit. Another starburst, and she lost all ability to stand on her own as Spike kept her upright.

She felt his intense suckling deep within her womb, creating a rhythm that made her insides flutter, as if approaching the first hill on a high rollercoaster ride. His hips were rocking against her and with his last hard pull, she was falling as a scream welled in her throat, his hand covering her mouth to muffle the sound as she thrashed about in his arms, her spendings liberally covering his fingers.

Slowly withdrawing his fangs, he licked his mark clean, nuzzling her jaw and breathing raggedly. “Mine.” He then brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean of her juices.

Her eyes closed in ecstasy as her puffs of breath pushed between the fingers covering her mouth. Euphoria spread throughout her entire being as the claim became firmly entrenched from his side, his thoughts and feelings bombarding her as wave after wave of aching loneliness and longing filled her heart causing her to tear up.

“So sorry,” was all she could sob before twisting in his arms and hugging him close to her.

He laid his head on the crown of her hair and rubbed his cheek against its softness. “Hush love, I’m here… not going anywhere.”

“Please don’t leave me, ever!” she begged in muffled cries against his shoulder, her body wracked with sobs.

He closed his eyes against the pain that thought caused. “Never,” he whispered fervently and pressed a kiss to her forehead, pulling her face away from the crux of his neck.

She looked absolutely shattered from the past few days, but a new gleam in her eye told him that she was feeling everything he was. His fingers absently stroked the mark he’d left her with, totally obliterating all other marks on her creamy white skin, savoring the thread of connection as it turned into a massive cord she only needed to complete.

Smiling tremulously, she raised her hand and brushed her thumb against one of his cheeks, looking him straight in the eye. “I love you.”

Instinctively, Spike pulled her closer to his hard body and kissed her temple. “Sweet Jesus, Buffy… say it again.”

She gave him a watery smile as she let her fingers drift down the front of his shirt to cup the bulge that still lingered, squeezing her emphasis. “I love you.”

Hissing, he grasped her hand and pressed his cock into her hand further. “Again.”

“I love you,” she reaffirmed, popping the button and unzipping his black jeans.

His cock, now warm from her blood, lay hard and smooth in her hand as she moved her fingers from base to tip in a teasing manner. She pressed her thumb lightly on the slit and was rewarded with a slight ooze of precum, swirling it around the head as she listened to his harsh pants, watching him watch her. She stroked him leisurely for a moment, but found she really wanted a taste of him like he’d had of her, bringing her thumb to her lips to coat them with his fluid, her tongue licking them clean.

Spike’s eyes dilated at the erotic sight of her lips glistening with his precum, nearly spilling himself in her hand at the thought of her mouth on him… which apparently filtered through to her from the bond as a mischievous glint took up residence in her expression.

She knelt down, her back against the island and her face eye level with Spike’s bobbing cock, bringing her hands to the back of his muscular thighs and running them up to clasp his ass. Kneading his backside, she started circling her tongue around his glans, rimming it until she dipped into his wet slit.

He couldn’t hold back his feral growl of pleasure as she licked the length of his cock in slow, deliberate swipes, fisting his hands in her blonde silky hair and pumping his hips against her face. When his gaze caught her rapidly changing eyes as she moved her lips over his head, desire nearly drove him to his knees.

Her rumbled purring set up a vibration in his lower half that had him crossing his eyes with the need to spill himself right then and there, but she stopped to push his jeans further down his legs to gain better access. She then used one hand to fondle his balls while the other worked in tandem with her mouth, sliding down as far as her throat would let her and squeezing on the way up.

His fists clenched her hair tighter as he began to thrust in earnest, her mouth taking his hot length, watching his cock move in and out through her soft lips with increasing speed. He was so transfixed by her eyes and lips that he only became aware of fingers just moments before they slipped into his ass to massage his prostate, her purring hum sending him over the edge.

The storm of his climax hit him hard enough that he couldn’t hold back his bellow of completion. It felt like the room was tilting as he jetted his seed into Buffy’s waiting mouth, her tongue extending the sensations of his orgasm, her fingers ensuring he was milked for every last drop.

The light in the kitchen flipped on as Tara stood in shock, blocking the doorway to the living room. The others had heard Spike’s yell, but only she was brave enough to find out the cause. “Uh…”

“Oh, bloody fuck!” Spike snarled as he slipped from Buffy’s mouth with a soft, wet plop.

“I-I-I can come back-”

He glared at the timid witch and dared her to move from her position. “Stay. You’re the only one of that bleedin’ lot that I trust not to blather about this.”

Buffy peeked her head over the counter to see Tara blushing bright red as she shut off the light again, giving them the privacy to redress in the dark. “Thanks, Tara,” she whispered.

“No use being all secretive and what not, pet. Think they’ve sussed out what we’re doin’ in here… and while it could be called cookin’, I don’t fancy them havin’ a taste.”

She nodded, trying to find some semblance of a button left for her shirt, but giving up when she found none. “Guess I’ll just tie this as best I can.”

Seeing Tara still waiting by the door, Spike told her gently, “Give us a minute, luv.” She inclined her head and retreated to the group.

He turned his eyes back to his love and watched her try to pull her shirt together in a vain attempt to keep her looking decent. He became worried, though, when her frustrated feelings filled him.

“What’s wrong, kitten?” he asked, stilling her hands.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

He stiffened briefly fearing rejection, but nothing dire emanated from her. “For what? That?” He gave a sweep of his hand to indicate what they’d just done.

She lifted her eyes in panic. “No! Not that. That was… was mind blowing. That was… well, no words to describe how awesome your tongue and, er, fangs are. No, I’m sorry that I never told you… until just a few minutes ago… that I loved you.”

“Nothing to forgive, love.”

Her eyes widened as she frowned. “How’d you do that?” She’d heard the words, but his lips never moved.

Smiling wickedly and tucking his tongue behind his teeth, he said, “Listen again, but just feel your answer this time.”

“Can you hear me in that pretty little noggin’ of yours?”

She gripped his arms to keep from falling. “Oh my god! How are we doing this?”

“Have your blood flowin’ here.” He touched his chest in the area where his dead heart lie.

Her expression was priceless to Spike. “Oh this is so cool! Does it always work this way? I mean, yeah it’s great you can hear me and all, but there are some things I’d rather keep private… like when I go to the bathroom, and when-”

“We’ll suss it out at some point, love.” He shushed her with a finger over her mouth, interrupting her contemplations or he’d be listening to a string of aimless thoughts. “Right now, I want you to do one thing for me, yeah?”

“Anything,” she hummed in a sinful way.

He pulled her tight into his body and kissed her thoroughly, making her lips raw and red, leaning his forehead on hers as she gasped for air. “Make ‘em leave. We need to complete the claim and I want you very badly.”

She nodded mutely and walked with him, hand in hand, towards the living room thinking of ways to quickly get rid of the Scoobies.

Spike stopped Buffy just before they entered the living room, their forms still shrouded in the darkness of the kitchen.

You’re nervous, kitten.

She fidgeted and absently stroked the claim mark at the crux of her neck and shoulder; the light touches comforting her. “C-can we talk out loud `til I get used to this mind-meld thingy?”

One side of his mouth turned up in a lop-sided grin at her discomfiture. “Sure, love… whatever you want.”

Relief flooded her face and she closed her eyes. “Thanks. It’s not that I mind you roaming around in my attic, it’s just that I need some time to get used to it… and right now, there are five people in the next room that I need to concentrate on to make them leave. We’ll practice later, okay?” she promised.

He nodded, bringing his arms around her and nuzzling just under her ear. “I’ll go, if it’ll make it easier,” he murmured.

“No!” she quickly pleaded, gripping his arm.

Biting down lightly on his mark to soothe her, he whispered, “Settle down, pet… not goin’ anywhere. Just thought I’d wait on the back porch while you shoo them out.”

Relaxing against him, she sighed. “At least Giles won’t think you’re clouding my judgment because of your presence,” she mused aloud, seeing the wisdom in his words. “I wish there was a way to make him see that I can’t be without you… that I won’t be without you,” she assured in a deadly tone.

“They’ll never take you from me,” he snarled against her temple, his embrace tightening around her.

Turning to face him, she wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her nose against his skin. “I won’t let them.”

Hearing movement in the other room, the blond couple tensed then released each other to go their separate ways for the time being. “This’ll be difficult, won’t it?” she asked in a small voice, watching him head for the backdoor.

Quickly returning to her side, he ran the back of his knuckles down her cheek and smiled. “Not really, love. You could do somethin’… if you want,” he offered.

She tilted her head, curious over his mischievous look. “What exactly?”

A little push… with your thoughts and feelings, he told her through the bond.

Shock rippled through her and he felt her astonishment spark in his body like feather-light touches. God, he’d never get enough of her if that were what she made him feel with only half a claim, his grin growing too wide to hide.

“I-is it a thrall? Can I thrall people now?” she asked in a hushed whisper, twisting her fingers and nervously chewing on her bottom lip.

“Not a true thrall, not one that manipulates others. Just more of a… suggestion,” he explained, hoping she’d at least give it a try because he honestly didn’t see the witch and Watcher leaving of their own accord.

Her expression fell for a brief moment. “Will Giles know what I’m doing… because of what happened with Drusilla?”

It took a moment for Spike to understand what Buffy was referring to, but then comprehension flooded his mind, as he’d totally forgotten that little ‘incident’. “It won’t be an outright thrall. Only vamp I knew could do that was Dru, and she didn’t really need to try, it was inherent in her make-up, I suppose,” he told her, tracing one of her brows with the pad of his thumb. “I never knew she was clairvoyant as a human until some years after she brought me over. I started takin’ notice when a lot of the shite she spouted began to make sense.”

“Am I like her?” she asked very softly, insecurity lacing her voice.

Setting his hands on each side of her face, he made sure she was looking at him when he spoke. “You will never be Drusilla.” He watched her eyes drop in sorrow, so he tightened his grip. “And I’m so bloody grateful you’re not.” Leaning down, he placed a lingering kiss on her forehead. “I could never love her like I love you.”

Clutching the lapels of his shirt, she nuzzled into his kiss, eyes closed. “You’re so close but I feel miles away,” she murmured.

Kissing her lids, he began nipping down her cheek to her chin and then her lips. “Claim’s not complete, pet. I feel you almost fully, but there’s a terrible ache in me that knows you’re near… and it wants you. Fiercely!”

Placing one last kiss at the bottom of his throat, she moved away and drew in a shuddering breath, trying to calm herself. “We’re doing this tonight. I can barely stand to be apart from you, but it also makes me afraid.”

“Of what, pet?”

“Losing any sense of myself. I know I’m a complete and whole person, but right now, my heart makes me feel like half of it has been cut out, like I’m just existing. I can’t keep feeling like that. I won’t.”

He grasped the tips of her fingers and studied them, playing lightly with them. “You’ll always be an individual, Buffy,” he promised quietly. “I would never take that from you. The near panic you feel with my absence will ease once the claim is fully in place… `cause you’ll know and feel where I am.”

She closed her eyes in relief and nodded, smiling. “Just no peeking when I have to… uh, use the bathroom.”

“You’re no fun, Slayer.” Grinning, he tugged on a lock of her hair. He could also see her mind working furiously, weighing options of what she was capable of, before finally voicing her thoughts.

“Would they know I was doing it? I mean, could they feel me suggesting something?”

“I wouldn’t use it too much on Glinda or Demon girl, might make `em a bit cranky,” he said with a roguish gleam in his blue eyes. “Red is another matter altogether. Not sure if you’ll be able to get past her witchy ways just yet, so don’t try it on her. Use it all you want on the Whelp and Watcher, they won’t pick up on it.” As an afterthought, Spike asked, “Go easy on the Whelp, though, yeah? We have an… understandin’.”

Buffy looked at him incredulously. “You’re kidding, right?” The shy duck of his head told her the whole story. “You’ve got a soft spot for Xander! Oh my God, could things get any weirder?” She covered up her giggle with her hand and took pity on him as he began to fidget in earnest, patting him on the arm. “It’s okay, Spike, I think you two will make a great couple!” With that she burst out laughing.

“Sod off! Not like that at all!” He rolled his eyes with a grimace.

Her laughter had not ceased and was becoming infectious as he started chuckling lightly himself. It was also attracting the attention of the group, however, so they stopped when Spike playfully swat her ass, shooing her towards the living room. Pausing at the archway, she turned to see him as he settled himself on the porch steps, leaving the back door open and pulling out a smoke to enjoy. She watched him savor the taste of nicotine and was glad that he would never die from such a nasty habit.

Before heading into the living room, she rearranged her hair to cover the mark that Spike had given her. It would do no amount of good to make the atmosphere in the room that much more tense and seeing proof of half a claim would surely send them over the edge. Sighing heavily, she turned and walked into what would be quite an interesting situation if she were able to get away with it.

~*~

“You do realize they were probably humping in the kitchen, right?” Anya asked Xander, studying her fiancé’s ass as he bent over to look at the remains of the chair Spike had demolished earlier.

Willow spluttered out her tea. “In the kitchen? Where we eat?” she squeaked.

Anya waved her away in annoyance. “Oh, get over it. Kitchen sex is highly erotic. You’ve got all these things you can experiment with, like chocolate syrup and ice cubes, plus there’s always the equipment… like the turkey-baster and-”

“Enough!” Giles snarled, startling everyone. “This foolishness has gotten out of hand.”

“Couldn’t agree with you more,” Willow sided with her old librarian. “I think they just need to be separated and whatever they think they’re feeling will just-”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Xander hissed, rising from the floor with a piece of wood in hand, pointing it at the Brit and his best friend. “What they’re feeling will not go away. If anything, it’ll get stronger, and if you try and keep them from one another you’ll kill them both!”

The redheaded witch crossed her arms and glowered at him. “Since when do you have any insight into what either of them is feeling?”

He tried not to let her jibe hurt, but it must have registered in his eyes, causing his friend to look away in shame. “Since I made an effort to do as Buffy asked and deal with it.”

It was on the tip of Willow’s tongue to say something, but she held back as she noticed Buffy slip into the room, looking extremely flushed.

The blonde girl considered each person in the room silently, finally settling on Xander, her eyebrows rose in question when she noticed the pile of broken wood, fabric and stuffing on the floor.

“I-I, uhm, was just testing the load limit on the chair… I’ll fix it later,” Xander offered, hoping Buffy would buy it.

She didn’t but she wouldn’t let on to it, knowing it was Spike that had crashed the chair thanks to a little hint from Merrick. It was very surreal to see Xander covering up for Spike and she wondered just what kind of bonding these two accomplished in such a short amount of time. Knowing them, it probably involved beer, porn, and pool… in that order.

Everyone’s attention was drawn to Tara, however, when she breathed, “Willow, we need to leave.”

“What? Why? We live here, too,” the redhead complained, sinking further into the couch.

Tears rimming her lashes, the blonde’s eyes never left Buffy’s. “Because we can’t be here tonight.”

Tara knows.

`Course, luv… smart bird, that one.

Getting fed up with the underlying messages that she was missing completely, Willow stood and started to gather energy into her, setting everyone’s teeth on edge with the tangible shift in the atmosphere. “Someone better tell me what’s going on,” she demanded in a low, unearthly tone.

After a few seconds, though, it fizzled to nothing but a minor electrical shock. Staring at her hands in horror, the witch glanced up to see Buffy smirking at her. “What did you do?”

It won’t work on her, right?

Don’t even think it, Buffy. Until she learns control or discipline, she’ll be greedy for power and not even her loved ones will be able to stop her.

“Willful, meddlesome witch,” Anya warned, slowing standing and making her way over to where Xander stood. “Your coven should’ve thrown you out for your blatant disregard for the order of things.”

“I have no coven!” Willow seethed, trying to amass further energy for something truly spectacular.

Anya sniffed with disdain. “Maybe that’s the problem… then you’d learn a few things before foolishly thinking you could bend situations to your will without consequences.”

“D’Hoffryn’s whore!” the redhead shouted and flung her hands towards the ex-demon. “Plasmator suus intorqueo!”

Acting on instinct, Buffy quickly stepped in front of Anya and the spell ricocheted back to Willow, twisting her body painfully as she huddled on the floor. Looking down at the sobbing mess that was her friend, she shook her head in despair.

“Leave.”

“Buffy, I-”

“Tararedimio suus per silentium,” Tara interrupted her girlfriend.

The group’s gaze shifted to the blonde witch as she bent down and laid a hand over Willow’s mouth, making it disappear. She then moved her body with no effort to the couch, sitting her lover upright so she could observe the lesson she was about to receive. Placing both her thumbs in the middle of Willow’s forehead, Tara pressed hard.

“See what she has become.”

Willow screamed inside as if her brain were on fire, the burn making its way from her head throughout her body and back again, only to bring further pain with the bright colors assaulting her. Staring at Buffy, because she couldn’t do otherwise, the colors began to make sense as they flowed and formed around the Slayer’s body.

Sage green was slowly being enveloped by deep, rich lavender, royal blue and gold tingeing the outer shell, mixing like a palette of oil paints ready for the master’s brush. Tears pushed at Willow’s eyes as she beheld something akin to the most beautiful piece of artwork ever hung in any gallery.

“See the love surrounding her?” Tara whispered in her ear, lovingly, gesturing towards the Slayer, encompassing her whole being.

The witch nodded, drawing in a shuddering breath through her nose since her mouth was gone.

Tara stepped into her girlfriend’s line of vision, cutting off her view of Buffy. “You would destroy that,” she stated sadly.

Eyes widening, the redhead shook her head fiercely, wetness dampening her cheeks.

“Yes, you would,” Tara assured her. “Just as surely as you ripped her from Heaven, you would send her back by doing this to her.”

Willow’s eyes darted to each person in the room, finally landing on Buffy’s silent gaze. Her eyes pleaded for forgiveness, as her sobs became a muffled whimper caught in her throat.

“Release her, Tara, I think she has something to say,” Buffy requested quietly.

Nodding, the blonde girl rubbed her hand over Willow’s face, her mouth appearing as she finished. “Dissero.”

Finally free of the binding spell, she bit her lip and admitted, “I-I need help.”

Arms crossed, Buffy nodded for her to continue. “What do you need help with?”

“M-magic. I can’t control it… I’m so angry and I have no right to be, I’m not even unhappy for Freya’s sake!”

Giles, who had been silent up until this point, suggested a possible solution. “There is a coven in England that is strong enough to assist her with learning to control her more ‘passionate’ reactions to things beyond her control.”

“England?” Willow whispered in fear. “I have to go to England?”

“For the initial meeting, yes. They will decide where you should begin after that,” he told her in no uncertain terms.

Panic once again started to surface within the redhead, the shift in energy palpable. “Can Tara come with me?”

Before Giles could answer, Tara gave her own thoughts on the matter. “No, sweetie… this is your journey, not mine. I can’t interfere, but I will be here when you get back, I promise.”

“I’m afraid,” she murmured, tears overflowing. “I can’t do this!” The energy throbbed around her body, her red features bleeding into a hideous black, as she lost control of the vortex within her. Not even Tara could contain it this time.

Everyone in the room backed away from her, including Tara… everyone except Xander, who crept forward and squat down in front of her trembling form. Laying a hand on her knee, he stroked his thumbs in circles, hoping to soothe her.

“Hey there, witchy woman,” he teased lightly, desperate to have her look at him.

Raising her eyes, she stared at him vacantly, devoid of rationality. “Don’t call me that!” she growled.

“You know,” he continued, ignoring her request. “The first day of kindergarten you cried `cause you broke the yellow crayon and you were too afraid to tell anyone. You've come pretty far since then, what with all this being able to float pencils and bring friends back from the dead… you know, everyday power-tripy stuff. But guess what?” He made sure he held her full attention. “I love you. I love crayon-breaky Willow and,” he said, pointing to her current state. “I love scary veiny Willow.”

“Shut up!” she practically screamed, slapping him because he was invading her emotional shield.

He closed his eyes and pursed his lips, feeling the blood well on his cheek from where her nails had scratched him. “Doesn’t matter,” he said quietly. “Still love you.”

“No!” she shouted and threw him back with a blast of power, standing in a towering rage.

Others moved to help Xander, but Giles indicated no one was to interfere, so they stayed well out of the way of the arguing friends.

Xander coughed, but staggered back to a standing position, facing his best friend. “I… still love you,” he wheezed.

What’s goin’ on, love?

Stay out there, Spike… Willow and Xander are hashing things out. I’m safe.

You sure? Red can’t touch us…

Please, just… stay there for the time being.

Stubborn bint.

Willow’s wretched scream interrupted Buffy’s next thought, as she flung another spell to disorient Xander. “You can’t! Shut up!”

He was thrown against the wooden archway with an audible crack. Winded, he grabbed hold of the wall and pushed himself up to look at his long time best friend, tears in his eyes. “I love you, Willow,” he whispered.

Buffy had to physically restrain Anya, who was shaking with barely repressed hatred for the redhead, begging with her eyes to let them deal with it. “She won’t kill him,” she promised the ex-demon.

Trying another hex, Willow flung it carelessly, succeeding only in breaking a vase on a corner table. “You can’t love me, I’m screwed up… I’m bad, wrong… look what I did!” she moaned, burying her face in her hands.

Her diverted focus allowed for Xander to grab her and hold on tightly, rocking them both as he pressed kisses to the crown of her hair. “I love you, Willow Rosenberg.”

At his final calming declaration, she fell against him, limp from a massive power drain, her features returning to their once flame-colored glory. She wept as only a person that is sorry for what they’ve become can, her soul emptied as much as her control. They stayed like that for a good long while, Tara smiling at how beautiful the cleansing properties of tears were.

“I want to leave,” Willow rasped, moments later, disengaging herself from Xander.

Nodding, Tara moved to give Buffy a hug, smiling shyly. “We’ll start looking for apartments tomorrow,” she whispered. She looked over the Slayer’s shoulder and grinned fully at Spike’s presence in the kitchen. “Good luck.”

Resisting the urge to giggle, Buffy pursed her lips. I thought I told you to wait outside?

Want you. A wave of primal lust skittered throughout her and she closed her eyes, gasping as her core became wet.

I’m on it.

Opening her eyes, she saw Willow standing before her, a tinge of darkness edging her features. She drew in a shuddering breath and wrapped her arms around Buffy, crushing her in a heartfelt embrace.

“I’m sorry.”

Taking a cue from Xander, Buffy returned the hug. “I love you, too, Willow.”

Pulling back, she smiled hesitantly and rejoined Tara, who was waiting by the door with their purses. Exiting, she looked over her shoulder at her male best friend. “I love you,” she said and disappeared into the night with her lover.

“She’ll need a lot of guidance. How powerful is that coven, Rupert?” Anya asked as she wrapped her arms around an aching Xander.

“Yes, I rather believe she will. I had no idea she’d become so-so… addicted,” Giles admitted, pinching the bridge of his nose. “They’re the most powerful coven I’ve been exposed to, I’m sure they’ll know how to contain her powers until she can learn to harness them.”

“Ahn, I really need to lay down… she packs quite a wallop,” Xander said, faltering even with her holding him up.

Before Buffy could grab him, Spike swung Xander’s arm over his shoulder, and led him to the couch prior to his collapse. “Easy, mate.”

“This is so totally surreal, you know?” Xander mused, looking between his fiancée and Spike. “Never in a million years would I’ve pegged Dead-boy Junior for the help-the-helpless sort.”

Giles scoffed. “He’s only trying to ingratiate himself with Buffy, Xander. For heaven’s sake, don’t be fooled.”

“Oh, sweet Zeus,” Anya muttered, rolling her eyes. “Here we go again.”

Spike rounded on the Watcher, stalking him until his back was against the banister of the staircase. “Sod. OFF!”

A slight touch to his shoulder stilled Spike before he could attempt anything further. He turned and saw that Buffy was gazing at her Watcher, her eyes iridescent in their beauty and he had to look away or else he would be drawn into her thrall.

“I need some additional information on that scrap of cloth we found, Giles. Do you think you could do some research to find what I need? Like right now?” she asked in a low voice, dripping with honey.

Her voice was hypnotic and full of compulsion, demanding that he fulfill her request without delay. Eyes glazed over, he acquiesced. “Of course, Buffy, I’ll get right on it. It’s a bit late though, so if you could call me with the details tomorrow, I’d be grateful,” he said as he headed for the door, nodding to those in the room. “Good evening.” He glanced over at his Slayer. “I’ll expect your phone call tomorrow then, shall I? Good.” And with that he walked out the front door, heading for home.

Both blonds stood gaping at the door with shocked expressions. Who knew Giles would be so easy to get rid of?

“Well done, love.” Spike congratulated her with a kiss to her temple.

“Don’t ever think of using that on me,” Anya huffed, helping Xander sit upright.

Buffy’s lower lip trembled as she shook her head in the negative. “I promise, I won’t.”

“Okay, I know I’m a bit slow on the uptake, but what the hell just happened there?” Xander asked, shakily getting to his feet.

Anya rolled her eyes and sighed, feeling as if she was explaining something to a child as she swept her hand in the blonde girl’s direction. “Seems one of her acquired abilities is thrall… but she’s not too good at it.”

“Oi! She was doing the best she could! She’s never attempted it before,” Spike defended his mate.

“Well it was noticeable, forced, and sloppy,” Anya said as she ticked off Buffy’s errors on her fingers.

Spike neared her and growled. “You think you can do better?”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Yes, when I had my powers.”

A smirk graced his lips. “Then it stands to reason you should be the one to teach her how to use it.”

“Me? What’s wrong with you?”

“I can’t thrall for shit. You say you’re the best, so Buffy gets the best to instruct her.”

“I never said I was the best! I just said I was better,” Anya corrected.

Xander snickered. “Oh come on, Ahn… be Buffy’s Jedi instructor.”

The blond vamp laughed and waggled his eyebrows at the ex-demon. “Yes, Obi-Ahn Kenobi… teach her the ways of The Thrall.”

“Only if you promise not to take Xander to any cheap pool-halls and thereby bilking him out of his hard-earned cash,” she countered with a glare.

Spike held up three fingers while keeping two crossed behind his back. “Scout’s honor.”

“You probably ate the scout,” Buffy giggled.

“He was a bit gamey, yeah,” the vamp mused, reaching into this back pocket to pull out a white envelope and pressed it into her hands.

“What’s this?” she asked, looking down at the beautiful script in the form of her name, weighing the bulk in her hands.

He shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck. “Was sittin’ propped up on the stoop outside. Figured you’d left it there by accident.”

Shaking her head, she realized there was something more than a letter inside, but unsure as to what it might be. She had a sneaking suspicion who it was from, but she didn’t want to reveal that little bit of information just yet. “We’ll open it later… when they leave,” she whispered.

“Which we’re about to do,” Xander grunted, poking his arms through the sleeves of his coat. “I’ve been told I need to educate a certain someone about what a lightsaber is capable of.”

Spike covered his mouth to keep from laughing. “They glow in the dark, pet,” he told Anya.

Her eyes widened. “Really? Oh, Xander… can we get a blue one? That way I can find you when our electric goes out on stormy nights!”

Maneuvering his fiancée to the door, Xander groused over his shoulder, “If you weren’t already dead, I’d finish the job.”

“Don’t you just love male posturing?” Anya squealed as she and Xander exited the door.

Buffy snickered, leaning back against her vamp. “Those two are definitely made for each other.”

Resting his chin on top of her head, he nodded. “He’d better marry her, she’s a valuable bird.”

Turning in his arms, she looked up at him and pouted. “Am I a ‘valuable bird’?”

Leaning down, he brushed a kiss over his mark, trying to suffuse her with importance and security. “There is no price I would not willingly pay for the slightest of your touches, love.”

Threading her fingers through the hair at his nape, she buried her nose at the curve of his neck. “Then I want you to pay the highest price and make me yours.”

His grip on her hips tightened and he purred into her ear. “As you wish.”

~*~

Cool wind brushed against Giles’ face, waking him from his stupor as he realized he was half way to his flat with no memory of how he’d gotten here. One moment, he was standing in his Slayer’s living room contemplating ways of getting rid of the pain in their backsides, and the next he was walking on a street not far from home in a complete daze.

Bloody Hell! The whole situation reeked of the intrusive blond tosser. Turning back the way he’d come, the Watcher decided he would settle this whole mess himself, completely severing Buffy’s ties to the peroxide menace.

“I can’t let you do that, Rupert.”

The Brit froze in mid-stride as a low voice penetrated his single-minded thoughts. Slowly, he turned to confront the intruder, but came face to face with… nothing. Scanning the shadows for any threats, he found nothing but an unnerving, chilly sense of foreboding. Shrugging it off, he continued on his path back to Buffy’s house.

“Never were one to listen, boy.”

A painful blow to his left cheek sent him flying backwards to land against a tree, his glasses disappearing, as he collapsed at the base in a crumpled heap. Shaking his head to clear it, he scrambled to a semi-standing position, squinting into the darkness.

“Who the hell is there?” he yelled.

“Arrogant prat!”

Another hit had his head cracking against the pavement, making him see stars. Pain blossomed across his cheek and into his eye, clouding his vision. Struggling, he pushed himself up to lean against the trunk of a nearby oak tree.

“Show yourself, you shapeless thug!” Giles shouted as he sought the night for a face to match the menacing voice floating in the air. Once again, he saw nothing, not even a shadow or a breeze disturbing the atmosphere.

“For as intelligent as you claim to be, you’re also an insufferable fool,” the voice said closer to his ear with a bit of snort.

“I insist you at least show yourself!”

Deep laughter echoed all around him in answer to his demand. “You’re not in a position to insist anything.”

Sweat began to bead the Watcher’s brow, his normal cool and collected behavior quickly fading. “What do you want?” he whispered, glancing all around him for the unseen adversary.

“You’ve lost your calm patience, my friend,” the voice taunted, an octave lower and more deadly. “Exactly when did that happen, hmm? Was it the first time she died… or the second?”

The blood drained from Giles’ face as he searched in vain for the entity who knew entirely too much. “Bloody hell… who are you?” he demanded once more, exasperation tingeing his voice.

A mist started to coalesce off to his right, forming the figure of a man who began walking towards him. “I’m here to rectify certain mistakes I made to a young lady.”

Giles gasped as he watched the older gentleman approach, the brown trench coat and Fedora hat having faded considerably since he had last seen him. The goatee was a bit rougher around the edges and the boots hinted at having been just polished. Trying to find purchase on the trunk of the tree, he then slid down into a slumped position, mouth agape.

“Good God… Merrick,” Giles breathed.

Merrick crouched down in front of him, smiling slightly and harrumphing as he gestured widely. “In the incorporeal flesh.” He saw the younger man’s look of fear and eased back a bit, but kept close enough to make his presence strongly felt.

“What-what do you want with me?” he asked fearfully.

Merrick tsk’d in disappointment as he stood and walked away from the Watcher, seeing his discomfiture ease a tad. “I would’ve thought that evident, Rupert,” he said into the night, not bothering to look back.

“Well, since I asked the question, apparently it’s not that evident to me!” he ground out, tired of being strung along by a ghostly apparition.

Giles was suddenly hurled several feet in the air, dangling by an unseen force. He tried grasping onto something, but pressure began to build around this throat as his breathing was slowly cut off.

“Hold your tongue, young man, unless you can be civil,” Merrick intoned coldly.

“Can’t… breathe!”

“The more I think on it, the more I have come to believe that you were the wrong choice for Buffy,” the grizzled man observed conversationally, watching as Giles turned blue. Seeing that the man was starting to lose consciousness, he released his burden to drop to the ground.

Coughing harshly, he panted between breaths. “No! Y-you can’t… say that!” he said disbelievingly. “I’ve taught her everything that has mattered to the Slayers!”

Merrick raised his eyebrows in question. “Did you now?”

“You know I have. I’ve instilled in her the knowledge of vampire extermination and-”

“My God, have you heard yourself lately? I agree that you educated her in demon lore and metaphysics… it’s why I encouraged your appointment to her; no one had a better library. But her physical and emotional training are sadly lacking.”

“I trained with her,” he defended himself, finally able to stand straight. “As for her emotional health, I-”

“She’s died twice, Rupert,” he clipped out. “That would take a toll on anyone, let alone a young girl. You also forgot the most important part about this particular Slayer,” he admonished as he turned to face Giles, glaring at him in an unforgiving manner. “Buffy had a life before becoming a Slayer, and she still has one. Trying to make that poor girl choose between both of her lives is tearing her apart. The moment she tries to combine the two, you and her friends manage to… well, to put it rather delicately… bollixed it all up. Ahem.”

Shocked at the brash comment from the normally quiet man, Giles took a moment to absorb all that Merrick had said. Even from the beginning, he knew Buffy would be different from the other Slayers, as she had tried to deny everything that was in her, scared out of her mind. She’d initially rejected the notion that she had any powers at all, and not for the first time did Giles wonder why that was since most Slayers knew and accepted the powers once they were chosen.

After a long silence, Giles asked, “Merrick, why was Buffy not identified until after she gained her powers?”

“Oh,” the older man chuckled out loud. “If you could have seen her in the beginning, you’d understand. Completely out of touch with her surroundings other than what fashion was in or out. A bubble-gum blowing, hair primping, innocuous, sarcastic teen-ager was not what the Council had in mind for the next Slayer.”

“Bloody Council,” Rupert muttered.

“Hmm, yes… it seems they were keeping a close eye on Faith actually,” he explained. “She was more fitting to the Slayer duties with no family, hardened, cold, distant… all the things Buffy is not.”

Giles nodded mutely, agreeing with him about Faith. “But you trained with her in LA… why was she so-” he gestured wildly, unable to find the right words. “-so unprepared when she came to Sunnydale?”

A deeply miserable expression crossed the older gentlemen’s face and he looked away from the younger Watcher. “They… ahem.” He choked, tears caught in his throat. “Her parents, they… well a Slayer’s not supposed to have family for this reason.” He swiped at a stray tear that had leaked from the corner of his eye. “They didn’t believe her when she tried to tell them about the vampires and demons, and the true explanation of what happened at her old high school did nothing but enrage her father, her mother getting caught up in the wake of his fury. They decided to put her in a mental institution for a few weeks,” he said quietly, more tears gathering as he dwelled on the injustice of the situation Buffy’d found herself in.

“That can’t be!” Giles gasped in astonishment. “They actually put her in a mental asylum to do what exactly? To make her believe that these things, these vampires she was slaying were just a figment of her imagination?”

“Couldn’t have put it better myself,” Merrick agreed.

“Good Lord… the poor girl,” he muttered, wiping his face with his hand.

It explained so much in retrospect… the sheer terror on Buffy’s face when he handed her the book on vampires, the reluctance to train, and the constant state of denial. Even now she was trying desperately to have a normal life, like the one that was expected of her, the one that had apparently been implanted into her psyche at a fragile age.

At Angel’s insistence, Riley became her single attempt at what others considered normal, the relationship ending in disaster when he realized Buffy wasn’t satisfied with just an ordinary guy. If Riley was normal, it was no shock to see she preferred abnormal relationships, though she clung to some false notion that everyone expected her to have a nice, safe connection while slaying every night.

“She’s more powerful than other Slayers before her, isn’t she?” he asked for confirmation.

Hands clasped behind his back, Merrick looked over his shoulder at his young friend. Dare he give him a taste of the future, to see what his charge was capable of? He supposed, in the end, it really didn’t matter if he told him certain ‘facts’ about the girl. “A different Slayer line began with Buffy’s resurrection, a more potent and lethal one.”

“There will be repercussions,” Giles stated with conviction, not bothering to look at Merrick for affirmation.

He nodded anyway. “Vampires especially will be drawn to her like never before. The scent of her death will always linger, acting as a magnet for the undead, master vamps in particular. William has his work cut out for him.”

Instead of thinking of Spike as the sole cause of all his current ills, Giles pictured the blond idiot next to Buffy for the foreseeable future, finding no difficulty in doing so. In all fairness, Spike was the closest thing to a stable relationship that Buffy was going to have. He knew her, knew what she was and what she was capable of, and beyond that… he loved her. Shame crept up his spine when he thought of the drivel he’d been feeding Buffy about vampires needing a soul to love, cringing as he looked at his mangled wrist, knowing he’d just received a little reminder and not a full-out threat she would no doubt use the next time he was imprudent enough to oppose Spike’s presence in her life.

Brows furrowing, Giles came to the unwelcome understanding that he had caused most of the pain he’d seen in his Slayer’s eyes, and it hit him hard. His frame shook as his head hung low, the sobs pouring out of him.

“And I had the audacity to call Willow a rank, arrogant amateur,” he garbled with self-loathing. “God, how indescribably foolish I am.”

The older Watcher watched as his friend came to a crashing realization within his conscience. Taking pity on the younger man, Merrick crouched down in front of him again and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “We’ve all done irrational things in the name of love, dear friend. I know you love the girl like a daughter. That’s why I chose you, to give her what I couldn’t but she so desperately needed. ”

His sobs grew harder and he laid his head into his hands, weeping in earnest. “I wasn’t supposed to love her, you know. They were prepared to take her from me, you should’ve asked for someone else,” he said haltingly.

Patting his back, he helped Giles to stand up then brushed dead leaves off him. “Now that is a foolish statement indeed, old chap. I knew she would love you as you love her. And I honestly don’t think she would’ve gotten this far without your guidance. Take comfort in that.”

Rupert looked at his mentor with dawning comprehension and smiled hesitantly. “What happens now?”

“She’s been given a chance with someone that loves her dearly, irrevocably, without thought of his own person. I suggest you let her have that chance without grief and reservation. I strongly suggest it,” Merrick forced the last thought. “William can go where you can not.”

He nodded and scrubbed his eyes of the remaining tears. “I understand, of course.”

“Good, because I dislike repeat performances. My one-time advice should be sufficient, don’t you agree?” Merrick raised his eyebrows in question.

Nodding mutely, he looked down the street towards Buffy’s house. “Should I apologize tonight?”

“Heavens, no!” Merrick laughed, shaking his head. “She has enough to deal with tonight without having to worry about your blunderings, dear fellow. Try in a couple days when they’re up and about. The younger girl will be back by then and she can intercede if a problem arises. Hopefully that won’t happen… will it?” he asked sternly.

“Give me time, Merrick. It’s hard changing a lifetime of indoctrination.”

“Hmm, well… just don’t give her cause to use her ‘abilities’ any more than need be. She feels enough guilt as it is for that suggestive thrall episode, don’t force her hand again.”

Smiling in amazement, Giles chuckled. “Our Slayer has the use of thrall… how utterly remarkable,” he said in wonder.

Warmth suffused Merrick at his comment, that Buffy was their Slayer. He definitely planned to keep tabs on this particular bit of mischief.

“She’s quite amazing, isn’t she, Rupert?” he mused aloud as he started to fade into the night.

“That she is, Merrick… that she is,” Giles agreed.

“As you wish,” Spike purred in Buffy’s ear.

She closed her eyes in relief, the weight of the day and evening draining away with his soothing caress on the small of her back, his fingers delving below the waistband of her jeans to stroke the soft skin of her bottom. “I can’t wait to be like you,” she breathed.

His movements stilled abruptly as he tensed. “You won’t be like me,” he corrected, pulling away to look at her.

Panic seeped into her eyes, turning them a startling shade of green tinged with yellow, as she dug her fingers into his shoulders hard enough to make him wince. “W-we won’t be mated?”

“Didn’t say that now… did I?” He waited for her acknowledgement.

“No, but I just assumed that-”

“You’d be like me, hmm?” he asked with a smirk. “I’d never put you through that, love… not even if you asked me. You’re too pretty in the sunlight,” he said wistfully, tapping her nose.

Smiling hesitantly, she nodded. “So I’ll be me… except I’ll be Uber-me, huh?”

Tugging on a lock of her hair, he grinned fully and adopted a German accent. “Das ist richtig, Liebes.”

“I don’t want to know how you learned German, do I?” she giggled.

Crossing his wrists behind her head and pulling her closer, he whispered wickedly, “It involves Grandsire Poof and a submarine.”

Her eyes widened. “Angel and a sub, huh?” She tilted her head to the side and studied him. “You know, I’m learning most of your life-changing events involve Angel.”

Growling low, he nuzzled her neck just beneath her ear. “This has nothing to do with that all-hat-and-no-cattle dick! Leave Peaches outta this unless you want his sorry arse here!” he hissed.

“Someone’s jealous,” she sing-songed with a smirk, which earned her a rather harsh slap to her backside. “Ow!”

He waited for it, the searing pain usually associated with violence of any kind, regardless of the intent. But it never came and he frowned in confusion as he searched her eyes.

“Buffy?” he whispered hesitantly, backing away from her.

She grabbed his hands before he could fully retreat. “It’s okay, Spike… I knew it would happen.”

Tears glistened in his eyes, his look heartbroken. “You knew the chip would fail?”

“A friend told me I needed to make my peace with that piece of hardware; that it would eventually fail. He asked me what I would do when it happened… I just didn’t think it would be so soon.”

“He?”

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she held him tight, stroking the back of his neck. “An old friend who’s long gone from here.”

Burying his face in her hair he inhaled her scent, shuddering. “How’d the bugger know about the chip? Was he government?”

“Not even close. I’ll tell you about it someday, I promise.”

He pulled back to look at her. “Should I be worried or waitin’ for the other shoe to drop?”

“After everything that’s happened in the last few days, you still don’t trust this, do you?” she asked, watching the warring emotions behind his blue gaze.

Drawing back, he looked down at their linked hands, caressing her scarred knuckles as he whispered, “I’m sorry that you had no choice in what happened to you, what with bein’ brought back to this hell hole and all, but I can’t honestly say I’m sorry you tasted my blood and bound us together.” He then looked up and smiled sadly. “The claim’s not complete though, only one-sided really, and it can remain that way… if you want.”

“What are you saying?” Panic began to fill her.

“Settle, pet,” he soothed, touching her cheek, rubbing his thumb along her hairline. “You’re skittish `cause the claim isn’t finished. As it is, I can feel just about everythin’ flittin’ about in that pretty noggin’ of yours, but you’re not privy to my thoughts, my feelings, and that makes you fearful. You can hear my thoughts, pet… but you can’t feel me, my emotions… not fully leastwise. If we were completely mated… well… well, you’d feel it `cause it would sing to you, like a song that you keep close to your heart,” he said with a sad smile. “I hear your song constantly, right here.” He pointed to his chest then to his temple. “It’s like a bloody orchestra sometimes, always hummin’ and swayin’, pullin’ and soothin’. I can’t withdraw my side of the claim, but you can be spared from hearing and feelin’ me.”

“You’d do that to me?” she whimpered, her bottom lip wobbling.

Sighing in frustration, he dropped one of her hands and ran his fingers through his gelled curls, releasing them from their stiff prison. How do you explain to the one person you love more than your own existence what being mated resembled? He knew she had no idea what it was truly like; the constant awareness of one another and the jump in powers were just the beginning. Because she hadn’t claimed him yet, her confusion and trepidation were still there, clouding her from feeling anything from him as he searched for a way to make her comprehend what she was getting herself into.

Hoping he was doing the right thing, to give her some perspective, he gently took one of her hands and laid it across his chest, pleading evident in his eyes. For the first time in a century plus, he wished his cold, dead heart still had the capacity to beat.

Hear me, see me, he pushed through the bond.

Unable to keep them open, she closed her eyes and opened herself up to him, as he cupped her face. One of her hands gripped his as it held her cheeks, both of them trembling. He leaned his forehead on hers, inhaling deeply and slowly exhaled her name, willing her to feel and hear him through the connection.

Her blood sang to him, calling out through her lavender scented skin, ebbing and flowing, as it held him in sway with every beat of her heart. It pulled at him whenever he gazed into the changeable, luminous eyes that could see beyond mere mortal realms. It changed him fundamentally that she could hear as well as he could, catching a breathless sigh or the thrum of her heart.

Images assaulted her mind and powerful emotions battered her soul as he showed her how she affected him by letting her hear his thoughts, letting her see his love without the shuttered walls he usually put up when somebody looked into his eyes. He even let her feel the physical proof of what she did to him as raw, undiluted feelings flowed through her and she collapsed against him from the intensity of it all.

“Oh, God,” she sobbed against Spike’s chest.

“I could spare you that,” he murmured against her temple.

Gripping his shoulders tightly, almost to the point of pain, she nuzzled his chest. “Don’t you dare,” she seethed. “And I’m so sorry… for everything, for thinking you were beneath me all those years,” she apologized, trying to bury herself under his skin. “You have a soul, you have me… I’m your soul, and you’re my heart.”

Lifting her chin, he laid his forehead against hers once more. “Don’t have a heart, love, least not one that beats… how can I be yours? Want to though, want it so very much.”

“Doesn’t need to beat in order to love, you should know that,” she admonished him gently, raising her vivid blue gaze to his. “Look at what you’ve done in the name of love.” She traced his pert lips with her thumb, loving the way his tongue darted out to taste her skin. “You were always there for me, even when I refused to see it,” she gasped, closing her eyes when he pulled her finger between his teeth, biting lightly. “I know your heart, Spike… it beats just fine, right here.” She pulled on his hand and laid it across her chest, lacing her fingers with his.

He couldn’t help himself. Trailing kisses down her throat, he latched onto his mark and embedded his fangs. “Mine,” he snarled, pulling her close to him.

Threading her fingers through his hair, she gripped the curls tightly and arched her neck for him. “Always.”

After the last pull, he sheathed his canines and licked the remaining crimson drops clean from the pale column of her throat. “We need to do this now… I can’t stand being apart,” he panted against her lips as if in pain.

Nodding in agreement, she laid her cheek flush to his. “How do we do it?”

Tugging on her blonde strands, he wound them around his hand. “Not really somethin’ I can readily explain, pet. It’s all about the actions and few little words.” He sighed at her confused look. “Most vampires claim other vampires - it’s rare if we claim humans. You already know what my blood has done to you, but you’d have to take a bit more,” he explained, rushing to assure her as he watched her carefully. “Just a wee bit, though… not nearly enough for a transfer, mind you.”

Pressing a fervent kiss just under his ear, she nipped his lobe, loving the gasp that he issued at her action. “So what are we waiting for?”

With a surprised yelp, she was hauled up over Spike’s shoulder and promptly carried up the staircase. As she tried to wriggle free, he growled and swat at her ass.

She squeaked and smacked him across his lower back. “You’re such a Neanderthal! Put me down!”

Grinning at her antics, he nipped her thigh, smelling her arousal flooding through the material of her jeans, loving the fact that it was all for him… finally! Tonight, he was going to show her just how much he loved her with every movement of his body, every gentle caress, and every word he could ever utter, whispered in her ear as he was seated deep inside of her.

He’d learned much in the years of his unlife and how to love without a soul was the biggest lesson he’d undertaken. She would understand the strength of his love by the time he’d finished with her and, knowing Buffy, she would enjoy every last damned minute of it.

Slung over his shoulder, he carried her up the stairs to the main landing, nipping her thigh all the way to the master bedroom door. She put her hand on the entryway before they could cross the threshold, preventing them from going any further.

“Spike, that’s their room! I don’t think you want to leave eau de Buffy and Spike all over their sheets.” She giggled when he started a low growl that reverberated throughout his whole body.

“Serves `em right for what happened,” he grinned wickedly and waggled his eyebrows at her over his shoulder. “Besides, Red and Glinda might kinda like the scent of He-Man and She-Ra.”

Coughing a laugh, she rolled her eyes in disgust. “What is it with you and cartoons or comics? It’s like you’re a kid or something… instead of a master vampire.”

“Oi! I’m a kid at heart, love. Least the Whelp appreciates my sense of nostalgia.”

“Do tell,” she grunted, trying to breathe properly while hanging upside down.

Seeing she was red in the face, he let her slide down his body in front of him, only to be braced against the wall. “We’ve agreed to give each other free reign to our assorted collected works of greatly treasured comics and porno mags,” he mumbled in her ear.

Her eyebrows rose. “Porno mags? I knew it!” she accused with a smirk.

Taking both her wrists and pinning them above her, he ground his erection into the apex of her thighs, leaning down to breathe against her skin. “Every woman was you, Buffy. I cut out their faces and replaced them with your picture,” he admitted, hovering above her lips. “I couldn’t even get hard thinkin’ of anyone but you.”

She groaned softly as his tongue traced the shell of her ear, whimpering when he abandoned it to repeat the gesture on the other, his breathy pants making her hair flutter. She shivered when his hands skimmed down her arms, past her hips and behind her thighs, gasping when he parted them, pulling her up to wrap her legs around his waist. Locking her ankles, she held on tightly as he moved from the master bedroom towards her room.

Kicking the door shut with his booted heel, he turned and slammed her against the wood, grinding against her as if trying to be absorbed through her skin. “The first time won’t be gentle, love,” he warned, his lips bruising hers. “I’ve been strung too tight for too long to be tender.”

Staring him straight in the eye, she smiled slow and seductively. “Then I guess you’d better fuck the ‘hell’ right out of me.”

His growl was feral as he started ripping off her shirt, her bra in shreds before he stopped for a moment to gaze at her breasts for the first time. Tracing the dusky skin around her nipple he grinned at how the soft tissue puckered from his touch. The ruched peaks begged for his attention, and he dipped low to clasp his mouth around the succulent flesh, inhaling her aroma.

“Dreamed of this so many nights,” he whispered around her pebbled bud. “Being free to taste and touch you.”

“I’m so sorry,” she whimpered, overwhelmed by the sensations his teeth on her skin were creating. “I wish I could’ve-”

Never bothering to stop his suckling, he raised a hand and pressed it over her mouth. “No more apologies,” he snarled, finally releasing her with a wet ‘plop’, staring hard into her eyes. “You want this… now, here, and I’ll be damned if I’ll ever let you go.”

The color in her eyes flashed a vivid indigo and he could feel her smile underneath his palm. “Promise?” she muffled.

One side of his mouth quirked up in surprise as he removed his hand. “I’ll be able to find you, Buffy, regardless of where you are. Death holds no dominion now.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “I love you.”

Pulling her close, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and shifted, moving them towards her bed. Just as he began to lay her on the comforter, an envelope fell out of her back pocket, both sets of eyes staring at it for a lengthy moment. Finally, he slowly lowered Buffy to the floor and she bent to retrieve the bulky packet.

“Should we open this now?” she asked softly, glancing at him.

“Don’t rightly know, pet. Who’s it from? It has no scent.” He’d only retrieved the envelope from the back porch while he was smoking; no hint of who’d left it for her.

Smiling softly, she pressed the paper to her lips. “I have an idea,” she said. “But I think it’ll keep though. I have a feeling the person who wrote this was the patient type.”

“Whatever you say,” he murmured, nuzzling just under her ear. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

All thought as to the contents of the package fled once his hands became busy with ridding her of her jeans. It wasn’t slow or gentle, as he’d already promised, his impatience causing the denim to split in several places. Ignoring all of her attempts to keep her clothing whole, she finally gave up and let him remove everything in his way. Clad now in only her hunter green thong, she turned swiftly and captured his lips with her own, relishing his moan at the contact, loving the way he cupped her face in his hands while he returned the kiss.

Buffy had kissed several guys in her life, even some she didn’t want to think about, but nothing compared to the way Spike tasted. Angel’s kisses barely registered and Parker’s weren’t even worth mentioning. Riley was just slobbery and felt like kissing a water fountain. But with Spike… their tongues danced and she could feel him all the way to her soul. This man kissed with the whole of his being and she had no way to respond except complete surrender.

Tears misted her eyes as she buried her lips against his collarbone, gently touching the mark that Drusilla had left when she sired him. He shivered as her tongue laved the scar, gently nipping, worrying the flesh between her blunt teeth. He snaked his hand through her hair and kept her mouth at his neck, whimpering. He felt her smile against his corded muscle and slowly pulled away.

“Not just yet,” she whispered along the side of his jaw and pressed a kiss to the mark. “And you’re way overdressed, mister.”

Glancing down at his body, he quickly toed off his boots and stripped, throwing his clothes into the four corners of her room. “That better?” he asked, pulling her along with him onto the bed.

“Not in a hurry, are you?” she teased, her breath mixing with his as she climbed up his body and straddled his waist.

He groaned when her hot thighs and moist center slid against his bare stomach, setting off sparks every time her skin skidded along his, the fire deep inside him flaming high to engulf them both. He shook when she reached down and wrapped her hand around his throbbing cock.

“Ah, fuck, Buffy!” he gasped against her lips.

His entire body vibrated and ached as she stroked his cool, rigid shaft, his breathing becoming ragged. He nearly lost it when he felt her fingers grip him, her palm brushing up, along his shaft, then down to the base where she cupped him gently. Her fingers lightly brushed the underside of him, making him even harder until he thought he would burst.

Unable to resist any longer, he trailed his hands slowly over her body, savoring every dip and curve. He’d often dreamt of touching her in this way, and now it was a reality that he didn’t want to waste. Nuzzling her neck and the claim mark he’d left there earlier in the night, he let the sound of her blood coursing through her veins fill his senses, her raw Slayer energy beckoning him, making him long to claim her again.

Pulling back with a growl, he latched onto her mouth and kissed her deeply as he slid his hand to the light brown triangle between her legs, groaning at the feel of those tiny hairs teasing his fingers as he carefully separated them and touched her for the very first time. He couldn’t believe how wet she was already, her fluid seeping out of her slit to coat his digits, her scent lowering his restraint until it was almost completely gone. God, how he wanted her; wanted to taste every inch of her flesh, drive himself deep into her fiery heat. He resisted but a moment, wanting to savor and explore her tenderly, slowly.

She jumped in surprise when his finger touched her clit, and then moaned a welcoming murmur as she quickened her fairy strokes on his shaft, her hips bucking against his hand, which was trapped between them. He halted her movements, afraid he’d spill himself before they’d even begun and brought his drenched fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean.

“You taste exquisite, love,” he whispered, nibbling a path from her neck to her breasts.

Arching her back, Buffy leaned back when he sat up to tease her nipple with his tongue and teeth, his increasingly harder bites making her burn like lava. She screamed when he sunk his fangs in the underside of her left breast, holding her still so he wouldn’t injure her, as he once more he dipped his hand back down between their bodies and touched her where she ached the most.

“Mine,” he hissed again, withdrawing and licking the minute dribble of crimson, leaning up to capture her mouth.

“God, I want you, Spike,” she breathed against his lips, tasting her own blood.

Saying nothing, he grinned wickedly and rolled her over to lie beneath him with an ease of strength that awed her. Sighing at the feel of his hard, lean body on top of hers, she wrapped her legs around his hips, wanting more of him, aching to feel him inside her. She knew the ache wouldn’t ease until she claimed him in a way no other had claimed him, not even Drusilla. She wanted to be everything he needed; his breath, his heart, but most of all, his missing soul.

Pulling back from her luscious body, his eyes flashed yellow as his demon made an appearance, his fangs visible as he breathed raggedly. He was all sinewy power and it rippled from his body into hers, those sleek, honed muscles flexing around her with every graceful move he made. Running his hands down her thighs, he pressed them outwards, opening her fully to his heated gaze.

“Look at me, Buffy,” he commanded. “I want to see your beautiful eyes when you make me yours.”

Swallowing, she did as he asked. Arching her hips, she felt him enter her, slowly, inch by long, full inch until he filled her completely, moaning at the power inside her and the hungry, needful look in his eyes. Once fully seated, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her deeply.

“You feel even better than I thought you would,” he whispered against her temple and she felt a shiver run over his body.

He dipped his head and took her lips in a tender kiss as he delivered fierce, fast strokes to her dripping pussy - hard, long, and deep. They tore through her, spiking pure bliss through her body as she felt something building within.

“Oh God, Spike,” she moaned against his lips, chills spreading over her body.

Turning his gaze to her throat, his fangs became more pronounced, his tongue laving the mark he’d given her in the kitchen. “Please, Buffy,” he pleaded.

At his prompt, she began nuzzling his neck where she had nipped earlier and heard him whimper in need, increasing his thrusts between her legs. Suckling the skin between her blunt teeth, she bit down hard, blood rushing into her mouth almost immediately, his emotions flooding her entire being. “Mine.”

Tensing, he clasped her tightly as his pace quickened to a punishing beat, barely hearing her words. “Yours, always yours, Buffy,” he ground out through clenched teeth.

She released his puckered skin, laving it clean while arching up and into the frantic thrusts he pounded her with. No sooner had the words left his lips than something strange started happening. The entire room lit up with a soft and warming glow of pure light, the source emanating from the two beings joined on the bed, the erotic surge surrounding them both.

“Oh my God,” she breathed.

It was as if they were really one person. She felt him inside her and she could feel herself around him. He felt it, too, and they stared into each other’s eyes. Her eyes! They’d become green again, that lovely color of jade, and he wondered if it would stay that way.

Her gaze remained riveted to his as she ran her hand down his back, feeling the caress down her own spine. It was the most incredible thing she’d ever experienced.

Spike quickened his strokes as she clung to him, both of them out of their minds with frenzied need, as they came together in one fierce moment of sublime pleasure when he buried his fangs in her neck and roared his release deep inside her. She gasped when she felt the deep pulling of her blood into his mouth, actually tasting it on her tongue.

“Mine,” he said possessively against her ear as he collapsed on top of her.

She cradled him within her body while she floated back to herself. “Yours, Spike,” she whispered against his temple, lightly stroking her fingers up and down his back as he settled against her.

“You’re a bloody amazin’ woman, pet,” he said hoarsely a few moments later, nuzzling his mark on her skin again.

“Not too shabby yourself, Mister ‘The Bloody’,” she teased languidly. All the muscles and bones in her body were now goo and she felt him chuckle as he turned to look into her eyes.

“Your peepers are back to normal, love… the same beautiful green,” he told her, watching her reaction.

Her eyebrows rose at this new information. “Really? But, I can still see really great, nothing’s changed… well, except for that really major voltage at the end there. That was way wicked!” She grinned. “Will that happen every time we’re together?”

“Don’t expect so, but I haven’t sussed it all out yet. Probably the mutual claim assertin’ itself. Remember, I said you could hear me, but not feel me? It’s a two-way conduit now. I feel what you feel and vice versa. The claim’s completed and there’s no goin’ back.”

Content with the answer, she snuggled deeper against Spike and sighed happily. “Good. If’ I’m gonna be claimed, I at least want all the benefits that come with it, not just fancy eyes or keen hearing.”

It felt as if a weight had been lifted from his chest and he traced the lines of her face as he smiled softly. “I love you.”

She turned to nuzzle into his hand and breathed the scent of him in deeply. “I’ll never get tired of hearing that, you know.” Turning, she looked at him, tears gathering at the corners. “Love you, too… so much.”

His wide grin lit the darkness in the room as he kissed her soundly. They snuggled deeper under the covers and started drifting into the slumber they both so desperately needed.

~*~

Buffy awoke some time later and slipped out from under Spike so that she could go to the bathroom. Stupid bladder. Once finished, she stared at her eyes in the mirror and sighed. It was too bad they returned to their normal color, the anti-climatic results were a little disheartening. At least she still had the super-sight. Grabbing her silk robe from the door hook, she wrapped it around her shivering frame and returned to her lover.

Creeping back into the room, her gazed landed on the envelope that had fallen out of her back pocket. Quietly, she tiptoed over to the dresser and opened it as softly as she could, not needing to turn on the lights to see anything due to her enhanced vision.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she opened the envelope, a sheet of paper and a ring falling out into her hands. Paying no attention to the ring, she laid it next to her as she curled her legs under her and settled to read. Casting a glance over at Spike, she smiled as his soft snores ensured that he was still asleep. Unfolding the paper, she closed her eyes, smelling the shoe polish and leather, tears gathering as she began reading.

Dearest Buffy,

My brave, beautiful girl… I will miss you greatly, but as I promised, I will check up on you and William in the future. I believe you’ll have many adventures in store for you and your beloved. Yes, I know all about him. Actually, I ‘knew’ all about him. But I will save that for later in my letter. I just wanted to say that I am so very sorry for how you were treated after my passing. You deserved better, from me, from everyone. Seeing you this evening did my old heart a world of good. You were one of the only people that I’d encountered that was concerned for my welfare. Your genuine warmth and dedication to a calling that you didn’t believe in proved your worth beyond gold. Again I am sorry for the pain you’ve suffered since. Had I the power to remove this ‘curse’ from your life, I would do so. Alas, it is not within my scope and as usual, I feel I failed you miserably.

Hopefully, one of my failures has been rectified. Rupert Giles will no longer be a threat to William, your adored vampire. A rather forceful heart to heart was all that was needed to help him see the error of his ways concerning you. I believe the next time you train, you will have a bit of swordplay introduced into the regime. Also, a kinder ear will be available to you, should you have need of it. I thought I’d made a mistake in choosing this bookworm of a man for your next watcher, but I find that he has the softest spot for you in his heart. The daughter he could’ve had, had he been given the choice of having a family. But like you, certain choices were not allowed him; so do be easy on the poor chap.

Now to William Pratt, otherwise known as Spike or William the Bloody. Yes, Pratt is his surname, but I doubt he will ever tell you… unless you force him, which might not be a bad idea. The blessed fool is totally devoted to you and yours. I would be blind, deaf, and quite dumb not to have seen it. The unfortunate incident with Liam O’Conner could have been avoided had Giles read my Watcher’s diary, and for that I’ll have a hard time forgiving him. It detailed Angelus’ life and habits and also indicated that he should not ever be allowed near young girls, as he was a lecherous drunkard in life and it followed him into his vampiric days. He couldn’t even be cursed with his own soul due to the fact it was as black as pitch. What good would it be to curse a vampire with a corrupted soul? Futile. Hence brings me to an enclosed item. I believe it was a rash decision to send the Gem of Amara to Liam in LA. Therefore, I took the liberty of relieving his person of the offending item. It is intended for the true hero of your life, Buffy. Liam knows nothing of this ‘pilfering’ and he never will. Not unless you tell him, which I highly suggest you don’t. Let William experience the sunshine with you, as well as other benefits which neither of you are aware of yet, but I will not go into detail here. I’ll save that information for a time when I check up on you two.

There are many trials ahead, Buffy, and I would be doing you a grave injustice if I lied and said that they didn’t worry me. In fact, some of these events terrify me, and I can only be thankful that William is by your side now, keeping you safe. I’ll try and help when I can, but there’s only so much I’m allowed to do before dire consequences set in – for all parties involved.

For now, my dear, I’ll say my good byes and leave you with this thought; To love deeply in one direction makes us more loving in all others. Love William, Buffy and you will find the other areas of your life fall into place.

All my love and devotion,
Merrick

Her tears streamed down her cheeks and she sniffled loudly as she picked up the ring and clenched it in her hand. Spike, having sensed her distress and smelled her tears, crawled towards the edge of the bed and wrapped his arms around her from behind.

“Buffy, tell me,” he nudged.

Feeling the need to share the letter with him, she handed it to him. With arms still around her, he held the letter up and began reading while she fiddled with the ring, laying her head back against his chest and nuzzling his mark.

“Bloody hell! That fuckin’ wanker knows my name! Who the hell is this Buffy?” he ground out, none too pleased with the information imparted on the paper.

Turning in his arms, she cupped his cheek, smiling softly. “Merrick was my first Watcher.” She gave him a moment to process that tidbit about her. “I know that Slayers usually die before their time, but my Watcher died before I was fully trained. What I did learn helped me defeat Angelus. I owe him my life.”

He stared at her in awe. “You’ve had two Watchers? What does this tosser know about me that Rupert doesn’t?” Curiosity had gotten the better of him.

“For one, Giles never read Merrick’s Watcher diary. They weren’t so big on the mixy, since he was dead and all. They thought it was lost, but I put it with his possessions when I sent his stuff back to the Council in England. Where it went from there, who knows,” she enlightened him.

“Bugger. Don’t fancy this old git knowing my predilection for all things evil,” he said as he worried his lip. He finished reading the letter, letting the issue drop for the moment.

Keeping the ring clenched within her fist, she waited for him to get to that part of the letter, watching him tense as he whipped his head towards her and stared. “Buffy?” he asked quietly, hope filling his voice.

Smiling tremulously, bottom lip quivering, her eyes filling with tears as she held out her hand, palm up with the ring lying upon it. If Spike’s eyes could get any wider they would have popped out of his head.

He looked hard at her, afraid she would say no. “Are you sure about this?”

She didn’t say anything, instead grabbing his left hand and slipping it on his ring finger. The symbolism was not lost on him and he let out a ragged breath as tears gathered in his own eyes, gulping in unnecessary air. “God, how I love you, Buffy,” he sobbed quietly.

Reaching out, she pulled him into a warm embrace and kissed his tears away. “Thank you, for saving me,” she murmured, feeling him shake with sobs as she rubbed soothing circles on his back with her hands.

Emotionally and physically exhausted, they both crawled back under the covers and snuggled against each other, Spike spooning her from behind, his arm draped over her possessively, their hands linked. Drifting between sleep and wakefulness, a thought occurred to her, making her smile.

Will you take a walk with me on the beach tomorrow? I want to see if your beautiful eyes match the color of the ocean.

Nuzzling his nose at the nape of her neck, he grinned so wide he thought his face would split. `Course I will, love. Want to see your hair shining in the sun, too. My golden Buffy.

No more needed to be said and the two drifted towards peaceful oblivion.

Below the window where the mated lovers slept, Merrick looked up and beamed his grizzled smile, chuckling to himself as he backed away and disappeared into the ether.

Oh, yes, what adventures they had ahead of them.