A/N Hey, just wanted to thank everyone out there who has reviewed this story, my very first in any fandom and my first bit of writing in a great number of years. I owe all thanks to my fantastic Beta, Holly, who has encouraged me more than I ever thought possible. Thanks also go to enigmaticblue for helping me double double check chapters before posting.

I am stunned by how much this story has been liked, so please, keep the reviews coming, they feed me like nothing else.




Chapter Six

Buffy quickly realised that Giles was talking to Cordelia on the phone, but for the life of her she couldn’t work out why. That was until Angel came prancing back through the door with a paper bag containing a number of bladders of blood. After that kiss she was finding that she needed to slightly reconstruct her memory. From scratch. She’d totally forgotten that Angel was here.

With a wary eye, she located Spike back on the couch, his arm slung wearily over his face and looking like he would have no energy for anything more tonight. It was time to give him some nourishment. Hmmm, Buffy nourishment. Her eyes crossed at the yummy thoughts that wordage provoked, but she quickly snatched the bag from Angel and went back to the kitchen to heat Spike some blood.

“Thanks,” she tossed over her shoulder at the hulking and sulking vamp before disappearing briefly round the corner. She popped her head back through the window opening, though, to let him know that Giles was talking to Cordy, and asked if he knew what it was about?

“Oh yeah,” he stumbled awkwardly. “Might.” And he followed her round the corner.

Giles seemed startled to have so many in his kitchen before realising his own lack of space as Buffy nearly barrelled them both out of the way on her way back out with the warmed mug of blood.

“Yes, thank you so much, Cordelia. That will be extremely helpful. I’ll put you onto Angel now, shall I?” Without further hesitation, he passed the phone back to Angel and made his own escape. He felt he deserved to observe his new house guest at least a little.


Spike came to at the tantalising scent of blood- human blood. He raised his body to take the mug from Buffy, and hesitated slightly before taking a sip. He cringed a little at the taste.

“Did I make it too hot?” He still couldn’t get over the concern in her voice.

“No luv. Jus it’s human. Doesn’ feel right all of a sudden.” His face crinkled at that observation. He was beyond hunger though so he concentrated on the liquid that flowed smoothly down his throat. When he finished, he raised his eyes to see both Buffy and her Watcher sitting in chairs angled toward him with shared pensive expressions on their faces. And to add to his surreal moment, along came Angelus with another chair. Then he was hemmed in.

“Right then.” He felt he needed to start things off as two of the three were looking at him like he was bound to be yesterday’s dust. His gaze settled on Buffy and he couldn’t help but smile at her besotted expression. To him it was obvious that he had really dusted and gone to some weird non-hell because this could not be real.

Giles nodded his head, took out his handkerchief and began to rub at his glass lenses as he tried to think of what to say.

“I’ve just had a call from Cordelia…”

“The cheerleader,” Spike butted in. Giles glared at him before continuing.

“Buffy,” he turned to address her. “That is why Angel is here. Apparently Cordelia gets visions like messages, I suppose from the Powers That Be…”

“You mean the ones that brought Angel back from Hell?” She interrupted, and Giles gritted his teeth, knowing he was in for a longer night than he desired.

“Yes, that would be them.”

“Right, so the cheerleader had a vision and now Peaches is on your doorstep. What does that have to do with me?”

“Well if you would all bloody shut up for one minute and let me tell the tale you’d find out now, wouldn’t you?” he exploded, jumping to his feet. Angel smirked as he saw Giles do the pace race he had witnessed earlier in the night, glad that this time he wasn’t the cause.

Everyone was silent, waiting for him to continue, but he seemed to be expecting another interruption. At their continued silence, he decided to resume. However, just as his mouth widened, there was a frantic knocking on his door. Almost exasperated beyond endurance he stomped to the door and flung it wide, and just managed to get out of the way before the Scooby Gang, including Anya and another blondish haired girl he didn't recognise, all but fell through the door in desperation, sounding like a gaggle of geese hyped up on demon speed.

“Giles, Giles, strange things have been happening, we need research…” they were all yelling at once then came to a screaming halt at the sight of Angel and Buffy sitting sort of together and facing someone on the sofa.

“What’s brood boy doing here?” Xander asked, pointing to the vamp in question.

“Oh…th-this i-is Angel?” Tara asked Willow. Willow nodded yes, her eyes wide with surprise.

They all continued around to the other side of the sofa until they could take in the fourth person in Giles’ home. Simultaneously they saw Spike. Willow and Xander both let out horrified screams and rushed behind Buffy and Angel. Tara and Anya continued to stand there with raised brows, not having a clue what had happened.

Xander pointed at Spike and breathed so hard in fear that he was close to hyperventilating.

“Buffster, all with the believing in your fighting skills and all, but why isn’t he tied up, or chained up, or hey, here’s one for ya, dusted?” His voice had reached an uncomfortable shrill tone and both Angel and Spike flinched. Swivelling his head back and forth from Spike to Angel, Xander made a comical leap behind Buffy, making sure she was his protector. Pointing a shaking finger at Angel, he asked in an unmanly faltering voice, “Is he still Angel?”

Spike burst out laughing.

“You are a right ninny, ya know that? Do you think the Slayer would be sitting all calm like next to the heaving poof if he was Angelus? Better yet, do ya think I would be anywhere near him if he was?” By the last Spike’s voice had a hardened edge that made Angel look away with regret.

“I never hated you Spike. You are my childe, and I’m sorry that Angelus is cruel.”

“Stop talking ‘bout him like he’s different to you. He isn’ someone else. He’s you, down to every ugly little moment. I need a smoke.” He rose on still unsteady feet and made to search his duster pockets.

“You can’t smoke in here,” Giles stepped forward.

“Look watcher, I’m bloody stressed to my bleedin’ eyeballs, and if I don’t have a ciggie soon I could snap under the strain.” His glare was mean, but a little twinge in his gut tried to tell him it was wrong to take his frustrations out on those trying to help him and he lowered his head in shame. “’m sorry,” he mumbled and plonked back onto the sofa, his head in his hands.

Having no understanding of her sudden compulsion, Buffy bailed on Xander and went to sit next to Spike and take his trembling hand in hers. Xander squeeked.

“Oh wow…” Tara breathed, staring in awe at the blonde couple.

“Buffy?” Xander and Willow questioned, their own reason for racing to Giles completely gone from their minds.

Giles for his part was fixated on Tara, realising he had never met her before, but wondering at what she was seeing that made her so astonished.

“Er, Willow, who is your friend?”

“Oh,” she blushed as all eyes turned to her. “This is Tara. She’s a really awesome witch.” Willow enthused.

“Will,” Tara seemed unaware that she was the subject of curiosity by almost all in the room. “Can you see it?” Willow looked at the pair on the sofa, looking heatedly into each other’s eyes. She couldn’t see what Tara might, but she could feel the tension in the room like a really heavy fog, and her eyes goggled.

“Oh my God, is it a spell?” Her eyes widened in alarm.

“I’m afraid not…” Giles grumbled, giving his lenses one last little swipe before replacing the glasses on the bridge of his nose, and tucking a hand in his pants pocket.

Reaching for Willow’s hand Tara used her other to motion the space around the two. “It’s beautiful Will, I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Now all eyes were confused and Willow felt the need to explain, blushing again as she realised Tara was still holding her hand. She let go with a nervous, Willow giggle, and began.

“Like I said, Tara is a witch, she can see auras.”

Giles looked at the girl thoughtfully and wondered what this girl might add to Cordelia’s news.

“Right then, I suggest we all take a seat so we can have a chat and see if we can’t sort all of this out.”

“Merciful Zeus, do we just let them stay like that?” Xander pointed, his alarm not even receding a smidgeon.

“Buffy, do you really need to hold his hand.” Angel was obviously furious, but their eyes never left the other's as they mutually ignored him. “Giles,” he whined, back to that childlike feeling of hours before, and feeling really grumpy because of it.

He had a really uncomfortable feeling about this.

Chapter Seven

It took awhile but finally Giles had everyone seated on either a chair or the floor around the blonde couple, who intermittently smiled shyly at the other while continuing to clasp their hands together. A small patch of skin, the ultra soft padding beside her thumb, was becoming so sensitised by Spike’s own stroking thumb that she thought very soon she would moan. It made her want more, and she relived that kiss from earlier with a gentle sigh of yearning. Her skin almost rose to meet his caress and she wondered how she ever lived without that kind of feeling.

Buffy couldn’t think. On one hand she was aware that everyone was staring at her and that her friends wore horrified faces of fear for the unknown, while Tara and Anya shook up the mix with their own smiles of understanding and lack of interest. Anya of course contributed the latter. On the other hand, despite all this confusion, Buffy didn’t feel that what she was doing was wrong. She felt the most overwhelming sensation in the pit of her stomach that she was acknowledging something that had been under wraps for far too long. That she would be committing a grave error and insult to the vamp beside her if she did not offer him public comfort and support. It could not be though, as she had never before entertained any romantic or friendly feelings towards Spike, other than that strange claim to family, oh, and the fact that she had always thought he was the sexiest man she had ever seen.

Giles cleared his throat with aggravated purpose and everyone looked toward him to begin.

“Right, then. I guess I will take up from where I was interrupted before. We have had a call from Cordelia. Xander, do not open your mouth.” Xander closed his mouth. “Cordelia, it appears, receives visions from the Powers That Be and she told Angel to come here, as Buffy would need some help with Spike. Instead of finding out all of what she had to say, Angel came tearing in here, and waited for Buffy to haul Spike over the threshold. Now, before any of you ask, Angel detected Spike to have a soul…”

“Oh boy…” Xander began but Giles rushed on.

“And that is why he is not tied up. Also, quite incredibly, Buffy seems to be sharing some kind of bond with him.” Buffy blushed under the scrutiny of the room and Spike squeezed her hand once before letting her go. Immediately she felt cold and alone. The difference to her was suddenly frightening and Spike’s nose twitched in confusion at her sudden scent of fear.

“Now, I have a little information from Cordelia, but I am very interested at the timing of when all of you decided to be in dire need of research. Has something happened? Maybe it is related in some way?”

The four newest comers looked at each other, with Tara ducking shyly behind her hair.

“Something really weird happened Giles. Not frightening weird, ooh, but sorta, I mean a little scary right?” Willow asked Tara who very avidly nodded her head.

“I’ll definitely go for weird, in a ‘don’t ever want that freaky Friday happenin’ in my parental basement abode ever again’, kind of weird.” Anya smiled flirtatiously at Xander, winking and looking him up and down, so he flushed and quickly looked down.

“And what pray tell, was so weird to have you all rushing out to my home at this time of night?”

“Well, um, Tara and I were doing a spell. Sort of an astral projection thingy, well, as I got to the end, my hair went white.”

“L…l..like a G…Goddess,” Tara contributed.

Giles raised his brows in thought.

“Hmmm, that is very interesting. And nothing happened to Tara?”

“Nope, nada.” Willow smiled at her friend but no one noticed as they all looked to Giles for his interpretation. Without offering any ideas, he passed on to Xander.

“What happened to you, Xander?”

“Oh, well, it was sort of more Ahn than me,” Xander started but was interrupted by Anya.

“We were having sex,” she told them all confidently.

“Good for you, luv, though you’re pretty enough to not scrape the bottom of the barrel.” Spike leered at her, receiving a sexy, suggestive smile from Anya and a death glare from Xander and his companion on the sofa. Too late he remembered Buffy and how she may have interpreted that comment. His nervous glance at her found her looking away from him in obvious hurt, and he went back to feeling guilty and bad all over again. It may have never occurred to him to have a thing for the Slayer before, but after that earlier kiss he was kicking himself for risking further physical, soft episodes.

Xander decided to ignore the bleached vampire. “She had this big cut appear from her neck on this side,” and he indicated the left side of his own neck, “to her waist on the other side,” and he made a diagonal slash across his front. “The wound started bleeding, then she fainted. I freaked and thought she was dead.” Xander was obviously still affected by the event as he offered no jokes or levity in his inflection, but added as an afterthought, “Oh, and my eye started to sting really bad and I couldn’t see from it until Anya became conscious again.”

“How incredibly fascinating. Oh, and yes I’m sure that it was rather frightening for you, Xander. How remarkable that all that happened around the same time. I am thinking Spike received his soul and Buffy seems to have become, well, smitten…” His eyes widened as he realised that he had earlier walked in on his Slayer kissing another vampire, another with a soul. He had ignored the moment earlier, a feeling of ‘let it be’ overtaking his better judgement, but now he felt the full effect of his alarm. He decided to continue ignoring it for now but resolved to speak to Buffy about it later.

“So nothing happened with Tara, and nothing happened with me…”

“Um, Giles,” Angel interjected, thinking over the past few hours. “I think it might be possible that something might have happened to you earlier.”



Giles took in Angel’s hesitation and wondered why he seemed so nervous, then remembered his earlier almost overwhelming anger and hatred for the vampire, and couldn’t for the life of him work out why he had felt so violently against him. When he had left Sunnydale the previous year, they had been almost back to tentative if not friendly terms, and the fact that he was leaving Buffy, though upsetting for her, was the greatest act he could think the vampire had ever done.

“Oh,” he answered in understanding. “I guess I suddenly felt a very intense hatred for all things vampire with a soul. Sorry about that, Angel.” Angel sighed in relief, ending his sojourn into memory, trying to work out what he had done to set the Watcher off. Nothing at all apparently.

“So Giles, what’s the what?” Buffy had been silent up to now, hoping that everyone would forget that ‘smitten’ remark, and still hurt that Spike had flirted with Anya while right next to her. Her confidence had taken a jab and she wondered if he actually liked her at all, despite this compunction they had to touch each other.

“Cordelia said that Spike had acted like a Champion and the Powers that Be were allowing him his hearts desire as a reward. She did also say that this was from the future Spike, not a different dimension or anything. Judging by what Anya and Xander experienced, I’m tempted to think they suffered war wounds.”

“Buffy told me she saw me turn to dust,” Spike offered and Giles looked to the pair swiftly in surprise.

“Did she? I suppose that was when you first held his hand, Buffy, and they burst into flame?”

Buffy nodded, but said nothing further.

“And what exactly is my heart’s desire?” Spike quirked a brow and tilted his head to the side, giving a look to Buffy which made her shiver, but she refused to look back at him and he understood that he had really hurt her by appearing interested in the other woman. He remembered returning to Sunnydale, after finding that she hadn’t passed the Gem of Amara on to Angel during his lengthy torture session, to rip out her heart and send it in a box to his Sire. Not only did he feel queasy now at that thought, but he suddenly felt the need to apologise to Peaches, particularly after that speech earlier about never having hated him.

“Sorry about the torture las’ week mate. You know I didn’ mean it right?” Spike aimed a hopeful smile at Angel and received a delighted laugh.

“Spike, I would be a hypocrite if I didn’t forgive you for that. Angelus taught you well.”

All eyes suddenly narrowed at both vampires and they shared an awkward and guilty moment as they squirmed in their seats. Right then, don’t mention the poof’s alter ego, or torture methods. Check!

“She didn’t know that part.” Giles pulled the rooms attention back to the previous question. “The actual reward, but I think it must have something to do with Buffy.” Giles turned to Tara. “Do you have any idea what might have happened, Tara?”

Tara blushed at being asked something so influential in front of the whole gang, but nervous though she may be, she was confident in her abilities and interpretation.

“I saw the joining of their souls. They belong together.”

“That’s impossible.”

“No way.”

Xander and Angel both stood angrily and shouted at the witch who shrank back, afraid that she had obviously said something terrible.

Giles stared at the two, resigned that he felt Tara was indeed right in what she saw. He knew something had changed. He just didn’t know what.

“Buffy, do you have anything to add?”

Buffy felt angry at Spike, but even more importantly, she felt angry with herself. She didn’t understand what had come over her since coming across Spike’s collapsed form under the tree, but it would obviously be a mistake on her part if she let it take over her now without further attempts to understand what had brought the soul to Spike. She felt slowness was not only needed but imperative if she was to keep her heart attached, and she could not forget, no matter how she tried, that he didn’t believe her love at the end anyway. It felt like a rejection, and that, teamed with his come hither smirk at Anya, had hurt her and put her on the defensive.

“I saw some kind of battle, sorry Wills, you guys were nowhere in sight. Oh, but I think I did see Faith,” she remembered with a gasp. Buffy started to feel a desperation to get her account over and done with so she could get out of there. “Anyway, Spike suddenly lit up like a Christmas tree, told me that he could feel his soul, and then turned to dust from the sunlight as the building around us collapsed. Oh!” She jumped in her seat excitedly. “It looked like the Hellmouth, and there were these really, really ugly vamps turning to dust all around us. Also, there were a couple of dead girls lying on the ground they had weapons and Giles,” she looked to him questioningly. “They looked like Slayers.” She was done. Buffy refused to say any more. The love stuff was personal, and she wasn’t going to put herself on the line or in the line of fire for no man, or vampire. If there was anything there between them then she would work it out with Spike, if she ever decided he deserved to speak to her again. That kiss was obviously just a fluke. Besides, he wasn’t ever getting that close again. Just like that she could feel the walls around her heart rebuild, and she was glad for it. She had been in danger of falling for her enemy, and it was about time she remembered who she was.

She was, after all, the Vampire Slayer.

Xander and Angel had not resumed their seats during her explanation and despite the friendly remarks the two vampires had exchanged earlier, Angel was obviously not willing to allow anyone in the room, particularly the bleached vampire, to believe his soul was anyone’s but his own. Oh no, no soul attaching to Buffy. If anyone’s soul belonged to Buffy, it would be his.

“In my vision, it was pretty obvious that Spike was my champion. If Spike hadn’t sacrificed himself then I believe we would have lost the war. He saved us.” Her voice held no enthusiasm, and she continued to refuse to look at Spike.

“Oh, and Spike said that those commando guys I’ve seen around kidnapped him and did something to his head. I vote we check into it tomorrow. I’m going home.”

Without looking at the dumbfounded expressions on everyone’s faces she got to her feet and headed to the door. “Willow, come with? And Tara? Are you on campus to?”

At the pretty blonde’s nervous and confused nod Willow rose to her feet. “Sure Buff, we’re right behind you. Bye.” Willow gave a little finger wiggle wave and the two girls were out the door after Buffy.

“Well, that was confusing,” Anya stated. “Though I think she has the right idea. Come on Xander, I think we should also go back to bed!” Xander jumped up with a funny cough and raced to the door with Anya’s hand in his, and like the girls before him, they were gone.

“Right. Don’ suppose I could get some more blood, Watcher. Right knackered myself.” Spike had watched sadly as Buffy left, knowing that he would have some ground to make up, even though for the life of him he couldn’t work out why he felt it was so important to prove to Buffy that he wasn’t interested in Anya.

“Y…yes. I’ll just go get that for you, shall I?”

Two vampires were left alone in the room.

“Don’t even think about it Spike. She’s needs something better than the both of us.”

Chapter Eight

Angel and Spike hadn’t moved since the moment Giles went to retrieve a mug of blood. Nor had they spoken. Angel had retreated into his own introspection. He felt torn between his pleasure at seeing Buffy again, obviously well and still alive without his protection, but also annoyance of those very same things. He didn’t want to examine too closely the reasons behind his disappointment that Buffy could handle her own without him.

It wasn’t until Giles returned and handed the mug of blood to Spike that Angel realised that his Childe’s body was trembling. It had been a big night so far, and though he was putting on a brave face, Angel well remembered the effect of receiving a soul out of the blue. Even though it was still not clear how Spike’s soul came into being, it would take some getting used to. However much a hero Spike might be in the future, it did not help him acclimatise to his new circumstances in the present. Angel noticed his eyes glass over and realised that now that they were virtually alone, Spike appeared to be going into shock. For only a moment did Angel ponder why he found it so easy to believe why Spike would have been a hero. He still remembered his heroic deeds with Drusilla for many mortal lifetimes, and how could he ever forget the betrayal of his own Childe as he himself tried to pull the world into a permanent pit of darkness. He knew Spike was capable of great feats. That he could be brave and courageous, as well as rash and foolhardy. He just felt sick and resentful that Buffy seemed to be the impetus of the transformation and the realisation of Spike’s potential.

Well, he was no longer the only souled vamp in town, and as he was responsible for creating this vamp in particular, he was responsible for his acclimatisation as well. It hadn’t escaped his notice that the Powers That Be wanted him in on the whole scene. Was it a punishment, or simply another opportunity for achieving good? It never occurred to Angel to consider that his search for good acts to achieve his redemption was selfishly driven, and repentance was never acknowledged for those motives. His need to do good continually battled with his desire of reward, and it hadn’t yet occurred to him that Spike had obviously been heroic for far shorter a time frame, yet the Powers returned him to something potentially very special.

In the end, Angel’s concern was late at being expressed.

Giles placed a hand on Spikes shoulder to draw his attention from the cooling blood.

“Spike, perhaps you need to talk a little to make the situation become real for you. You probably are feeling like you are trapped in a television soap with all the surreal that has gone on tonight, but I can assure you that you are in my home, apparently with a soul, and according to Buffy, some other problem with the commando’s that we will investigate tomorrow. I realise that it was only last week that you were trying to kill Buffy, but I trust in Tara and her abilities.” Giles shot a quick look at Angel then chose his next words carefully. “I observed you earlier Spike, with Buffy. I saw a red mist surround you both, like some form of connection, or rather, a joining .” Spike stared at him intently, grateful that the Watcher did not mention the kissing form that the ’together’ took, as he really was not up to a thrash it out till the end, loser takes all moment with his Sire.

“You never mentioned this before Watcher. I think the Slayer might have wanted to know that.”

“In all the excitement it slipped my mind. I was not sure that she was ready to take that on as well as what Tara said. Nevertheless, I think it is highly possible that in the future something has occurred for you to be one with us in our cause. I won’t say for certain about what your relationship with Buffy consists of, but I think it might be important from what I have seen today. I will let you sort that out on your own and with her. As much as I disapprove of any dealings with you, and the thought of Buffy embroiled in another relationship with a vampire makes me shudder, I am willing to put aside my previous beliefs and feelings to get to the bottom of this and help you adjust. I can only believe that the Powers have sent you here for a reason, perhaps to prevent what happens to you in the future from happening again. But there is some purpose, of that you can be certain. We can try to find out more tomorrow. Like, how you got your soul, and if it is safe.”

“I tried to eat some students tonight.” Spikes voice was a tortured whisper as Giles and Angel were struck dumb and still. He didn’t dare raise his eyes as the gentle care that the Watcher had shown him in his little speech affected him deeply, but as yet he had not the tools to deal with the situation.

“It was before the soul thing hit me I guess. I went looking for the Slayer in her dorm, but no one was in. I guess Red was with the other Wicca. I found another girl and went to bite her when I had a shock in my skull and I couldn’ do it. As soon as I thought or tried to bite anyone, I felt the pain return. I’ve been wanderin' around all night tryin' to work it out, and then tryin' to hide from the soldiers. They’re trying to recapture me, I wager. Anyway, I felt this searing pain on the inside and a flash of light and I collapsed. I guess that’s where the Slayer found me. So, looks like I’m toothless. And the thought that I tried to eat people tonight makes me feel sick.”

Giles was stunned at this declaration, not really expecting to get so up and personal with a vampires eating habits, but even more so at the sight of this once proud Master vampire broken and crying on his sofa. He looked to Angel and found he didn’t understand the meaning behind the gleam in his eye, but was all right with it as it didn’t appear alarming, but almost soft.

“How long ago did they capture you?” Angel leaned in toward him.

“A few days I guess,” He answered, sniffling self-consciously and rubbing absently at his watery eyes.

“Is that how long since you’ve fed?”

“Roughly. Couldn’ take their blood. It was drugged so they could do experiments on me. Another vamp in the cell nex’ me said that he’d been fighten’ with the Slayer and nex’ thing he was in the cell. So I figured it was her fault I got caught, I was watching her fight at the time, and I escaped to get revenge. Bollixed that up right proper.” He barked an unamused, slightly tortured laugh before burying his head in his hands. And his body was back to shaking.

“I’m covered in blood. It won’ ever come off. Bloody Hell. Why didn’ you do us in Peaches, when you got your soul? You should’na let us go on killin’.” At his muffled, hurt words, Spike sobbed quietly.

Giles looked to Angel, transfixed by the recording opportunities of this story, not really ever having taken the chance to discuss the past with Angel, or even the repercussions of his returned soul. He was shocked to see tears in the elder vamps eyes. Angel reached forward and took Spike’s hand and squeezed it hard.

“I could never have done that William. I loved you all. My Sire, though she was cruel. My crazy Dru, my very own shameful responsibility. And never less William, I loved you. We were family. I may have killed my mortal family when I had no soul, but I could never have killed my immortal family with one. And now I am so very glad that I left you to survive, because look where you are now. You have been shined on by the greatest light of all, Buffy, and have achieved great things, or the Powers would never have given you a reward. You have achieved in the future William, and you have a great opportunity right now to make this soul retrieve all the good that you were. Spike, you may have murdered in the past, indeed I trained you to be one of the best, but you always had a good heart for those you loved. I have no doubt that whenever you got your soul it was because of that devotion in you. Finally, William, you are free.” Spike raised disbelieving eyes to his Sire, desperate hope churning in his gut, Buffy thoughts and dreams racing through his mind. Angel seemed so earnest. Angel put more pressure on his hand and smiled reassuringly and Spike decided to believe.

And Angel found his selflessness in repentance.

Chapter Nine

Buffy couldn’t decide if she should talk to Willow about what she saw, or just let it go. As the three girls walked briskly toward their dorm, Buffy zoned out of the conversation between the Wiccas and tried to fathom why she felt so lacerated by Spike’s flirty behaviour towards Anya. She hadn’t really had that much time to get to know the girl yet, but as far as an ex-vengeance demon went she seemed nice enough. What she still couldn’t get was her reactions –physical and emotional to Spike. One thing was certain enough; whatever happened in her future, he was important to her. In a big way.

“Wills,” Buffy called to the redhead who walked with an animated purpose while chatting to her fellow witch. “Is it possible to do some kind of spell, like a tag on thingy or something, to Spike’s soul, so that maybe I could see the circumstances for it returning to him in a different time period?”

“You mean you want to see into the future and find out why you’re all with the touchy feelies with the vampiness?” Willow questioned nervously.

Buffy stopped walking and turned to contemplate her friend.

“I can’t explain it, Wills. Something happened to me tonight when I found him. Something way, way wiggy, but I need to work it out before I feel like I can talk about it. It would just help to know why the future me came to depend so much on him. I need to understand why I feel so drawn to him all of a sudden.”

Willow looked at Tara in anguish, knowing that she could help but also knowing that Willow herself, and possibly Buffy, wasn’t going to like what the other girl had to say. Then again, Buffy had been holding Spike’s hand earlier, and didn’t seem to wig over that. With a hesitant nod, Willow encouraged Tara to step forward with her theories.

“U-um B-Buffy?” Tara’s courage seemed short-lived so Buffy gave her a warm encouraging smile.

“Tara, it’s ok. I know you think that Spike and I belong together, and boy is that a concept that is so beyond believable, but I think I did see enough in my vision to sort of believe you.” Both girls gaped.

“What did you see to make you believe that?” Willow couldn’t hold back her surprise. “I mean, I know he is hot and all, but Buffy, he’s a vampire.”

“What?” Tara gasped, shocked.

Buffy looked at her for a minute before replying.

“Willow didn’t fill you in yet on the night life in Sunnydale, huh?”

Tara turned to the girl beside her, eyes wide in comprehension, and shook her head almost accusingly. “Willow?”

Willow giggled self-consciously. “Surprise?”

Buffy snorted and clapped her hand over her mouth.

“Sorry Tara. There are lots of creatures around here that go bump in the night, and ones you don’t want to do the bumping with, um, that was a little more suggestive than I was going for.” And she trailed off thinking of the bleached blonde that she would die to do some bumping with. “Anywho, Spike is a vampire who for the past two years has been trying to kill me, and came real close to doing it a few times. Particularly last week over the whole Gem thingy. You’d kinda think I would hold a grudge for that, wouldn’t ya?” Buffy raised an eyebrow as she questioned her two walking companions. They had reached Buffy and Willow’s room and continued inside, envying the quiet of the building that indicated that all sane girls and boys went to sleep hours ago.

“Back to the vision.” Buffy collapsed on her bed, not even removing her shoes. She had made a decision to share, knowing that it was fair to offer some kind of explanation for her behaviour tonight before Willow decided it best to commit her to the loony bin. Not wanting to see any possible looks of disgust in Willow’s eyes, however, she chose to stare at the ceiling while telling her story. “While we were standing in the cavern and Spike was turning into a really impressive light show, I held his hand and then they seemed to catch on fire.”

Tara’s eyes flicked to her reclining form in a sudden raging interest. Willow hadn’t yet seemed to pick up on the importance of the bond.

“He wouldn’t leave with me, told me he could see his soul and that it was beautiful. I told him that I loved him and begged him to leave, but he said he had to stay and finish it. He didn’t believe me, Willow. He thanked me for saying it but that I didn’t mean it then told me to get out.” Willow was alarmed at the distress in her friend’s voice, but the sight of tears falling silently from the emotional girl was enough to coax her into sitting by her on the bed. Buffy grabbed her hand and turned sad, green eyes to her best friend. “Why do they leave, Will? I don’t understand it and I can barely believe it, but I know that what I told him at the end was the truth. I did love him then, but he didn’t believe me.” Buffy had started to sob and Willow encased her in her arms, remembering another similar moment not so long ago when Angel had left town. After the disaster that was Parker, Willow had a feeling that this rejection of her in the future could take an unnatural hold on Buffy and pull her away from her destiny, simply because she feared to give her heart. Not good to get an absolute of rejection before the time had even come to fall in love.

“Ah…Buffy…I-I th-think I might know what ha-happened.”

Buffy turned to the nervous girl with hope. “You do?” She abandoned Willow and went to kneel in front of Tara. “Please tell me,” she begged. The little irritation her body had been feeling since leaving Spike’s presence was building slowly so that now her body was almost reverberating with repetitive chills that wouldn’t let her flesh rest, simply because she was away from him. She felt like something was missing and she was almost frantic to get it back.

Tara stroked her hair and took one of Buffy’s small hands before looking her in the eye. “When you held his hand and told him you loved him?” Her voice was calm and confident, like it had been earlier in the evening when she had forgotten the presence of all of Willow’s friends. Buffy nodded her head, eager to hear something that could explain this terrible yearning in her gut for cold, strong arms to encircle her through the night. “Buffy, your love bonded you together. He was right, though, he had to finish what he was doing, but I think he told you he didn’t believe you so that he could get you out and make sure you lived.” The tears fell in great torrents from her eyes now, and her breath was heaving, but Buffy struggled on to keep control and not submit to the sob fest that she was so heading for.

“But what about future Buffy? She, I mean me, um, I will, would, you know what I mean, devastated, in some capacity.” Buffy waved her arms avidly in the air, trying to indicate something but was too confused to work out what. “He leaves, me, her, and she’ll, ah I’ll, um, think he didn’t believe me. God, I am so confused.” Buffy rubbed a hand over her eyes in exhaustion. “Oh, oh,” she jumped to her feet in agitation. “And what was the point of rewarding him to come back here when he just has to turn right back around and do the great flambé act, deny my declarations, and go poof?” She ended with a dramatic snapping of her fingers in Willow’s stunned, but amused face.

“Um, Buff, hate to tell you after that eloquent appraisal of your future self and all her devastation, but with Spike’s future soul now lodged in the present Spike God only knows how many years early then the future will probably be altered.” Willow finished with a confident grin.

“Huh?” Buffy replied with complete incomprehension causing the Willow grin to falter. There was just no explaining a temporal paradox, or the mechanics of time travel, to some people.

“What she means, sweetie,” Tara began with an indulgent smile, “is that now this Spike has a soul your reaction to him will be different and so events could very well unfold in a completely different direction.”

“See,” Willow leapt onto the train and rode it in. “Whatever apocalypse Spike saved us all from, might not even occur.” She was triumphant and pumped her fist in the air.

Buffy just stared at her, a look of horror beginning to penetrate her features.

“But Will, what if it’s all the same? What if getting his soul put the world out of balance and caused the apocalypse in the first place? Bringing it here might bring it on in a week instead of years from now. That’s why I need to see the future so that I can be ready and make sure we all stay fine. Make sure that I don’t lose him again.”

Willow spluttered at the last statement.

Tara contemplated for a moment.

“I don’t know of actual spells where you can see the future, though I’m sure that they exist. I do know of ones where you can travel back in time. We could try a spell to trace the past of Spike's soul. Which would really be his future.” Willow and Buffy looked at her in awe.

“Wow...” Willow breathed, completely blown away by the concept. “Buffy, we’ll look into it tomorrow. Now I think we should try and get some sleep. Tara, do you want to stay here?”

“Thanks Willow, b-but I-I-I think I should be getting back to m-my own room. I- I’ll see you in the morning to help you look for the spell. Everything will be fine Buffy. What I-I saw of Spike’s and your Aura, it’s all really, really good.” She winked at Buffy, missing her flush as she swept out the door.

“So, did ya kiss him?” Willow bounced back on to Buffy’s bed where the girl had again collapsed and perched delicately on the edge.

“Oh my God, Willow. It was amazing. Spike lips. Mmmm.” Buffy flopped back on her pillow with quite a goofy, ‘lost in the moment’ grin. Willow chuckled then moved back to her own bed, climbing under the covers in relief, realising her friend was already immersed in the mysteries of Spike and unlikely to emerge. She'd better just get used to it and accept it so that her friend didn't feel guilty.

"Oh Buffy, but what about Riley?"

"Hmm? Oh Spike's lips are much better." Buffy remained distracted, thinking of said lips but progressing quickly to images of that tongue.

Supine, they quickly surrendered to sleep.

“You’re one hell of a woman. You’re the one Buffy.” She dreamed of a strange house wrapped in the arms of a protector, her heart thudding hard as her breast rested in sleep against his chest. Close.

For the first time in what felt like years, Buffy Summers slept with a happy, happy smile plastered on her face.

Chapter Ten

Buffy awoke with a buzz. Not a blaring alarm clock buzz, but a ‘God, my skin craves Spike’, buzz. For five whole minutes she contemplated the events of the previous night and decided sadly that it was all a dream. That was until Willow entered the room from her shower and asked if Buffy was going to come and help her and Tara look for that spell for Spike’s soul.

With eyes wide in astonishment, Buffy leapt from the bed; frantically started looking for her slippers and a towel and grabbed some clothes and took off for the showers. Two seconds after closing the door behind her, she slammed back into the room to grab her cosmetics bag. With a silly grin she informed Willow that she would need to brush her teeth, and she was off again.

In record time she was back, entering just as Tara reached the door.

“Right,” Buffy began, her voice and facial expression betraying the happy plain that she was visiting. “I think we have some research to do.”

Willow cocked a brow in confusion.

“Um Buff, you do know that research means books, and that means actually sitting at a table with one open and actively reading it?”

Buffy looked at Willow as though she were stupid.

“Of course, Will. And while you guys are looking up that magic stuff, I’ll have some toast or something and see if Giles has come up with any more theories.” Buffy nodded her head determinedly. “Do you think Angel and Spike stayed at Giles’s place last night?”

Willow and Tara exchanged a knowing look.

“D-Don’t vampires sleep during the day?” Tara inquired and Buffy’s good mood deflated with a very obvious pop.

“I forgot about that. Maybe I should do some studying or something and meet you guys there later.”

Now Willow was dumbfounded.

“You want to study?”

Buffy turned to her friend realising what she had proposed.

“Oh, sorry Will, don’t know what I was thinking. Um, what could I do then?”

It was perfectly obvious that Buffy was desperate for some contact with Spike but didn’t want to come across as too eager, so Willow thought to cut her a little slack.

“I’m sure that Giles probably has thought of something. You could tell him about our idea for the spell and see what he thinks. Or you could go tell Xander about Spike’s lips.” Willow shared another of those glances with Tara as they saw Buffy zone out and think again of Spike smoochies. Until the thought of actually telling Xander of said smoochies broke through and she turned grey.

“B-Buffy, I had a thought last night about the spell.” That caught her attention and she narrowed in on the task at hand. The spell was important, not only to satisfy her curiosity, but to ensure that the end of the world was not about to come to a crashing end.

“Yes Tara,” Willow encouraged.

“Well, what I saw last night showed a joining of your soul with Spike’s. I am a little concerned that that will mean if we do a spell on Spike’s soul to find out why he has it, it might combine with yours and drag your memories into the spell. We also don’t know how far into the future this apocalypse is that Spike saved the world from, so you could get stuck in years of memories.” Tara stopped at seeing Buffy shake her head.

“I think that’s unlikely. Most slayers have a short shelf life so I don’t think it can be too many years. Besides, it might be fun to see a little of my own future. Make sure I do things right!” Buffy gave an excited laugh, grabbed both girls hands and dragged them out the door to Giles’ place, stopping for donuts on the way.

When they arrived they found Giles with bloodshot eyes and a heavily fragrant mug of coffee. Buffy looked at him and then the mug, shrugged her shoulders and led the way inside. Lying on the sofa, one leg dangling over the edge and head tucked under his arm, was a very uncomfortable looking Angel. The girls just stared at him before turning their eyes back to Giles, seeking an explanation.

“Spike had a rough night,” was all that he would say before heading back to the kitchen.

Willow headed to the bookshelves, seeking texts on magic and carrying all that she could manage to the table. As they sat and started opening the books to relevant areas, Willow and Tara became absorbed and lost sight of Buffy as she decided to corner Giles in the kitchen.

“What happened?” she pointedly blocked his only way out.

“He just got his soul back after a hundred and twenty odd years of killing. He may have dealt with it in the future, but he is having a little trouble grasping the implications of right now. He only just went to sleep a short while ago. I just wish we knew more about why this has happened.” Giles rubbed a tired fist over his forehead, sweeping his fringe back in frustration.

“We think we might be able to do something about that,” Buffy told him quietly, pointing through the window into the living room and the girls occupied with the books. “Tara mentioned last night that it might be possible to do a hitch-hiker spell to Spike’s soul. It could at least tell us how he got it in the first place. See if it was the same curse that Angel has.”

Giles shook his head in the negative.

“I doubt it is the same curse, Buffy. That spell was lost until Jenny deciphered it. Oh.” His voice petered out as he considered something. “I suppose it might be possible that Willow curses him in the future.”

“Whatever,” she swept her hand in a dismissing motion, pretending that the circumstances behind the spell were unimportant. “What we need to know is if getting his soul back now causes an imbalance or something and that we aren’t going to be facing an apocalypse because of it. We have enough on our plates at the moment with those commandos and trying to work out what their deal is.” Giles nodded his head tiredly in agreement.

“I think someone should probably check that Spike is okay,” Buffy stated hopefully.

“Buffy, I think we should talk about what happened between the two of you last night.” Her body went rigid, waiting for the criticisms to come, and Giles decided belatedly to back off a little. “I told Spike that I wouldn’t stand in the way. It is your situation to sort out, so yes, it would be a good idea for someone to go check on Spike. Would you like to?” She let out a put upon sigh and agreed, following Giles’s pointed finger in the direction of Spike.

His body lay on the fold out bed in Giles’ study, as still as death except for the panicked fluttering of his eyelids. As she stood watching his limbs would give a little jerk, and he would moan every so often. It was obvious that the things he was dreaming about were far from happy.

Feeling an overwhelming sense of urgency, she lay down beside him and reached for his hand. Immediately he seemed to calm, and then she saw the tears begin to make tracks down his face. Holding her breath, not wanting to stop his sleep, she reached out to wipe away the moisture but found it impossible, the flow being too rapid.

She rested her head on the pillow beside him and let her eyes skim over his face. There was no denying that the vamp was extremely good looking. No. That wasn’t right. He had the face of an angel, far too beautiful to be called good looking. A seraphim displaced. A vampire blessed with new life, and possibilities. She could see love carved into his beautiful face, and felt pain that she might not be able to have this. This suggestion of him. Looking at him Buffy felt desperate to know that the soul could not be explained by the curse. She knew that if he were to lose his soul, that perfect happiness would be a curse for her and she would be broken.

The Powers wouldn’t return him to her here, at this time, if it meant the risk of losing him to the enemy she had feared for the past two years. Here was an offering so special, so right, and the thought that it could be taken away from her terrified her so much that her insides clenched in a debilitating cramp. She closed her eyes to try and gain control of the pain, and when she opened them it was to drown in the bluest seas of imagining. Spike was awake and the pain he couldn’t hide from her made her shed accompanying tears, before wrapping her arm around his waist, dragging herself closer so she could rest her head on his chest. His own arm anchored her to his chest and he wasn’t letting go.

“I’m so sorry, Buffy.” His throat was croaky, showing his exhaustion from the emotional ordeal that had lasted throughout the night. She said nothing, just stroked soothing lines on his bare chest before resting her palm flat over the spot where his heart didn’t beat.

“There are too many dead, and I can’t apologise to them, but God, I’m so sorry for trying to kill you all those times.” Buffy felt emotion clogging her throat and just knew that if she opened her mouth and attempted to say anything that she would start sobbing. The sadness of his voice was heartbreaking and she could do nothing but offer a little relief in the distraction of a gentle kiss just below her hand. She felt his sudden indrawn breath as his hand urged her to face him, fingers whispering over her cheek to rest under her chin. “I don’t understand what I have done to deserve you being this nice to me,” he whispered, afraid that if he was louder it would bring others to the room and destroy this magical moment of them, and he was dependent just then on the comfort only she could give.

Buffy lifted her finger to his lips, silencing his stream of words.

“Spike, I believe that something incredibly special happened in our future. I don’t know why I feel this connection to you right now. But I don’t think what has happened is just a reward for you. It feels too right to be in your arms…” her quiet tones petered out as she noticed his eyes fixated on her lips, drifting ever closer as she spoke until they were just a breath away. Memories of the magic his lips created the previous night blew her out of her mind and she didn’t even think to raise an objection when his lips found their home on hers again. Her eyes drifted closed and she just gave in to the beauty of the kiss, certain that she had never received a kiss that shook her to the core like this ever before in her life. Just a gentle touch and she pulled a little distance away, her gaze hooded with want and need, as she swept out her tongue to lick leisurely from one lip level to the next. Her heart was thumping madly as his lips slipped apart and her tongue glided back to the opening and entered the cave of his mouth, seeking and locating the tip of his tongue. Barely making contact, her lips again found his and she lost herself again in her overwhelming need to be one with him. While their lips swished and slid against the other their hands came together and they held on tight, too afraid to let go, knowing that a separation would be like falling off a cliff.

Spike was the one to finally pull away, releasing her with a hesitant final suck of her bottom lip. One finger traced the line of the same lip as he locked eyes with her.

“I never imagined,” he told her huskily and they remained, never looking away from each other, their hands never releasing their nervous hold for an uncountable period of time. Not until they heard a loud shout of “Eureka” from the living room, and Buffy explained the search for the spell. Still, it was long minutes before she would surrender the special moments they had shared. But finally she could delay no longer and she pulled him from his reclining position and dragged him out of hiding and back before an audience.

Chapter Eleven

Giles had felt it necessary for everyone to witness the spell. Willow’s triumphant ‘Eureka’ had set the tone for the rest of the day, and the in depth demystification of all elements of the spell meant that it could proceed as soon as possible. A quick trip to the magic shop to purchase elemental ingredients; a wait for the end of the working day and the final arrival of Xander, and the living room was filled once again to capacity with Scoobyness.

Buffy stood apart from all as she darted between excitement at getting a glimpse of her future, and nervousness about the possible negative origins of Spike’s soul. In her self-absorbed daze she missed the preparations of the spell and letting Willow and Tara undertake the necessary preparations, felt a little stage fright as she took note of how many people really were crammed into the little flat. Oz sat back, solemn and quiet, with Xander and Anya, while Angel and Giles were spaced around the edge of the room but in an easy distance for the scenic view. All that Buffy had gotten so far was that she and Spike were to sit holding hands within a circle of sand, magic sand she supposed, she was ignorant of all things mystical, well, some things mystical. As long as it wasn’t slayer mystical. Damn, she didn’t know about the sand.

All the words and incantations were a blur as she took her place on the floor opposite Spike. When Tara joined them in the circle Buffy looked up in surprise, thinking she must have missed an instruction or three somewhere along the way. The room remained quiet except for Spike’s continual grumbling : “I don’t trust magic, always consequences ya know?”, and that just made Buffy’s nerves crash their little party. Tara took a hand in each of hers and Buffy had to commend her for her lack of fear in dealing with the vampire when Xander and Willow still maintained a hesitant distance. Perhaps she was still too new to the concept of the supernatural to take it seriously, or perhaps she trusted in her belief in Buffy and Spike’s connection. She drew all of their hands together to form a circle.

Before she began Tara turned to both her partners within the protected circle to explain her presence.

“Buffy, I explained earlier my concerns about the possibility of you getting caught, so I am going to be your anchor.” She spoke quietly, her tone soothing as well as making sure to not be overheard, and Buffy was grateful. She suddenly saw herself on display as if for a performance, with her closest friends about to be critics. Something heavy dropped in her gut. She gave Tara a brief nod to show her understanding and turned her fearful gaze to Spike. She swallowed hard on recognising his apprehension and wondered what she had gotten herself into. “I will be here if it looks like things are getting out of control, so I can pull both of you back.” Buffy and Spike both indicated their consent, thinking this was it and they were about to begin. Tara gave them one more shyer look and her earlier confidence took a dive as she approached her final message. Her voice fell to a new hush as she reverted to her stammering speech. “I-I-I w-will be able to s-see what you are s-seeing.” Her shyness wouldn’t allow her to look either in the eye, but her final declaration required a belief in her honesty and she mustered the courage to raise her eyes to them both. “I promise I won’t tell anyone anything I see. Whatever you tell everyone is up to you. Especially you Spike, this is going to be the story of your soul, and that will be very personal.” They both gave her an encouraging smile and bade her to continue, and the spell incantation began.

Buffy intentionally didn’t pay attention to the words, lost in what Tara had said. ‘The story of Spike’s soul’, and her earlier elation was returning in leaps and bounds. ‘With a little luck’, she thought, ‘I’ll be able to see what kind of relationship Spike and I have in the future’. With her hopes and expectations all settled in her head she ignorantly sat back and waited for it all to begin.

It was like the first time they clasped hands and they became alight. Her world shifted like an earthquake and she found herself once again inside that cavern that she presumed was the Hellmouth. It looked different to what she remembered, but the one thing to make her recognise it was all the scary, nasty looking demons that threatened to overtake the place. Realising she had no impact here, this time a non-lethal observer, she turned to concentrate on Spike.

She saw him stumble backwards as he seemed to be invisibly restrained against the cave wall, light bearing down on him with a chilling intensity. Even though she knew she could do nothing, Buffy called out in fear and warning and once again witnessed her futile attempts to prise him away from the destruction and run with her. Again she told him of her love and again he withheld belief and sent her packing, walls and debris collapsing all around her. Racing up the stairs she looked back once and saw him combust and felt her heart tear at her chest, desperate to go back to him. She could understand now that something monumental occurred when their hands had ignited in glorious fire; she had departed with a piece of her own soul, shredded and gone. She belonged to him whole; heart, mind and soul, and instead of protecting her balance for her he had turned to dust before her eyes. Running, running, dying, she jumped to the roof of the bus and decayed a little more each metre it pulled away from him. The grief that arose in her chest and throat was going to kill her and though the bus finally stopped and she climbed off, all she could say when asked was that Spike had done it; he had saved them all, his rejection too raw for her to share.

As quickly as that vision had begun, she hurtled into another cave, another time, but just as gruesomely violent. Spike fought, he burned, his skin crawled, but at last he won just before Buffy was about to relieve herself of everything she thought she had ever eaten in her lifetime. Bugs always made her queasy, and scarab beetles? No way was that fun! But then Spike could be heard, thrashed and beaten down, but still determined. His demon requesting something almost unheard of; his desperation to prove his love and forever keep her safe from himself. He asked to be ‘made what I was, so I can give her what she deserves’. And he was, his soul burned into him like a Buffy brand on a cattle rump. He was marked, forever hers to take or discard. He descended into crazy land, his constant memory an attack on a blonde goddess on her bathroom floor.

Another flash and she was getting that it was all out of sequence. ‘Huh! Wonder how that works?’ But still strong, a tower of strength, she could cope even though the images may be harrowing. The time in fast-forward, Scoobies in her house, permanently it seems, and many, many girls, young and potential, training relentless. Strange men with their eyes cut out slashing, and crashing until few were left. The faces of her friends, the harsh and hard words of a general preparing for battle.

She sees some strange black man still in her future lure Spike to an ambush, with Giles’ support, and her held at bay so as not to be able to rescue the one, her only one of support, who had relentless faith. The others had lost it, kicked her out of her own home, his black leather coat not changing who he is but bringing him back, and that speech; ‘I love how you try. You’re a hell of a woman, Buffy. You’re the One.’ And as she curls into his side, the outcast in her own fight, she finally accepts it, that he is her one, and no other. Flash, too late for Xander but Spike saves him from losing both eyes. Flash, Spike rescues her from that other dimension by killing the demon to return. Flash, feels his gut wrenching sense of betrayal because she kisses Angel, but she knows he is her champion, Angel brings her the means to prove it, and she does not allow him to stay.

All of a sudden the world tips and Buffy finally sees why Tara was concerned her joined soul could alter the spell. Without warning she was catapulted further into her own story, no longer Spikes point of view, but his pain is her pain. She feels like screaming, kicking and clawing away from the relentless images, no happiness, all pain. A swan dive; courage or defeat? A home in heaven and she was awash with that tantalising cover of peace wrapped up in an outer layer of spongy cloud. Then ripped, torn…grief and badly broken. Spike by her side, friend and confidante, though she treated him cruelly. Words, he stayed, words, he protected. Dawn. A chestnut haired teenager; her sister, is it true? A key and Glory, a God. Spike’s torture for her, but no betrayal.

She beats him, fucks him into the ground, sees him weeping but turns away in horror. She knows then but can’t give it voice, love, so sorry Spike, too late, too late for love, not real, wrong, came back so wrong. Help me, you make me feel, I need you to hurt me, using you, but God, I love you. Can’t let you see. Screaming, God, ‘stop it, I can’t take anymore, Mom’s gone’. Shooting, Tara gone, Willow black, and then the biggest betrayal of all. Willow rush, no magic Willow, too many images, graveyards, burning corpses, on the hill and thank God for Xander. SCREAMING. TARA. HELP ME. STOP. Please God stop. Sobbing out of control.

Her hands tore apart from Spike and Tara’s and she came to with the most disgusted realisation of herself. No other words for horror as her eyes collide with Spike’s and she saw that he saw all that she did. Confusion and shock grip all three, but Buffy was on the move. Disaster was all she can hold onto, such evil and meanness, and not from those you would expect. One sudden memory nearly causes her to whiplash as she sought confirmation from Tara. The girl’s sad eyes, on the brink of brutal fear, Buffy pulled away even more. She was frantic, unaware of the multitude of eyes alarmed at her inability to absorb. She shook her head violently and gasped for breath as she shifted between looking at the MAN who sacrificed his all for her, whom she abused so relentlessly for her own grubby needs, and the gentle woman who was her friend in the future, but for an unforgivably short time.

Panic bubbled up and over and her body started to shut down its defences, the pace of her heart steadily increasing to accommodate her rising hysteria. Enough! Scream all ready, she shrieked to herself, her inner voice already raw from the effort. Tears poured in a rush down her face.

“We’ll stop it,” she nearly shouted at Tara. “We have to. It can’t go like that. So bad.” She choked and began to cry helplessly.

“I won’t do that,” she pleads with Spike, searching, hoping, and she thought, receiving. “I won’t be like that.” And at last it was too much and she collapsed in his arms in uncontrollable grief, marvelling that he could bear to touch her, let alone console her. Again, her protector, her champion. Out of them all he was her only true support, and she would never let him go. Not in a pink fit. She would kill anyone who tried to make her.

She clung to him and in front of them all she claimed his lips desperately, seeking forgiveness from the only one who could grant it. And through her tears, she really believed he gave it.

Chapter twelve

“Mr. G-Giles, I th-think it might be a g-good idea if Buffy, Spike and I could b-be alone to talk a-a-about what we saw.” Tara was the only one of the three able to take control at that point; Buffy curled up in Spike’s arms, sobbing like a child into his shoulder. The complete surrender of her body was enough to show all in the room that their strong warrior had seen something so hideous that she was having trouble reconciling it with the present. Her choked weeping garnered sympathy from all her supporters and they gathered in a huddle together, conversing about any trivial thing they could think of to take a little pressure off the small group. It did not go unnoticed by Angel and Willow that the other two occupants looked as devastated and shell-shocked as the crumpled blonde, but hadn’t yet let go to their grief.

“Of course, Tara. I think it might be best if we all head to the Espresso Pump for a coffee or something. We will meet you back here in an hour or so.”

By silent consent they all rose to their feet and quietly made steady exit until all was quiet bar Buffy’s hiccuping attempts for control. She reached over and gave Tara a hug, one of thanks but also from a need to express before it was too late. Tears again pooled in her eyes and she raised herself from the floor to walk around the room, hoping for some form of distraction to pull her out of her spiralling depression. Nobody said anything for a while, could say anything, and Buffy felt guilt begin to well inside. Here she was sobbing with abandon when Tara was to soon lose her life, and she was to destroy emotionally the one man who had ever cared enough for her to show true courage and heroism.

“I s’pose there’s no need to worry about unguarded moments of happiness then.” He meant it as a joke, an attempt to lighten the doom suffocating the human occupants of the room: girls, and ones he was to come to have real, and honourable respect for. Tara just looked at him confused, having not heard the story of Angel and his here one minute, gone the next soul problem. He knew things were dire when Buffy didn’t even crack a smile. She dropped to her knees before him, arms wrapped protectively about herself and face glistening wet with sorrow.

“Nothing I ever did for you in the future could explain your devotion to me. I don’t deserve you. Now that you know what happens in the future you have choices. You did all those things out of love, showing devotion to me when I treated you like garbage. You could choose right now to leave us all behind and never come back. It wasn’t getting your soul that caused the apocalypse. You don’t have to hang around and wait for that to happen.” He reached out and took her hand as her voice broke, revealing her great pain, for once inspiring her to resort to words instead of misleading actions. “But if there is any part of you,” she halted, trying to regain control over her voice as she brought the palm of his hand to rest gently against her cheek. “Just a little part of you that might think we could change that, and make it better between us,” the tears now heavy in her voice, “then please stay with me.” And she started crying anew. As a newcomer Tara was unaware of all the little histories bouncing about, but Spike knew what it cost her to make the plea, to ask him to be different to Peaches.

“Can you let him go, Slayer? Ever?” Spike cocked a brow almost in disbelief. There was only a beginning here, but even the violence, her apathetic response to his continued pain, her rejections over and over again, weren’t enough to make him want to forget her and get out of town. Already he couldn’t part from her, and the idea that he and she were joined in some elemental way seemed reinforced in his mind.

“I don’t know, but please let me try? Please Spike, give me the chance?” She would plead as much as she dared, knowing in her heart that there could never be anyone but him for her, but not yet ready to tell him that he was wrong to disbelieve her in the Hellmouth, that she spoke the truth. And this time she would fight for him. With his answering nod and smirk she realised that she had been holding her breath and she gasped in lungfuls of air in her joy and relief. Their eyes clashed with an intensity of feeling, and a little splash of burgeoning desire, but first came realisation and concern for Tara. As one they turned and gathered her close, recognising the glassiness of her eyes and the shock that was seeping into her posture still tethered to the floor.

“Tara,” Buffy whispered, not wanting to startle her. “We know so much, we can change it. We will change it.” The girl slowly returned to her senses and nodded to them with a barely perceptible smile.

“I think, after all this, I-I might get W-Willow to do a f-f-forgetting spell on me. I don’t want to know that I die. I don’t want Willow to know.”

Buffy snorted, a little of her usual banter reaching to reclaim her spirit.

“Really behind you on the keeping Willow in the dark. Well, except for the dark magic, which we so want to steer her away from. Bad witchy Willow. Better remember to keep her away from resurrection spells too, huh! Who’d a thought? Me, heaven!” She gave a little laugh before seeing the bewildered glances of the other two.

“Where’d ya think a Child of Light would end up, pet, if not in heaven?”

“Huh! Never thought about it, I guess.” And her smile was radiant as she beamed at her vampire. “So.” The huskiness in her voice called forth every goose pimple his skin could summons. “Like you said, no need to be on the look out for too much happiness.” She crawled forward and gently pulled his bottom lip between her own, sucking gently on it before releasing it to a very turned on Vampire.

“You’re a tease pet, that’s what you are!” She winked before making sure she had the attention of the third member or their trio.

“It won’t be the same, just remember that.” She had to impress it again, needed to remain on the lookout. She had back-up, she had warning, no one would be lost on her watch, and with Spike and the Scoobies behind her, she wouldn’t even lose herself “Just remember that returning Spike’s soul to him now, in the past, is a reward. Not just for him, but for all of us. We have a chance to change the future, and I think we can agree that what we saw was definitely a future needing a big save. Are we down for that?” At the two agreeable nods she clapped her hands together in relief, then mischief entered her gaze and she turned once again to Tara.

“So, you and Willow are like, gay?”

Chapter Thirteen

The Scoobies arrived back at Giles's flat with such an alarming respect for punctuality that it made Buffy's head spin. She knew they would. The hour or so that Giles had mentioned would never have surpassed that hour when there was apocalyptic news to be had. Nothing would have delayed the inevitable, not even the appearance of an unhinged Slayer. So it was with increasing dread that she took her place in the informal circle, ready to face the inquisition. With unspoken consent, the three memory travellers stuck like glue to each other, now having formed a bond so close that it caused confusion and jealousy to germinate and spread within the two original Scoobies. Angel merely growled low in his chest when he saw Buffy and Spike’s loosely linked hands, but backed off when he received a pointed glare from Giles. Oz, stoic as ever, merely mentioned that he was playing at the Bronze tonight and he really needed to motor. That left Anya on an invisible outer edge, seemingly alongside Angel who had been unable to work out if he still fit into this motley group.

There was silence; no one coughed, no one cleared their throat, no one started sentences with useless "well's", or "Right then's". No, all just looked with unwavering curiosity bordering on voyeuristic glee to Buffy to start them all off and she felt like she had swallowed her tongue. She had no doubt what some of their reactions would be and was also confused about how much she should let on about what was to happen to their little group in the future.

"Well, on the up side, I think I have a short cut to the info on those rascally commando's." She started off trying to be upbeat, but was fully aware that almost all of her future was so unwaveringly bad and screwed up- not so far from the realities of her friends- that she was fearful to even begin to recount their many dysfunctions.

Still, no one spoke; thus Buffy stayed stubbornly silent.

Giles released a pent up sigh, revealing his frustration, but his eagerness was betrayed by his watcher-like enthusiasm over his first question. ‘Unlike in the future, he seems very taken with learning about the anomaly that is Spike,’ Buffy thought almost waspishly. She knew it was unfair to judge, that many things had led to their collective disintegration; many nights filled with jealousy, feelings of incompetence, self-righteousness, inadequacy, and yet, love. Funny. Love is supposed to make all things better, not warp all their minds with possessiveness. Buffy, feeling the thoughts flying through her head nevertheless winced when the voice finally broke through the quiet, and the one question she resented having to answer was asked. In the end, Giles and Angel asked it together, betraying how alike they really were in their concern.

"How did Spike get his soul?"

Buffy cringed at the combined tones of Giles’s academic interest, and Angel’s almost jealous anguish. They clashed in a way that was emotionally unpleasant, and though their expected answer was far from the truth, she felt almost shame that she was the cause of such an event. She almost felt like it was her punishment, forever a reminder that her own evil actions caused a demon to prove his goodness. What had she ever done to prove the same? She had never fought for her soul, it was always just there. That she could take it so much for granted was confronting.

Angel jumped to his feet, wild and angry thoughts flying through his head like a buzzing swarm of bees trying to warn him of danger, but panic had him bypassing reason.

“Who’d he kill to make Willow curse him?”

She turned to look at the vamp beside her. Only a week ago, she wanted to spread his dust in her mother’s garden. Well, at least she had thought about it, maybe even threatened it. Now, all she could see was the pain he went through at the end of her fists, the whippings from her verbal and physical assaults, and one image was burned into memory just like a giant cross was burned across his chest. His rambling incoherence because he thought to get her the most wondrous, beautiful gift of all.

Tears pooled in her eyes as she looked at her first love, the one she had been positive was her soul mate, and shuddered. Angel never fought for her; he never loved her so deeply and truly that he sought ways to anchor his soul forever to be with her. Spike could have easily opted for the curse, but never the easy way for him, he had something to prove, he had to earn it like he believed he had to re-earn her trust. Then when he finally did that last, he sacrificed himself for her, for the Scoobies, and for the world, so that there was a world and that they all could be happy and secure. In doing so he had taken a great chunk of her own soul with him. Her future self could never be happy without him; would be forever torn and fragmented. Now she understood why his soul was sent back in time, not only to save him and reward him with the possibility of her love, but to save her from a dark and shattered existence as well.

The tears slowly slid down her cheeks as she finally released her ties with Angel. She smiled sadly as she turned to the group.

"He got his soul for me."

The awed hush lasted but seconds.

"Yes, Buffy, but was it a curse?" Giles was taking notes; eager for this unique story like he never had been before.

"No curse, he went to Africa," she quirked a brow to Spike in question and he nodded his head to her reassuringly; she was on the right track. "He saw a Demon there who granted wishes after proving their worthiness by undergoing trials. Horrible, dangerous trials." And she gave a revolted shudder, recalling once again the multitude of horrible beetles crawling under his battle-marred skin.

"What was the impetus behind the search, Spike? What happened to make you go and do that?" Giles's curiosity took no prisoners. He ignored the flinch of the peroxided vampire, but Buffy felt it pierce her heart.

"You don't need to know the actual event, Giles."

"Why, Buff? Did he try to kill you in the future? Or rape you? Eat your mother? Snack on the Scoobies? Which one, Buffster? Cause that’s what demons do. Evil things." Xander's jealous venom set Buffy's insides to boil and she felt her anger build toward one cracking big eruption. Beside her Spike had stiffened, waiting for her to expose his crime and thus receive the pointed wooden implement of destruction from any one of those surrounding him. Instead she held his hand tighter; she would never again side with them over him. The simple act of his love should always have been enough, but God she was selfish. She had something so miraculous handed to her on a silver platter and she had abused it every chance that she had. She had accepted his support, his help like he owed it to her. Which of course he didn’t. He was evil, like she reminded him daily, he didn’t have to do anything for her. What closed her so irrevocably that she was blinded to the truth? Did Angel leaving destroy her so totally that she couldn’t risk again, or was it just the fear of trusting another vampire with not only her heart, but also the lives of all her friends? Yes, that was probably it, but Spike had proven himself over and over again far longer than Angel had. He was unencumbered of a soul like Angelus, yet so far from the bloodthirsty psychopath of his Sire that it withstood reason or understanding. Spike was his own vampire, as she should have known all along.

With something near to pity in her eyes she turned to Xander. "What happened is between Spike and me, and is none of your business. But I will tell you this. Spike changed, not to get points or money well not all the time. " She shared an indulgent smile with Spike and Tara before turning flinty, determined eyes back on Xander. "We never acknowledged it. We gave Anya carte blanche with the soulless thing, allowed her past to go unremarked, allowed her to date you with no protest; but we had double standards. Spike tried so hard, he helped us, he saved our lives many times, and we, I, never thanked him, or gave him the encouragement and support we would have given anyone else trying to make themselves better. And trust me Xander, your future isn't of the rosiness either, so back the hell off."

The room was back to that eerie quietness that tilted her equilibrium off centre. Buffy still hadn't righted herself from the spell but the attack from Xander had her feeling like her sanity was swinging in the breeze. Her eyes found Willow and she searched for Tara's hand, the other girl giving her an encouraging squeeze.

Willow had noticed that Buffy's attention had switched to her and suddenly she felt anxiousness curl in her gut, regretting that Oz had to leave her to face whatever was coming alone.

Buffy seemed to hesitate, collecting her thoughts, then in an upbeat voice, began.

"Hey Will, if you ever feel a need to look at resurrection spells? Don't." Willow turned cold inside at the haunted look she saw in her friend’s eyes, and shuddered. Why would I ever do dark magic like that? she wondered, and within seconds her eyes widened like pancake batter in the pan.

"Oh my God. Buffy, do you die?" She asked in such a strained, little voice. Buffy smiled at her sadly.

"Seems to be a little habit I've picked up that I so have to break," she told them, her voice weary and tired. Xander and Willow reached for each other’s hand, horror at the thought of their friend, their mighty warrior succumbing to the fall of battle too awful to contemplate.

"You die and I bring you back? And that's a bad thing?" Willow was crying into her hands now, Xander beside her with a comforting arm around her shoulders.

"I'll say it's a bad thing when you rip the girl from heaven and kill her again on the inside." Spike huffed, deciding to wade into the revelations now that his own story had been bypassed. "Not just you either Red, the other three are with you. But it's you that gets a taste of the dark power and can't control it."

All eyes had settled on Spike and he wondered if perhaps he should have kept his yap shut.

“Huh, Like Darth Vader!” Xander said, cringing on the inside for his inappropriate rush to speak into the void.

"Spike is right. Mr. Giles, I think Willow should undergo some proper training to learn control. She will become extremely powerful, and invaluable to her friends and the world, it wouldn't be fair to let her discover it on her own. Power is too tempting without learning control." Everyone sat dazed at Tara's unstuttered speech, having become used to her shyness and willingness to stay in the background.

"Another thing, Watcher." Spike figured he might as well be in for the pound if the penny was already tossed to the floor. "Don' leave her. You may think she needs to grow up and learn to be independent. You're her bloody Watcher and she'll always need watchin'. She's 'ad enough of people leavin'." Giles sat stunned, abstractly aware of the dig at Angel, but wondering what on earth would possess him to leave his Slayer to cope with the Hellmouth by herself, or rather with this unruly bunch of children.

"And the apocalypse that Spike perished in? Was it brought about by his altering the balance by getting his soul?" Giles had resorted to polishing his glasses in his agitation.

"No," Buffy all but whispered.

"It was Buffy, wasn't it?" Anya spoke up for the first time that night, her thousand years of knowledge coming into play.

All eyes swivelled to stare at her but she didn't know how to be intimidated by their hostility.

"How dare you!" Giles fumed. "Buffy doesn't start apocalypses, she ends them." His lip was curled in fury, eyes flashing hard iciness as Ripper tried to tear himself to the surface.

"Not what I meant," she clarified. "It was us, bringing her back from the dead. Were you really in heaven, Buffy?" And Buffy looked at the girl with a new respect, seeing instead an intelligent woman instead of the ditzy one they had all assumed she was. She had brought the fact into the open that everyone had seemingly ignored when Spike spoke it, too eager to imagine it to be an untruth on the part of the vampire. Buffy was sick of it already.

"Yes," Buffy answered in her tiny voice, and Willow gasped and began to cry, much like Buffy had seen her do in the future when she finally found out the truth.

"Look," Buffy gained courage, wanting to prevent having everyone in tears or resentful. "There is lots of bad just around our corner, but at least now we have a hope of turning it all around. I know why I die, and we can stop it. I know we can. Just like I know how to stop the Initiative."

"The Initiative?" Willow questioned through her sniffles.

"Yeah." Buffy brightened. “That’s why Spike first started hanging around us. The Initiative are those commando guys that kidnapped him. They put a chip in his head to stop him hurting humans."

"Got the soul for that now, 'aven't I. Could ‘av bloody done without the added 'ardware in my noggin."

"Geez, do you speak ze Inglesse?" Xander still couldn't see how he was supposed to just start liking the vamp on Buffy’s say so.

"Sure I bloody do whelp, but I'm stumped with what language you just foisted upon us."

Giles chuckled to himself, distracted at last from his inner musings.

"Right then Buffy, I suppose you should tell us as much about the battles that you can. And anything else you think is important. If we are going to change things then we should hear it all." Buffy nodded her consent, but before she began she thought it was only right to tell Xander something else.

"Xan, don't ever think that you will be like your father. Your insecurity about that could make you lose something precious and make you the most miserable man on earth." Xander looked at her in alarm, not expecting the further chewing out after his first, highly unexpected bitch-slap. Looking into her eyes he saw nothing but sincerity and smiled.

"Forewarned is forearmed, hey Buff?" His skin crinkled at his eyes.

"Hey Giles,” Buffy swung her head to the older man but had her finger outstretched and pointing at Xander. "Xander knows stuff. How come he knows stuff?" And it was just the relief needed to dry up tears, settle nerves and get onto the business of battle plans and saving lives.



A/N I know this is a long chapter, but we have caught up to where this story is anywhere else on the net, but I'm wondering how many people are still reading...so, as usual, feedback soothes the soul...and brings about new chapters....

It was late when the group finally dispersed. Mostly stunned expressions coloured each face, while others, like Anya and Angel, merely looked interested in and perplexed at the events that had unravelled.

Spike had kept the desolation he felt from the images conjured in the spell to himself. He felt torn in two, not sure anymore which Spike he was or could be. He couldn’t help harking back on the fact that it had only been a week ago that he stood in the sun, wondering if he would freckle, and focused entirely on killing the Slayer. He wondered now if there were signs even then that he hadn’t paid attention to, reasons he ignored any attraction, because he couldn’t deny that Dru had warned and rejected him for none other than the Slayer. He knew that after over one hundred and twenty years with his Princess he would not have been thrown away just for his obsession to kill the girl. She had seen more. He nearly choked on his cigarette when her words came back to him, haunting in their truth, making him feel hollow with dread.

‘You taste like ashes,’ she had warned him. Could she really have been predicting his death? Did she cut him off to save herself the pain of losing him, or had he really lost her to Angelus and she no longer cared about who he held in his heart?

He found it difficult to accept that he had prior warning of what he would come to feel for the Slayer. Buffy. Her name felt weird in his mind, let alone on his tongue, but he was oddly elated at the honour of calling her now by name. Hope of love had always sustained him throughout his life and unlife, but in his elongated past, he had never experienced a requited love. Not one that could fulfill every romantic bone in his body. But at last it seemed obtainable, and he was simply mesmerised by the possibility of holding such a beautiful flame of gold in his arms, and hearing words that would bolster his heart into beating. Beating for her. His soul, sought and set to glow for her.

He knew that the Watcher saw him as a puzzle yet to crack, and he had the horrifying thought that he would become not only a footnote and a few pages of historical significance to future Watchers, but a redemptive bedside story for all future slayers. Well, if they didn’t all come to at the same time thanks to Red’s spell and the Watcher’s Council being bombed cinders blowing on the perpetual London wind.

He hadn’t let on to anyone in the room that he felt again the wash of ruin and anguish, even the insanity, that he had experienced the first time round with regaining his soul. He had hoped that it would be easier on him this time, having paid his penance and dealt with the issues of death, murder and destruction that his demon and lack of soul had inflicted on the world for those one hundred and twenty years. The rising tide of gurgling red and the subtle shaking of his body proved to him that it was not going to be an easy merge this time round, either.

So far, he was relieved that Buffy was overcome with guilt for her own future actions, and had thrown herself wholeheartedly into relaying the battle information that could help them in the future. Her preoccupation saved him from central attention, and now that the majority of them had left he felt panic start to bubble again and his body succumbed to bone-jolting shakes. Closing the door behind him, he bypassed the bed he had slept in earlier to crumble into a corner of the room and covered his head with his hands. His mental acuity dimmed as he unwittingly surrendered to the ghosts of his past and his body began to rock back and forth in an attempted soothing gesture. Not successful. Images slammed into him in a violently driven slide show and he clenched his jaw in an effort to control the onslaught and the screaming guilt and pain he wanted to let go of. The rumble in his chest built and built until he could hold it no longer and the tones of his growls bounced around the room, summoning more to arrive and bay his repentive sorrow.

He opened his eyes and saw them: the victims, the enemies. The fun he had had, the torture he had witnessed and revelled in, if only for show to his elders, trying to gain parental approval. The bodies he had fed from appeared in the study, throats torn and gushing with blood pouring freely to the carpet and he jumped forward to try and stop the flow to remove the stains before they became as embedded in Rupert’s flooring as they were in his own soul. He grabbed sheets from the makeshift bed and started rubbing frantically, sobbing hysterically and shouting for them to stop, to get out.

He was unaware when the door slammed open and the three remaining from their momentous night looked at his agitation in horror. Buffy was the first to move, collapsing beside him and trying to embrace his violently arcing body into the security of her arms. At first he pushed her away, his mind fractured and lost, until something far back reminded him that this smell, this softness, was his home. He could be quiet there, safe; she could hold the ghosts away for a short time, enough time for him to rest before they came to visit once more. His body went limp in her arms, not attempting to hold her back but accepting the charity that she offered, his wet face rubbing on her neck like a fearful and repentant puppy.

Buffy raised guilt glistened eyes to Angel and Giles, who remained shocked in the doorway.

“What’s wrong with him? He seemed so, Spike, before. What’s happened to him?”

Her voice broke with her confusion and emotion. She looked to them for answers, but inside she knew, and hated herself for not expecting it. So buried in her own memories of the future and the tremendous pain she inflicted on the ones that loved her, she had intentionally distanced herself from Spike, stupidly thinking that the Powers intended on giving him an easier ride this time out. Perhaps that had been the intention but their own trip into his soul’s past released memories and reactions that should have remained covered. Too late now the damage was done. She should have expected some reaction to his receiving the soul. This was a different Spike to the one she was yet to fall for, not yet tempered or controlled by the love he felt for her, but the events and memories of present and future Spike had become jumbled and she had trouble working out who and what was which.

She held him tighter to her as she felt his arm hesitantly snake around her waist and she kissed his platinum hair as she vainly sought for solutions. Her mind clicked back on something Giles had said about Angel’s appearance. Wasn’t Cordelia’s message something about how he was to help with Spike? Buffy had never felt so stupid in all her life. She had two souled vampires in the same room and she was wondering how she alone planned on making it better. Why did she always think that she was the answer to everything? The guilt sunk a little further into her psyche.

As if he could suddenly read minds, Giles tapped into her and rushed to reassure.

“Cordelia said that Angel was to help you with Spike. Buffy, he needs both of you.” She nodded in sudden understanding and turned wet, pleading eyes to her first love.

He was already at her side and looking at Spike with his own anguish mirrored in his features. Buffy looked on first in fascination then jealousy as Angel tilted his head to Spike’s neck and started a series of growls and licks that calmed his troubled Childe even more. His understanding of Spike’s torment was paramount and Buffy acknowledged that he was probably the one who could offer the most help in Spike’s adjustment, but it did little to lower her rising jealousy of seeing him touch and taste what she so much wanted to herself.

Between the two, Spike had become so relaxed that he barely sniffled before falling asleep against Buffy’s shoulder. They managed to relocate him onto the bed and were about to move out of the room when his whimpers renewed. He thrashed around as if searching for someone and mumbled ‘home, home, Buffy is home. Where is she, where is she?’ he called in such a desperate voice with tears falling down his face, cracking her heart as he called for her. Gently she glided back onto the bed beside him, tucking her smaller frame firm against his chest, her arm holding him tight, her legs tangling possessively with his, and at last he settled.

Not even turning to see if Giles and Angel remained, she asked them to take care of patrol. She sighed on hearing the quiet click of the door closing behind them as they left. They were alone, and she began to cry for all the pain that was felt in the room right then, as well as the pain she feared they could not stop in the future. Useless tears, they needed action, but she was too emotionally exhausted to worry more about it now; just concerned about the vampire her arms lovingly embraced. And on they fell into troubled slumber.

Chapter Fifteen

For a Slayer, passage into sleep is risky business. Not only do they lay prisoner to the Powers That Be for prophetic dreams, but also their lives of violence and fury can come back for replay over and over again. There were several events that Buffy had experienced as recurring nightmares, but they were things she kept to herself. No one knew that she still dreamt of being bitten by the Master, or spearing an ensouled Angel through with a mystical sword. A giant snake had even received airplay, along with the renegade Slayer that she had once called friend; her sister in arms. These, however, were destined to take a back seat once she had opened Pandora’s Box and let the future come out to play.

Lying in the arms of a vampire would normally have felt too wrong for her to remain. Being in Spike’s arms, however, allowed her a euphoric indifference to sleep and she gave no thought to closing her eyes and wrapping herself around him and succumbing to the bliss of rest. Her confidence had steadily built as she held his trembling form within the circle of her arms, whispering fond, or perhaps loving reassurances in his ear, as he continued to sleep soundly. Without fear, she drifted off alongside him. Her focus on him allowed her to forget, but in the land of nod, she no longer could.

Smothered by relentless and dank darkness, she came to with a gasp, desperate to draw breath into her lungs, and quickly realised that there was limited oxygen to sustain her. She felt around and touched soft fabric all around her, above and to the sides of what felt like a long narrow box, and came to the startling conclusion that she was to relive her resurrection. She wasn’t immediately frightened- knowing on some level that this was a dream, but as she began to gasp for much needed air, desperation kicked in. Frantically clawing and tearing to reach wood she used her fists to smash and punch the lid of the box and sobbed in relief as it splintered and gave way. Like reliving a horror movie over again she pulled herself above ground and collapsed on the shredded grass in front of her tombstone.

Her sobbing had stopped but her blood ran cold when she saw the engraved epitaph, She Saved The World A lot! With a little jolt she fell back and hit another tombstone. At first her eyes were too blurred to comprehend what she read, and as they cleared and she understood her body shook with an unwillingness to accept. A fist came forcefully through the grass and she fell back and screamed, but immediately again reached forward to take the hand to help pull out her fellow traveller. They looked at each other, taking in the bleeding knuckles, the dirty matted hair, and the dirty, mud streaked burial clothes.

Spike perched beside her, himself gasping for breath, and with realisation she raised startled eyes to his as she placed a shaking hand to his breast.

“Your heart is beating,” she told him in a broken, distant voice.

“We need to die to live, Slayer.”

“Slayer?” Her voice shook on the single word. She looked back to the tombstone marking the desecrated grave he had left and covered her mouth with shock. William Summers, loving husband and father, He helped her save the world a lot.

And then she laughed.

“Did I kill you? Do you hate me? Is that why you call me Slayer?”

“No sweetheart, you saved me. You will always be Slayer to me, just like I will always be Spike to you. I love you.” And he pulled her into his arms and rained beautiful sweet kisses onto her face. Her lips collided with his forcefully, desperate in her need to reassure herself that he was there, that he was hers, and as her grip tightened he became less firm. She pulled away, her eyes widening in disbelief as he began to shatter into dust.

“No!” she screamed at him. “Don’t leave me! I love you.”

He smiled sadly at her and shook his head.

“No you don’t, but thanks for saying it.” And he was gone, a billowing cloud of dust lifted in the breeze and spread to all ends of the world. Left behind a weeping, hysterical girl trying to cling to particles of air as they drifted away.

“I do mean it,” her raspy voice declared what felt like hours later. “I do mean it. I love you so much. Come back, come back, don’t leave me here alone.” Her broken sobbing continued until light began to filter through the trees and she dragged herself off the ground to her knees, and then to her ridiculously clad feet.

She wandered aimlessly, not caring where she stumbled, having forever lost her light and knowing she would never find her way out of the darkness. Cloistered forever in her own existence.

“I don’t know what I need to survive this,” she whispered to the lightening sky. “I don’t think I can. I don’t think I want to.” Stumbling she hit the steps of a building in a rush to her hands and knees. Looking up she discovered a chapel and looked again at the sky in confusion.

“Um, thanks?” she offered in her daze, and then found her way inside.

Stained glass and a gothic looking crucifix took up all her remaining attention. Realisation hit her like a blow and she frantically searched the shadows for him.

“Spike?” Her voice was raw with continually shed tears and her eyes had trouble seeking him in the dark as the sky that had been reaching dawn now hit night with a daunting perceptibility. He could only exist in the night. His heart did not beat.

He came forward slowly, hesitating on the brink of discovery. His chest bare and glowing in the moonlight and she cringed, knowing that every blight on that skin, every scar and torn piece of flesh, was her reward. This time he needn’t tell her, she was with it that he had a soul burning bright for her, dragging him kicking blindly at the ghosts of the past, clinging to hold him in the dark.

“I wanted to give you what you deserve, and I got it. Now all it does is burn.” And for the second time she saw him burn from the inside, ashy edges creeping out until he was dust at her feet.

“No.” She could muster no more screams though the tears continued to flow in great rivers down her cheeks.

“No Spike, I don’t deserve this. I loved you without a soul, I will always love you. You are mine, and I am yours. I’m sorry, so sorry I made you do this, made you prove to me what I already knew, believed. I lacked courage, Spike. Courage to love you. To acknowledge you. To be with you. God, please bring him back. I need him so much. He is my soul, my light, but I was too stupid to know.”

She crawled forward to the cross that she knew in reality he would burn on his chest for relief. For rest. Touching it softly with her fingertips, she was jolted with a charge so strong that her fingers reflexively curled around the wooden surface of the crucifix, unable to let go. His memories flooded her, the blood, the death, the horror and the screams, his fear, his hate, his sex, his glee, and his love. Too much, again too much, and as she relived his past, and felt his pain from regaining his soul, she encompassed the insanity that was him and understood the man behind the monster with a finality of passage. She took it all into herself, sharing the load, and wailing all the way.

Suddenly she was dragged back from the cross and engulfed in the warmth of acceptance and love.

“She shall look on him in forgiveness, and everybody will forgive and love. He will be loved.” Spike smoothed her sodden hair away from her glistening cheeks and pressed a light kiss to the corner of her mouth.

Opening her eyes, she beamed her intentions to him. “I will forgive and love,” she whispered and they kissed slowly, the barest brush of lip to lip.

And in the doorway stood, with one heart racing in shock, a stunned Watcher and a furious vampire.

Chapter Sixteen

In all the years that Rupert Giles had been a Watcher, in all the years he had sat in the front row of paranormal, he had never expected to have two vampires taking up residence in his home. His experience had always been that they were vicious, murdering vermin that had to be killed, or in turn be killed. He had experienced much however, so on his first encounter with Angel he felt wary but accepting. Especially when faced with the offer of help in protecting his young charge.

Knowing and accepting the inevitable early death of a Slayer, he had still been devastated on uncovering the prophecy warning of the Slayer’s loss in a battle with the Master. But in all his years, he had never been prepared for a Slayer like Buffy Summers. In his continual astonishment at her attitude towards slaying, and the inclusion of her friends in the mission, he had found himself in the centre of a band of merry mini slayers that had all gone beyond the call of friendship to protect the world. Their motivation was of course survival, but also the value they placed on the life of Buffy. They wanted to protect her, and he knew they would never give up on her.

But when it came to her relationship with Angel, they had been split. Of course, they had remained beside her, but post-Acathla certain members of the group would never be accepting of the words ‘soul’ and ‘vampire’ in the one entity. Oddly enough, he was finding that he might not be one of that side. The more he was seeing of Spike’s remarkable transformation, the more he accepted this incredible joining of spirit between his Slayer and the former Master. In fact, he was hard pressed through the night to not stick out his tongue at Angel and go ‘nerny nerny ner ner!” Of course he stopped himself, not having the emotional wherewithal to put up with any more scowling tonight.

When they had found Spike on the floor of the study, scrubbing frantically at non-existent blood stains, his Watcher hat had been firmly in place. He couldn’t deny that he had been studying the vampire all night, noticing his flinches and starts when certain events of his future were brought up. He also noticed the familiarity between Buffy and the vampire, a familiarity that should have been impossible based on the combative relationship the two had shared up till now. He could only explain it by what Tara had claimed, was it only yesterday? They did indeed appear to belong together.

The Watcher in him could not ignore the mystical evidence they had so far witnessed, the non-igniting flame when their hands touched, the crimson mist that had surrounded them when they kissed, even the spell that seemed to bring them back more united than before they had begun. He could see Buffy’s emotions change and her acceptance grow before his eyes, and with a certainty that the man in Giles wanted to deny, he knew that Tara was right. The love he saw blossom in front of his eyes held maturity and a sense of right that was lacking from the melodrama that was Angel and Buffy.

He could sense the depth, and to top it all off, the deed itself of fighting for his soul, was enough for Giles to decide to be supportive. A demon seeking a conscience to protect his mortal enemy… why it was almost amusing if it wasn’t so romantic, and Giles wasn’t so long in the tooth that he couldn’t appreciate romance. Xander would stand alone in his ‘vampire equals bad’ club.

Giles would give the blonde a chance, just as he’d given Angel. His easy sanctifiction may have had a little to do with the fact that needn’t be on guard about Spike losing his soul; for whatever reason. Buffy deserved this; she had earned it with her tireless devotion to her calling.

So, it might have started out as Watcher enthusiasm for study, but once Buffy had placed her arms around the vampire’s shaking form and murmuring madness, it was his father’s role that he felt teared up at seeing the pain of his daughter’s love. Spike had had a rough time of it the previous night, his acclimatisation to the soul in itself was difficult and he knew even frightening to the vampire but he had been served a double whammy with this chip inhibiting his natural tendencies. Though it was an added safeguard that could enable Xander to be more accepting at least, he knew that if Spike were to be a proper member of their little entourage, and be useful in the fight, he would need the chip removed.

Some of the events that Buffy had relayed about their future made his skin crawl, and he wondered how things could have gotten so out of control. The Ripper in him wanted to blame the chipped vampire, for with his arrival he brought bad luck and the destruction of their unity, but he knew it wasn’t fair and that he attributed too much to Spike. Still, he shuddered at the trials ahead, and knew that they would need an unimpaired Spike behind them.

His mind had been reeling from all the information Buffy had recounted. They had learned a lot from the spell, probably a lot that the three participants had even kept to themselves. He knew though that it was wrong to delve into the future, though, and he feared the possible consequence. One thing stuck though, and he vowed first thing to set in motion instruction for Willow. One thing they did not need was for her to lose control and turn to darkness. He could never forgive himself if he allowed that to happen. No, they would do whatever it took to prevent some of those awful events from coming to fruition. That had to be the meaning behind the journey. Behind the pain.


It was evident by Spike’s hidden fall into insanity that the Vampire was experiencing as much anguish with the return of his soul than he had previously. He couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps their sojourn into the future perhaps mucked up the vampire’s reward. Then again, contrary to Cordelia’s warning from the PTB, up to this point they could have handled the Spike situation swimmingly. So, it appeared that it was expected that they would seek answers, and indeed it would have been imprudent for them to not try and understand the nature of his soul. Thus, Angel had come in handy at trying to soothe the lost vampire, even though they both could see Buffy’s anger that he could offer something she couldn’t; acceptance and care from a Sire.

‘Angel will be important for Spike’s adjustment, as well as instruction for Buffy,’ he had thought, when they had both heard the screams come from the sleeping pair. They had rushed to the room to find Spike lucid and soothing the sobbing girl, and he had his first inkling of why Angel would be elemental in the recovery of the pair. Without hearing of the Slayer’s dream, he suspected he already knew of its meaning. She had taken on some of the vampire’s pain from his crimes, and though Giles clenched his teeth angrily that she would have had to see such carnage and vileness, he knew it was necessary. When they kissed, Angel standing fuming beside him, Giles knew that it would be their love that would help them get though it. She needed to see what his demon really was, see how remarkable his act of sacrifice for her was in searching to replace his soul for her. And Giles felt furious hatred toward himself for the tosser he was to become in trying to guilt his Slayer away from this all empowering acceptance and love. With a guilty start, he realised that as much as the self-proclaimed Scoobies loved and wanted her, none of them could come close to this acceptance, this faith. Not even Angel, which was why he had never deserved her.

Aware that they were witnessing a very private and emotionally traumatic moment for the pair, Giles dragged Angel from the room and quietly shut the door.

Wanting to offer my gratitude to my fantastic Betas, Holly and enigmaticble, who have encouraged me to check, double check, and then triple check everything.

Also, reviews are fantastic...they are like writer's cocain...I'm addicted. Let me know what you think.





Chapter Seventeen

Strolling across the front lawns of campus, Buffy revelled in the sunny rays warming her face. Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back and smiled. It didn’t feel like a day of missed classes- more like a week- but here she was, after her whole life had turned around, walking to her last day of classes before Thanksgiving break. Just one class this morning before she had to head home and talk to her mom about some things, mainly things dressed head to toe in black, with almost glowing white hair and an open invitation to their house. The grin wouldn’t leave her face whenever she thought of him and she marvelled at how different things were today. Just several days ago she had hoped he finally had decided to stay out of town.

God, she couldn’t forget his mouth. Boy, could he kiss… and then some. She was counting down the hours till she could get back to Giles’s, wait for sundown to either go with Spike, or send Angel out on patrol, and have some quality time alone with those lips. Mmm, Spike lips, lips of Spike. She wondered if he had awoken yet, and if he was thinking about her. It was a sunny day, and she was totally going to block any unpleasant thoughts of prophetic dreams and anguish connected to soul having, just for the occasion. It could work.

Still in her happy daze she spied Willow in the distance, seemingly on edge, talking with that guy Riley. Buffy furrowed her brow in confusion, and that strange feeling of melting between her present and future self occurred right there on the grass. She was amazed at the amount of information she had picked up about what her life was to be like from the spell, and now she recognised that Riley had played a rather large and significant part in it. She hadn’t thought of it before; so many other events seemed tremendously more important than another relationship gone wrong-particularly one that she hadn’t really invested that much emotional energy into. She couldn’t fool herself; she had sought normal, and despite his connection to the Initiative and all the icky stuff sprouting from that experience, he was super normal wrapped up in boring brown paper even lacking the decorative bow.

It was kind of reassuring to have the guessing gone, as she was being forced to see what was good for her. She had obviously been blind to have missed the potential in Spike. Then again, she couldn’t help thinking that her stubbornness probably would have forced her to overlook him even now with the soul, if the Powers hadn’t forced their hand and they hadn’t learnt so much about their future. Already knowing that she would love him in the time to come made it so much easier to decide to take the risk now, but she still needed to take it slow.

Her intensive thinking had taken her all the way to Willow’s side, and the two girls both gave a startled gasp at realising they had met up.

Willow smiled a little at Buffy’s wide grin, always pleased when her friend was happy. The events of the past two days had been intense and emotionally exhausting; Willow couldn’t deny that her confusion hadn’t lessened. She knew what Tara had told her about the connection between Buffy and Spike, and boy, she could see it every time she looked at the two of them together. But it was still kind of hard to trust the vamp who had held a broken bottle in her face and threatened to kill her and Xander. She could understand Xander’s strong reluctance to take anything the vamp claimed to heart. Buffy’s happiness was important, though. As important as Xander’s feelings-and hey, he had Anya, the unrepentant, orgasm-bragging, she-devil herself. If they could be happy, then well, so could Buffy. And like a flare in the dark, the light flashed on and she understood. And she could accept. They had taken Angel back, hadn’t they? And Spike hadn’t actually killed anyone she knew. So it should be easier. Besides, Giles had already started the process. After all, Spike did save the world, or was going to save the world, or, well, he did something about saving the world at some point in time.

Willow shook her head, having gotten her internal monologue into a bit of a muddle, and came back with a start at being addressed.

“Hey, Will. Looked like you zoned out there for a second.”

Willow looked at Buffy in gratitude, and indicated Riley beside her.

“Riley was just saying that he was going home for break.”

“Oh, that would be so great. At least you get to leave Sunnydale for a little while. Where are you from?” Buffy wasn’t really thinking about her questions, nor was she listening to the answers, but she was observing the man that spoke nonetheless. She was confused. How had she ended up dating him in the first place? There were too many similarities to her first vampire love, and that was kind of creepy when she looked at it objectively. She looked at him…could she pick a body type and stubbornly stick to it, or what? They both were irrationally consumed with dislike for Spike, and well, for most demon interaction they acted first, thought later. It was a startling revelation that the both of them may have had more impact on her own thinking and actions towards demons than perhaps Giles, or her own free thought.

“Iowa. So you’re staying here for the holidays?” She could hear the hopefulness in his voice and cringed a little, knowing that it couldn’t go anywhere.

“Absolutely. My mom is going out of town so I’m cooking at Giles’s.”

Willow looked at her in shock.

“Um, Buff, have you ever cooked anything before?”

“Well, toast, that one time. Um, not really anything big, but how hard can it be? It just needs planning, and recipes, and hey, I’m really good with the planning.” She pouted, but stopped abruptly when she caught Riley’s focused look at her lips.

Willow just raised an eyebrow and started to wonder how she could get out of the big dinner Buffy had planned. First things first, if they didn’t get going they would be late for class. Saying goodbye to Riley and ignoring his look of disappointment, they made their way inside the building to find their lecture room.

Suddenly realising that this was the first time she had the chance to talk to Willow since the spell, Buffy’s mind was flooded with a hundred questions it suddenly seemed urgent to ask her. She settled for what she thought was the most important.

“How’s Tara?”

Willow looked at her suspiciously but decided to probe more into the missing information gleaned, but not relayed, from the spell.

“Are you sure there wasn’t some things you missed out last night that you still need to share?”

“Ah, that would be a big no.” Buffy looked anywhere but at Willow, but heard the redhead’s sigh and released her own breath in relief. No inquisition today. No having to relate the morbid news, or tell too much of the Big Bad Willow. Avoidance was the name of her game. Avoidance, thy name is Buffy. Man, she was good.

And Willow was back to answering about Tara.

“She’s fine, though she wanted me to perform a forgetting spell. Did she see something bad happen to her in the future?” Willow was worried now, not having thought much about the request earlier when the high of knowing she was going to be a powerful witch took over.

“What? No! Well, kind of. But see, we’re changing everything, remember? I don’t die, Tara won’t die, Spike won’t die. It’s all good.” Fear had made her blurt out the truthful litany: the one that Tara had specifically wanted to be kept quiet and Buffy felt like giving herself a Slayer kick in the ass for being so stupid and self-obsessed. Her rambling self-blame stopped abruptly as Willow grabbed her arm hard.

“What happens then?” she asked, her voice fearful and wobbly.

“Ah, this is where the ‘going to the dark side’ has a whole new meaning for Willow Rosenburg.”

Willow’s eyes shot open as large and round as dollar coins.

“Oh my God, what do I do?”

Buffy smiled reassuringly at her friend.

“You don’t need to worry about any of that, Wills. Giles is looking into places you can go to get trained up properly, okay? So, no need to worry. Nothing will happen to Tara, or any of us. Everything will be fine.” As she said it a cold shiver ran down her spine and she crossed her fingers that indeed they could change it. The Slayer was determined; they would not lose Tara. And if Spike were to perish again, she would stay in that damn Hellmouth and go with him. She was not giving him up.

At the end of the lecture, or at least after Willow had given her a not so subtle elbow to the ribs to wake her, she made her way out and through Sunnydale to her house. She arrived to find her mother packing a case for her trip, and she plonked down on the bed and watched Joyce collect her toiletries. The look she received from the older woman was indulgent and they both just smiled for a moment, happy to be in each other’s company.

With a sigh, she knew that she had to tell her mother what had been going on over the past few days- the telling at first getting caught in her throat as she tried to decide whether to tell the truth about her mother’s illness. The many deaths rose up to smother her and she panicked. Jumping from the bed, she started to pace a little in front of the door, ready to take off if she needed to. In the end, she forced herself to calm down and sat back on the side of the bed again, noticing that Joyce had already taken a seat at the other end but still faced her, waiting patiently for Buffy to tell what was wrong. Buffy had never been this nervous before so she suspected it must be something big.

“Spike is back in town.”

Joyce smiled indulgently at remembering the hot chocolate-loving vampire.

“Did he get that dreadful girl back that he was heartbroken over?”

“Dru? Of course not.” Joyce sat back calmly at the foot of her bed intrigued that Buffy wasn’t yelling and pacing like she normally would have been at the news that Spike was back in town.

“Is he trying to kill you again?” she asked, a low level of concern evident in her voice. But Buffy thought she sounded a bit like she wouldn’t believe it, even if she was presented with a bleeding Buffy with Spike’s fangs still protruding from her neck.

“You are worried about that, aren’t you?” Buffy asked a little resentfully. “You do remember he is a vampire, don’t you?”

“Why of course, Buffy. But he isn’t your average vampire, is he? I mean, how many vampires do you know who pour their hearts out to the mother of their greatest enemy while sipping on hot chocolate with marshmallows? I think he’s a pussycat if you just get under all the, um, leather.” Joyce looked sideways at Buffy’s shocked look and was smug with the inspiration to tease her daughter. Sometimes she worried that Buffy took life a little too seriously.

“He has a soul now,” Buffy blurted, appalled at her mother’s admiring remarks. Knowing of her escapades with Giles was way enough reality about her mothers sex life. Only Buffy could think of getting under Spike’s leather. It was just a matter of time.

“Oh?’” Joyce asked inquisitively. “How did that happen? Did he get cursed by Gypsies like that horrible Angel?”

Buffy watched her mother very closely.

“No, he got it for me. To give me what I deserve.”

Oh,” Joyce said again. She seemed genuinely speechless. She blinked. “Is he in love with you?”

“Not now, but he is in the future.” Joyce was falling into a cloud of confusion.

“What do you mean?”

Buffy sighed but sat down and over the next hour told her mother everything leading up to the spell, and even beyond. The more she told, the more her anguish grew, spraying out information like a shaken bottle of coke, and by the time she stopped, her mother had a horrified look on her face.

“Buffy, I don’t know anything about aneurisms, but we can be on our guard about this and make sure I get treatment as soon as possible.” As far as she could tell, there was no scepticism in her mother’s voice, nothing but belief and Buffy gulped down one heavy throatful of relief that she was able to now put on hold. Her mother was going to take responsibility for this one load, lightening her burden by degrees. “And you, young lady, really need to work on your intuition. I told you Spike was different. And to think he did all that for you. You are so blessed to have that kind of devotion from a man. Do you know where he is going to be living? We have the spare room, or there’s the basement if he thinks it might be safer.” Buffy looked at her mother in compounding nervousness.

“Um, not that those aren’t really great ideas, but I don’t think it would be such a hot idea for Spike and me to live so close to each other.” Joyce gave her daughter a disappointed look.

“I thought you said that you care for him. That you’re friends with him now. Don’t you think shutting him out is a little selfish considering all he will do for you in the future?”

“It’s not like that. There is major sparkage between us. I just think that it might be difficult for us to take things slowly if he lived here.”

“But Buffy, you live on campus, remember. It would just be me here.” Buffy’s eyes widened in realisation; her mother envisioning what was under Spike’s leather. Even though she suspected that Joyce had been teasing her…she couldn’t help but feel her mother might be developing a predilection for British accents. Nope, definitely not of the good.

“I think Angel has offered his old place near the Bronze,” she threw in desperately, trying to derail her mother from getting too interested in having Spike under her roof.

“So,” Buffy interjected, striving hard to change the subject. “Thanksgiving. At Giles’s place. Whole gang. Got any recipes?” And they wandered into the kitchen, Joyce spouting all the hard and fast rules of serving up the perfect turkey and traditional accompaniments.

Chapter Eighteen

Spike sat on the sofa watching an old television set, trying to not turn every five minutes to look at the door. Buffy would be by, he knew, but the waiting was becoming intolerable. His easy acceptance of her in his life, and his need to see her felt almost too much to bear- especially after what had happened between them the previous night. He needed someone to relieve him from the Watcher’s endless questioning: how was he feeling? What differences could he identify from his previous lifestyle to now? What did his soul feel like? If not for the Watcher, though, he would have uninterrupted Angel time, and that was truly getting on his last nerve. As it stood, he was getting bloody desperate for Buffy to come barreling to his rescue.

“So, Buffy has taken on some of your guilt, then?” Giles queried.

“That’s what it felt like, an’ I don’ feel quite so overwhelmed now. Feel a bit sorry for ‘er, though.” Spike’s voice was gruff, trying without being too rude to get the Watcher’s questions to cease.

“That is just utterly fascinating.” Giles sucked on the end earpiece of his glasses thoughtfully. “I wonder if the Powers had this all marked out in the first place. I don’t believe that you were meant to suffer as you undoubtedly did the first time you received it.”

“Doesn’t feel right, though, does it?” Spike decided to just give in, recognising the perfect opportunity to try and solve some of his own riddles.

“How do you mean?”

“Well, few days ago I would ‘ave eaten you, no questions asked. Shouldn’t I be paying with pain and torment to make sure I’ve learned the bloody lesson and not go after human food now?”

Giles sat perplexed. “I think that this connection you have with Buffy, and even the reward of your soul, seems to have accelerated your progress. Do you want to eat me now? Or Buffy?”

Spike felt himself turn green, nauseated by the idea. But then the image of eating Buffy made him harden in his pants and he grinned wickedly at the Watcher.

“I m-mean kill. Not eat, kill. Yes, that is what I meant.” Giles cleared his throat and looked around the room on a sudden wave of embarrassment.

“The thought of killin’ anyone right now, Rupert, makes me feel like stakin’ myself. But this meld thing, it makes me feel a bit wonky. I mean, I know who I was before, but now I ‘ave all these images of myself in love with the Slayer…risking my unlife for you lot, time and again. Somewhere in ‘ere I know that with the natural progression of things we would have gotten to this point, but I have these feelings like I ‘ave already experienced that life, and it scares the crap out of me ‘cause some of it was really ‘orrible. For all of us. I sorta don’ know which Spike I am anymore. Why couldn’t the Powers have let me know that?”

Spike had been sitting still too long and he jumped to his heavy boots and started pacing around the small room. Angel had remained quiet, casting gloomy looks toward his Childe, angry that Spike seemed to be having it so easy, and getting the girl to boot. Truthfully, he was silently more steamed that Spike got Buffy. He didn’t give her up for this. What could he do, though, if the PTB willed it? It seemed pretty obvious that Buffy wasn’t meant to be his final reward.

“What about Buffy? It isn’t fair that she has to know about all of your murdering frenzies from over the years.” Angel sat in the armchair; arms crossed over his chest, and glowered. Suddenly, he jumped to his feet.

“You know Giles, I think the crisis has been averted. Time for me to head on back to LA.”

Giles and Spike looked at him like he’d grown a second head.

“Ah Peaches, it’s still a bit sunny out there…” Spike let the suggestion hang in the air, and grinned in amusement when the pin finally dropped and Angel slumped back into his seat.

“I think I might go brew us some tea.” Giles clambered to his feet and thus made good his inspired escape to the kitchen.

Spike narrowed his eyes and turned a hard, bitter look on his Sire.

“You just gonna walk out and not even tell ‘er goodbye?”

Angel flinched.

“I’m not good with goodbyes,” was his only answer as he looked anywhere in the room but at Spike.

They both jumped as the door slammed and Buffy came bouncing through.

“Angel, can Spike live at your old apartment near the Bronze?” Buffy turned a radiant smile to Angel as she took a seat on the sofa beside Spike.

“Ah, yeah. Sure. I guess so.” Angel stumbled, not really wanting Spike to have his place but not being able to think up a reasonable excuse to refuse off the top of his head.

“Oi, what’s wrong with the crypt?” Spike didn’t really want to live in Angel’s old place, either.

“No way, no crypt. If you don’t stay at Angel’s, then my mother wants you to stay at our house.”

“An’ what’s wrong with that? I like your mum.”

Buffy turned to him, determination stiffening every limb of her body.

“There is no way you will be staying alone in a house with my mom.”

“Right then.” Spike got slowly to his feet, his eyes revealing his hurt belief that she didn’t trust him. “Angel’s it is.” And with that he headed to the study and his makeshift bed.

Buffy looked at Angel apologetically, shrugged her shoulders, and grinned.

“Hey,” she said as she suddenly thought of something. “Aren’t you usually asleep now? It isn’t even lunch time.”

“Spike wanted to watch television. Who could sleep through that?” He offered a conciliatory smile, glad that Spike hadn’t told her that he was about to leave again without saying goodbye.

“Shouldn’t he be sleeping too?”

Angel raised an eyebrow and offered her his own little smirk. “You don’t know Spike too well yet, do you?”

“No. Not yet.” She gave an excited little giggle and headed after Spike.

She found him sitting in the middle of the pull out bed, eyes trained on the bare wall like he was studying the Mona Lisa. She crawled along the bed and kneeled beside his legs.

“You took it the wrong way, you know.” She reached over to take his hand and let out a breath of relief that he didn't pull away. He didn’t turn to look at her, but his thumb began to stroke the skin over her knuckles and a flame of pure heat shot through her.

“An’ what way did you mean?”

“She was interested in seeing what was underneath the leather,” Buffy told him, amusement making it difficult for her to not laugh. She squealed as he grabbed her around the waist and hauled her into his lap, his eyes single-mindedly focused on her lips.

“Is that right?”

Buffy was having her own trouble looking anywhere but at his full lips, licking her own in anticipation, suddenly knowing that she had never wanted anyone’s kiss quite as much as she did his. Never craved contact with anyone else’s mouth quite like this. Her heart was pounding as she felt herself drawn to him, magnetically attracted to his lips, no negative charge in sight.

“Yup,” she answered, and she was lost as her lips collided with his, her palms resting flat on his chest. With a subtle shift closer she opened her mouth and invited him to explore her heat further. His tongue stroked her bottom lip, causing shivers to erupt from every skin cell, and then dived into her mouth. Their tongues didn’t fight, knowing that this was a slow and steady kind of race, but her hands slid up to and around his neck in a similar motion as her tongue sought to entwine with his. She curled her fingers in his hair, mystified at its softness, and moaned loudly into his mouth at feeling the barest brush of fingertips stroke the skin under the hem of her top as goosebumps raced across her surface. She was undone, but glad that he took it slow, knowing she would go further if enticed, but not entirely sure if she was ready. After the Parker debacle, she felt a need to take things slowly.

Somewhere in the background they could hear the telephone ring, but it wasn’t until an embarrassed cough at the door had them pulling reluctantly apart. Giles stood in the doorway, frantically polishing his glass lenses, as he looked at the floor. And just like that, she was torn away form bliss again.

“What’s the what, Giles?” She turned to him, slowly extricating herself from Spike’s arms, and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Er, that was Willow. It would seem that she has had an unpleasant confrontation with Oz and the girl from that band, Veronica was it?”

“Veruca,” Buffy supplied, her heart sinking in sudden apprehension.

“Yes, quite. She asked you to go and meet her, Buffy. She sounded quite upset.”

Buffy gave a longing look to Spike, before leaning over to kiss him softly.

“I’ll be back soon,” she whispered against his lips. And then she was gone, Spike looking wistfully after her.

Chapter Nineteen

Buffy sat on Willow’s bed holding the redhead’s hand and wondered how everything had gone so wrong. It wasn’t like they hadn’t had warning. Willow had told her of her suspicions, but she had blown them off, trusting in Oz before her own best friend. Watching Willow’s tears fall and hearing her choked off sobs tore at Buffy’s heart, and she felt like slapping herself for her stupidity. She should have listened. Willow would not be so broken now if she had. She lay down beside her friend and pulled her into her arms, and they cried; Willow for lost love, and Buffy for lost friends. Infidelity was one thing, but Oz had killed now. Perhaps the boundaries were a little blurred because Veruca was also a wolf, but it was there all the same.

The two girls remained lying on the bed for a long time, the room remaining dark. They flinched when there was a knock on the door, and tacitly agreed to ignore it. Several minutes went by until Buffy began to feel the silence to be stifling rather than reassuring when in juxtaposition with the frenzied activity on the other side of the dorm door. She sat up and sent Willow a cautious smile.

“I should get to Giles’s and let him know what’s happened with Oz. Do you wanna come with? Or I could go get Tara to come sit with you?”

Willow shook her head no and forced a fake smile of conviction.

“No, I’m fine. Think I’ll just go to sleep.”

Buffy nodded sadly and left, clicking the door softly behind her. She turned and bumped into Riley.

“Oh!” She looked up at him and her mind went blank. “Um, Riley. What can I do for you?”

“Actually,” he stumbled, opening his mouth to say something then closed it quickly as if he had suddenly changed his mind. “I wanted to talk to Willow. Is she in?”

Buffy blinked in surprise, her mind on vacation, too tired and sad to think.

“Now’s not a good time. She needs some time on her own.”

“Oh, of course. So, Buffy, I was thinking that…”

“Look Riley, I’m sorry if I’m being rude, but I have to go and talk to someone about a situation. It’s rather important.” She saw his crushed face and suddenly remembered where this was leading to. “Look, we can have a coffee or something later, or when you get back from break?” She tried to smile, but her heart wasn’t in it. All of a sudden she felt an intense need to get back to Spike, to reassure herself that he was still here, that he still had a soul, and the whole love thing wasn’t just a dream she had made up over the last couple of nights.

“Sure, that sounds great.” Buffy blinked, surprised to find that she was still standing in front of him. “I’m leaving for Iowa tomorrow. Have some things to do first.”

“Okay,” she told him before tossing “Have a good holiday,” over her shoulder as she headed out of the dorm.

Once she got outside and crossed the grass to the road, she stopped and thought again of the image of Oz going for Willow. She almost hadn’t made it in time. If that commando hadn’t slammed into her then she could have been there to sedate both of them. Seeing the other wolf Veruca with her throat torn out was enough to make Buffy sick. Not because of the carnage, but because Willow would have been next. She was just grateful that Oz had been filled with enough rage and protectiveness toward his girlfriend to go for Veruca first. She shuddered to think how it might have been with both of them going for Willow. Luck had held out for the Scoobies once again.

With a jolt of insight, Buffy stopped her progress to Giles’s remembering the commando. Could he have been Riley? She didn’t know what to think of the Initiative, or more particularly Riley. She knew, due to the spell, what they were capable of, and what monster would be released because of her psycho lecturer, Dr. Walsh. But what about Riley? On the one hand, she was angry about the chip. The chip plus the experimentation they did on demons and the way they interfered with her job. But in the path her life had been on, before Spike was granted his soul ahead of schedule, she had forgiven Riley and allowed him to be part of the Scoobies while making sure Spike stayed on the periphery. With a little snort of amusement, she wondered where that word had sprung from and continued on her way. But if not for the chip, Spike could never have proven himself to her, fallen in love with her, and sought his soul for her. The world may not have been lost without him; Angel most likely would have been her champion. But that seemed wrong. Her heart told her that Spike was meant to be this vampire that she found now. He was meant for redemption. Ultimately, he was meant for her. Angel wasn’t, and never had been.

The thing was, Spike was different. Not just from getting his soul. Receiving it out of the blue, like Angel had received his, would have been devastating, and she had a sudden sympathy for the one hundred years of shame and grief Angel must have suffered after the curse; before he was able to get a handle on it and fight for good. No, the Spike she had been battling for the past year and a half would have been destroyed if it had happened in that way, rendered useless and insane. She recognised now that the Spike of now and the Spike of the future were blended in some way. And she was glad. Glad for so many things. She was glad that the Powers had returned to him his soul that they had given Spike another chance at existence. That they had given both of them a chance at happiness and love.

Though the Scoobies didn’t know, she had learnt from the spell that their future did not embrace Spike. Not until it was too late. She had difficulty containing the revulsion she felt for herself, let alone her various friends, for the way they had been going to treat him. Not for the first time, she wondered how he could have loved her. She had felt his soul exist through the spell, and also when they gripped hands and allowed sparks to flame while at the Hellmouth, and she knew, deep in her gut, how profound his love for her was. She suddenly felt like a criminal at stealing this chance and his affection while knowing that she didn’t deserve it, but wanting it so much all the same.

She knew that it wasn’t just Spike who had been changed from this. She felt the residue of grief; for her mother, for being torn from heaven, from losing the man she loved before she could make him believe in her. But most of all, in the change of her personality and her spirit that allowed her to be cruel, and distant, and hateful. She wanted so much to change it all starting with acceptance and tolerance for the little she understood even as the events of the day made her stumble.

Things she had never really thought of started to tumble rapidly though her mind. Oz had a demon, Oz had now killed; did he have a soul? Anya was a demon, she had done worse than all, existing for so much longer than even Angel, and she had not shed a single tear for her past. Did she have a soul? And if they did have them, and they weren’t distraught over their activities past or present how could she be sure that Spike wouldn’t fall with one? That his guilt wouldn’t remain motivating? He had already shown more remorse than Anya, and she herself knew what he had to pay for, visions of his past flashing periodically behind her eyes, causing rivers of freezing ice to grate against her spine. She was learning to block, but the horror was inescapable sometimes. But she would embrace it, if only to lighten his load. For they would need him strong, and focused, and loving.

Ah, the things one does for love. And that thought brought her up sharp. That was the whole point. She loved him. Not in the future, but now. But these feelings frightened her. She might have let go of her fantasy reunion with Angel; she knew that she belonged now with Spike, but something held her back. Not that she could remember that when she laid eyes on him, or better, when he kissed her. When that happened she felt transformed, and all her fears melted away. And in a sudden epiphany, she had it. She still clung to those images of being left; by her father, by Angel, and the melded images of Riley and her mother. Her hesitation had a human background, nothing supernatural that she should be on her guard about. So, with a sigh of relief, she continued on to her destination: Spike.

Authors happy note....

Ahhh, guess what, we aren't quite half-way yet...but it's close...but really need to hear more of what people are thinking...Review, review, review

Chapter Twenty

Buffy was both surprised and grateful to find Xander already at Giles’s when she finally got there. There were no surprise reactions at the news of Oz, but a round of bowed heads shared in the sorrow that their friend was now experiencing.

“Do you think Willow will be okay on her own, Buffy?” Giles, the paternal figure of the group, was naturally concerned for her welfare, but it was with awkwardness that he contemplated any sympathetic gesture.

“Best to leave ‘er alone when she has ‘ad that kind of ‘eartbreak,” suggested Spike and Buffy took his hand in hers for her own comfort. She ducked her head in resignation as soon as Xander opened his mouth, predicting correctly when his snarky comments hit the room.

“Well, you’d know all about heartbreak, wouldn’t you, Evil Dead? Let’s hope Willow doesn’t rush out and grab some poor unsuspecting witch and her buddy to threaten to death unless they produce a love spell.”

Spike scoffed. “I let them find you, didn’ I?”

“That is so not the point right now. And Xander, the spell thing? Already in the out basket.”

Xander’s eyes widened in shock.

“She did a spell?”

“I think she was going to do a spell. She was in the lab when I found Oz, and there were broken test-tube thingies on the bench. Either she failed or she decided against it. I didn’t want to ask her that on top of everything else. We took Oz to the cage and went back to our room. She really didn’t speak much. But Giles…” Buffy turned to find his head still in his hands and she felt anxiety over all the things they had had to deal with in the past couple of days. “That witchy stuff? I think you need to get on it like soon. Oh, and one of those Initiative guys got in my way. I nearly didn’t get there in time. We need to close that show down before their evil Frankenstein decides to take it on the road.”

Numerous heads around the room began to nod wearily and Buffy suddenly realised that it had been days since she had last patrolled. She let go of Spike’s hand and stood, taking a stake from her jacket pocket, she twirled it experimentally.

“Think I should head out, stake a few vamps, follow a few commandos. Oh!” A sudden memory coloured her voice in disappointment. “I saw Riley when I left earlier. I think a lot of the Initiative are heading out for Thanksgiving, so there might not be anyone out there patrolling tonight.”

Spike jumped up in front of her. “No reason for me not to come out with you then, is there, gorgeous?” His enticing grin held no prisoners.

Buffy’s logical argument for him to stay put died right there on her lips, her body tingling ferociously from him calling her gorgeous. As if under a spell his spell she let him tug her hand and they left the flat, quickly disappearing into the dark.

Xander was still staring at the closed door, waving his finger while pointing for all he was worth, and swivelled in his chair to address Giles.

“There’s no way that doesn’t wig you out!”

Giles looked up, finally surrendering his patience, and barked out impatiently. “He’s actually very interesting to talk to.”

Xander was beyond surprised. “So, what? We just sit back and let Captain Peroxide seduce the Buffster?”

Angel had remained quiet throughout the previous revelations, his discomfort at being on the edge of their lives beginning to wear.

“There is no seduction going on.” Angel had never been a fan of Xander’s, and despite his recent estrangement from Spike, he was family, and one defended family. “This hasn’t just happened. Spike is here because the PTB wanted him to be here. With her. I hate it. You hate it. I bet Giles hates it. But she doesn’t. Are you really going to stand in her way? Besides, he saves the world. Can you begrudge him his reward for being on your side?”

“I can begrudge anything if he doesn’t keep his filthy hands to himself.”

Giles looked concerned at Xander’s bitterness. “What is really the problem, Xander? Buffy told you that Spike saves your life a number of times. He even saves one of your eyes. Don’t you think it would be better to let fate have its way and perhaps change the future, or do you want some of the ghastly things she told us to happen just to keep her away from him? Surely you can see their connection? I would say that it seems destined.” He stopped a moment, pulling a hanky from his pocket and began to polish his glasses. “I’m not sure you could pull them apart now, anyway.”

“She would never have been yours,” Angel informed him bitterly. Gracefully exiting his chair, he made his way out of the flat and into the night like his Childe and ex-girlfriend before him.

Xander blustered in denial as soon as the door was closed. “I’m not jealous.”

“Oh, just shut it, Xander. We both know that you are. I would remember that you have a very attractive girlfriend if I were you. Maybe you should go find her.” And Giles left him to head to his room, suddenly feeling very lethargic. He sighed gratefully when he heard the front door click closed.

~ ~ ~

Buffy and Spike wandered through busy streets on their way to a quieter graveyard, their fingers tangled shyly together and arms swinging between them. Every so often Buffy would sneak a sideways glance at him, marveling at how his hair shone in the lamplight. Shone? More like it glowed, she chuckled to herself. Occasionally she caught him taking a quick glance at her, and she would smile secretly, amused at their timid approach toward each other. They had kissed, and touched each other’s skin, and yet they remained shy.

This was so different, she thought. And she was so happy. It felt a little like when she thought she was moving on with Parker, the subtle flirting heating her blood and filling her with excitement and a rush of pure adrenaline. It was probably the happy and adrenaline that tricked her into believing Parker’s lines; but this happy? So much better. It was more. It was beyond the edge of falling: it was of the fallen. She was too late to grab it with both hands; it had already fused with all her living tissue, filling her as if by osmosis. She was complete with his love, his affection.

Oh yeah, she was definitely happy.

While the Buffy side of her strolled along lazily swinging hands with her love, the Slayer part was scanning for any threat, both to humanity as well as to Spike. It wouldn’t do to be outnumbered now in a fight he couldn’t take part in to protect himself. Even though she knew that the Initiative would be small in numbers right now, she was still nervous about Spike being recaptured. The thought brought upon her a sense of melancholy and Buffy felt her guilt return for forgetting what her friend was going through right now. It was as if the night had fallen a couple of degrees, and her excitement dimmed a little.

But not quite completely she discovered when Spike stopped her and pulled her into his arms.

“Red will be fine. I know that. You know that. Don’t forget about Tara.” It astounded her how he seemed to always know what she was thinking, and she felt suddenly alarmed that he could pick up her feelings as well. That could be embarrassing.

She snuggled into his chest, loving the feel of his strong arms protecting her from the outside and grateful to have that buffer for the first time. She was used to being the strong one: the one to rush in at just the right moment to save the day, save her friends, and save the world. No one had ever saved her before. Not even Angel really, except for that one time when he got that potion thing to stop her hearing everyone’s thoughts. Knowing that Spike had always be there to hold her-- well, at least the future her-- made it seem so much easier to melt in his arms now, made her feel more complete. Who said knowing the future was a bad thing?

She pulled a little away so that she could look up at him and felt herself be lost in Spike’s eyes. The intense urge to tell him her feelings took hold, and suddenly little bees buzzed annoyingly in her stomach. Her ears were filled with a rush, and as she opened her mouth to speak, she was pushed to the ground with a force that knocked her breathless.

“You alright, luv?” Spike asked, his concern evident in the way his hands smoothed out her clothes.

She was stunned silent. He didn’t wait for an answer, pulling her away again and she suddenly worked out that the rushing in her ears, was actually a vamp flying past her in a badly projected leap.

That did it! No stupid vamp was interfering in her moment. And without any thought, her stake embedded into the chest of the idiot as he again tried to leap and tackle her to the ground. She closed her eyes as dust hit her full in the face. In disgust she spat the dust from her mouth and wiped down her shirt.

As she reached for his hand again, hoping that they could recapture the moment, she knew it was gone as the black clad form of Angel joined their little huddle.

“Hey,” she offered weakly in greeting, Spike offering nothing but a tormented humph beside her.

Angel looked back and forth before explaining his presence.

“Thought I might head back to LA tonight. You Scoobies are too exciting for me.” He laughed unconvincingly, and though Buffy didn’t want him to go just yet, she suspected that it hurt him to see her with Spike and decided to say nothing of it.

“Yeah, we are an exciting bunch. Tomorrow we’re all set to hunt down puppies and scarf down cookies.” She smiled as she gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Wanna help us patrol before you go? You know, just in case we come across any more Initiative soldiers.”

“Sure,” he told her, ignoring Spike’s annoyed glare, and they all three became one with the night, searching and destroying all threats as they came across them. No Initiative soldiers were to be seen.

Later, as Buffy waved and watched the taillights of Angel’s car disappear down the street, she said goodbye to a love that was never meant to be.

Chapter Twenty-One

Angel had unhappily departed with a set of keys to his apartment, but instead of relocating just yet, Spike clung to the familiar sheets of his pullout bed in Giles’s study. It wasn’t that he wasn’t ready to be on his own- the continual questions from Rupert were driving him bloody insane- but he wasn’t ready to relinquish Buffy. He knew that she would be spending the day trying to cook up a storm, and what better place to see her act all domestic housewife but at Giles’s. So he encouraged the sympathy for a little longer, and got to see Buffy in an apron, covered in foodstuffs as she panicked prettily. Not that they could just have an ordinary day, though. There were various undertones that spoilt it; Oz having run away to find control of his wolf and Red’s politically correct stand on why there shouldn’t be Thanksgiving. And to really round out a perfect start to the day, Harris rocked up sporting several nasty diseases that he had contracted from being too stupid to stay away from an old Mission with cursed Shumash Indian Spirits. Oh, it was lovely, and Spike was ever so glad that he hadn’t skipped the bunk and missed the lot. He might have a bright, spanking new soul, but he was still evil!

When the call came from Angel to tell them of a threat to Buffy, thanks again to the Cheerleaders ‘visions’, Spike was almost laughing at the curse that seemed to be on the Scoobies themselves. Did they manage to not court trouble everywhere they went? He wasn’t laughing, though, when the first attack occurred. Hard to laugh around an arrow sticking out of your shoulder, inches from your heart. Buffy had looked at the narrow stick protruding from his shoulder and paled in alarm, copying the dainty housewife act down to a ‘t’. He figured her many recent visions in which she witnessed him turning to dust was enough to spark a bit of fight within her. Thankfully it spurred her to action abandoning for the moment her holiday feast and the activity of trying to slay a number of unkillable spirits perked her up immensely, bringing her back in touch with her purpose. Only to turn one of the buggers into a bear. Spike’s frantic pleading of “Turn it back, turn it back,” had the Scoobies in stitches around the dinner table for hours that night. The dinner that was not totally ruined by the attack, unless you could call the Slayer’s culinary skills weapons of gastronomy.

Spike just felt grateful to not be tied to a chair this time around, and he got to sit next to Buffy into the bargain. He was profuse in his giving of thanks. He munched and crunched his way through the meal, but once he got to the pumpkin pie, he stalled.

“Ah, so Slayer, this is what you were beating the hell out of that condensed milk for?” He looked at it nervously.

“I never expected you to eat human food, Spike. Could I get you some blood instead?”

He looked at her in wonder and the affection he could see betrayed by her flushed cheeks hardened his resolve and he turned back and stabbed the pie with his fork. His determination wavered slightly as it reached his mouth, but her gentle smile pushed him over and he opened wide and slipped it in. Closing his lips he pulled the odd tasting piece onto his tongue, the flavour not entirely palatable, and quickly swallowed it whole. He made a play of chewing, and wiped his mouth with a napkin, gentile manners forcing him out into the open.

“Mmm, delicious.” He smiled, wondering how he was going to get the rest past his lips, then noticed that all eyes around the table had been observing him. He was shocked when he encountered the gleeful look on Harris’s face, one step away from shoving the whole slice in his mouth. He was suddenly tempted to shout a warning, but instead decided to distract Buffy when the git turned green and spat the pie out, hiding his napkin in his lap. Everyone then proclaimed themselves to be full and the rowdy clean up began.

The night became tedious as soon as the dinner plates were cleared as far as Spike was concerned. All he wanted was some alone time with Buffy; time to explore the phenomenon that was them. As confused as he felt about his own identity for the moment, he was sure of his feelings for the Slayer. He could feel the rightness of this soul, and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that his demon had surrendered to the love he felt for this girl, the one in all the world chosen to slay his kind. He had never feared irony, but was flabbergasted- no, that was a Giles word- stunned that his demon had fallen so hard for this chit. Time for contemplation and musing was gone though, he needed to get her alone, and fast.

“Slayer?”

She looked at him with a mix of sadness and annoyance. “My name is Buffy. Why are you having trouble with that?”

He cocked his head to the side in the way only he knew how and gave her a lascivious grin.

“Buffy,” he breathed, and she drifted over to him as if bewitched. He pulled her backwards toward the study and leaned into her, clasping his hands round her waist. Their steps were slow, measured, as she curled her arms up around his neck. They stopped at the door and she pulled her body closer to his, her hot breath tickling his ear.

“I love how you say my name,” she whispered in a voice gone croaky with desire. “It gets me hot.”

He dragged her inside and kicked the door shut, ignorant of the mixed stares that followed them. On the other side of the door he claimed her lips, almost lost in her taste, but his ears picked up discord from various members outside.

“Pet? I think we should pack up and head over to the apartment.”

Her response was slow, her movements almost drugged as she lifted her head to peer into his sparking blue eyes.

“Wha?”

“I’m sure it was your eloquence that drew me to you, luv.” His quiet chuckle brought her closer to reality as she let go of the sensation of his lips.

Then what he had said kicked in. Privacy. That was what they needed. Privacy to explore this thing they had going on. Uninterrupted privacy to make out, kiss for hours, or even days if she so chose. She had to make sure that Giles didn’t have a phone number.

Running a longing hand down his arm from his shoulder, she linked her fingers in his and pulled him to the bed. She collapsed on its edge and looked at him.

“Are you already packed?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t come with much, luv, if you rightly recall.”

“Oh yeah,” she breathed. “Where is your stuff?”

“In the Desoto. Hadn’t moved in anywhere when the soldiers got me good.”

“Okay. Let’s get your car then and go move you in.”

He pulled her back to her feet and within seconds they stood again in front of the Scoobies.

“Happy Thanksgiving, guys. I’m going to help Spike move in to Angel’s old place.”

Not waiting for objections, they departed, leaving a more subdued atmosphere behind them.

Within forty minutes they had dragged all of Spike’s belongings into the place, mainly weapons and a few changes of clothing.

“Bugger.” Spike suddenly remembered his record collection and books left in the lair he had shared with Harmony, and determined sometime soon to reclaim them before she decided to toss his stuff onto a bonfire. A time when she was absent, he thought, would be best. No need to get Buffy riled up like she had been over Anya.

The place could do with a bit of cleaning, but Buffy was unprepared for the feeling of rejection that she associated with the place, and suddenly saw that it might not have been the best option. Pushing it to the back of her mind, she refused to look through to the bed in the other room and instead sat in Spike’s lap, as he was- after all- sitting in the only chair in the room. Her apprehension of past memories leant her forgetfulness and she was suddenly more forward than she had been so far. Once in his lap however, with his arms around her waist, her shyness returned and she lowered her eyes. With a finger under her chin, he nudged her to look up and caught her gaze in a magnetic grip, refusing to let go till he had said his piece.

“I’m not him, Buffy. My soul won’t disappear. I won’t disappear. We ‘ave time to sort this out. Not doing anything tonight that you might regret in the mornin’.” And he kissed her softly, yet boldly, marking his claim on her heart, and she surrendered it to him willingly.

It was as she dreamed; innocent but passionate. They kissed until the need to wrench herself away was paramount for self-preservation. Her body protested loudly for her to go further; she knew his body, and knew what he could do to her, how he could make her skin sing with sensation, and her mind die a little in satisfaction. But that was her future self and all of that was based on a lack of stability in the world. Her return from death clouded her judgement so that she didn’t know that the mate she had chosen was not an attempt to gain feeling back in her world, but the obvious choice from her heart. Their relationship had been fraught with too much pain, on both sides, for her heart to not be involved. She hadn’t seen it then, but now she wanted to savor everything. It had been too early, and she was wary of repeating the same mistakes.

She wanted to experience the little steps. The hand-holding, the little secret kisses of hello and goodnight; she wasn’t ready for the commitment of the flesh. She wanted the romance she had had with Angel, the romance that eclipses the common sense of a teenager. She wanted it to last because she was positive this was her forever.

Spike, in his intuitive wisdom seemed to understand without being told, and held her close, his hands securely clasped behind her back; not wandering like his body screamed at him to do.

“How ‘bout you stay pet? No funny business, just let me hold you while you sleep?”

She looked upon him, yearning and hungry, but for so much more than flesh. Slowly she nodded, and with a gentle and hesitant hand he led her to the bed that had revealed Angelus to her. She closed her eyes and was determined to dismiss him from her mind, more than ready to create more memories, happier memories.

“No pressure, Buffy. Just let me show you I’ll be here when you wake.”

And she fell deeper.

A/N Okay people, this is it, the one...the chapter that all the previous chapters have been working toward, so I am way beyond eager to hear what you all think.

Also, Schehrezarde has been a beautiful person and nominated me at Vampires Kiss awards. If you vote for me, I certainly won't hate you.

Holly's new one, Grey Gardens of Shadowed Rapture, is majorly deserving of a read. Don't let the West Wing thing fool you, it is wonderfully spuffy and extremely funny. Nobody would regret it.

Also, Schehrezarde...Dark Gift...another great WIP....

Again...Please feed me with positive (or even negative if so inclined) praise.





Chapter Twenty-Two

That Oz would instruct Devon to pack up all his things came as a big surprise to the group. For Willow, it was that final nail that destroyed her hopes. Overwhelmed by her grief, she found no place to relocate herself: nothing that could offer any relief, even momentarily, and she began to resent her friends. She dipped into the alcoholic solution, only to find condemnation and intolerance from best buddy Xander and an overprotective Buffy. So, no fun was to be had in that quarter. Her trouble lay in the pain, the physical tearing of something from her body.

“I feel like I’ve been split down the centre and half of me is gone.” She sat on her bed that night, her face a mess from too many tears, and begged Buffy to understand. It wasn’t that she didn’t comprehend Willow’s experience-can we all say Angel?-but Willow was lost in a place that had no time for those who weren’t mourning right along side of her.

As Buffy slept, Willow crept from her bed, collected her magical paraphernalia and set up a circle in the dorm bathroom. The floor was chilled but her pain was colder, and truly the rush of flame from the evenly spaced candles around the circle offered very little distraction. She thought ‘So mote it be’ would be the magical incantation, the one that would eradicate her suffering, rid her heart of its drama, and return her to an even keel. She went back to bed with high hopes for an easier tomorrow.

But it wasn’t. Several attempts to mend her broken heart ended in confusion and a rising bitterness regarding her capabilities as a witch. And, to top things off, Giles’s unusual visit suggested that she was incompetent and unreliable to boot. Nobody cut her any slack. Everyone only cared about her suffering as long as it was convenient for them. During her rant at Giles, trying to show him that she just needed time- that she shouldn’t be punished for experiencing human frailty-she informed him in a fit of pique that when it came to her hurt, he just couldn’t see. He was meant to be her honorary father figure and he was giving her a hard time about a truth spell? If she was so late why couldn’t he just get the ingredients and do it himself? As she worked herself up more and more she didn’t notice Giles making a hesitant exit due to his dimming view.

Next she pleaded with Buffy for a girls night in, being all grievy, but Buffy had to once again rush off to do her duty as long as it meant extra snuggly time with Spike and her resentment grew some more.

While Buffy and Spike wandered around trying to find the entrances to the Initiative- and hey, she knew that it was important, just not right this minute- Willow tried to find solace in her oldest friend, Xander. She found him apathetic, his words holding a distinct lack of comfort. Even worse, he defended Buffy in being out with Spike, citing the urgency to take Adam out before he became active. And she knew that he was right, but the bitterness of Buffy’s desertion clouded her mind and all she saw was a girl who was falling in love while she was being torn away from hers. As far as she was concerned, Buffy and Spike should just get married and live happily ever after, like all good fairytales. Why should they care that her own fairytale was being decimated?

Xander’s sympathy had all but dried up by then, hating any mention of Buffy and Spike in the same sentence. His holier than thou attitude against Spike was getting to her, a little loyalty to the burgeoning relationship that was making Buffy so happy still within her, and her resentment had her recalling all Xander’s luck with demon dates. Finally, having had enough of all of them, she told him spitefully that he was a demon magnet, and left. As she contemplated dorm room wallowing as opposed to another splash at drowning her sorrows, with perhaps a little more lite and a little less beer, she had no inkling of the devastation a few poorly chosen words had inflicted on her friends. Well, at least not until she was abducted by D’Hoffryn and received an offer to be made a demon. Which she contemplated for a couple of seconds, because hey, who wouldn’t be tempted by all that power? She had been warned to be wary of her future attraction to black magic, however, and so found herself sent back with the determination to turn her careless will around.

_________________________________________________


“Hey, Giles. We found an air vent and another entry in the graveyard.”

Buffy gave her report of the night, her smile to the blond vampire by her side, and only turned to face him when he dropped a tumbler of scotch on the floor. She was startled to see that he didn’t even look at the glass and the billowing stain on his carpet, instead his gaze fixed at the bare wall.

“Giles? Are you alright?”

“I rather think not.” He replied in an unsteady voice. “I think, in fact, that I’m, somewhat, blind.”

The hush in the room was disquieting before the first burst of denial.

“What do you mean blind? Watcher? You mean your pissed?” Spike looked around for the bottle of scotch, determined to see how much his former landlord had imbibed, when he was stopped by the harsh rebuttal.

“No, you bloody fool. I’m blind. I can’t see a thing.”

Buffy and Spike stood stunned, looking to each other for an explanation to this strange moment. They had been absent for the event of his rapid onset of vision impairment and were at a loss as to how to counteract it.

“Do you know how it ‘appened, Rupert?”

“I think it must be some form of spell…” he stopped on hearing Spike’s heavy step toward his books, and wondered at the frantic turning of pages.

“What you’ll need is a general reversal spell.”

They discovered that certain ingredients were needed and left Giles to fend for himself, with a replenished glass of scotch, while they headed out for the Magic Shop. They made quick time but unfortunately some of the ingredients were unavailable. They left the shop, hand in hand, their concern about the situation escalating.

Then Buffy seemed compelled to stop in front of a store window looking at a wedding dress, and Spike was hit with an abrupt need to solidify their new tenderness toward each other. He ran his fingers over a small ruby ring in his duster pocket, one of the very few things he had taken from his home on being turned, and wondered how he could give it to Buffy and have her see it for the promise that he wanted to give. He took her hand and led her to a bench along the street and sat her down, him crouching down on his haunches in front of her. Taking the ring from his pocket he held it low, staring at it for a short moment before raising his eyes to hers. He was bemused to find hers shimmering, and was gladdened that he could cause her these tears of happiness.

Before he could open his mouth and utter the words of friendship, loyalty and hope that he had been planning for days, something better inspired him and he asked her to be his wife. It hadn’t been his first plan but every time he had closed his eyes lately he saw images of the harshness that had been their future, and he felt raw terror that it would be repeated and he’d lose her all over again. With a sense of urgency he felt a need to assure her once and for all that he was hers, and he wanted her to be his, bound for all time in something more sacred than just a verbal promise.

Her eyes sparkled as she gripped his hand, a few tears escaping her rapidly blinking eyes to make watery paths down her cheeks. Her bottom lip wobbled and she brought one hand up to cover her mouth.

“Do you mean it?” she asked in a small, hopeful voice, and he swore he felt his heart beat just once as a defining stamp of approval to his decision.

He nodded and offered her the ring, the stone glittering under the streetlight.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered to him.

He knew she wanted to ask him where he got it, but probably didn’t want to spoil the moment in case he had stolen it or it had once belonged to Dru. Both possibilities were far off the mark, and he gently told her it had belonged to his mother.

With no hesitation she held out her left hand and he placed the ring on her finger, admiring its perfect fit and her tanned, small hands. In silent agreement they stood and wandered toward his place, never noticing the stunned look on Riley’s face, who had been standing across the street.

Over the past few days Buffy had come to a kind of truce with Angel’s old place. She and Spike had gone out of their way to redecorate, even replacing the boring bed with something slightly more lavish and lush. Satin sheets and brocade coverings lent a Middle Eastern, erotic flavour that made Buffy’s blood heat each time she glanced at it. Delving into memory Buffy knew that it resembled a little of what Spike’s bedroom in the crypt would have been like, had they proceeded along that path. Buffy liked it. They had painted, taken out most of Angel’s remaining furnishings and replaced it with things more suited to the blond vampire, with a little splash of Slayer. And Buffy liked it. It was fast becoming her home away from dorm.

As if they had discussed it already and agreed upon the path, they headed nervously to the bed and stopped.

“Buffy.” His voice was husky, taken over by emotion and desire as he lost himself in the glimmering jade pools of her eyes. He began to slip and drown before remembering, and his body shuddered to think of what he now had in his life. “You are the most beautiful woman I know. There are no words powerful enough for me to tell you how much you mean to me, or how much I want to show you. You inspire me to do good, to be better. You open my heart to sing and celebrate life rather than destroying it. You are forever my light, my one shining hope. I love you with all that I am, with all that I can be, and all that I will be. I sought my soul for you, Buffy. I belong to you.”

Without waiting for any response he pressed his lips to hers and she sighed in complete acceptance that she was absolutely where she belonged. Without conscious thought her hands combed through his hair and held his head still, not allowing his lips to depart from her even slightly. Her tongue was lost within his mouth as he sucked on it, allowing the course slide of it to push out goosebumps on her skin. Nibbles on her lips caused her to shiver and she fell again under a wave of intense sensation that had her lose her heart entirely. Even when they finally pulled away his lips rested against hers, her warm, panting breaths a puff against his mouth.

She couldn’t believe it. He had asked her to marry him. She could feel the new weight of the ring on her finger and she couldn’t help but begin to cry at the beauty of this experience. While his arms held her tight, she buried her head in his chest and quietly sobbed her happiness before raising once again tear-drenched eyes to his.

“I told you in the Hellmouth, but you didn’t believe me.” She was unable to lift her voice above a whisper, emotion having sapped her vocal chords of all ability to be harsh or strident, as if knowing that tenderness was the flavour of the day. She was lost in it, her heart thudding and her body beginning to vibrate right to her fingertips. With trembling hands she traced her fingers over his hard chest until she reached the belt at this jeans. Looking him straight in the eye she raised the shirt out of his pants and lifted it over his head.

His look and subtle tilt of his head asked her if she was sure, and she nodded slowly, a huge smile lighting up her face. He let her go, allowing his hands to drop to his sides as her palms moved once again over his chest, this time sans shirt, and he felt like a silly teenage hormone bomb ready to blow. Her hands were hesitant the first time she had actually seen his naked torso and a fingernail gently clipped a nipple on its journey upward. He shuddered as she bent her head and her tongue flicked out to explore the same nipple. He moaned out loud and clenched his hands into fists, trying to restrain the need to touch. She needed to go at her own pace.

Her eyes grew hazy and heavy with desire as she contemplated all the things she wanted to see and feel and as she walked slowly around him her hands almost floated over his shoulder blades, the soft skin of her cheek barely brushing him as she inhaled his masculine scent. Not even Angel was all man like this. Hard as stone, muscular definition giving him planes and surfaces that all women would envy her for touching, holding, possessing. His muscles bunched under her hand, and without being told she knew that her slowness was torture for him. But in this instance, torture was of the good. Her hands skimmed over his hard shoulders to his chest as she buried her face in the hollow of his neck, her breath heating his skin as she licked and nibbled, and drove him insane. Running her hand slowly down his arm as she moved back to face him, she held his hand briefly before letting go and stepping back out of his reach. He almost cried out at her distance, several muscles going into spasms from the sudden loss of her body heat.

Without dropping her eyes from his she lifted the edges of her black top and slid the fabric upward. Inch by inch her tanned, smooth skin was exposed, and if she wasn’t so hot and eager she would have laughed at his hungry expression as the top passed her head and she tossed it to where his own T-shirt lay.

With not another second to spare he grabbed her and crushed her body against his, breast to breast, claiming her lips in a passionate assault that defined her meaning of hot. His tongue knew her and she allowed his familiarity as her hands roamed freely over his cool skin. His hands never loosened their grip on her arms but he subtly relaxed enough that her body drifted back to be barely touching, just the hardened tips of her nipples teasing against the skin of his chest. Little flicks of heat and desire jolted through her nipples before passing though her breasts to heat in her belly. Her attention had obviously been caught up somewhere because once she was again aware of her surroundings she realised that her olive pants had disintegrated, never remembering lifting a leg to divest herself of them. She remained in nothing before him, and her body blushed, eager for his touch and his love.

He stood back to admire her, and though shy, she felt unable to lift her hands to shield her naked breasts or sex from his view. She loved him so much that she wanted him to look. And that is when she realised. It was wrong to keep her feelings to herself, to hold a part of herself away from him. It was a betrayal to all he had done for her.

With deep, yearning contact her heated gaze clashed with his and she spoke, her voice wavering and weak, but high.

“I love you. Not in the future, where I so did mean it.” Her eyes softened with her affection. “But now. I love you now. So much.” And he collapsed at her feet, his face buried against her taut belly gasping needlessly for breath.

“Thank you,” he rasped, and she again lost her mind when his lips made determined contact with her skin.

They fell to the bed in a sensual haze and she gave herself over to learning again his body’s feel against hers. With an agony born of long abstinence she let him slowly trail his lips over her flesh, desperate to reacquaint with every part that was her. Her skin tingled, before flashing hot white fire when his clever lips delved into her secrets, and for the first physical time of her life, she felt a hot wet tongue slide inside her body. Hot blood thundered through her veins and she suddenly arched her back up off the bed and gasped as his lips and tongue found her clit and sucked, swirling and flicking until she called his name on a sob. Sensation shook her and at last she felt his kiss on one hardened nipple, his tongue laving her lovingly and she knew what it felt to make love. In her small distraction he claimed her lips with his for a short, but consuming kiss, leisurely running his cool hands up and down her body, her skin blazing with every small contact. The look in his eyes was the same that she remembered from her flashes of memory, but this time she accepted and saw them and allowed herself to return them, soft golden looks of love. And that is when she knew. Through all the hate, and anger, and fear and self-loathing that hall-marked their relationship after her death, the only reason she never experienced the bliss of his love, of their joined love, was because she never once looked him in the eye. It had always been there and she hated herself a little more for denying them of this molten knowing of their affection. She had been a fool.

The feel of his hand between her legs, slipping against her wet opening, raised her to another level of sensation and she thought her skin was about to ignite. She refused to close her eyes as he positioned himself above her. He dipped his head and licked along her collarbone, one hand running the length of her body and down her leg, encouraging her to bend a knee around him. She couldn’t keep her hands from his skin, the cool smoothness doing nothing to cool her heated energy and she thought that she would explode soon if he didn’t make a move. Just as she thought to beg him she felt the slippery and bulging head of his cock surge against her and her lips glued themselves to his in a silent cry of disbelief. With their eyes locked on one another he entered her and she released her breath, lungs burning from the torture of longing. His smooth length was bathed in her, surrounded by heat and moisture unlike he had ever felt. Even distant knowledge and memories of their old future together did not feel like this, always intense, but never so molten. Her hands braced on his hard shoulders as he moved within her, building a sensational tinder box, on the edge of that one match.

Her body rumbled and slickened with his movement and she knew again the deep satisfaction that came from being with only this man. Her skin buzzed and blood rushed through her veins and not once did she feel afraid that it would prove too much for him; the bloodlust. The pace never quickened, despite her bucking and swirling her hips in encouragement, this an event too sweet and pure to rush. She thought it was too slow, that she would never reach that pinnacle that her heart and soul craved for completion, but it built steady and solid steps. With a final kiss she felt his head burrow into her neck and a gentle sting as everything flowed forth in a grand rush, killing her forever to mediocre. Each and every skin cell reached high alert as they buzzed and burst in a hidden sea of bliss. She felt a deep flush take over and her body grew hot with release and shattered in an alarming implosion of a monumental kind. Her mind was lost on some other plane, one that drifted in and out of clouds pure white and she wanted to stay forever, only being drawn back by a severely choked voice claiming a possessive ‘mine’. She looked at him in wonder as she put a finger to his lips, and further tears clogged her throat. ‘Yours’ she agreed and they laughed nervously together before emotion took hold and they murmured and giggled softly in each other’s arms.

Only after hours of renewing their intimate knowledge of each other did they remember Giles, blind and alone with a bottle of scotch. Quickly they dressed only to fling themselves back in each other’s arms, whispering promises of love and forever, needing to hold and be held against fear of indecision.

On the walk back, Buffy held his hand and couldn’t help the smile that graced her lips. She felt satiated, comforted, loved like she never had before, even through the crazy time that was their beginning together. She looked at her ring with amazement and couldn’t wait to tell her mother, but felt hesitant about broaching the subject to her friends.

“Spike?” She pulled on his hand to get him to stop and they found themselves alone on the sidewalk. “Can we keep this to ourselves for a little while? With Willow so upset about Oz and, well, Xander’s over-all dislike of you, I kind of want to keep tonight special between us. We can tell them all tomorrow. Would that be okay?” He caught the urgent appeal in her eyes, and for once couldn’t think of a sarcastic thing to say or summon a snarky desire to flash his luck in the whelp’s face. He found himself agreeing without any hesitation and wrapped her in his arms, breathing in the fruity scent of her hair and the earthy scent of his possession. What did it matter when they all found out, he had his love, his fiancé, his mate, and he could be generous.

With a wistful sigh they found themselves in front of Giles’s door and forced their way into the middle of pandemonium. Willow stood in the middle of a storm of shouting and accusations, tears falling silently as she took all their anger and frustration upon herself.

“Willow did another spell,” Xander shouted at them before his eyes swung to their hands clasped together. He spied the ring that Buffy had forgotten to remove and his eyes widened comically.

“They’re engaged.” His arms swung around him wildly, before pointing another accusing finger at the devastated redhead. “I thought you reversed everything?”

Buffy looked on in confusion, a sudden chunk of lead thudding in her stomach and causing her to clench Spike’s hand in a fearful sense of foreboding.

“What do you mean Willow did a spell?” Her quiet voice seemed to calm the room and Giles stepped forth, obviously without any remaining difficulty in finding his way.

“Willow did a spell to do her will, to get over the heartbreak of losing Oz, but said some things in the interim that affected some of us. She said I couldn’t see, that Xander was a demon magnet, and that you…” and he hesitated, seeing the fear reflected in his Slayer’s eyes and Spike’s look of mounting rage. “She said that you and Spike should get married.”

Buffy pulled her hand away in horrified shock and shook her head, denial flocking at her tongue.

“It wasn’t a spell,” Spike shouted at her furiously, but she couldn’t look at him despite his frantic attempts to take back her hand.

‘Oh no,’ she thought, panic welling up inside her.’ No, no, no, no, no, no…’ and the word repeated furiously on her lips as she ran and ran away from them. We mated, she thought in blind terror as her legs sought her solace. Tears blurred her path and she landed on her knees, luckily on grass, and she looked up to find the front yard of her mother’s house. The thought of seeing anyone had her scrambling up the tree to her room and she sunk to her bed, both grateful that the boxes from the gallery had gone, and that no one was there to offer her false reassurances.

Had he only asked her because of a spell? Had she ruined their moment of knowing each other on a false sense of euphoria? Never before had she felt such pure hatred for her best friend. No cookies could repair or replace the moment she had been waiting for all her life. The moment that made her Spike’s. Now she didn’t know if she had given herself to him because she wanted him, needed him, or if a spell had directed her actions.

Oh God, her silent prayer through her sobs. What if that wasn’t really what he wanted? What if he only claimed me as an extension of the engagement. What has Willow done to us? On a tide of misery and fear, she cried herself to sleep.


A/N strike two.....Please please review....

A/N Thanks again for the fantastic reviews, and welcome all newbies. I really appreciate hearing that you like...and I am SO GLAD that you all loved the 'Something Blue' installment...now lets check out the aftermath...tell me if you like, loathe???

Chapter Twenty-Three

“You bloody bitch!” Spike exploded. “Does it feel good, little girl? Does the dark stuff do it for ya? Does causing pain to your friends make you feel all better?” His eyes narrowed as he watched Willow shrink away from him, almost smelling the remorse that ate away at her minimal composure. “We warned you, told you you’d go belly-up. Don’t you have any bloody control what-so-ever?”

Spike spun back and forth, his demon flashing in pure rage, leaving the other occupants of the room to balance haphazardly on his livid tension.

“Now she’ll think everything we said, everything we did, only happened because of a bleeding spell. BLOODY FUCKING HELL.” Spike roared in fury and frustration. “I bloody hate you lot, sometimes.” He pivoted on his heel and strode to the door, leather duster flapping angrily around his ankles.

Suddenly he stopped, his body humming with repressed violence as he stared fixedly at the door. “Glad you can see again, Watcher. Now do something ‘bout her before she really fucks something up.” He couldn’t look at them. Tears welled up in his eyes as a wound in his heart so profound took hold and encouraged him to vengeance. He wanted to rip the little witch limb from limb, soul or no soul!

He remembered the original spell, the sickly sweet marriage proposal and his and Buffy’s shared disgust at its end. This had been nothing like it, and though he had actually popped the question, now that they were free of the spell, the feeling was still there, and he couldn’t recall any sense of unnaturalness about the act. He knew that all the looks, the little touches, the meshing of one future life and deeds to the present had tipped him so far in her favour that he couldn’t conceive of being anything other than hers to do with as she chose. He wanted so badly to be her mate, to be her love eternally that it seemed natural to give her the equivalent human dedication. In truth, he was not so far removed barely at all actually that the romantic in him didn’t get a thrill out of a ceremony with her wearing white and a gold band to ward off other human males. Like that bloody great git, Finn. He refused to go down that road again. She was his, and the world needed to know it.

Bloody hell!

She needed to know it.

But Buffy thought he didn’t mean it. He saw it in her eyes before she had fled the Watcher’s flat. Knew that she had remembered their flashes of the spell and was terrified that his wanting had been inspired only from magic. She didn’t know that he had been staring at that ring in eager contemplation for what felt like a lifetime. She probably thought that his bite was an ill-timed accompaniment to the engagement, and if there was no spell, there would be no wedding, and there most definitely should be no claiming.

His understanding reached its limit by that point. How could she not know that his feelings for her had always been so deep that all the things that had occurred earlier were what he wanted, had always wanted? No spell could have obliterated his hopes quite so fantastically as this. She was being bull-headed and stubborn. And as usual, she had no faith in him. They had just shared the most wondrous, amazing night of their lives cherishing all that they could be to one another, and she debunked the lot by believing it could only have happened due to a stupid my-will-be-done spell. Well then, she deserved to suffer.

His feet had been moving steadily toward Revello Drive, unconsciously drawn by the fading vanilla signature scent of her. He hadn’t even noticed that he could sense her like that, but he wasn’t surprised. They were fundamentally entwined. Mortal, supernatural, they had the approval of Powers far beyond them, and she thought it was a bloody spell. Bleeding stupid women always read him wrong. What the hell was it about him that caused them to distrust so spectacularly?

Well, unlike the previous incarnation of himself, he refused to chase her. He had shared the brightest part of himself with her tonight, he had given her his soul, his heart, his mind and his love. If she wanted to disbelieve then good on her.

He changed direction mid-stride and headed to the cemetery, a sudden nostalgic need to see his old crypt. Staying at Angels’s place, while warm and cosy with electricity and running water, it was also stifling and not really him. The crypt though? That had atmosphere. That had style. And right now it had comfort. It also had privacy, and for once he didn’t want to be around anything with a heartbeat, especially since he couldn’t rip it out. Damn chip! Then he cringed. Bloody soul! As if he would do anything anyway except rant and rave like the impotent git he was. Guilt slammed into him like a thousand pound sledgehammer and the tears he had been holding at bay threatened to overwhelm him. Thankfully he saw the crypt door and stumbled his way there. One violent kick smashed the door open and a small huddle of three vamps jumped at the sudden invasion.

“Well, fellas. Looks like a little squatters rights? Wanna hand to unsquat?” He brought game face forth as fists flew, connecting hard with the bumpy and feral faces of his kin, images of himself masking their true identity. All he saw amongst the rapidly increasing dust mounds were visions of himself and all the things she hated. He had sold himself out for her, stripped himself bare of his century long identity, made himself small and less, to be more, for her. His demon had willingly surrendered to the inevitable. His love was true and all-consuming, but he wanted it to be conscionable. In getting her what she deserved, when was he ever going to get what he deserved? A little hope, a little light, a little sanity, a little trust. Love, when the bloody hell was he going to get that?

Blinking for a moment in confusion, he made his way to the sarcophagus and wondered what she would have done if he had refused to stay in Angel’s flat? Just seemed like another pass down to him. Another way to pigeon-hole him into what he wasn’t and didn’t want to be.

He could understand why they did it. For centuries Angel had led his family slowly growing throughout the age on a merry, resplendent ride on the coattails of humanity. They had stayed in underground squalor only when their existence was in danger, usually due to the over enthusiastic activities of the youngest family member; William. Any other time they lived it up in wealthy mansions and hotels, sometimes even paying for the privilege with human money. They were respectable demons.

When Angelus had left and torn their family apart, Spike had still followed the example set forth and kept Drusilla in splendour and comfort. Only in Sunnydale had he resorted to hideouts like the factory, and underground caves. Only when he was to confront the Slayer had he felt a need to emphasise his evil nature, and evil lived in the dark, in hiding. A crypt, a factory, a cave, all with no access to life’s mod cons and electricity, reinforced the bad. He had wanted her to think of him as evil, as a monster that would rip out her throat and relish the sound of skin tearing and blood gushing. He had never stopped to wonder why it had been so important for him to have her believe him dangerous. He was a Master vampire, danger was a given. Maybe even then he knew, perhaps it was a song on the air that he was about to become fallen and would never again be what he was.

He had come to her town but not to seek her out, that had been a generous bonus of the fates. At least he had thought so at the time. He had come to heal his love, but his devotion to his black beauty had been the beginning of the end. He understood now. Dru had known all along. He was positive she had known from the moment she made him, and for the first time he wondered why she had brought him along when she knew that he was never meant for her? The fates had a real whacky sense of humour.

Emotion exhausted him, and he collapsed flat on his back, an arm covering his eyes as he thought back to earlier in the night when he had the most beautiful of girls in his arms, making love to her and receiving love like he only ever had in his dreams. And now he feared he had lost her. He could feel her turmoil through the claim, not strong but it was there. He was glad that he wasn’t close to her as the fury rose once again, his head nearly exploding with some nasty words he was dying to spew at her. He couldn’t stand that he was the one who had to work hard at making her see what they had. He slammed his head back on the lid of the sarcophagus in fury, and was about to roar his frustration to the bones in the crypt, when he picked up a scent that made him feel ill. Recognition had him jumping up, every nerve suspended for action as he took stock of his surroundings. Seconds allowed him cover and he slid under the necessary morbid cloak, relief suspended as he heard them enter the crypt. Stealth was not their friend as they crept around, searching and seeking the escapee.

The lid grated against stone as it slid to the side, revealing nothing but an antique corpse. The soldier shuddered in disgust. “All clear,” he called and they headed out once again, Riley Finn in the lead, a determined scowl marring his face.

Chapter Twenty-Four


There had been an uncomfortable silence for a full minute once Spike had walked out the door before a broken sob shunted them all back to motion and Willow fell to the sofa, holding her head in her hands. Thoughts whirled too far within reach for her to grasp any peace of mind. This lead to splintering shivers of guilt knowing she was far from deserving peace. But as she raised her eyes, she found it in the forgiving eyes of her best friend.

Xander took a seat beside her and tentatively wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders, allowing her to sob against his chest in quiet, best-friend support. Anya glared as she sat down next to them, but with a small space in between. She crossed her arms in temper and looked over at Giles as she swung the foot of her crossed leg.

“Well,” she started in confrontation. “That was extremely helpful. I don’t know what Spike was all huffy about. He didn’t have demons coming out of thin air to eviscerate him.”

Her matter of fact words caused Willow to silently shudder against Xander’s shoulder and he closed his eyes before quietly counting to ten.

“I think they may have experienced a little mental evisceration, Ahn. Giles, Buffy didn’t look so good when she ran out of here. Do you think we should go find her?”

Giles contemplated the group in silence, slumped in the armchair and bewildered about the events of the day. It had been a confronting thing to be blind; a man reliant on his ability to read a great many books and needing to absorb that information relatively quickly in cases of crisis. Though he felt disloyal, he had to agree with Spike. He really had to get Willow some help. Her power was undoubtedly great, but her maturity was surprisingly weak. Willow’s lack of control when suffering emotional upheaval was truly dangerous, not only for the young redhead, but for all her friends. He was mystified as to why he hadn’t recognised the symptoms of her inability to control her magical growth the first time around. As Ripper, he knew better than anyone the seductive lure of all that power, the wielding of forces in direct challenge to what he was meant to stand for. This time, they knew without doubt the destruction the novice witch could pile down on all of them. Negligence wouldn’t be excused anymore.

Buffy.

He had an inkling of what had happened with the blond pair. Before he had the ring pointed out to him by Xander, he had noticed the healing bite mark on his Slayer’s neck and suspected that Spike had finally laid claim to her. To tell the truth he had been expecting it.

The devastation she had shown at his explanation of events had made his own heart shrivel in remorse. He hadn’t wanted to cause her pain. Not when he knew she loved the vampire. He honestly believed that the spell had minimal impact on their actions; nothing had occurred that wasn’t going to in the near future.

He knew his Slayer though. The girl lived in denial. After her experiences with Angel she ran from emotional complexity. He could understand her hesitation, but not her lack of faith. He thought she was probably being unfair in this instance, and he feared what this could do to the couple’s relationship. Giles had been startled by the look of hostility in the vampire’s eyes and had been relieved that he had had difficulty in looking at them as he was leaving. To be frank, after some of the stunts pulled by these children, sometimes he hated them too. As the elder respected in their midst however, he never felt he could chastise them quite as viciously as Spike had just done.

Lost in his reverie, his eyes suddenly looked on the impatient figure of Xander, fair bouncing in his seat almost commanding action.

“No Xander. I believe it might be best if we left Buffy alone for the moment. She has had quite a shock.”

“Shock, shmock. It’s only Spike. She’s probably disgusted by the thought of thinking she was going to marry him. A bit of Scooby support is just what she needs.”

He was on his feet when Willow called out in shock.

“Xander, are you really that blind?”

Giles cringed visibly at the word and Willow shrank back against the back of the sofa, trying to make herself smaller and less visible to everyone’s scornful gaze.

Xander slumped in a dining chair, having not made it all the way to the door.

“She’s not disgusted, is she?” His voice had lost some of its forced humour, even some of the hostility, and now he was just resigned.

“I’m afraid not. I think it would do you well to just accept that she is falling in love with Spike, and that it is, actually, meant to be. If you give her a difficult time over this I think you risk harming your friendship.” Giles felt so terribly bone weary all of a sudden and felt unable to even raise his head and look at the other occupants of his flat, but still he found himself hoping that some sense had been found from the events of the day.

“So, what should we do then?” Xander hadn’t looked up from his intense scrutiny of a small patch of crumbs on the table.

Willow and Giles exchanged a glance and Giles finally gave her a hesitant smile.

“For now, I think we should leave her. We don’t know where she may have run off to and in all probability, Spike has probably located her and they may be sorting everything out as we speak.”

They nodded their heads in unison and Anya stood, holding a hand out to Xander. “I think some pizza might be appropriate right now. Willow looks a little peaked; she needs some cheese to brighten her up a little. And besides, I’m starving.” Again they nodded before leaving together in search of sustenance, a slow sense of forgiveness tingeing the air around them.


Buffy awoke with puffy, sore eyes and a sense of panic. The gentle tingling of the fresh bite mark adorning her neck caused her a small amount of irritation while she tried to work out why she was feeling worried. When she was unable to recall any dreams prophetic or otherwise her attention turned once again to her scar and her eyes shot open in alarm. She had never looked into the characteristics of a claiming but she felt certain that what she was feeling right now might be a sense of oneness with Spike rather than any fear manifest in herself. That of course caused the beginnings of that sense of foreboding and she realised that Spike must be in trouble.

She felt torn. Her insides screamed at her to keep her distance, but she wouldn’t be doing her job if she let him be recaptured, even if she did know where he was or how to find him.

Her job!

She laughed humourlessly and sunk back onto the pillow, tears resurfacing in her misery. Was that what she was convincing herself he was now? A job? An innocent it was the Slayer’s duty to protect? She wasn’t liking herself very much right now, and from what she had been feeling earlier, she wasn’t so sure that those feelings originated entirely from herself. She had a small tingling suspicion that Spike was furious with her.

Her confusion took root and grew claws. She had no idea what she was to do or how to make this right. She didn’t even think she could fix this. It was all so wrong. She hated herself right then, hated herself for feeling this turmoil, because she knew it was wrong, even if everything still felt right.

She’d had flashes of the last time this spell had been done, but amidst the bigger picture of all their revelations, its warning had dimmed to insignificance and thus, been forgotten. Now it stood prominent in its clarity. Both she and Spike had hurled disgusted comments at each other, even though a spark had lain unbidden down deep. She had behaved in a horrendously gushy school girl fashion in accepting the proposal, and they had smacked lips like a typical couple in the first flushes of superficial love. They had been happy, though still fighting. But she didn’t remember the feeling of wholeness, and belonging, that she had experienced this time around. He hadn’t attempted to bite her last time either, she thought as she ran her fingertips over the raised puncture marks on her neck.

There was one really glaring difference, however, that she was only now starting to realise. She and Spike had been working toward this. Their direction had made no detours along the way, and the euphoria about being claimed that she had felt hours ago while lying in his arms, despite her current emotional flux, had not withered. She felt proud and strong in her sense of belonging; she was Spike’s. And if that offended any feminists, she didn’t care. It felt beautiful to acknowledge a connection so deep.

With a great yearning her eyes drifted to her hand and the ruby ring encircling her finger. Harking back to a future derailed, she remembered that he had offered her an ugly gothic skull ring. That engagement had been spur of the moment, and though he may have wanted her to have better, he had never given it; until now. The whole of Buffy’s body suddenly flushed as she grabbed hold of the significance. He had had the ring in his pocket; he had been prepared. Then the look on his face when he had shouted at her, telling her it wasn’t a spell, flashed through her mind and the bottom suddenly fell out of her world.

It hadn’t been the spell. He had been planning to ask her all along. Or if not proposing marriage, then something that equally meant to proclaim ownership to the mortal world. She knew she had been stupid in this instance, but she wasn’t always so dumb. The claim had been to make sure the vampire world knew that she, the Slayer, belonged to none other than William the Bloody.

And the ring?

The ring was to make sure that all mortal men, but particularly Riley Finn, knew that she was irrevocably taken. And no spell had caused him to want to express his proprietary attitude toward her. Just a deep desire for her to be one with him the man and thus the ring that once belonged to his mother. Her brows furrowed as she grasped something else. A ring that Drusilla didn’t wear. God! He had never given it to anyone in over a hundred years. It was like he had been waiting his whole unlife for her.

Oh God, she was dumb. How could she have rejected him like that? She had been so afraid that their perfect night had been ruined by Willow’s magical interference that she had gone and ruined it herself. She had shown a lack of faith in his feelings of love, run out on him instead of staying and believing his desperate call, and in doing so she had driven a wedge right between them.

With tears once again flooding her eyes she threw herself down on the bed and sobbed for all her self-possession.

How the hell was she ever going to make this better?

With the scar pulsing on her neck she felt Spike’s relief over something, and then a distinct throbbing began and she could almost feel him pacing because of his impatience with her. She could sense the fury, the outrage that had swept him up on a wave of discontent and she held her breath. Now she knew. Maybe her lack of faith in him made it impossible to make this better. Maybe he couldn’t forgive her for not trusting in him.

Their beautiful night of sharing themselves with each other was disintegrating into great clouds of dust, and it was all her fault. She had been so afraid that meaning would be bleached from the event that she had caused the disaster herself.

With a very deep sense of loss and horror, she closed her eyes and willed herself to fall into a dreamless oblivion and if not that, at the very least soft memories of the earlier events of the night.

A/N...a huge thank you to all my faithful reviewers and an especial shout of gratitude to the newbies. Your opinion means a lot and your enjoyment of the story even more. I am so glad you all liked the re-do of 'Something Blue', and I will LOVE to hear what you think of the aftermath.

A/N...Just a quick shout out to all my faithful reviewers...I won't name you off the top of my head incase I forget soemone and they think I don't appreciate them...I DO...so much...so please keep reviewing and telling me if I get it right!

Oh, and just so you know, those funny square things that come up are the -- thingies that I have no idea how to fix on this thing...computer unsavvy is me!




Chapter Twenty-Five

It had been several days since Buffy and by extension, any of the Scoobies had seen or heard from Spike. Buffy had made it to Angel’s old apartment one night I have to remember that it’s Spike’s place now but paused sadly at the door, finding herself teary at the muffled sounds of the television through the door. She had breathed easy that he was at least still on the loose from the Initiative, but as she raised her fist to knock, her courage deserted her and she ran away as fast as her Slayer legs could carry her. She’d never had to knock before, and she was determined that she would never have to knock again. Her heart ached so much that she was desperate to make things better, but the continual tingling at her neck allowed her enough warning that he was still furious with her. And she was still enough of a coward that she didn’t want to face the fury that she completely deserved.

Still, despite her emotional upheaval, things had been quiet on the commando front and she had found herself taking that coffee with Riley that she had promised before Thanksgiving break. From every look, every casual attempt to draw her out, she could see his interest in her. Despite the complete lack of chemistry on her end, she couldn’t give him the cold shoulder. She knew that they would need him to gain access to Adam, and that he himself would need medical intervention in the future, so she was hesitant to end her burgeoning association with him.

So she sat and shared a mocha, smiling warmly at all his lame jokes, and let her heart thaw just that little bit until she caught sight of the ruby ring that she couldn’t bear to take off her finger, and the frown would once again take over her face. She had changed the hand that the ring graced, not wanting it there until she had made things right with Spike and she could be positive that he still wanted to make that human claim. She knew that it was almost hilarious, the idea of a vampire marrying a human girl—and the Slayer even more comical—but she was still a girl. A girl who had grown up in LA with girly dreams of weddings and flowers and photographers, and she so wanted to make that commitment with the man that she loved. Why hadn’t she seen him? Her eyes blurred as she once again thought of the look on Spike’s face when he told her it wasn’t a spell, that fleeting look before she had run like the emotional giant that she was.

Riley noticed on more than one occasion her preoccupation both with the ring and her thoughts, and his jaw locked in frustration.

“That must be some cup of cocoa you’ve got going there?” His gentle voice brought her back from another useless round of introspection and she smiled.

“Oh definitely. It’s just bursting with chocolatey goodness.” She warmed her hands around the still hot mug and resigned herself to Riley’s company.

She heard all his chatter and cringed inside. She felt guilty and knew how this would look to Spike. Just as the thought crossed her mind, the scar on her neck flamed painfully and she just knew that he was there. She looked up and there he was, right on the sidewalk looking in at her table, his jaw clenching repetitively in fury. The hurt in his eyes lanced at her heart and she could feel it all falling apart around her.

“Spike!” She stood, desperate to be in his arms rather than sharing beverages with Riley, but too scared to confront her lover.

“I guess this is why you haven’t apologised,” he spat at her furiously. All colour seeped from her face.

Her hand shook as it came to cover her mouth and her grief took on heavier burdens as she saw his eyes narrow at the ring that wasn’t where he had placed it.

“You are some piece of work, Summers.”

“Spike, please.” She pleaded with him to calm down, her voice choking with threatening tears. Buffy took a step toward him but his arm flew up to prevent her moving.

“Just, don’t. I can’t bear to look at you right now.” He pivoted on one heel, striding determinedly in the opposite direction of home but not before Buffy could see the moisture in his eyes that her betrayal had encouraged.

She sat down hard as a stone, and her eyes glazed in both worry and fear. Her body began to vibrate as she realised what her lack of action on the make-up front had caused. She was hurting him, just like she had before in the future. Just like she always had done. And more so, she was hurting herself for no good reason.

“Who was that?” Riley’s angry voice again dragged her back from unpleasant thoughts and she looked at him in surprise. Sometimes she forgot that her inside knowledge of the future didn’t mean that all the figures were in play.

“That was Spike. Riley, he’s my boyfriend, and I love him with everything that I have in me. I’ve really hurt him being here with you.”

“Why are you here with me?” His tone was bitter, and she wondered at that, knowing that to this point she had not encouraged him even a little.

“Because I said we would, before you left on break. That’s what people do, right? Go to college, make friends, have coffee. Did I do something wrong?” Her brow furrowed in confusion and she saw him relax his shoulders as he slumped back in his chair.

“So, tell me about Spike. What’s he so upset about?

Suddenly she was eager to share, not having had the faith in Willow to tell her what her stupid spell caused. Deciding to take the plunge, and knowing that he could take it, she sounded him out first.

“Do you believe in magic?”

His eyes widened but he nodded his head slowly.

“My friend is a witch. She did this spell to make her will be done, and she wished that Spike and I would get married.”

Riley choked on his sip of coffee.

“You can’t be serious?”

At Buffy’s raised eyebrow he decided to change tack. “But why would she want you to marry him?”

Buffy looked up alarmed at the way he had spat out him, but decided to let it slide for the moment.

“I guess she was jealous that Spike and I were so close when she had broken up with her boyfriend.”

Riley pondered this news for a moment, then his face cleared as he finally made some connections.

“You’re talking about Willow, aren’t you? But why Spike?” He pushed on without waiting for an answer. “You do know that there is something not quite right about him, don’t you?”

Buffy’s eyes narrowed as she looked at the commando busting to break free from the TA cover of innocence and her patience snapped.

“Spike is a vampire, and is under my protection. No one hurts him.” Not waiting for his response she stood and made her way in the direction Spike had disappeared earlier.

Riley had remained sitting, shaking his head in confusion. He was surprised that a girl as smart as Buffy could be dating a vampire, but what was that about him being in her protection? She couldn’t be serious. How could she fight a creature like that when he decided to drain her? Riley determined to save her. Standing, he left the Espresso Pump and headed to base, eager to renew his efforts to recapture the escaped hostile as well as rounding up some others that might just be in his way.

Disclaimer: The characters herein are the property of Joss Whedon. They are being used for entertainment purposes and not for the sake of profit. No copyright infringement is intended.



Chapter Twenty-Six
Buffy hadn't been able to find him. She had wandered the streets and cemeteries of Sunnydale till she was exhausted, but she failed to locate him. Feeling heartsick and unsure she crawled into her bed and again cried out her misery. Her determination to make things better waned in the dark and her bravery died a subtle death. She felt flayed, emotional shreds hanging limp from her heart. She didn't know how to make this right.

When she woke up it was obvious that there was a problem. For the first time in a week she clung to Willow as they made their silent way to Giles, finding all of Sunnydale to be doing the wacky no talky thing, and purchased a couple of mini whiteboards so they could get their point across. It was kind of fun- in a disturbing we know what the big bad is this time, kind of way. Arm in arm they giggled heartily- despite no one being able to hear them- and Buffy felt carefree for the first time since Spike had been returned.

Her smile faded when she came face to face with him on entering Giles's flat and pain once again filled her eyes. She couldn't believe that they were finally within touching distance and she could try to fix things, but they were all unable to talk. She lowered her eyes in momentary defeat and disappointment, missing his flash of hope when he spied the ring on her other hand.

Olivia, the friend that Giles had forgotten to tell anyone about, held out her hand in greeting, and the girls joined the others in the main part of the room. Jollity abounded as they took comfort in knowing that no embarrassing slide pictures were needed this time; just the wait for darkness and the emergence of The Gentleman and their gross side-kicks, a good fight and an almighty scream. It even came as no surprise to Buffy that she didn't have the dream this time, no warning. They didn't need it really, having all major pitfalls plotted in advance.

As the day wore on and the promise of darkness finally made itself known, Buffy withdrew further as she became aware of the lengths Spike was going to insure that she didn't come close to him. Her body keenly felt his withdrawal from her, and it was all she could do to retain a grip on her duty to protect the innocent when she wanted to collapse in a heap and bawl her eyes out. She just wanted him to forgive her- to let this pain stop. She would do anything for him to take her back, except maybe letting him kill Xander. A small smile graced her lips, but she countered it immediately with a little sniffle. Even seeing Angel every day with the torture of not being able to touch had not felt this horrible, this hopeless.

The day was spent playing tic-tac-toe on the whiteboard with Willow, and silly board games with Xander and Anya. The fun was absent though, as they all realised how much better the games were with bursts of accusation from losing players. Spike watched tv, and they were all grateful for even the noise of Passions in the otherwise silent room.

Buffy's stomach was all tied up in knots as darkness finally fell and in unspoken agreement, Spike fell in at her side. They left the others behind, searching out the evil afoot. Her insides clenched painfully at the thought that their silence with each other tonight was not entirely due to the spell on the town. Another tiny piece of her broke, and she felt like a wounded soldier marching beside her saviour, but who was denied the chance of fulfillment.

It didn't take them long to notice the grotesque floating figures of The Gentleman, their loonybin sidekicks doing the hunchback shuffle alongside and ahead of them. It was macabre in its predictability and Buffy laughed in silence at the futility of it all. Here she was with the love of her life, about to meet the man who wanted to be the love of her life, only to be on a mission to release an evil bond on her scream. She shouldn't be doing this. She should be at Spike's place -hurrah!- lying wrapped up naked in his arms showing him in the depths of his skin of her devotion to him.

They fought back to back, each wielding a heavy sword, slashing through those that stood in their way. Once they reached the building that housed the collected hearts of The Gentleman's victims, they glanced at each other and their eyes locked in pure heat. Buffy tried to wordlessly convey her feelings, holding her breath and hoping that he could read her correctly just like every other time that he had. Without any indication of his comprehension, he turned away and started to fight. She gave him one final, yearning look before bolting up the staircase where she met Riley and a Gentleman eager to rip out her heart. The side-by-side combat she tried on with Riley felt wrong and she wondered why she had never discerned the difference. Joining battle with Spike had always been exhilarating, matched strength-to-strength she never had to worry about him holding his own. Riley had limits though, while she had eventually pointed those out to him brutally, it didn't stop her from realising that it was just another area of mismatch that she had ignored.

With the Gentleman otherwise occupied, she lunged for the box, pulled off its lid and let out an almighty scream. The high-pitched sound continued as all their heads exploded and she inwardly celebrated the destruction of yet another threat.

When she turned around she was face to face with Spike. Once again silence reigned despite the renewed ownership of their voices, and she held her breath in anticipation. She groaned as Riley elbowed his way into the small standoff, but rejoiced anew as she heard the possessive growl of her mate. It was the first time she had thought of him thus and she revelled again in the man that she belonged to. Spike's eyes slid from hers to lock hatefully on the bulky commando that stood too close to Buffy and he suddenly lunged past and grabbed her right hand.

With a jerk, she was brought before him, her breath hissing in anger at his brutal way of grabbing her. Her eyes lightened however in shock when he violently pulled the ring from her finger. She cried out in denial as her heart finally shattered, great chunks falling from her chest, and she knew that she could never ever repair it. Tears streamed down her face- and she found it difficult to see from her blurred vision- when his finger came to her chin to raise her eyes back to his. He gently swiped at the steady torrent of tears making tracks down her face and he smiled warmly as his other hand regained her left, raising it in front of them. Without a word he replaced the ring on her finger but before she could lower her eyes to look at its return to its rightful place, he kissed her hard yet passionately. Abruptly he hauled himself away from her mouth and disappeared from her view and the clocktower in a burst of vampire speed and grace.

With trembling hands she looked down at the ring and smiled. He still wanted her, he still loved her, and apparently, he still meant to marry her. With a laugh of delight she flung her arms around Riley before realising he was the wrong arms for her to be in, and she took off after Spike.

She wanted to be embraced by home once again.


A/N...ahhhh, things are getting back on track....or are they???

What are your thoughts? I've had many death threats for Riley...whatever will become of him!

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Buffy couldn’t find him. She searched everywhere she could think of until the sky began to lighten and surmised that he just didn’t want to be found. Disappointed, she crossed her arms over her chest as she slowly made her way back to the dorms. She felt that she was constantly on the edge of tears these days, and she so desperately wanted things to be better with Spike. She still caught her breath in a moment of pain when she thought of him taking the ring away from her permanently. She was so grateful that no matter what damage she had done to their relationship, it wasn’t so far gone that he wanted to be rid of her for good. Her relief was tempered, though, by the frustration she felt at never being able to find him.

Realising that she had yet to inform Giles of the fate of The Gentleman she headed back away from campus. Not like she was ready to sleep yet anyway. She was far too wired. She knocked loudly on his door and gave a startled gasp when Spike drew it open. All the culminated stress of the week and not seeing him collided with her relief at being within touching distance and she hurled herself into his arms. Afraid that he still might push her away, her arms clung to his neck as she pushed herself into his body as closely as she dared. Long moments dragged before she felt his arms creep round to hold her to him and she finally let out her held breath in a muffled sob. The tears had again returned but she didn’t realise she was crying until he gently pulled her away and her vision of him was blurred.

“I am so sorry,” she sobbed, her arms still entwined about his neck like she would never let go.

He cocked his head to the side as if to contemplate the depth of her apology, drawing her back to him as her misery became obvious.

“We have to work this out. I can’ stand the sight of you runnin’ every time something happens an’ you doubt me.” His breath shifted her hair and her body tingled, rejoicing to be back in his arms. Buffy knew it was where she belonged; with him, by his side for as much life as she had left, and she couldn’t believe that she had wasted a whole week by being insecure about his love. She needed to start having faith in him before she lost him.

Still not having the courage to raise her eyes and look at him, she whispered into his shoulder.

“I know I love you. I know I feel wrong when I’m not with you. I’m sorry I doubted you and before you say it, I know that if I hadn’t taken off I would have been happily in your arms picking out wedding cake for the past week.” She pulled away and took a small step back, letting her arms finally slip from his shoulders and fall to her side, miserable and defeated. “I don’t know why I reacted like that. I guess I was just so overwhelmed, and I was happy. I’m not used to being so happy. It was such a big thing to let a vampire bite me. I only allowed Angel to save his life.” She turned away but pushed on despite his angry growl. She knew that this statement could not be left unexplained or Spike could be on the road in minutes to make Angel pay. She wasn’t too stupid to know the possessiveness of a mate.

“He was poisoned, Spike, and only a Slayer’s blood could save him. I did everything I could to get Faith for him but I wasn’t able to. So that just left me. If it makes you feel any better, he nearly killed me.” Her dry chuckle fell into a silent room. ‘Okay’, she thought, ‘near death does not amuse the dead guy,’ and she wiped the smile from her face.

“I was afraid, okay? You proposed, and you claimed me, and if I had been thinking straight and not forgotten about Willow’s original spell then yeah, I guess I would have known that it wasn’t as artificial as that other time. But I hadn’t remembered and it was a shock when Giles reminded me. I was afraid that you wouldn’t want it or think that we only did all that together because of a spell. I wanted you to want those things so much, and I had waited to be with you so everything would be perfect.” She stopped and took a breath before turning back to look at him and suddenly sucked in another in erotic impulse. Visions of the two of them writhing around his bed, the sheets in disarray and the physical effect of his bite raised her heartbeat alarmingly and she couldn’t find a steady image to help ground herself. His eyes. God he’s so beautiful. Her brain shut down as she clung to that indrawn breath, her lungs burning as she drank him in. Her hands buzzed with the urgent desire to locate his skin, the humming of her body steadily increasing as she felt impulse control surrender itself to sensation. She forgot everything and her body began to shut down as she forgot to breathe, her only concern to never lose sight of those eyes again.

Spike caught her as she began to collapse. The shock of falling kick-started her back into motion and she sucked in great gulping breaths, feeling like a princess cradled in his strong arms.

“Oh boy,” she rasped in surprise. “That was way intense.”

Spike grinned, rather impressed at having an immobilising effect on her. The memory of the past week returned though, and his grin faded as he lowered her again to standing.

“If I see you ‘having coffee’ again with Captain Cardboard I’ll rip that bloody ring off for good.” His voice was pure anger and Buffy hadn’t heard it like that in well ever if she was honest.

She remembered those first hours of him being back and his flirting with Anya and her back stiffened.

“And if I see you flirting like you did with Anya then I’ll rip your d….um…head off.” She smiled brightly for the first time in a week at his tortured grimace before once again launching herself back into his arms.

“I know there are a lot of issues. I need to trust and believe in you and I do already, really I just get frightened and I guess I don’t believe in myself much.” She allowed her cheek to rub against his as she pulled herself back so her lips were just the smallest breath away from his. She looked up into his ocean blue eyes and sunk at an alarmingly swift pace. She gulped frantically, feeling that earlier sensation start to consume her senses and she brushed her lips against his in a desperate attempt to fall back to earth. “I love you.” Her voice was husky and rough as her hands started to wander absentmindedly over his shoulders and down his arms. “I need you.” She licked his neck before biting just hard enough to leave a mark but not break the skin. “I want you.” Her voice barely drifted above a whisper as her lips found his again and remained, drawing him in and losing herself again in the heady rush of desire.

His hands played over the fabric of her shirt, teasing artistic circles over her back and the steady bubbling of intense arousal invaded every skin cell and exploded in a gush of molten heat beyond her control. She surrendered mindlessly to the feeling of his tongue encircling hers, swiping sensually over her bottom lip and her fingers, now in his hair, tightened their grip as a swirl of desire expanded in her belly. He pulled her body in closer, rubbing his leg against hers, his erection hardening against her stomach. As his hand began to pull her top up at the front and snake its way to her lace covered breast, they were torn apart by duel throat clearings from the stairway.

“Oh, bloody hell. Couldn’t you have stayed in your own bloody bed?” Spike turned wild, flashing yellow eyes to Giles and Olivia who were smiling bemusedly as they continued into the room.

“Yes, well,” Giles cleared his throat. “As enlightened as I am, I am not prepared to walk in and see my Slayer in naked activities with her vampire betrothed.” His eyes strayed to the ruby ring that once again dominated Buffy’s left hand, rather happy about it in some way mysterious to himself, but glad that Olivia had pointed it out before they felt a need to interrupt. “Some of us never want to be blinded ever again.” He smiled rather gleefully as he and Olivia headed for the kitchen.

Spike looked back at Buffy and laughed at her charmingly pink complexion before bending and giving her a quick kiss on the pulse point of her throat.

“You do know they’ve been doin’ it like rabbits ever since she got ‘ere, don’ you?”

Buffy blushed again and decided to change the subject.

“So,” she started, her lips being drawn back to heaven but stopped just shy of the entry gate as the loud activity from the kitchen broke through her haze.

“Do you have a thrall on me?” The pout on her lips enticing nothing but lusty thoughts from the vampire.

“I don’t have thrall, kitten. You know that.”

“Then why do I keep spacing out?” Her eyebrows crinkled in cute confusion and he laughed out loud.

“I’ve always been bad, baby. You’ll just have to work it out for yourself.”

He grabbed a blanket from the floor beside the door and wrapped it around himself. Before she knew what he was doing he had whipped open the door and disappeared.

“Damn.” She stomped her foot hard. “Bye Giles.” Her shout definite just as the front door slammed once again and she was gone, leaving Giles and Olivia smiling lewdly at one another over their steaming cups of tea.

A/N....another chapter, thanks again to my faithful reviewers...I hope you like this chapter...did I tell you all that we've passed half-way??? Remember...review, review, review!

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Buffy was entirely grateful that the Slayer package included speed to match that of a vampire's when she caught sight of a black and white blur disappearing near the Bronze. At least she finally knew where he would be, and in a burst of adrenaline she sprinted after him. He was waiting at his apartment with his door open, leaning up against the doorjamb with a wicked, leering grin on his lips.

"Not sure what I can do for ya today, Slayer. Gotta rest up for tonight."

She stopped in front of him, gasping for breath and cursing the same Slayer package that didn't give her the vampire skill of not being winded from a distant sprint, until she realised that would make her dead. Huh! Can't win 'em all!

"Oh? What plans did you have for tonight?" That bottom lip pouted at him again and she grinned on the inside at his focused concentration on it.

"Important stuff. The Scoobies invited me out to the Bronze."

The pout turned automatically into a frown.

"It isn't safe for you to be out and about. Riley could recognise you at any mo...." Her voice died as her eyes widened in fear and alarm. "Oh my God, I told him you were a vampire. He'll be looking for you."

When she mentioned Riley's name Spike's eyes flashed angrily, but he hauled the Demon back in and grabbed her in a hug instead of berating her.

"We are goin' to sort the Initiative out soon, pet. Finn won't get a chance to hurt me. Besides, we're back together and while we are he can' get near me. He doesn' know where I live. It'll be fine. 'Specially the sooner you come in and we can shut the bleeding door." His brow raised in question and she flushed puce at the first thought that streaked through her mind.

"Ah, I thought you needed some sleep." She swiped his lips flirtatiously with her finger as she followed him over the threshold and the door swung closed behind her.

He held one hand, raising it to suck erotically on her pointy finger as he dragged her, walking backwards, toward the bed. A quick glance behind him reminded him that he hadn't made it for a few days, too angry at her to bother, and certainly not thinking when he stepped out last night to back her up with The Gentlemen that she would be returning with him. He shrugged his shoulders. For the plans he had, a made bed would be wasted.

Her eyes closed involuntarily when he closed his lips over a second finger and the strong sucking pressure of his tongue on her digits reminded her of other places where his tongue created magic. Her stomach shifted on another wave of lust. He pulled the fingers from his mouth with a pop and her eyes fluttered back open to look at him in a daze. He still held her arm suspended out in front of her and as his hand loosened its grip she let it fall to his fabric-covered chest. Buffy scrunched her face in disbelief.

'That T-shirt has to go', she determined and before Spike could offer a preventative shout, she had torn it clean down the middle and was tugging it down his arms. He let out a feral growl as he grabbed her around the waist and launched them both at the bed. He twisted gracefully in the air so that he landed on top of her and their mouths fused. She tried to wrap her arms around him but he would have none of that. She had started the violence by sacrificing his favourite T-shirt, thus she would have to suffer the consequences.

Her eyes shot open in alarm, unaware that she had spoken aloud during her destructive act. "But every T-shirt you have is exactly the same!" She tried to reason with him.

"Not true, Slayer."

She gave him a pointed, sad look, and he amended.

"Not true, Buffy." And though he had drawn her arms above her head and held her wrists in a firm grip, he claimed her lips with gentleness born from extreme devotion. Their tongues swirled together, tasting and licking each other into blissful reunion, eager to catch up on the sensuality they had been denying themselves for the past week. Her body was pinned flat to the bed, his positioned limb to limb against hers so that she was unable to move out from beneath him. But she could wriggle, and so wriggle she did, smiling into the kiss when his stiffening shaft became rock hard against her. The smile turned into a hungry groan and she opened her mouth wide, attacking his lips almost savagely so that her message could not be misinterpreted. She wanted more, much more. And she needed it now.

His grip loosened, allowing her to capture her fingers in his hair and she marvelled at how soft it was once she worked out the gel, letting his adorable curls begin to spring forth.

With a thought that seemed urgent she wrenched her lips away from his.

"I know it was a bad time and all, but when you were in the basement of the high school after getting your soul back, you know, all unhygienic and stuff, your hair was longer."

"Yeah? Didn't have a mirror," he deadpanned. She looked at him with a poker face for all of two seconds before her face split and she let forth a round of hysterical giggles.

"Take my word for it, blondie. It was longish, kinda shaggy, with the peroxide almost grown out so that only the tips were white, and it was all curly. Man, you looked hot." Her voice became tinged with admiration with a touch of passion.

"Really?" He quirked a brow at her in fascination.

"Oh yeah. Completely ravishable."

"So, what? You want me to grow my hair out?" He looked at her as if she were crazy.

"Oh, absolutely. And then when you tried to come out of the basement and dressed different?"

His eyebrow hovered just under his hairline, suddenly extremely apprehensive about her increasing fervour to turn him into her Ken doll.

"What? The Leather?"

"Ohhh yeahhh..." she sighed, horniness making her arousal fragrant and he was hard pressed to keep his hands to himself till they had sorted out her makeover euphoria.

"And the blue shirt. Clingy. Where'd you get that stuff anyway?" she asked absent-mindedly, her eyes glazing over in lust. He wasn't sure she actually required an answer as she was obviously lost in the future created memory of him wearing leather and blue.

"Not sure," he offered anyway. "Probably not somewhere good." His voice was tinged with sadness.

Her eyes blinked back into focus and she forgot about how that blue top molded to his body in favour of actually ogling said body. She licked her lips in hunger as her hand caressed the skin on one shoulder and drifted downward toward his chest, pinching his nipple hard. He shivered and moaned, and in his distraction she pounced. In one fluid move she had reversed their positions and he now lay underneath her. She straddled his hips, happily grinding her steaming pussy into his hard cock and bent forward, running her tongue first over a hardened nipple, down, down to dip into the smooth arcs of his waved abdominal muscles. Her body flashed hot and the cool surface of his skin against her fiery mouth did little to quench her need.

Her mouth made it to his throat and she grabbed hold of a patch of skin and sucked hard, her still covered breasts brushing inappropriately against the hard wall of his chest as he arched upwards in ecstasy, little darts of desire shooting directly downwards.

"More," he called as the pressure of her mouth lessened, and she smiled before capturing his mouth again for a too brief kiss.

"I know someplace better I can suck," she told him conspiratorially and he sucked in a breath of fierce anticipation.

She allowed her body to move down till the buckle of his belt was exposed. In his bliss he lay motionless and she knew it would be up to her to get him naked if she wanted it to happen soon. Once unfastened, the first button came undone almost as if by will alone and within seconds, his pants were dragged down and off his legs; his glorious cock standing proudly waiting for her praise. Her eyes grew in sudden apprehension, wondering what the best way to tackle this new experience would be. She lowered her head in determined intent then, mere centimetres from the smooth plane, she hesitated, knowing inherently the angle was all wrong. She tilted her head left, then right in silent contemplation, before darting down quickly and swiping her tongue over the flattened bell at the top, curving around the slit that already secreted his flavour. Wrapping a hand around his length, she dipped her lips again to the head and slid the edge of her tongue inside the slit, gathering up his fluid and warming internally at his tortured growl. In an abrupt movement of confidence she enclosed all of the head within her mouth and sucked hard, allowing a few centimetres of his cock to further invade her mouth. Loosening her grip slightly she allowed the length to glide past her tongue and down her throat, stopping when she sensed her gag reflex about to kick in.

Below her Spike began to writhe in pleasurable discomfort, hands entangling in her hair as she energetically bobbed up and down, allowing saliva to coat her lips and smoothing the ride. Her fingers found his balls almost in surprise and she took them gently to hand, loving the feel of the smooth skin and the heaviness of his sac. She moaned, becoming more and more turned on by her selfless act but knowing all to well how he liked to reciprocate.

"Buffy!" His urgent call shocked her out of her lusty daze and she looked at him wondering what was wrong and nearly gagged as the flow of his cum invaded her mouth. 'Oh,' she thought, the corners of her mouth tilting up in catlike satisfaction, and she drank him up voraciously. As the lust continued to thunder in her ears she allowed him time to come down from the high he had disappeared to and lapped happily at the remaining fluid on his cock. When she had finished she lay beside him, her smile happy and loving. They looked into each other's eyes, Spike's a little dazzled, as she played again with his hair. They lay close enough to gently nibble on the other's lips, still looking intently into each other's eyes, never wanting the intimacy to diminish. But reality set in as his eyes began to droop, and she realised they were both tired, but groaned and flopped backwards when she knew she didn't have the luxury of sleeping. Classes called, and Willow really shouldn't be left to face Professor Walsh on her own.

Not wanting to give up play quite yet, Buffy rubbed her fully clothed body against Spike's naked one and displayed the pout that had become a frequent feature so far today.

"Did you want something, pet?" he asked, a smile teasing his sexy lips as his lids drifted determinedly shut.

She took pity on him and smiled happily. She had him back. That was all she wanted.

"Yeah," she replied, satisfaction heavy in her voice. "You!" She kissed him softly then prepared to leave. He grabbed her wrist in a lightening move as she had crawled off the bed.

"Where you goin'?" His voice was weary, barely coherent but he tried to cling to wakefulness for a little while longer to know where she was heading off to.

"I have classes," she explained patiently, rubbing her hand soothingly over his brow and taking a blanket to cover him. "I'll see you tonight."

"Okay. Be good, baby. Love you." And he slept, his body stilling as in death. She refrained from squealing, her heart so full of emotion that her body trembled. 'He called me baby again, and she almost floated out of the apartment on a dreamy cloud of achievement. She finally had all she wanted, and nothing upon nothing would take it from her now.



A/N...okay, I lost two chapters worth of reviews...damn...so new readers...give it a shot...might make me update faster...

Chapter Twenty-Nine


Although their day had been organised around lectures, research and food breaks, Buffy and Willow's togetherness had been frequently marred by awkward bursts of silence. Buffy's marked lack of courage in approaching Spike about their troubles in every way matched her similar approach to Willow. They hadn't discussed the spell gone wrong or the almost disastrous effects it had on her blooming relationship with the newest vampire with a soul. No number of cookies could penetrate Buffy's week-long miserable certainty that she had allowed a break of monumental proportions to fester between herself and Spike. Now that they had made up though, she was feeling delirious in her happiness; she was a giver. The manner of her giving earlier this morning had a giant grin plastered to her lips.

Once again Willow looked at her friend and sighed at all the missed opportunities for mending the trust that she had smashed to pieces with her badly thought out spell. It seemed like much too heavy a burden to bear that not only was she grieving about the finality of her own relationship, but she had to assume the responsibility for driving a stake in Buffy's newfound happiness as well. Not to mention Xander's perverse fixation on all things demon and their locations-see how to avoid them at all costs!

They may have spent the majority of the day together, but there had been no lighthearted humour to break through the tedium of classes and study, and this had Willow decidedly nervous. Buffy's occasional enormous grins here and there sided with her continued cold shoulder treatment made Willow even more so. They had made it back to their dorm room after a quicker-than-usual walk from the library, Buffy intent on finding something red to wear out on their trip to the Bronze. Suddenly weary, Willow collapsed on her bed and sighed loudly.

"Buffy, are we going to get past this?"

Buffy stopped in the frantic search of her closet and looked hard at her bestfriend. She registered the wounded expression in Willow's shining eyes and decided that enough was enough. She had never felt the need to punish her friends before, for any infraction- and it was unfair for her to start now. Besides, now that she was all Honest Buffy, she could admit that most of the fault lay at her own door.

"I'm sorry, Will. I haven't intentionally been ignoring you." At Willow's raised eyebrow and her lips pursed in her standard resolve face, Buffy deflated. "Okay, there was a little bit of avoidy Buffy. I was scared. I know you all think I'm crazy for letting myself fall for Spike, but I really had no choice. God, I love him so much it tears at my insides."

Buffy laughed at Willow's grimace. "I know, I'm all with the colourful imagery."

"Well, torn insides can be good. I think. I mean, can't they?" Willow did her clever, cute ditzy routine and Buffy laughed, but then her mouth grew serious as she drew them back to their healing chat.

"I thought I'd ruined it. It wasn't so much that you cast the spell that upset me. It was more that I had finally let him have me after waiting and I was afraid that I only did it out of some magical compulsion. I know: Stupid, thy name is Buffy. It would have happened anyway, sooner or later, and I just blew everything out of proportion. Just call me The Big Over-reactor!"

Buffy stopped and wondered at the shocked look on her friend's face.

"What did I say?" Buffy started to get nervous as Willow opened and closed her mouth several times without even one little burst of sound.

"Will?"

"You...you...gave yourself to Spike?"

Buffy's grin almost split her face as she collapsed back on her bed with dreaminess clouding her face.

"Oh, did I!"

"Oh Goddess. I bet that was some good times."

"And then some..." Buffy suddenly snapped upright and glared at the redhead. "Not you too! First mom, then you. Spike's bod is not for anyone else's eyes, just mine." The possessive flare of fire in her eyes had Willow backing down fast.

"Sorry, not poaching. I've had my demon guy. No more for a really...really... long while. Maybe even never! I'm thinking of trying for a different kind of lifestyle."

Buffy choked, though not unkindly, and offered a conciliatory smile to Willow before adopting a relaxed pose.

"And who would be making you think of this 'different' kind of lifestyle? Would she be a pretty blonde into magic?"

Willow blushed."I hope you don't mind. I asked Tara to come to the Bronze with us."

They shared a genuine smile of warmth as they rose and continued searching for the definitive 'wowing' outfit before heading off to find the rest of their party.

They met up with Tara before leaving campus and Buffy received her first compliment for the night as they walked happily toward the Bronze.

"Wow, Buffy. You look amazing."

Willow looked a little jealously at Tara, but shrugged. No use getting upset over her admiration of a strictly heterosexual girl, especially one with a vampire boyfriend. Then she looked at Buffy closely and took in the satisfied smile, the gentle flush on her cheeks, the long satin red dress and heels that would be hell to slay in should the need arise, and her eyes widened.

"Thank you, Tara. You look pretty good yourself."

Tara looked down at her plain black skirt and wispy cream shirt and raised a questioning brow at Willow. She giggled.

"I think Buff is in Happy Land. Everything is beautiful."

The two girls shared an amused smile and looked at Buffy, who walked along with stars in her eyes. As they neared the alley behind the Bronze, they heard someone calling out to Buffy and slowed; Willow pulling on her best-friend's arm to gain her attention when it appeared she hadn't heard her own name called. The three turned, and as Buffy's spine stiffened as her eyes found Riley. She looked quickly around the alleyway; glad to see that he didn't have his commando friends staked out strategically- or at least, not that she could see. Then again, that wouldn't be hiding, she thought to herself nervously.

"Hey Riley. What's up?"

His smile was bright with pleasure and she suddenly knew that he hadn't gotten the message that she was taken. Unease shivered across her skin and she knew that after tonight, they all needed to reconvene at Giles's and come up with a plan. The threat of the Initiative had to be neutralised soon, or Spike would never be safe.

In an act of desperation, she ran her left hand up her right arm and allowed it to rest on her shoulder, the ruby of her ring glinting in the streetlight, dim though it was. His eyes rested briefly on the stone before pointedly ignoring it and turning back to her face.

"So, Bronzing tonight huh? Would you save me a dance?"

She shifted uncomfortably, glancing sideways at Willow before offering nervous consent.

"Sure. One dance. It would be my pleasure."

He seemed disappointed that she didn't intend for more, but sucked it up and rocked on his heels, hands in his pocket looking for all the world like a nervous school boy chatting up the girl of his dreams.

"I'll see you later, Riley. We're meeting some people inside." Her smile wasn't frosty, though she fully wanted it to be, and they turned and left him standing in the doorway. As they disappeared within the pumping walls of the Bronze, Forrest and Graham appeared from their hiding places, dressed head to toe in standard issue army gear, their weapons resting at ease.

"You have your orders?"

They nodded solemnly. "Take down Hostile 17. We'll come and get you when he has been neutralised."

Riley showed his consent with the quick dip of his chin and disappeared through the door that had swallowed so many young people already tonight.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Buffy stood a little inside the door and allowed her eyes to sway back and forth, looking for her target. She nearly fell over in shock when she located him, sitting silently, sipping at a beer; with Xander. A smile lit up her face, glad that her friend was trying, and she made her way toward them.

As if sensing her, Spike was suddenly on his feet and facing her. The sight of him had her steady progress stumbling to a halt and she sucked in air desperately thinking she was very much about to pass out. He stood there, proud, his strong legs encased in black leather and his powerful shoulders the hanger for an impressive electric blue pullover, the waist loose and hanging. It wasn't latex and it didn't cling, but the dryness of Buffy's mouth told her that it so didn't matter. The man was sex on legs, and thank God he was all hers. Her eyes sought his and her world tipped to its side, uncertain how to reassert balance. She wondered if she was ever going to have equilibrium around him again.

Neither of them had moved, staring their fill at their mate and wishing for all the world they could be somewhere a little less public. Images flashed through Buffy's mind and she was finding it difficult to breathe, suddenly uncomfortable with how revealing her skintight, ankle length red satin dress was without a bra.

As a little reality began to filter back into her conscious state she became aware of the quiet gasps of admiration, both male and female, and she puffed up with knowledge. He was hers, and dammit, it was time to make the room know it.

Her steps quickened until she finally reached his side and her lips became glued to his. In full view of everyone, including her friends and Riley, she engaged in passion and heat and wild but sure love as if her last seconds on earth depended on it. The minutes ticked by with barely a person in the club moving, all watching the clinch between the two hot blondes, fascinated as Spike's hands slid over the smooth surface of her dress until he cupped a breast and tweaked an achingly hard nipple. The electric pulse that hit her violently in the gut had her gasp and pull away, finally noticing the enraptured gaze of the people surrounding them. An embarrassed flush deepened the colour of her face and she buried her head against the soft blue wool of Spike's shirt, sighing happily at his amused rumbling.

He took her hand and dragged her to the dance floor, wrapping his arms intimately around her body and holding her close enough that she was aware of every one of his tense muscles. They swayed hypnotically, leaving their friends to gather drinks and their own libidos after the scorching display had ended only to begin again amongst a crush of avid dancers. Anya had arrived in the interim and commented happily about the quality of orgasms she was positive Buffy would have experienced by now, all to the chorus of groans from her own table. Tara ducked her head, timid but excited. Under the table she held Willow's hand.

In their intimate circle the two blondes seemed oblivious to all around them, but Buffy could feel the bounce of energy bounding off Spike, and knew he was on alert.

"Finn's here," he whispered into her hair.

"Know." Her mumbling heated the patch of fabric against his shoulder and he smiled.

"Not much dressed for slaying tonight, are you?"

She lifted her head and smiled saucily.

"Don't have any plans for killing vamps tonight."

"Do you have plans for doing anything else with vamps tonight?"

"Maybe." Everything was implied in that one word and she smirked when she felt him hardening against her hip. Then he crushed her closer to her body.

"You drive me bloody wild. Do you know that?"

"It's mutual." Her breath had moved up to his neck and all his nerves stood to attention.

"What you did this morning? Oh baby, you're remarkable."

Her teeth scraped the flesh of his neck and he released a tortured groan.

"I fully expect payment for services rendered," she told him, running her fingers through his ungelled curls and she smiled, delirious with her world.

"So, you like the new rags?" He pulled her gently away, just a fraction to see her happiness as she nodded enthusiastically.

"Like is way not a strong enough word. I can't decide if I want to strip you, or just look at you dressed all night."

He chuckled, and she wondered if she had ever heard him laugh out loud before. She had seen many smirks, and perhaps snorts of amusement, but laughter? She didn't think so. Her insides warmed and she cosied into him again.

"Sorry, didn't have time to grow the hair. I left out the gel, though."

Her fingers itched to touch him all over and the warmness his words initiated spread through her like wildfire.

"I can't believe that you want to change for me." Her husky whisper resulted in a harder jab against her thigh.

"Not change. Jus' alter."

They snuggled happily, swaying to the beat as they lost themselves in the combined heat of their desire, and the rush of the room.

They were unaware of the change in song so were shocked when a deep voice broke into their preoccupation.

"Buffy, you up for that dance now?"

She looked up at Riley, her lusty daze taking time to make sense of why he was interrupting them.

"Sure Riley, can you just hold on a second?" He nodded once and stepped away, and it made her nervous that he didn't give her a bit more privacy with her mate. Knowing he didn't have the capacity to hear a whisper in such a loud atmosphere she turned Spike's head away from the interloper and listened to her instincts.

"I promised him one dance. It's not coffee," she tried to joke, but it fell flat at his warning growl. "It doesn't mean anything. I think it's important though to keep an eye on him." He pulled away and began to walk away, resigned to her decision, and all of a sudden self-preservation kicked in. She grabbed his arm and pulled him back to give him a quick kiss. "Don't go outside. I didn't see anything, but I have a feeling that Riley is after you and I wouldn't be surprised if he has his friends out there waiting to recapture you." He tipped his head in reluctant agreement before returning to the table and entering the conversation, she turning back to the suddenly loathsome company of Riley.


A/N I think some wonderful people missed this chapter...so hope you all rememebr to review review review, and I might just get you the new new chappie ASAP!

Chapter Thirty

The moment she ditched Riley, Buffy knew that he was angry, and her sense of unease grew. She didn’t think it would help to approach him about anything the Scoobies knew at this point, knowing that he himself was still in the dark about Adam. But as she looked at Spike, now sharing a companionable game of pool and tense laughter with Xander, fear crawled along her nerves and gathered at her tingly spot at the base of her skull. She wrapped her arms around his waist when she joined him, tightening them in hope that she wouldn’t have to ever let him go, and looked over her shoulder at Riley. He continued to look at her and glare at Spike.

Deciding there was nothing they could do about it for now, she turned her attention back to her friends and gave herself up to the fun of the night. A night of music, laughter and friendship was just what they needed after the emotionally tense time the last couple of weeks had consisted of, and she was glad for this chance to relax. And to admire, she thought wickedly. She could barely keep her eyes off the sexy leather clad ass of her man and so the threat of Riley Finn easily diminished as the night wore on.

They determined that it was time to head home once the first round of yawns made their appearance. Amid calls of goodnight and amused, knowing winks from the girls to Buffy, they all headed out the doors and off in different directions.

Not long alone, Spike dragged Buffy closer and played at nuzzling her neck.

“We’re bein’ followed, luv. Don’t think we should go straight home.” Though he whispered, his cool breath caused tingles to flutter along her skin, but her short kiss was her acknowledgement.

They wandered hand in hand toward the cemetery and for the first time it occurred to her that they might be in a fair amount of trouble. She wasn’t sure how many were following, although she instinctively knew that Riley was among them. And she had no real knowledge of their weapons, though she was willing to bet on a taser or two. They were human, so at least physically they held no challenge for her just her stupid dress but Spike was defenseless. She would be on her own during the fight, but the threat against her mate already had the fury whipped up within her and she could feel the adrenaline begin to flood her body.

Bending down with the appearance of fixing her shoe, she gave a destructive tug to the slit of her dress and it now reached way up her thigh. Spike had next to no time to admire the flash of her flesh before they were attacked. He could hear the whizz of an arrow and without looking, his arm flashed and caught the projectile, centimetres from his chest. He looked up and was alarmed as he caught Buffy’s pale face and shocked eyes.

Without warning she shoved him hard to the ground and spun on her heel, intent to make whoever fired the arrow pay. They were only metres away now, just the three of them, and they stumbled to an uncertain stop at the fury of her face. Riley had warned them about her that she could fight demons but the three still did not know her true identity and so were unprepared for her speed and force in attacking them outright. Graham received the first punch, being the one who held the crossbow in his hands, but only for seconds longer. It hit the ground as he grabbed his face, so caught up in his pain that he was unable to defend his friends against the whirlwind that was Finn’s ‘peculiar’ love interest.

Without seeming to break a sweat she had relieved all three of their weapons, tossing them to Spike, who was still sitting on the grass, and walloped them all but good. It was only once they all lay on the ground groaning that Buffy came back to herself and she stepped back, slightly horrified at the damage she had done. Seeing the arrow still in Spike’s hand had her stiffening her resolve, however, and she turned to the three commandos, conspicuous in their balaclavas, with a complete look of fury creasing her face.

“Riley, if you so much as raise an eyebrow at Spike again, I will beat you. That goes for Forrest and Graham too.” The pure hatred in her voice took second place to their shock that she knew their identities, and they ripped off the black covering.

Quickly recovering from his surprise at the attack, Riley took charge of his small group and hesitantly stepped forward.

“Wouldn’ do that if I were you,” Spike called as he finally stood up, judging the danger to be greatly reduced, and not a little peeved at Buffy’s manhandling him to the ground.

Riley glared at their hunted subject, but nevertheless took heed of the warning and stepped back.

“He is an escaped Hostile, Buffy. We have to take him back into custody.”

“Over my dead body you will,” she spat at him furiously. “I meant what I said. You touch him, you die.” She stood with her hands on her hips, almost daring them to make a move.

“And just for the record, he isn’t a Hostile. Not 17 or otherwise. He is my fiance, he is my mate, he is my lover, and he is my vampire. Furthermore, he has a soul and he is a champion. He has a purpose in this world and I will not allow him to be taken away from me. You go and tell Professor Walsh that!”

The three commandos gasped in shock. Initially Riley thought she had guessed who his comrades were as they always hung out together, and it would make sense that they might all work together. But for her to know who the head of their operation was, that was a serious information breach.

“How do you know about Professor Walsh?” The question originated from a much harder voice, the voice of an army man, not a man on the brink of infatuation with this tiny girl, whom he now realised was stronger than he and his men combined.

She laughed.

“I know all about your stupid operation. I know you’re called the Initiative, and that you think you’re fighting demons, and finding ways to neutralise them trying to protect the world. In fact, I know more than you do. I know that good old Maggie is shooting you boys up with stuff to make you stronger, but that it will affect your heart and without having an operation, you will die.” Her eyes were intent on Riley’s to see if he got it, and she was satisfied when he flinched. Maybe he didn’t fully believe her, having been unaware that he was a test subject, but she was happy for the seed to be planted. “I also know the real plan, boys. The one that she hasn’t told you and the rest of your unit about.” They looked at her in confusion, and her lips turned up at them in a cold smile. “Ask her about Adam. If you want to talk, you know where to find me. But don’t wait too long. If Adam gets loose, innocent people are going to die and I know that was not your mission.”

She returned to Spike’s side and put her arm around his waist.

“In the meantime, call off the hunt for Spike. Or you will get more than a few broken bones.”

They stepped aside in grudging appreciation as the blonde couple returned the way they had come, and with heated discussion the whole way, they decided to return to base and do some detecting.

Buffy and Spike walked quietly, Buffy on edge at noticing that though her arm was wrapped around the waist of the vampires, his arm hung limply at his side. She could actually feel the animosity humming through his body, and so feeling rather nervous she hesitantly pulled away, gulping when he immediately put his hands in the pockets of his pants, his jaw clenching in a not so subtle indication of his irritation.

“What’s wrong?” she asked him in a little voice and he spun at her, furious.

“You shoved me to the bloody ground, that’s wha’s wrong.”

Her eyes enlarged at the charge and her heartbeat picked up in apprehension.

“Spike, they nearly staked you. What was I supposed to do?” She was wary of that line that would amplify his uselessness in the situation and for once she steered clear of it consciously. She could sense his frustration at not being able to defend her let alone himself and having been there once before herself, she could understand his hostility.

As she stood in place on the sidewalk, he paced back and forth before her, her eyes following every single step he took. All of a sudden he deflated, his shoulders slumped in defeat as he rubbed his hand unhappily over his face. Looking through his duster pocket he located an old pack of cigarettes and frantically searched for a spare. He came up empty and he turned a suspicious glare at Buffy. She giggled nervously.

“Umm, sorry?” She offered by way of explanation and he tipped his head to the side to contemplate her. As suddenly as his agitation had arisen, it was gone again, replaced with a calculating smirk.

“I think you owe me, little girl.”

She was mesmerised by his lips and she could feel the heat rush through her body, moisture dampening her panties at the sexy low rumble of his voice.

“Spike?” She stepped slowly towards him, almost hypnotised by the sexual promise his eyes projected. “If I come home with you, would you sing to me?”

He quirked an eyebrow in surprise before a lusty grin had her captivated once again.

“Oh baby, I’ll sing all right.” Strutting up to her in his own sexy way, he gathered her back in his arms and placed a wet, sucking kiss to her neck, laughing softly at her tortured groan. “I’ll sing to you all night.”

With that exquisite promise drifting on the air, she grabbed his hand and with a speed known only to Vampires and Slayers, she pulled him back to his place.


A/N...I know ...not exactly the complete death and destruction those calling for Riley's blood were hoping for, but it isn't over yet folks...REVIEW and feed my soul!

Chapter Thirty-One

Buffy opened her eyes and instinctively knew it was time to get up, despite the remaining darkness in the room. She searched groggily for a source of light hopefully sunshinebut came abruptly back to earth when the lack of windows reminded her where she had fallen asleep. She frowned a little at the continual darkness she seemed to be in these days, and then grimaced guiltily when she thought what the result of light would be. Crispy Fried Spike! She yearned so much to go out in the sun with him, but the Gem of Amara was a risky thing to give to any vampire. It wasn’t so much that she didn’t trust him or believe he would go all Angelus with it but what if another vamp stole it off him? She had torn it easily enough from his hand. It could be disastrous. So, the Gem would have to remain in hidden, until she worked out what they should do with it.

A masculine groan made her smile and she rolled over to again be encased in strong arms, burrowing her head into his shoulder. A mischievous finger traced his collarbone and she shivered once she got into muscle territory. It had only been a few weeks but already she knew his body as well as her own, and she adored every cell of it. He was so pale, and cool, like the purest marble shaped into the most beautiful form a body could assume. He was toned to perfection and she marvelled at the quality of his muscles, the ridges of his abdominals, the curve of his shoulders and chest, the cords down his back. She knew there had never been a vampire like him. Even Angel had not looked and felt like this, and suddenly she felt unfaithful even thinking of her one time with him.

She resumed her gentle exploration, focusing as if forced on the smooth skin of his lips and the craving kicked in. She couldn’t look at them without knowing them; their intimacy with her body, with her own mouth and she felt tears rise in her eyes as she felt her love begin to overwhelm her. It was so confusing, these feelings. They were so intense, so full, that she sometimes found herself questioning her belief in their visions of the future. The quality of feeling she had experienced then was so much the opposite of now, at least on the surface, that she felt afraid of herself. How could the current Buffy be so filled with feeling, with love, when the Buffy of the future was pulled apart in torment? The only thing she felt comfort in was that she had always been drawn to him.

The moment she had set eyes on him in the alleyway at the Bronze, just two years before, she had felt a tremendous surge of disappointment to find that he meant to kill her. She had felt a connection in his challenge, some undercurrent that allowed her a little relief in the guilt associated with not being able to kill him. Sometimes she had felt that the only way she could survive him was to repel him, to be cutting, forcing him to stay away from her town. Even though he had no soul, her heart made extra beats for him. Even then the glimmer was there, the need to see him, and when she saw him she craved their inevitable fighting, just so that she had an excuse to touch him. Even his gameface had never turned her away from her fascination with him, and he wore it often. A medal of honour.

When he came back and found the Gem she had hoped, almost prayed, that things could be different, but first chance he got was not to bask in the sunlight, but to seek her out and capitalise on her second of humiliation. That night she had cried herself to sleep, not for the sake of Parker, but for the futility of Spike. She felt betrayed by him. He had sought her out for a truce against Angelus, then stepped up his efforts to kill her. As the memory-induced tears dripped onto the chest of her lover she felt lost in the past. Until his chest rumbled under her ear and she realised he was awake.

“I did it to be around you, too. I couldn’t stay away.”

“What?” she raised her eyes to his, befuddled that he seemed to know what her thoughts had been, and met cerulean blue flashing fire and knowledge.

“We renewed the claim last night. Our connection is stronger now. I could see your thoughts.” His gaze was steady as her own eyes widened in alarm. “You were in my mind all the bloody time. I could never forget about you. It’s the real reason Dru left me. Said I tasted like ashes and that you were all around me, laughing. Not sure about the laughing bit, but she got the ashes right.” His humourless smile had her jumping up in the bed, her horrified face unaware that she was exposed from the waist up.

“You mean, she knew what would happen to you? That it would be my fault?” The tears were falling heavier now and she began to shake as he pulled her into his arms and kissed her hair.

“It wasn’ your fault. Nothin’ ‘bout it was your fault. Silly girl! Why would you think that? Anyway, not goin’ to happen this time, is it?” His smile was hopeful and she swallowed, the fear rising, not falling. Her body flashed cold as she trembled in his arms.

“What if we can’t? What if I still die from Glory, or something else? What if Willow still tries to bring me back? And Tara dies? And my mom dies? What if I can’t prevent all that from happening?” Her sobbing grew in volume, his murmured pleas for her to calm having only minimal effect.

“What is it you are really afraid of, Buffy? Come on luv, tell me.”

Her sudden stillness frightened him, but he held on, feeling exactly what it was she was terrified of, but knowing she needed to verbalise it.

“I’m afraid,” she stumbled over the words, her voice quiet and husky as if from years of non-use. “I can’t ever lose you. What if we have to face the same thing again and the only way to beat it is to sacrifice you again? Spike, I felt her I mean me when you thought I didn’t mean what I said, when you turned to dust. In the end, it was you that was there for me, you who made me. Oh God, the pain of not having you anymore. I can’t do it. I can’t be without you. How could I be true? How could I be me?” Again she was sobbing in his arms, the steady dark seeming to consume her and darken her emotions so that she had trouble dragging her sunniest parts back to the surface.

‘How the bloody hell did this happen?’ Spike was frustrated and angry. He knew she had gotten an awful shock the night before, the arrow shot by one of Finn’s commando buddies bringing his not-so-immortal existence into focus, but he had tried hard with his tongue and body to erase such gloomy thoughts from her mind. It had worked, too, until she woke up and started thinking about their spectacular history together.

He could only agree with her though; every emotion and thought she had ever felt about him, he had reciprocated. Dru had known before he did. He had loved her down deep inside from the moment he saw her move. It hadn’t been her hair; it hadn’t been her looks, or her smart mouth. All of those things combined to offer him one hell of a package.

But that wasn’t what had captured him, what had led to their bizarre association and finally his soul. It had always been the way she moved. Her body sang to him, her action called always to his heart, to his soul. Everything about her made him want to tear himself into tiny inconsequential pieces just to be worthy of falling at her feet.

He still couldn’t believe that he had her love; that he could wake and see her face in rest, beautiful and serene and alive. He knew what she meant. He had suffered through the torment of existence when she had died too, and though he had a small sense of duty in his affection for Dawn to drag him through the days till she returned, duty didn’t make him live. Only she could do that.

His body reacted to the information sifted from hers his bite of claim doing its job to make them oneand he followed her into despair. His own eyes flooded to the brim with moisture and overflowed, tear tracks making way down his face. Desperation had him drawing her away so he could capture her lips, his hands caught around her neck and holding her steady.

Thought disappeared as they allowed sensation to take over, frantic to rid themselves of the panic. As his tongue entered her mouth, she tore the sheet away and covered his body with hers. He fell back against the pillows, holding her hard against him, one hand wandering down to capture hers. They were so close as they tasted and sipped courage and warmth from the other. As she raised her body to kneeling, she allowed his hard cock to push against her needy entrance and he was inside, their lips never letting go but groaning into each other’s mouth the bliss of their togetherness. Pulling away a little she followed a steady rhythm of up and down, the slick surface of her passage tingling with the contact, heat bursting and devouring her sense. Sensation overload had her sliding forward, the tips of her breasts rubbing frantically against his raised palms, breathing heavy and desperately as his cock steadily stroked the spot inside her that fired up her whole body. With the feel of a gong crashing violently up against her face, she screamed, her whole body shaking and shuddering like it had been caught in a hurricane. His hands grabbed her hips in a bruising crush as he surged into her, caught in his own slide of delicious. Her arms and legs renounced all feeling and movement and she collapsed against him, kissing soft “I love you’s” against the chest she desired so much and she fell quietly to sleep. His arms surrounded her and he sniffled into her hair, holding her close in heart and body.

“I’ll never let you go, kitten. You’re mine for keeps.” And he closed his eyes and allowed them some sleep time from the emotional exhaustion of knowing too much about their own future.


A/N...going away for a bit, so...I can either post again later tonight, or leave you hanging for a week...your decision...review and let me know what I should do???

Chapter Thirty-Two

Giles stood propped against a wall, one hand occupied with a paper plate laden with cake. Birthday cake. Buffy’s birthday cake. Looking at all the faces milling about the university rec room, he couldn’t help but be smacked in the face with Buffy’s reality. For the most part he could tell that the majority of them were not friends, just others who shared her dorm floor- or classes- and with whom Willow obviously thought it would be a good idea to associate. Nobody was older than twenty, except for him. Well, unless you included Spike, and maybe that Riley fellow. But no one as old as himself. He had never felt so superfluous in his life.

Of course it was a blast for Buffy to celebrate her getting older with her friends, but it was really important that they do something very soon about this Initiative problem. The continual delays for setting up a plan frustrated him. He had tried to converse with Xander and Anya, only to be shelved for food and dancing, and quickly realised that his stories of his own youth were tremendously boring to his younger charges and his lip curled a little in resentment. It seemed his whole existence had come to a grinding halt. Buffy seemed to have everything under control, her hand firmly ensconced in Spike’s. Even that resulted in a small grimace, although he was accepting to an extent- well, the extent that the relationship had been sanctioned by much Higher Powers than he, so who was he to stand in the way?

Willow replenished his empty cake plate and wished him well, and again disappeared to mingle. Buffy finally located his miserable wall occupation and dragged Riley over for an introduction, Spike standing close and vibrating with low yet menacing growls, and Giles felt like laughing aloud.

“Giles?” Buffy fair bubbled with good humour, sated in that way only a true love can be, as well as that hunger for dominance over a foe with too much power. She was awash in confidence and Giles found that he could not deny that he had the vampire and his unwavering acceptance of her to thank. She had gained an intensity and creativity in her fighting skills since mating with the vampire that could only be of benefit to her. He decided to let go of his concerns and just be happy for her.

“Happy Birthday, Buffy.” He smiled and for the first time that night felt pleased that he was in on her surprise bash.

“Were you in on this, Rupert?” Spike’s voice held a tone of amusement, of a hidden message that the Watcher decided to ignore.

Giles was sure the bastard knew that he was uncomfortable.

“I-I-It was more Willow and Xander actually. Though, um, good idea wasn’t it?” His voice held all the superficial brightness of his party expression for the night as he tried to bluff his way through. “I’m not sure I would have gone with the surprise party.” His smile was a little too planned, and to the observing eye, a lot pained. “You know, you have enough things jumping out at you in the dark.”

“It’s good though, everyone here. Of course, you could smash in all my toes with a hammer and it will still be the bestest Buffy Birthday Bash in a big long while.”

Giles choked on cake and Spike thumped him on the back, grinning evilly at his girl.

“Your tongue is acerbic, baby.”

Buffy’s look of confusion was comical as she turned to Spike and her eyes widened.

“Huh?”

Spike and Giles engaged in a knowing look that just screamed ‘for the grown-ups’ and snickered on the side.

Buffy shot them a hard look before defiantly taking a hold of Riley’s arm and shoving him in front of Giles.

“Giles. This is Riley Finn. He works for the Initiative. He’s willing to come and talk to us about our little Adam problem. He’s trying to think of a way of getting me inside the base.”

Giles visibly brightened at the prospect of getting the gang back on track and grabbed the boy, walking him away before Buffy could start pronouncing him in need of more blasted cake.

Spike’s arm snaked around her waist as she watched them go and pulled her flush against his front.

“They’re playing our song, pet. Wanna dance?”

Buffy smiled happily and kissed him gently on the lips.

“What’s our song, Spike?”

That evil grin was back as he positioned her on the space consigned for dancing and began to move slowly against her.

“This one! It’s playing; I want to dance, we need a song. Baby, this is it.”

She had no idea who it was sung by, or what the name of the song was, but just like she did with Spike, it fit. Her head resting against his shoulder, she accepted the birthday dream of her friends and surrendered to good times and functioning toes, just knowing that this year, her birthday would be sensational.

Her night did not end with the party break up, or the running out of cake -Xander had that covered!-nor with the stroll through romantic cemeteries and parks, while twirling pointy pieces of wood. The night ended with cool lips caressing hers and beautiful birthday wishes professed by loving hands. And when her eyes closed at the completion of her nineteenth birthday she sighed in perfect happiness. She had had no expectation of goodness for this day, already knowing that her birthdays were cursed. On another birthday, she had managed to break a curse, though this was a happy one. In cool arms, she slept.


It would be days later before she completely understood the events of the next day. Lying gleefully naked in her lover’s arms, she had come to wake with the garbled throat manipulations of a Fyarl demon- ugly as hell- leaning over her. She shrunk back in shock, clinging to her skimpy covers against her breasts, and then took the time to glare at Spike who tipped over the side of the bed-partially dragging her covering with him- and laughed his ass off.

“What the hell is so funny? We have a demon in our bedroom, we’re going to have to fight naked, and you are having a fit of the hysterics. Sorry if I’m not seeing the humour here.”

“It’s Giles.” Both the demon and Slayer swung to him, perfectly synchronised.

“You can understand me?” he snarled in Fyarl, and Spike gave up trying to be polite, laughing heartily in his face with tears of mirth pouring down his face.

“Of course I can. I speak fluent Fyarl.”

Giles stopped to look at the vampire in pleased surprise, and with a quick look to his right found Buffy to be doing the same. She looked back and forth at the two, before holding the sheet a little closer to her chest.

“Ah, Giles? Would you mind giving us a chance to get dressed?”

He waved about his big horned head, throatily grumbled something, and then took himself out of the room.

Buffy remained sitting on the bed, momentarily stunned.

“That was Giles?” Her sleepiness was obviously affecting her judgement skills, and Spike just smiled at her indulgently.

“That was what I would call an angry, vengeful Fyarl demon, who just happens to be Giles.”

Buffy searched for his ‘just kidding’ look, and groaned when she didn’t find it.

“Oh boy.” Shaking her head at the weirdness that was her life, she dressed then went out to hear the story. Within minutes they vacated the apartment on a manhunt for Ethan Rayne, rage clicking on Buffy’s heels.


When the army vehicles started to follow them, Buffy swore colourfully under her breath. She had no time to think of a plan, and as the seriousness of their sudden situation settled on her she felt like screaming. She only had Riley’s word that he would stop trying to recapture Spike, but that didn’t stop the other hundred or so soldiers on the loose from trying to make a name for themselves.

Understandably, she was against the idea of them splitting up. The Citroen was no match for army humvees however, so she allowed Spike to command her and Giles to jump out and let him play bait, leading the soldiers away from the temporary Fyarl demon. As soon as she rolled across the bitumin however, she knew in her gut it was a mistake.

One thing at a time, she ordered her mind, and she made to drag Giles after her to the motel room hiding Ethan. Until she found he was ambling rather determinedly about eight metres ahead of her. She quickly followed him and encountered Rayne packing to leave town.

By the time they left, Ethan Rayne wondered why he had ever succumbed to the bright idea to change Giles into a large and strong Fyarl, instead of one of the lesser, weaker demons.

After a brief summary with the core Scoobies, Buffy raced back to Spike’s, hoping he would already be back and waiting in bed for her. The place was dark and lonely. She curled up onto the spectacularly unmade bed, and waited. As night began to turn into day she was curled up into a ball of fear, feeling electric currents periodically scorching her neck. Her tears flowed, her lips wobbling in misery, and her heart throbbed in panic.

He hadn’t come home, and she knew that he had been recaptured.

Chapter Thirty-Three

“We’re going to kidnap Professor Walsh.”

Buffy strode into Giles’s flat with an unwavering sense of purpose. She had fought all night to not descend into a mad heap of hysteria, but her blood continued to chill her into inactivity as her fear grew. Images of Spike held captive in pure white cells electrified glass doors that held no escape testing and torturing him throughout the night. It had taken her half an hour to stop vomiting and shaking enough to get dressed and make it to Giles’s.

Now that she had forced her feet to move consistently forward, her anger and hatred grew. She had been so sure that she could trust Riley. He had never been cruel from what she had seen misguided and insecure maybe but if he was behind this, then… She shuddered, unable to think clearly enough for an appropriate result of his betrayal.

Her statement had been met by a disbelieving silence, everyone dutifully assembled after her rousing calls, waiting for an explanation for her severe instruction.

“Hey, where’s the Soul Man?”

Xander flinched in regret at the ravaged look on his friend’s face, and swallowed hard when she began to cry and collapsed in grief on the floor. Now she was amongst friends she gave in to her terror and her sobbing prevented her from relaying her hurt.

Giles moved forward to gather her in his arms, trying to sooth her distress. A loud knock on the door startled him, but he nodded toward Xander to open it. Riley stood framed in the doorway, sunlight shining around him and suddenly Giles understood. A quick look back at Buffy revealed a nasty enflamed scar on her neck and he at least took courage that Spike was still alive. Buffy seemed unaware of their visitor, completely withdrawn in her grief, and his eyes narrowed in irritation as he turned back to the boy he had been plotting with the previous night.

“What the bloody hell have you idiots done to Spike?”

Riley shrunk back against the doorjamb in guilt, before taking a meaningful step inside the door.

“Just hold on a minute,” called Giles in his steely Ripper voice. “I haven’t invited you into my home. Tell me what you’ve done, you little prat!”

Riley looked momentarily confused by the name calling before resigning himself to their rightful anger.

“I couldn’t stop them. There’s only the three of us that know anything about what Professor Walsh is planning, and after the reports of a Fyarl demon on the loose last night, the troops were out in force. They think it’s a real coup that they’ve recaptured Hostile 17.”

At that Buffy finally regained an edge and her eyes flashed dangerously. “Don’t you ever call him that again.” She found it difficult to squeeze the words past the ball of pain in her chest. Fear and desperation guided her, though as she formulated plans on the fly.

“This is what you are going to do. You are going to convince Professor Walsh to meet you somewhere we decide, and then you will help us restrain her and get Spike back. If anything happens to him, I will guarantee you live to regret it.”

All the Scoobies looked at her, shocked that she would make such a violent threat toward a human, but nodded in acceptance of what had to be done. Like it or not, Spike was now a bonafide Scooby, and torturing Scoobies did not sit well with the rest. With a sudden feeling of menace, Xander stepped forward to prevent Riley entering any further into the flat and crossed his arms across his chest, legs splayed in a stance of support.

“Just, why? So, your buddies were out in force. Looking for a Fyarl demon. Why pick up Spike? Was that the order?”

They all noticed Riley’s quick glance away from the interior and knowledge clicked in for them all. Buffy jumped to her feat in a whirl of danger and grabbed the bigger body by the fisted fabric of his shirt.

“Why were there more orders?”

He remained standing silently, not even opening his mouth to pretend to offer an excuse. Until she slapped him and his head jerked back and slammed into the door. Rubbing his cheek shakily, he turned apologetic eyes to her and shrunk a little at her obvious turmoil. Until this moment he hadn’t truly believed that she felt anything real for the vampire. Now, with this group of people backing her up and accepting her threatening behaviour in order to get him back he knew he had to acknowledge that he’d never had a chance with her.

“I…might have mentioned to the Professor that he had a soul.”

Buffy lifted her fist ready to plant it firmly against his teeth, but Xander wrapped his gentle palm around it and pulled her away, wrapping her in his arms as she once again began to cry tears of hopelessness.

“I was trying to get her to see that he wasn’t a risk to the population and that we could back off. I didn’t think she would decide it would make him even more valuable to investigate.” Riley rushed out the sentence, knowing his explanation meant little. He looked back and forth at the faces that all stared him down, expressions a mix of pity, anger and horror.

“I hope this helps you identify who the animals of your operation really are?” Giles felt his bitterness rise and felt almost alarmed at the protectiveness he felt toward the blond vampire, never having felt anything similar for Angel at any point in time. He tried to argue internally that it was purely for Buffy’s benefit, but he knew—without admitting to himself—that he actually liked the vamp, just a little. He knew. Someone was trying to usurp his own research into the working of Spike, and he wouldn’t have it. That bloody harridan was due her comeuppance. In a split second he approved Buffy’s plan. Now for a location to carry it out. He eyed the boy, deeply frustrated that there was force about the association and that they couldn’t just exclude him from here on out.

“How much does your operation know about any of us?” He thought quickly of their options, and hoped that Riley and his outfit still knew nothing of the Slayer, and thus Buffy and her friends, leaving them with a number of places to shelter.

“Um, all we know is that Buffy is super strong, but me and the guys haven’t said anything to the Professor about her.” Riley had a questioning face, a face eager for an explanation.

Giles had to be sure.

“So you don’t know she is the Slayer?”

“Giles!”

Four voices shouted at him, but he didn’t even flinch.

“So much for the secrecy deal.” Buffy threw her arms in the air and walked away to flop on the sofa in resignation.

Riley just looked at Giles, his eyes quizzical and shining interest.

“What’s a Slayer?” His enthusiasm caused Giles’s lips to thin in disapproval, but at least now he felt confident that Finn had no clue what he was dealing with. A plan began to form and he merely stared into space for a moment, ignoring the restless Scoobies behind him.

“Your friends,” he began, then waited for confirmation by the supply of their names.

“Forrest and Graham?”

“Are they trustworthy?”

“In what way?” Riley betrayed his suspicion but found himself shamed again by the fierce pack of friends surrounding the tearful Buffy. He saw that she looked weak, wrung out and terrified, and his guilt took on a sharper edge.

Giles observed the changes in the young man’s expression and knew that he was naïve and incapable of being devious. He emanated an innocence that Ripper would have no compunction but to take advantage of, and he allowed his plan to solidify and take on form.

“Are they eager to stop project 314?”

Riley was startled, still alarmed by the extent of their inside knowledge; but since his own digging the three could do nothing but be shocked at the plot instigated by the Professor, easily seeing the disaster in releasing such a monster in the world. What she proposed was way beyond anything he and his friends had signed up for. Adam was under such close security that it had been quite a job for Riley to gain the information, but once he did and presented it to his friends, they knew that they had to do something. So, in ready compliance, he nodded his head. The three of them would do whatever it took, including risking their careers.

“Right then.” Without looking back at any of the faces behind him, his hard voice took on the authoritative tones of one not to be crossed, and he nudged himself a little at the obvious amount of fun he was having. “You are to go to Professor Walsh and tell her that you have information about the Vampire Slayer. Tell her that you can take her to meet with Buffy, but make sure she only takes you and your two friends as back-up. If you can manage it,” his voice was saturated with sarcasm, then shooting a livid look at the commando that was causing Buffy so much pain, “tell her that Buffy would be willing to join the outfit or submit to tests, but only if you return Spike.” He paused at Riley’s steady understanding nods, and then yelled “unharmed!” and made everyone around him jump in surprise.

“Bring her here after sundown, stressing that Buffy won’t speak to anyone but her, because she so admires her from class or some such thing equally saccharine, and we will take it from there. Do you think you will have trouble doing this? It is imperative that we get the opportunity to…convince… the Professor that it would not be in her best interests to let loose such a creature, and from what Buffy has told me, there isn’t much time left.”

The Scoobies contemplated Giles, awestruck but uncomfortably reminded of his demeanor when Jenny had been killed and his Ripper rampage, and suddenly felt a smidgen of pity for the misguided academic. Well, a fraction of a smidgen.

With his resigned consent, Riley left to fill in his two accomplices and Buffy was able to breathe a little in relief and hope. She jumped up and hugged Giles, her eyes shiny. She buried her reddened face in his shoulder and strived for calm. Looking up once again she fingered the burning scar and whimpered.

“They’re hurting him, Giles.”

Suddenly she was engulfed in a group hug that she never wanted to be released from.

“Not for long, Buff. We’ll get him back, then we’ll kick some commando-government ass!” Xander’s angry voice filtered through her emotional haze and she smiled at her would-be protector, glad again that these people were her family. He looked down a little sheepish. “Well, you will anyway. Us? Not so much. But we can watch, and videotape, and make disparaging comments later at the survival party.”

Suddenly her confidence returned and Buffy grinned, the image of kicking Maggie’s ass supremely satisfying, but not before she had managed to squeeze an A out of her. No B’s for Buffy, no siree Bob. With a renewed sense of purpose, the group set to organising the kidnapping, in surprisingly happy moods, despite the ugliness of the situation.

Tonight she would have Spike back in her arms, or God help her, heads would roll.


A/N...well, I'm back, and sorry to leave you all on that nasty cliff-hanger...wasn't intentional...well, not much anyway. The story is reaching a climax...so now is not the time for waning interest...let me know how soon you'd all like an update...

A/N...slight warning...not for fluffy readers or those with highly suggestible weak stomaches...though not really that bad...better safe than sorry...


Chapter Thirty-Four

They were tearing at him, operation slices zigzagging across his chest, arms and legsan inhuman test of pain. ‘Does the soul make you hurt more?’ she askedthe blond bitch in lab coat twisting his flesh into mutilated scores of experience.

She lost him; plunged him into the dungeon of his past and rendered his soul blind and useless from torment, retreating to shadows within that would cover him completely. She ground his humanity to dust until all that was left was animal and only instinct remembered his name. Nothing existed but pain; humiliation and a building thirst for violence.

Her tools entered; cut and twirled, dug and swiveled in the blood red gore of his insides, and his body jerked repetitively in nothing but animal impulse. His sense had deserted him, no image of a blond angel calmed him; there was nothing to call him back from their experiments. It was all blank, erased. No champion, no hero, no love. He was a canvass of her creation, impervious to alteration as he now stood, wild and magnificent in his Prehistoric state. He went back, beyond Angelus with whips and chains, beyond William with poetry and romance. Back, back he went to where it all began, a seed with intent. He became. He begun. He was lost.

Tracks of stitches scored his skull with strips of pure white hair absent, telling the story of his mutilation. Oh, the things they could do overnight when inspired. His brain throbbed, his chest throbbed, his skin throbbed, his undead heart throbbed everything full. They had taken him and punished him. He would try to escape again. That was what caged animals did, and soul or no soul, that is what they had made him.

He was lost.


Riley Finn had access, and he used it. Within the hub of activity he easily located the Professor. She talked animatedly with another doctor before locking eyes with him, and quickly as well as rudelydismissed the other. She smiled in warm greeting and bade him to follow. They headed down a stark corridor, all pigment bleached from every surface with only their clothes to emphasise that this wasn’t heaven. That, and the groaning or unconscious demons that occupied many of the cells.

She paused behind the electrified transparent door and pointed out her success. Riley nearly gagged, bile rising harshly in his throat. He was speechless from guilt, knowing what this would mean, but justice reminded him of his task. He stayed mute till he could control his body, then smiled he hoped in what looked like satisfaction.

“I have some news for you,” he told her, clapping himself miserably on the back as his ruse begun.

She gave him her attention, interest animating her face in only the way torturing demons did, and he again felt his stomach twist in objection, perhaps preparing for the flaying he knew they would receive by Buffy at the end of all of this.

“Ever heard of the Slayer? The Vampire Slayer?”

Her eyes widened in surprise and sudden delight.

“Yes.” Her voice was breathy, hopeful expectation in the air. “I thought she was just a myth.”

“Well, you would be myth-taken,” he chuckled nervously. He had tried for amusing but cringed at his own bad attempt. The Professor, however, seemed captivated.

“Tell me,” she encouraged, her arms suddenly holding her ever-present clipboard to her chest in child-like anticipation.

Riley felt unable to go on, guilt lancing through his conscience while in view of the ruined vampire in the holding cell. Abruptly, he turned his back, knowing that she would probably see his move for enthusiasm.

“You know Buffy, from your class?”

Her quick nod told him to hurry, let out the information and get swept away in her rush of need.

“Well, the guys and I have come up against her on a number of sweeps, and she is really strong attacking demons and vamps. I spoke to her today and she is willing to meet with you.”

She was hooked, her eyes wide and shiny in her excitement. He knew now that the plan would work, he could get her to them. Her thirst for knowledge and desire to be the first to achieve would override her sense of self-preservation. This time. He knew they only had one chance.

He jerked his head back, indicating the slumped figure behind him.

“She wants the Hostile, though. Has a history with him. She won’t talk unless we bring him to her. We can take Forrest and Graham for back-up.”

She was nodding her head in eagerness, already planning the tests and experiments she could set the lab up for. Not a batted eyelid or a disgusted leer of her lip marred her calm face as she turned toward the vampire surrendered on the other side of freedom. She stood full on facing him, her eyes calculating.

“He’ll be no problem. If she wants him she can have him. Should be quite interesting to see her handle a creature like him.”

Riley raised a brow in sudden trepidation.

“What do you mean?” he asked nervously. “I thought the chip stopped him being dangerous to humans?”

“Oh, it did, but we took it out. To see how his brain would heal. We’re fairly certain that he doesn’t even recognise humans anymore. Back to basics, Agent Finn. He is probably the closest we could ever get to an original demon vampire. But we’ve drugged him sufficiently that he should be out for awhile. Shackle him up, round up your team and we’ll be off.” She started off down the hallway, then paused. “Where are we meeting her?”

“In the residential area. Not enough room for an ambush, but she’ll at least be hemmed in. Just her and her Watcher. Besides, we have weapons.” He tapped his artillery belt confidently, hoping she would go for it.

Her arrogant trust in technology was apparent in her smile, and she headed back in the direction of her office, Riley watching sickly as she disappeared from view.

He turned slowly, not wanting to lay eyes again on the miserable result of her twisted mind, but startled unsteady when faced with the crumpled figure of Spike. He recalled what he had seen of Adam and lost his stability, stumbling unsteadily to his knees. A light sweat broke out on his forehead and he wondered if maybe he should have given in and kept up his shots till after tonight. He wondered if Buffy would help him, then his eyes fell on Spike and accepted that she probably wouldn’t.

Spike was unconscious on the floor, curled into a fetal position, head tucked securely to his chest. Riley hadn’t signed on for this. Not this torture. Their mission was to rid the Hellmouth of demon activity, not create it. He wondered how he could have been deceived by the Professor’s true intent, and actually, was confused as to what that truly was. Her coldness to this creature that Buffy loved was engaged to marry was chilling, and he felt frost in his veins. He knew how Buffy would react. She may not kill humans, but he had a feeling that she might not care this time.

He wondered if Spike had ever tortured humans the way Maggie had tortured him and somehow doubted it. He had read up on William the Bloody, the notoriety of their capture some weeks before inspiring his academic interest. He had read tales of murder and mayhem, but mainly the true horror story resided with his family members. Spike, he recalled, just liked the challenge of the fight. He got that. Killing two Slayershe also had thought it was a myth. Thought the story was a fairytale. A claim of superiority from a Vampire to scare other Vampires. Now he accepted it was probably true. Killed two, and loved one. And had a soul. Buffy said he had a mission in this world. What if they had destroyed him and altered his mission? Could it mean the end of the world? Revelation kicked him hard in the balls. Groaning, he dragged himself upright, careful to not touch the electrified wall before him. Time for action.

He paged Forrest and Graham and they gently maneuvered Spike from his cell, collected the Professor and headed out into the night through one of many secret entrances.


A/N...okay, you all know it...I'm addicted to reviews...and we're getting into the heavy stuff now so, let me know what you're all thinking...don't want to lose you all now!

A/N warnings ahoy...take care people and look out for the continuation of a bumpy ride...if you're all good little reviewers, I could maybe have the next chappie out tomorrow...???


Chapter Thirty-Five

Buffy had felt the torment all night; the tearing at her consciousness and separation from reality. Her body had felt residual strikes of pain, the scar on her neck flaring hot as she spent the night alternating between animalistic whimpers and tortured screams. When she had at last felt quiet, she had dragged herself out of bed and vomited continuously for a half an hour before collapsing on the bathroom floor in broken sobs.

It had seemed to take a Herculean effort to drag herself to the front door her body weakened from her sickness in heart and body. Dread consumed her; commonsense demanded she share futility with her mate. She knew that when they got him back, he would be a mess. Nothing in her experience prepared her for the torn, destroyed state of her lover as Riley’s two friends carried him through the door, following closely on the heels of the witch in white.

The Professor had made it all the way into the room before she noticed the scattered Scoobies weighed down with crossbows, and even Xander with a gun. At first she smiled arrogantly, but as Giles moved to roughly grab her and shove her in a chair, her frenzied resistance died down, her searching gaze encountering the averted eyes of her trusted soldiers. Once she had been securely tied to the chair all concern turned to the terribly battered vampire, the room coming to the realisation that Buffy had not moved since he had entered. Her eyes were fixed intently on his figure, great rivers of silent tears flowing down her cheeks and dripping from her chin. Her nose ran and her body shook with the effort of keeping quiet, but it was the inelegant lip wobble that had the Scoobies shoving the sofa violently aside in order to make a bed of blankets and pillows on the floor, providing a place for the two men to lower their load.

Spike remained unconscious, and Buffy felt as though she had drowned in a sea of shimmering toxic air; all her senses blanked out save for the one investigating her claim. She could feel a very minor buzzing at her neck as her healing response kicked in, but there was little to reassure her that Spike was any more undead than one level above dust. There was no recognition, no warmth… ‘but it could be hysteria talking,’ she thought as she broke through the mist surrounding her and lunged for the Professor. She had passionately clasped her hands around the older woman’s neck before Giles had dragged her away. She collapsed across the chest of her beaten warrior and buried her face in black as she cried her heart out.

“Riley?”

The quiet voice came from Willow, stepping forward out of fear for what they were to expect, and hurt for her friend.

He looked up, his face a picture of guilt and anguish. He felt his own once hollow throat now clenching a great lump of emotion as he turned from one angry and upset Scooby to another. His open gaze fell to Giles and he found it necessary to clear his throat a few times before he could get more than a squeak past his lips.

“I’m not sure what she’s done. I do know that she took the chip out…”

“Good!” Giles interrupted furiously, feeling a tremendous need to give the vicious fishwife a good kick in the shins.

“Maybe not so good.” Riley gave Giles the directed attention he would a superior as he relayed what he feared. “The way she told it in the lab, she wants to see how Buffy is going to cope when he wakes up. I’m not sure how it was done, but I think they’ve made him go all primal, like back to the state of an original demon.” He stopped, his eyes wide with fear. “She said that she didn’t think he would recognise humans anymore, so I really wouldn’t take off those chains. And perhaps you should restrain him somewhere. I don’t know how to fix him.”

Giles contemplated Riley, his bluish-gray eyes hardening in measures. Riley saw the older man’s body stiffen in response to the apology he hoped was reflected in his eyes and swallowed nervously as Giles swung his attention to Maggie. She sat, tethered to the chair and smiling in self-satisfaction. His furious Ripper broke free and he took two big steps toward her and let loose with a punishing kick to her shins. He grinned in his own satisfaction, finding a distinct pleasure in hearing her cry out in shock.

“What are you? A sissy fighter?” She was unable to control the outburst but within seconds her lip bled.

“Before you,” he spat at her, “I had never felt the desire to strike a woman. But you aren’t one, are you? So, all bets are off.”

They all flinched at the sudden metallic click of a guns safety being released and turned surprised eyes to Xander as he took up position in front of her.

“Lady, you get no warning. If we can’t have Spike back the way he was when you took him, you won’t be leaving Sunnydale in anything but a crampy wooden box.”

Giles looked at the boy in new admiration, and he stood beside him. Men. Solidarity.

Maggie swivelled as best she could and called for her boys.

“Riley? Graham? Forrest?” The three stood in the doorway, their weapons at ease as they gave their own version of disapproval.

“We know about 314, Professor. I’m not sure what your plan is but you’ve gone beyond our original directive. It doesn’t have approval, therefore, you have to be stopped before you release that thing onto an innocent public.” Riley spoke up for them all, knowing that once uncovered, the government would not sanction the Initiative any more.

Her stunned expression said it all. She had underestimated her men, her project was now at risk and she understood that she was not participating in a trivial exercise. She smelled sudden danger, and finally her eyes rested on the girl sobbing onto the animal on the floor. Her left eye twitched, her leg screamed in agony, and her face felt like it had gone three rounds with Mike Tyson. The girl was in veritable distress, and by the appearance of the other humans in the room, they hurt along with her. Her eyes narrowed in disbelief.

“But he’s a vampire!” Her call to them had Buffy raising her head, sure loathing tainting everything between her and the evil bitch in the chair.

“I once admired you.” Her voice was tired, gravelly, and dead. “But how can you judge him?” Buffy let her eyes roam over the lab coat her teacher was wearing before raising her eyes to search out secrets. Where was the evil? Shouldn’t she be able to see it? In fangs or horns or scaly wrinkles? The lack of obvious evil in this woman she had looked up to tore at her founding acceptance.

Her eyes fell back to Spike, blurring as memories flooded her of her long-held belief that demons were always evil and could never change. She was so grateful to be given the opportunity to have reconsider those beliefs, ones that allowed Spike in her life without unfair suspicion.

“You’re right!” She told Professor Walsh. “He is a vampire. One with a soul. Before he had it I had been trying to kill him for years.” Her voice was dull, conversational. “I could never do it. Because he helped me stop an apocalypse. Acathla. This evil vampire helped me save the world. And I know he will do it again. And again, and again. How many times have you saved the world?”

Her voice had suddenly filled with passion, all for the reality of her vampire and his achievement, despite being who and what he was. Buffy pushed her way to her feet and slowly stepped forward to take a place beside Giles and Xander in front of their captive.

“You once berated Willow during her breakup with Oz, and I told you that you didn’t understand human emotion. I was so right. Not because you don’t want to. But because you have none. Only a sick,” her fury worked up and out to cover the Professor with spatters of hate, “twisted,” a step closer, “bitch could do what you have done to him. He has a soul, so he is as close to one of us as any vamp or non-human can be. I don’t consider you human. You can’t be. You’re soulless! You made a big, big mistake.” She dropped to a crouch to be at eye level with the woman she had once admired and gave her a steely look of determination. “That vamp is my lover, my mate. We are engaged, and you just made the enemy of a lifetime. You have no idea what a Slayer can do, but lady, you’re gonna find out.”

Buffy stood and turned away, the sight of this woman too nauseating to withstand for long stretches of time.

“You will listen to what we tell you. Then you will agree to destroy Adam, or I will stand there and watch him gut you on activation before pulling his uranium core from his guts and shoving it down your throat.”

The Professor gasped in shock, but anger came to her rescue.

“How do you know about Adam?”

“I know everything. I know that your final touch is a Polgara demon; you can attach the spear thingy from its arm to your misguided Frankenstein. I know he wakes and stabs you through, leaving you for dead. I know that the souped up soldiers you created are going to have serious medical problems in the near future; that you created Riley to be a brother to this thing. In short, I know it all, and I do destroy it, but not before it has killed children.” Buffy had turned and took grim satisfaction from seeing all colour drain from Maggie’s face, but her attention was quickly diverted by the primitive growls now gaining volume from the floor.

Her eyes teared as she told her friends to move back away from him, toward the door, in case there was trouble. She kneeled down to be beside him, catching her breath at the suddenness of his eyes opening.

Spike had regained consciousness, and he was furious.


A/N...so how was that? You'd better let me know...I'm not a mind-reader!

Chapter Thirty-Six

Language was a modal shift he no longer had the skills to comprehend. Smells slammed into the blackness of his mind and encouraged an opening to light. Beats of life gripped him in lust for blood and he crept ever closer to awareness. Growls tore from his throat without knowledge, low and feral as he fought for comprehension. When movement at last became possible, he leapt to his feet and scanned the bodies that surrounded him. The pumping hearts were almost deafening in their multitude and he swung his head back and forth assessing his prey. Primal need took over and his demon face usurped the other in a race of dominance. But as he raised his body of power to jump on the one restrained her wary fear-filled eyes flicking from one body to another the metallic clanking of chains made him fumble and fall to his knees. Frantically he pulled and twisted to right his control, strength waning against the force of steel, and his growls increased both in volume and intensity.

His calculating gaze shifted back and forth between the figures and finally rested on one that dared to close in on him. This one was small and fair, but he could smell courage and power enough to cut off his continual growling. He stared at her, mystified by her daring and a little overwhelmed by her smell. He did not sense fear, but some other emotion that he had never experienced aimed at himself before. She was tearful, sadand suddenly within biting distance. He had been quiet in his study of her, but as she made a soundher soft mouth opening briefly to curve around that one word he could not understandhe lunged for her. With the aid of the chains he had her underneath him in an instant with his fangs buried deep in her throat.

In the flash of another second, he had retracted his fangs and was licking nuzzling her neck like a lost, frightened cub to his mother. He sought reassurance and belonging, recognising her blood as home. He felt trapped all of a sudden, knowing with a depth that shocked him that these heartbeats were to be left alone. His home was not alarmed or frightened so he clung to her, holding her against his body hard while still swivelling to check out the others that had begun to move closer to him. His body began to shake in a division of want and need, and he felt his bloodlust battle to take over. Some tiny flash within him crashed with a buzz of pain and he hurt with a vision of blood red staining walls and floors.

Damage.

His damage.

He didn’t understand these structures walls, doors, floors. The coverings all around him were strange, his own and the female that he held onto with his life. Everything was different and he started to howl his confusion and fear, gripping her to him all the more, then burying his face against her smooth skin as she returned his desperate embrace. Both of them now covered in tears, bodies shaking with terror and fire. While encompassed in her safe embrace he allowed the vision of others to recede and he surrendered all that he was to her, home. She would protect him now.



After Buffy’s harried instruction to accumulate near the door, the room had hushed. Surprisingly, the Scoobies were united in their concern for the vampire who had snuck his way into their sanctuary almost without objection. What objection had existed had all been swallowed up by fury at the blond psycho tied securely to one of Giles’s dining chairs. The only sound voluble in the cramped space was the animalistic growling of Spike. Confidence dipped dramatically as his eyes swept abruptly over them, judging them as potential food.

Willow squeaked when Spike jumped to his unsteady feet, swaying but still unaware of his restraints. The electrified blue gaze fixated on Professor Walsh, and the Scoobies sighed in both relief and a vindictive pleasure that she might be attacked by her own creation. As Buffy moved closer and Spike changed his focus to her, Xander slumped in disappointment.

Her gentle and comforting call of his name, “Spike,” had them all hoping and holding their breath.

All eyes watched the interplay nervously, hoping that Buffy’s confidence would be rewarded, when they were all shocked to screams as he blurred in movement. They next saw Buffy securely held beneath him with fangs in her throat. Before anyone could move to stake him, though, he had retracted his teeth and lay against her in an intimate search for his place. All eyes were glued to the couple in fascination but also on the brink of embarrassment.

Taken over almost by a magnetic pull, they emerged from their restraint and began to gravitate back toward them. His frantic looks caused them to halt but already there was a sense of calm and commitment to whatever was to be done. The Scooby group joined their blond warriors in tears, almost unbidden but in support for the wrench that had become their existence. As Spike began to meld into Buffy, they all turned back to Maggie Walsh and shared a satisfied smirk at her look of outrage and disappointment.

Giles stomped forward in force, ready to smack her again if need be.

“I guess you underestimated this…creature…that you created. Or maybe primal demons weren’t so ferocious as you’d hoped?” He sneered at her, unreasonably chuffed that this potentially devastating experienced seemed within their control. The Scooby superiority seemed well-deserved at that moment, and he took a few moments to gloat, glancing briefly at Xander to find he had company.

“Right. Buffy. What do you need? Should we get him some pigs blood, to remind him what he is used to feeding on?”

Appreciation settled on her face as she turned to her Watcher and smiled happily, if not tiredly.

“That would be perfect, Giles. I think we should keep him out here with us. I don’t want him to think we’ve abandoned him.”

As everyone at last felt at ease they found a place or chair to relax and fell upon it in tremendous relief. They sat in quiet contemplation the only sound microwave pings announcing perfectly heated blood and all jumped in surprise when there was a demanding knock at the door. A sharp glance around confirmed that pretty much everyone that they knew was already squished into the flat, but as Buffy rested her eyes back on her mate her confusion cleared.

“Giles,” she said as she took the mug of blood from his hands, a bendy straw pointing right at her. “I think it might be Angel.”

Giles looked at her in understanding before hurrying to the door. Opening revealed an extremely pissed off vampire in gameface who brushed aside the Watcher as he practically flew to his Childe in a swirl of black, leathery menace.

He turned to take in the hostage, the Scoobies, and what appeared to be the military in an escalating fury.

“What the fuck have you done to William?”


A/N...WOW! I wonder what is in store now?...you know what you have to do to find out! I really appreciate everybody's reviews, and I would go to all the trouble of naming you all except I always get on here and upload everything before writing names, and knowing my luck if I tried to go and find them I'd wipe everything...but anyway...THANKYOU!!! I am extremely appreciative.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Angel followed the trajectory of a number of guilty looks, all falling upon an older woman tethered to a chair. He glared at her with the full force of his familial vengeance. Turning abruptly to Buffy he felt pulled toward the twin pinpricks on her neck, still seeping blood.

“Are you okay?” he asked her, though distracted by the submissive form of his Childe against her shoulder, and his fury reached new heights.

She nodded shakily, her arms wrapped protectively around the body of her lover as her eyes misted over again.

“I don’t know what to do.” Her voice crumbled from intense emotional overload and she gasped a sob as Spike whimpered against her collarbone. She held him with a fierceness of possession and darted looks of hate towards the prisoner.

“He recognised you as his mate at least,” Angel told her, his weak gesture to her neck. “We’ll work it out. There has to be something…”

“Oh, there’s nothing you can do. I doubt he will ever be the vampire you knew.” Maggie Walsh spoke in a confident, arrogant manner that set every male in the Scooby core on edge. The commandos flinched from association, sure that she had flipped.

Despite the stand of solidarity between Xander and Giles in favour of Spike, Angel came out the clear leader within seconds of hearing the Professor speak.

“Do you know much about Vampires? Know of any in particular?” His voice was a cool threat and Willow and Anya stepped closer to Xander and Giles, nervous about the flash of the Angelus side of his personality.

“Oh, I know about William the Bloody. Very intriguing specimen.” Her demeanor remained calm as she observed them, still secure in her safety, but as Angel took just one threatening step toward her, her blood suddenly turned icy.

“Did you read about William’s family?”

“Of course, the line of Aurelius is renowned. Darla, Angelus, Drusilla and William.”

He took another step to her and her small smile became a reluctant frown.

“And which one of those do you think I might be?”

The room gasped as an Irish accent tripped from Angel’s tongue, the hard authoritative tone breaking through something in Spike and causing his growling search for familiarity to begin again.

Professor Walsh suddenly got it, her eyes widening in alarm. She darted a quick, pleading glance to her officers, turning back in despair when she finally understood that they were not going to help her.

“I don’t think I heard your guess.” Angel had taken another step closer and was now positioned within striking distance. One more step and he dropped to his haunches in front of her.

“Angelus?” she all but whispered and flinched at his harsh burst of laughter, then shrieking in terror as his gameface surged to the forefront.

“Aye, you’d be right then. And how do you think Angelus might react to someone trying to hurt his family? Did you research vampire attitudes to family?”

“I…ahh yes, they are, um, fiercely protective of other family members.”

Remaining in demon face, Angel subtly changed back to his normal voice as he continued to observe her.

“You’ll want to hope,” he started out calm, quiet, “that there is a way to bring William back, or you will be dead. Soul or not, no one fucks around with my family.”

He stood with a finality that almost stopped time. One beat later he was directing silent questions at Giles, then gently placing his arms around the still-distraught blond couple, easing them away from the crowd and through to Giles’s study.

~~~~~~~~~~~

As the tension began to dissipate, there was movement about the room. Giles set to offering beverages, and Xander rejoined a thoroughly unnerved and unnaturally quiet Anya taking her stiff, rigid body in his arms to reassure her that the major bad was done for nowand started to discuss the merits of pizza as a good upper.

General consent was voluble and so orders were phoned in and trivial points of discussion were engaged in, the commandos abandoning their weapons at the door and partaking of the courtesies of their host. Almost everyone ignored the Professor, but as Anya walked past she tried out her right foot in a swinging motion and smiled in pleasure as her hard shoe came into contact again with the woman’s shin.

“That’s for Spike, and for thinking you have the right to experiment on demons. There is so much vengeance rolling around in here right now, you’d better be grateful that I lost my pendant.” With a look filled with satisfaction Anya flounced away to wrap her arms once again around Xander’s waist, the confused stare of the Professor following her.

After a good portion of the pizza had disappeared, with a few slices left over for Buffy for later if she was hungry, they all sat around the table to discuss what they might do with their captive and how they should go about destroying Adam.

Riley and his friends needed to return to base: Giles knew it was time for them to make some fast decisions. With Willow’s help, he located a binding spell that would prevent Maggie Walsh from escaping her ropes, and a simple barrier that would protect her while they all slept. Though primarily it held her in, it also kept out any dark-haired vampires that decided that it was time to wreak vengeance.

With the disappearance of Willow, Xander and Anya, and a promise of their speedy return first thing in the morning, he sat down at his table in weary contemplation. It had been such a short time since their world had been turned upside down. They had all received a splendid gift, he knew that. Having Spike on their side could be a turning point for them, and with a groan of relief he hoped that it could also mean an extended existence for Buffy. From a few barbed comments from Buffy, he knew that if Spike had not been awarded his soul early on this time line, then he would have suffered at the hands of the Slayer. From what he had gathered, Spike’s journey had been long and fraught with all manner of misunderstandings and misjudged motives. His efforts to change received little encouragement or support, and Giles knew that the responsibility for that probably lay at his own door. He not only had taught Buffy, but also her friends the rules in regard to demons. He had no doubt that his own teachings could never have paved the way for William the Bloody, he was his own law altogether. Unfortunately, the books had never been written and so he suffered at their prejudiced hands. How many years of happiness had Buffy forfeited because of his own beliefs?

How had Spike borne staying with them, continuing his efforts to be good?

He didn’t blame himself completely knowing that Buffy’s own abuse stemmed from her resurrection, bringing another problem sharply into focus. After the engagement and blindness debacle, he had started to investigate options for Willow, knowing that he could not put off her instruction forever, but wishing he could bow out altogether. He had come as a Watcher to one Slayer an unruly, disobedient Slayer at that but here he was directing all her friends as well. He felt like a nursery teacher sometimes. But responsibility demanded that he take care of the witch. She needed to learn control and limits, so that she didn’t attempt anything like she felt she had to in the future.

They had so much knowledge of the future: enough to make a difference, a change for the better. A shiver slithered down his spine but he refused to contemplate the possibilities of certain events repeating themselves with the same horrid outcome. With an almost negligent glance he encountered the frosty eyes of the Professor and startled slightly; he had forgotten that she was there. Being confronted with her presence brought back into focus the vampire occupation of his home.

Spike!

What the bloody hell were they going to do for him?

He hoped with all his might that Angel knew enough and was devoted enough to bring back his Childe to the twenty-first century. He grinned at Walsh with malice tainting his lips, reminded of the lack of chip, and Ripper almost hoped that Spike regained enough sense to rip the cow’s throat out.

He took out his hidden bottle of scotch and started loading up the first glass of the night. The reality burned down the back of his throat and he felt confident.

They would change the important things. It didn’t make sense that they got this opportunity if the same things just continued to happen.

A few more shots and he felt pleasantly buzzed, creeping down the hall to eavesdrop on the small crowd in his study. All he heard was weeping, growling, and curiously, some clicking. He shuddered, fearing it was hopeless, and made his way back to fall on the sofa in exhaustion. And remained there throughout the night.



A/N...I love chapters where I don't have to fiddle with the italics etc...okay...this is the lead up...next chapter after this might be a little challenging for some...major angst...so if you want it, you have to tell me...

A/N…if any part of Seeing Red was too offensive for you to watch, then this chapter may cause you problems. Take heart that this is as worse, and as good as it gets. There is method to my madness, and this chapter is pivotal. However, both my Betas pointed out that it was brutal. So please, continue on only if your heart can take it. In reassurance though, Holly tells me it is her favourite chapter in the whole story. Let me know what YOU decide!?


Chapter Thirty-Eight

Angel stood still by the closed door, his fearful gaze unable to look away from the blonde pair clinging to each other in front of him. His body began to hum in dread as Buffy’s eyes turned to him, the question he didn’t want to answer plain as day.

“You can help him, right?”

Her tears had always sliced open a vulnerable part of him, and he felt his strength crumble. He felt like laughing. Out of pure hysteria. He didn’t think Buffy would take it the way he intended though, so he took a few excruciating moments to compose himself. When the rising urge to laugh had fled, it was quickly replaced by the need to howl like an animal at the destruction of its progeny. Observing Spike and his whimpering reluctance to release Buffy for even a moment, had him giving in; the anger and fear combining to create a perfectly animalistic sound of grief. Recognising something of the demonic rule Spike answered with his own series of sad yowls, perhaps not understanding that the song was for himself.

Buffy clung to him, her face slippery and red from the tears that had not abated since she had first set eyes on him tonight. Her fingers combed gently through his hair and she resorted herself to making inhuman noises to convey her serious fear at the condition of her mate. The sensitive pads of her fingers found ribs of scalp, rough with stitching that had not been removed, though vampire healing had closed the skin off over the top. She flinched, knowing that they would have to cut him open again to get rid of the thread. Her eyes had earlier catalogued all the cuts and bruises visible on his face, but now she knew from the various flinches when in contact that his body would be covered as well, and she swallowed hard knowing that her stomach could well get another workout.

Kissing the side of his mouth in reassurance both her own and his she turned again to Angel. She stayed silent, aware that her earlier question still hung like a death knoll between them.

“I don’t know.” Angel never spoke loudly, and he often looked overwhelmed with just the average daily interaction between people and life, but now the challenge was a larger one. His voice sounded odd to himself, out of control.

“Maybe the ritual…” his voice tapered off, hoping that Buffy knew what he referred to without him having to explain farther.

She sniffed. “Wouldn’t we need Dru? She is his real Sire, isn’t she?”

Her throat was sore, clogged from her endless tears and she couldn’t even swallow to rid herself of the painful lump. She was afraid that if she flushed herself of the little reminder that she hurt then she might fall into a numbness she wouldn’t be able to escape from. This was taking a huge emotional toll even more than the feelings of leaving heaven and she wasn’t sure if she could survive if she couldn’t have Spike back.

She thought more of the ritual that Angel referred to, the one that had first brought Spike into her life when he was desperate to restore his loony girlfriend and destroy Angel in the process. She had taken it personally at the time, but knowing Spike like she did now, she had no lingering belief that he hadn’t felt regret at the thought of having to destroy a member of his family to return Dru to her former strength. She frowned in sudden understanding.

“I don’t think that would work. It was to restore her strength, right? Didn’t do anything to improve her insanity.” The bitter barb was ignored for the release of fear that it was.

Angel nodded slowly, feeling frantic at his inability to quickly think of a solution.

“Well, what do you know about what that bitch out there did to him?” He had changed in his fury, back to the subtle reminders of Angelus, causing little shivers of shock to race over her skin.

Buffy pulled back a little from Spike, trying to look into his eyes. His confusion confirmed that he didn’t have a clue of who they were or what they said.

“She implied that they had tortured him into forcing his demon back to his primitive state. Riley told us a little earlier, but we really don’t know much. He doesn’t recognise any of us, or even understand what we are saying, and he hasn’t shaken his demon off since he woke up.” She told all of this to Angel while gently stroking the vampiric grooves of Spike’s face, hoping the soothing tones of her voice would encourage him to feel secure with both her and Angel and to let go a little, allowing them to check out what else the Initiative had done to him.

Angel’s pensive gaze shimmered a little and he felt a sudden clarity. His eyes widened in hope as he bent down to kneel near them and tugged on Buffy’s hand to pull them into a similar position. Spike watched him warily, but made no move to pull away and Angel sighed in relief.

“It’s like she’s made his soul retreat to somewhere safe. She’s allowed the demon to take control. I don’t know how she could have taken away memory and knowledge to make him primeval, though.”

Buffy blinked. “But what can we do to fix him?”

Angel shuddered with hopelessness. He didn’t know what to tell her. Nothing like this had ever been done to a vampire before. And again, Spike was unique. If he wasn’t so worried he’d be…no, maybe not jealous, but…

“He tasted your blood?” Angel stared intently at her neck, his mind ticking over fast while trying to think of anything they could do to help the vampire.

“Yeah, he seemed to recognise me enough to stop mauling me. To not kill me.”

Angel nodded, feeling slightly broken at the strained tenor of her voice. “Right, so we need to bring his mind back. Maybe a renewal of the claim?…”

“Wh.-what about your blood? Maybe he would recognise that, too?”

Angel’s chocolate brown eyes glistened with hope and a willingness to try anything. Without word he curled his hand around the neck of his Childe and pulled his fangs to his neck. A commanding growl broke from his throat and vibrated against the demon lips of Spike, encouraging him to taste.

Without warning the elongated teeth sunk into his cold flesh and he pulled greedily on the blood. It tasted old, passionate and familiarfamily with remnant traces of the blood he had taken earlier of the girl shape. Growls of rage and jealousy erupted from his throat as he pushed the brunette abruptly from him. Angry eyes fixed onto Buffy and he was upon her, ripping her clothes in a frenzy of desperation. She was his and he needed to reassert his rights immediately.

He turned his head and growled like an enraged tiger at the hulking shape trying to get closer. To prevent his movement.

Clothing tore from the female body as he held her down, not registering her struggles. His leg pressed over her own, forcing her to hold still on the floor, and he began shedding his own clothing in a violent passion. Angel could barely watch, tears flowing from his shattered face as Spike took his naked woman in front of him, plunging his teeth into her neck again as he plunged his engorged cock into her and succumbing to a pace that was punishing. Branding his property. For his Sire to acknowledge. Angel dipped his head in acceptance.


Buffy was screaming, almost chanting the name, “Spike…” but he took no notice, the word meaning nothing to him. Her voice had little impact against her blood, which with each lengthy pull enchanted his senses and brought him a little closer to home. He continued to thrust as she quieted, and he felt her arms around his back, holding him to her as she sobbed loudly, but willing in hope. Soon, his body slowed and his long strokes became loving, rather than brutal and he felt almost sorry for the way he had forced her. He kissed her softly, his psyche aching for the viciousness he had subjected her to.

His mind became lost in a haze of blackness as he cried; he remembered nothing recognised nothing except for his home, and now he had hurt her. He whimpered in apology against her bloody throat, aware enough to withdraw his fangs as soon as the rhythm of her heart had changed. Her legs had drawn up around him and she held him tightly against her, whispering sounds against his ear that sounded sweet, knowing, loving. He sucked a nipple into his mouth, the solo pierce of a fang unintentional and withdrew at her small start of pain. Licking away the damage, he sunk into the bliss of his eventual arrival, and filled her with his seed. With an urgent knowledge just one word came to him, and he uttered it in relief.

“Love,” his voice whispered as he collapsed against her.

All was silent as watery tears and silence filled the room.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy hit the floor in shock, not knowing or doing anything to prevent the forceful removal of her clothes. Her head was knocked to the side in the rush and she caught sight of a devastated Angel sitting back allowing Spike to rape her. ‘No,’ her mind objected. Though afraid, some part of her knew that this primal element of Spike was just being territorial. Too late did she make the connection that he might taste her essence within Angel’s blood, and react badly to it. Though the force conjured up ugly memories she remained still and allowed the possession to take place, still hoping that maybe this was what they needed to bring him back.

Screaming his name earlier had meant nothing to the out of control vampire, so she just held him, willing him to remember her, and to love her. She felt humiliated that Angel was watching her like this, but she had the feeling that human rules had flown out the window the second Spike had allowed his fangs to penetrate the skin of his Sire.

For one brief moment she had thought it was going to work. Spike’s eyes had lit with some recognition, probably knowing family, but then he had sensed something and dove at her, almost knocking her senseless in his rush to mount her.

She felt like a victim, and shuddered; giving in. But then his pounding had turned almost gentle in time with the rhythmic gulping of her blood. A tide was turned as he consumed her and she gasped feeling his tears run onto her skin. He sobbed against her and she couldn’t do anything but hold him to her, her love overriding misery in that small fraction of time.

Almost against her will she came, her body electrified and pulsing with possessive satiation. Her man, her vampire could do this to her, whether he was soulful or animal, he cared enough to hold her, to know her, and to please her. His pain broke her heart; he was the lost little boy they were struggling to find. Almost unaware now she was caught by a single piercing pain at her breast and she called out unknowing, and smiled sadly as he licked the blood from the tiny wound. She told him everything, how she loved him and was desperate for him to be back with her, whole. Her voice was soft as she stroked the muscular planes of his back, licking the shell of his ear.

She cried out once in relief as she felt him surge within her and then the wet rush of his fluid as it was released, bathing the insides of her canal. Her legs held him tight to her and her heart almost stopped when he uttered just one word.

“Love.”

And she sobbed around him with hope.




A/N...how did you go? Did you get through it? Please don't hate me...it gets better from now...the Initiative did screw him up remember...couldn't be all sweetness and light! Don't forget that review button to tell me exactly what you think of me for being such a bitch!

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Angel could hear the trembling breaths of shock and acceptance fall from Buffy’s lips, and he hung his head ashamed.

“I’m sorry,” he told her, his throat raw with grief. “I should have guessed he would taste you. He’s not himself, Buffy.” He raised his eyes to meet hers in a clash of wary discomfort. “Don’t blame him for what he did. He was just being a vampirenot allowing anyone else to touch his mate. He felt he needed to remind you.”

His eyes remained fixed on her, caressing her wet, devastated face in gentle glides as he controlled his fierce desire to let his gaze wander over her exposed flesh. Quiet but angry growls warned him of how aware Spike would be of his motives and he pulled himself up from the floor and turned away. As he lifted his hand to turn the doorknob, Buffy called out and he stopped. His hand was suspended in the air as he kept his hungry eyes fixed on the wood panel in front of him, but waited for her to speak.

“I-I can’t stay like this. Giles, or one of the others could come in, and they wouldn’t understand. Can you cover us with a blanket, and then maybe go to my dorm room and get Willow to give you some clothes? J-Just tell her I need them for tomorrow. Please don’t tell her what h-happened here.”

Still not letting himself glance at her he went to the fold out bed and grabbed a blanket resting on the seat, quickly draping it over the entwined pair before making his exit.

The door clicked closed behind him and he slumped against it. He had never felt such an overwhelming sense of loss in his unlife, and he felt eager for the cold night air to wash some of his despair away.

The walk to Buffy’s dorm allowed him distance and time to recuperate. He was afraid; afraid of the consequences his quick offering had caused. He had never felt so torn in half; his demon and demon law on one side challenging his humanity and soul on the other. He knew that Buffy had been more than shocked to have a fully enraged and primitive vampire jump her, and he didn’t think that she understood all the implications of the act. For all he knew she might interpret Spike’s frenzied attempts to reassert his power through possessionin love with the hateful human act of rape. Her eyes had reflected an acceptance that almost drove him to stake himself.

That the woman he loved had to accept the overpowering advance of an out of control vampire was something he always thought he would be able to protect her from. The past few weeks had brought home a number of truths that he wished he could ignore. That he would never be hers again was the most savage cut. That he no longer had the right to protect her, or even to touch her again made him rage inside. That in his most basic condition, Spike’s demon still protected and claimed her. He had seen the glow of ownership in the amber glint of Spike’s demonic eyes as he had pushed her to the floor, whipped her clothes away from her flesh and thrust violently inside her.

His own demon had risen eagerly within him, wanting to push his silly Childe aside and punish him for thinking he had the right to claim such a power as the Slayer. He had felt no sense of possession or feeling of having his own toy stripped from him. Just a small challenge as the head of the family. He may have taken her innocence at one time, but he had never laid claim to her only wanting to inflict hurt not burden himself with her presence. It was Angel who had left his mark upon her neck, but again it was no claim of forever. The demon in Spike had adhered formally to the rules, and Angel was left to submit to his right. The right to show all that he was the Slayer’s mate and no one could ever taste her again.

He felt slightly alarmed at the unusual quiet of the night and wondered at the absence of all things supernatural. Well, other things supernatural. Then he saw a military group trying to be stealthy and his jaw flexed in fury. He melted into the shadows of a building and let them pass, smelling the three that had earlier been at Giles’s flat. He wanted to jump out and tear them apart, his soul funnily enough screaming for bloody vengeance. For William. It was his demon that allowed them to continue unharmed, for Angelus would rather plot pain than bestow it too quickly.

He continued on until he entered the right building and made his way to Buffy’s dorm room. He could hear quiet chatter on the other side of the door, and quickly tried to control his face as his demon still fought for control. He was furious to his very bones, confusion something he couldn’t cope with right now. His fist banged on the flat wood and he stayed on the other side of the threshold once Willow had opened the door.

“No invites, Willow.”

She raised suddenly terrified eyes to his and took a step back from the door.

“Just here to pick up some clothes for Buffy. Can you get some stuff together for her and I’ll take it back over to Giles’s?”

She nodded and quickly took to the task, stuffing toiletries and clothing into a small bag, pausing before a draw before grabbing a stake and shoving it in there as well. She placed the bag on the floor then pushed it outside with her foot. Angel grimaced but nodded in acceptance, strangely serene that she had accepted his subtle warning. With a tired lift of his hand, he indicated his departure and he was gone.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

For a long time Buffy remained on the floor, her body weighed down by the continued lethargic presence of Spike. She had felt the exact moment when all his rage had drained away and he had tried to console her with affectionate licks to her mark. She caught her breath as she felt him swell again within her, a small part of her rebelling at the act. Mentally she knew what had just happened, and accepted it. She had taken a vampire as her lover and could hardly object when his nature jockeyed for playtime. If she was to blame anyone for causing her to feel used at this moment, it was Professor Walsh for creating something she had no power over. While his head was hidden against her throat, she marvelled at how disassociated she became from the reality. In her mind she played the bathroom reel, and knowing that even back then it was the desperate vampire trying to make her understand his pain, she found it almost impossible to accept what had happened.

Then he raised his head and for the first time since Riley had returned him to her she looked into blue eyes glowing with love. His fear was unmasked, and her heart shrivelled a little in reaction to what he must also face once he was back to himself. His attempted rape had caused him to seek out his soul so he could treat her kindly, love her gently. This had been no attempt: he had reached fruition, and even though she would never think of what they had just shared as rape, she had a nasty feeling that souled Spike was going to have monumental problems with his actions.

She cupped his cheek and pulled his mouth down to hers, sipping desperately at his taste. Tears dripped from both their eyes as she held his cheek against hers, her lips rubbing against his, but mouths never opening.

Looking once again into his eyes, her heart exploded with truth and she vowed to do all that was possible to bring him back to her, whole.

“I love you,” she whispered, the volume of her voice almost obliterated from emotion.

“Love,” he told her huskily as his hips began to move, and the gentle glow of knowing that always flushed her body began to take over, and she knew she would forgive him everything.



A/N...I had the most wonderful reviews for the last chapter...thank you for the thoughtfulness. I was very nervous about this turn, but things are getting better now, I promise...but don't stop reviewing now we are getting close to the end...I still need encouragement.

Chapter Forty

Maggie Walsh squirmed uncomfortably in her chair. A flash of humiliation and pain passed over her face as she tried to cross her legs.

“Ah….hello?” Her call was ineffectual against the snoring man on the sofa, and she rolled her eyes in frustration.

“Um...you asleep over there! I need to go to the bathroom.” She remained unanswered. She was hardly surprised that her reasonably quiet voice had no impact through the snorting bull-horn of monotony that was Giles asleep. She was hesitant to get any louder though not wanting the Slayer to feel a need to investigate.

She had never really thought before about the movies and novels that talked of hostages being restrained for days on end, but now she could see how unrealistic those plots were. How was one able to cut oneself off when desperate to use the amenities?

Fortunately, it was at the moment when the sharp pain began to really become unbearable that the one identified as Angelus slammed back into the house. His rather noisy entrance jolted Giles awake and he garbled something about ‘ no tea, Mother,’ before he was back on his feet and contemplating the strange expression on the vampire’s face. He held the bag up in front of him, almost as an apology, and offered no explanation. Shortly following that confusing display, both males turned to the captive and wrinkled their noses in disgust.

Refusing to acknowledge their apathy toward her, she grabbed the opportunity for relief.

“I have to go to the bathroom, right now.” Her voice held onto her earlier arrogance of command, but Angel could sniff the fear that radiated from her.

“Unbelievable.” Giles exploded, his hands flung in the air. “Couldn’t you have bloody mentioned that before we put the binding spell on you?”

She quirked her brow and looked at him in surprise.

“I’m your hostage. I didn’t think you would be particularly interested in whether I was hungry, or needed to…ah…freshen up?”

Giles spluttered. “We’re not bloody barbarians.”

Then his eyes hardened and she knew that he had started thinking that she probably was. She really felt like she had ridden a fanbelt tonight, and the spinning journey hadn’t yet slowed down. She was still stunned and not a little miffed that her own boys had so callously given her up to these misfits, even if they seemed to have information that was beyond classified. She had no idea how this Slayer person could possibly know so much; and the Polgara demon…how did she know that? It was all a mystery that she would rather try to unravel once she had the chance to empty her bladder. She looked up to find the man called Giles flicking through a book and with a few biting words she felt a force that had held her bound begin to loosen and drop. Sighing in relief, she stood on wobbly legs and silently waited for direction to the bathroom.

“You have less than two minutes. There are bars on the window if you were thinking of trying to get away. Take longer and I will send Angel in to get you.”

She blanched in revulsion and took off at a quick walk, slamming the door behind her.

Giles and Angel were left looking uncomfortably at each other, not knowing what to say. Giles was eager to hear about their progress, and Angel was eager to keep it quiet.

“I-I, ah, fell asleep. How are things going in there?” Giles jerked his head in the direction of his study, and watched Angel for his reaction. His intent gaze picked up the flinch, but he put it down to earlier fury.

“I think we might be getting somewhere. But it’s slow. Probably best kept private for the moment.”

Giles nodded, then saw the bite marks rapidly healing on the vampires neck.

“Did you think he might recognise your blood?” He was nodding in approval. “So, how did that go, then?” Angel gulped and flinched again, and Giles’s Watcher curiosity surged.

“It’s rough. He’s a vampire, Giles. Tasting my blood? Not the best idea I’ve ever had. But don’t go quizzing Buffy on it, okay? This is really hard for her.”

Without waiting to watch the dawning comprehension and horror on Giles’s face, he marched down the corridor, gave the bathroom door a loud pounding before turning to continue to the study and firmly locking the door behind him. Maggie Walsh exploded from the room as if the hounds of hell had erupted form the toilet bowl to drag her home, and found her seat on the hard chair once again. Momentarily distracted by Angel’s words, Giles hesitated slightly before muttering the incantation that would restrain her to the spot, refraining from reusing the ropes. He was not that eager to be so close to her again. She turned his stomach.

As he thought over the clues that Angel had dropped, he felt his body squeeze in upon itself. He had been warned of Spike’s vampiric nature, and the tasting of Angel’s blood. Flashes of Buffy in the hospital after almost being drained by the dark-haired vampire the previous year crowded his mind, and he grabbed the glasses from his face.

“Oh dear God,” he mumbled fatalistically, but then he stopped as he remembered. Another clue. Angel had left the blond pair together and alone, so Spike musn’t have drained the Slayer. So what could he mean? His refusal to accept the sexual nature of these teens in his charge made it more difficult for him to contemplate what Angel had implicitly been suggesting. Spike had tasted Buffy in Angel’s blood.

“Oh dear God,” he repeated as the glasses fell silently to the floor.

‘He reasserted the Claim. As a vampire”.

Giles was suitably horrified. He could feel his blood pressure rising with this unnerving idea and he sat boldly still, trying to calm Ripper who was thrashing within him to go and slay.

He hadn’t heard her scream, hadn’t heard a bloody sound. Because he’d been asleep, thinking they could handle it. Good Lord!

He jumped to his feet and commenced pacing, each length going further down the hallway toward the study before swinging back. About the sixth time he got closer to the door and startled when it swung open and a black figure loomed ahead of him, before determinedly clicking it shut again. Angel stood steady, waiting until they heard the lock turn on the inside before he grabbing Giles’s arm in a punishing hold, dragging him back to the safety of the living room.

“You figured it out then, did you?” Angel’s face was hard, resigned and another point pushed its way into his understanding.

“You watched it happen.” He snapped his arm away. “You bastard!”

“You don’t understand vampire customs, Giles. It would be cruel to punish him for something he had no control over. You wanna punish anyone, then have a go at this old hag.”

Giles deflated in acceptance, understanding it was a feeling that was becoming widely well accepted tonight. So much intrusion on their relatively safe lives. Tonight in particular had blown their assumptions and judgements all to hell.

“She understands it, Giles. He didn’t hurt her. Just scared her for a little while.”

“So she isn’t scared now, then?” Giles looked at the brunette in disbelief.

“Surprisingly, no. I can’t get over how deep her love for him is. In weeks. How the hell did he pull that off?” Angel rubbed his hand over weary, watery eyes as he looked to the Watcher for an explanation. “I mean, the Powers rewarded him, right? With a soul! How could Buffy fall for that straight away? I mean, she got cozy with him the night she found him. What the hell is that?”

For the first time, Giles paid attention to the vampire’s misery, and felt a stab of pity. For a moment. Truth be told, he thought Spike was by far the more deserving vampire for his Slayer. It was easy to label good because of a soul, but no one ever seemed to commend the overturning of nature itself to choose the better. Angel was forcefully encumbered with his soul. Without even thinking about it, Giles knew that no chip could have influenced Angelus to turn to the Scoobies for help. When Spike was back to his vibrant self, he must quiz him about his minions and why he didn’t force them to help him.

Shaking himself from the unfavourable ruminations, he reflected quickly on Angel’s questions.

“To tell you the truth, I think a little of the future Spike’s essence came with the soul, and it touched her. Rather simple, really. Well, unless it appalls you. But strangely, they seem quite acceptable together. When you make the effort, he is rather likeable I suppose.”

A loud snort from across the room got both their attention, and they were drawn to their other problem.

“What’s her deal?” Angel’s voice was dangerously lacking in emotion, and that alone had Giles fighting goosebumps on his skin.

“She’s the one that put our little jigsaw Frankenstein together. She had Spike kidnapped and did whatever she did to him. We had originally planned on trying to convince her to destroy her pet project, Adam. However, I have a nasty feeling that she won’t be cooperative.”

Angel’s eyes narrowed as he dropped to his haunches, bringing himself into eye level with the magically restrained woman. Then his face broke into the most evil smile she had ever seen. Angel displayed his demon unhindered, no longer able to control the release as his enhanced senses picked up the distinct smell of blood from up the hall, as well as the tiny whimpers of pleasure coming from the one girl he couldn’t stand to hear it from. He knew that the claim process would consist of continual sexual joinings throughout the night, and the only thing that was saving his sanity was the hope that Spike would prevail and that each time he reached climax it would encourage him back to the present. His demon eyes, however, reflected none of that gentility of thought and he felt pleasure course through his body at the growing waft of fear from right in front of him.

“I think she’ll be cooperative. In fact, I think if we take her to her little demon soldier boy right this minute, she’ll help us decapitate him… or be decapitated herself. How about it, Giles? Feel like a little trip to the Initiative?”

For one small second, Professor Walsh felt relieved that she would be free. Then she thought of her son, Adam, and though she was more than a little on edge that these people predicted a future for her experiment not quite on the plans, she knew that it was at a close. As skeptical as they may be, she didn’t actually want the death of children on her hands. Or humans at all, if she could help it. So she nodded her head in resignation.

“I will take you there and you can do what you like. Just let me go afterwards?”

With a look of agreement, Angel waited for the barrier to release her, then took her in a grip that he intended to hurt. In the uncertain darkness of night, Giles and Angel headed to Initiative headquarters to rid themselves of a potential problem, and save Buffy from further torment.


A/N...just a tie in to the next chapter...but it's all essential...keep your opinions coming...they make me high...and thank you for the reviews of the last two chapters, they have been just wonderful.

A/N...before I start I just want to shout a huge thank you to everyone for reading this story. I have just won an award for Best Angst Fic at VK Awards which just blows me away as I never even really classified this fic as angsty! Not that I'll reject the award of course, it's just gorgeous...thankyou Mandi...also a Judges Choice Award...in my book just as good...so I am overjoyed at the support this fic has received...now go and read people!

Chapter Forty-One

It was an awkward walk from the flat to the secret entrance of the Initiative. A tall, reserved brunette flanked either side of the Professor as she attempted to accept that her project would be very soon deactivated.

“Buffy said that Adam gets his power from a uranium core inside his chest?”

Giles was shivering a little from the chill in the air and was determined that after all the trauma of the past few weeks, at least one source of worry would be eliminated. They needed to concentrate on Spike; returning him to form. His lips twisted in a satisfied smirk that Spike himself would be proud of. He was grateful that the problem of the chip removal was already taken care of. With a little luck, this sojourn into the Initiative base would be their one and only.

Maggie Walsh merely nodded, not eager to encourage conversation with her captors just grateful that she would soon be free. She briefly considered activating Adam before he was complete so he could take these two out and rid her of their interference. The memory of Riley, Forrest and Graham giving her looks of disgust and betrayal stopped her though, and she felt cold with the knowledge that this project might have easily gotten out of control and hurt the people that she had been trying to save.

Darkness shadowed every step that they took, beyond blackened and looming trees, jutting out headstones, and dewy brittle grass. The night reeked of the supernatural and of monsters. She shivered with past memories of childhood fears and nightmares.

The Professor had not found it necessary to come and go from headquarters at this entrance, but her intent study of all maps of the Initiative gave her a good theoretical knowledge. She found the entrance without the smallest hint of difficulty.

Though tingles of caution set Angel’s muscles flexing, he held onto her arm as she took them through the tunnel. Once they made it through, they hit an almost blinding light. Angel gripped her arm almost savagely, not allowing her to move forward while he allowed his eyes to adjust to the brightness. He allowed his senses to seek knowledge and make sure they wouldn’t walk into a group of soldiers with guns and be done for before their mission had even begun.

He heard only a few heartbeats and none too close by so with a not so gentle nudge he pushed her forward, Giles bringing up the rear while holding his crossbow at attention.

“You get us to Adam without running interference, and I won’t kill you. If Giles gets killed in any attempt to doublecross us, I’ll have you drained before they could get a taser near me. Understand?”

His eyes were hardened black with glinting amber flecks of determined rage. The knowledge of the retribution to come when they found they could do nothing for the other vampire chilled her heart to a moment of inactivity, and she gasped suddenly and grasped her chest. Struggling to continue breathing though the fear overwhelmed her she nodded decisively and headed to the door marked 314. Maggie’s pass was always with her and she took it out smartly, swiping it with regret and lead the way into the room.

The horrified gasp came from Giles as he finally set eyes on the monster that they had the chance to stop before it could wreak havoc. He was put together from human and demon parts like a giant jigsaw puzzle, and now he understood Buffy’s references to Frankenstein.

“Where did you get the human?” He didn’t really want an answer and so was relieved when she stubbornly remained silent.

Angel said nothing, just clenched his jaw in disbelief that a human could be so unbelievably stupid to create something so hideous. Then again, she had somehow managed to revert Spike back to a prehistoric demon perhaps one of the first to walk the earth. She was dangerous with knowledge and cunning; he and Giles would have to decide what to do with her before he left again for LA. She couldn’t be allowed to remain free for fear she could take this experiment up again. It was a topic that Buffy would have to remain ignorant of, but he knew that Giles would help him do what had to be done. Having settled it in his mind, he turned to her, his face so engraved with hate and disgust that she shrank back a little against her creature.

With an earthshaking growl, Angel lifted the axe he had brought with him, raising it like lightening over his head and appeared to slice it directly at the woman unknowingly shielding 314. With a terrified scream, she dove to the side and the blade of the axe embedded into the chest of the hybrid demon on the gurney. Angel surged forward with another battle cry and slammed his fist into wet, squishy tissue, ripping out a metallic cylinder from its breast. He held it triumphantly in the air. Angel turned to the woman shaking with fear on the floor and took a moment to let his demon relish her scent. Not looking back, he handed the uranium core to Giles, then swung the axe back at the gurney and allowed his destructive side full rein on the abomination. Anger, and hurt, and fear came to the fore and he howled out his misery at the decimated state of his Childe, the loss of his girlfriend, and his demotion in rank with the Scoobies.

By the time he felt his demon begin to calm, Adam lay in a multitude of pieces around the room, gory tissue shredded beyond repair. He sighed with evil satisfaction. Turning once again to the Professor, he grinned at her now red lab coat, and the stringy strips of intestines that dangled from her ashy hair. With a rare laugh, he turned to Giles to see if he was also amused at the sight. The only option was a full burst of hilarity. Dripping from every square inch of the watcher’s jeans and jacket were slices of demon skin and metallic looking wiring. His glasses were splattered with blood and he was currently swiping his face with a hanky usually reserved for the always smudged lenses.

“So, whaddaya think? Should we bag him and take the remains with us, in case they get any more ideas?” The amusement drained abruptly from Angel’s lips as he jerked his head back to Professor Walsh, still cowering on the floor. He received a nod of assent and Giles quickly began to seek something in the room adequate to collect together as much of the remains as possible for later burning.

As Giles took charge of that detail, Angel lowered himself to the Professor’s level and allowed his demon to own his features for a little longer. She shrank back in a mix of terror and revulsion, and he felt the stirring of revenge deep inside. Angel had never felt so torn against his soul to punish a human as he did since meeting her, and was angrier because of it. The precarious hold he had on his soul always worried him, but lately, he felt the control slipping and knew he had to find a way sometime soon to anchor it before he possibly managed to lose it and go on another rampage.

As Giles finished and took a place by the door, indicating his readiness to escape, Angel took a vicous hold of her arm and hauled her from the floor.

“You didn’t think this was the end did you, Professor? We have another demon difficulty to resolve.”

He turned quickly and caught the evil glimmer in the other man’s eyes. With this encouragement from Ripper, he would have even more difficulty keeping himself under control. His need to rip out her throat was charging his body with overwhelming strength, and he dropped her arm, suddenly scared. Grabbing the bag from Giles, he thrust the woman at him, before opening the door and sensing their safety before leading the way out.

In single file they retraced their steps, a wary Angel in the front. Adrenaline surged through the two men as they heard voices heading in their direction, but as they rounded the corner, weapons raised, it was only Finn and his two cohorts that they encountered. Riley raised his hands at the sudden confrontation, and they all stopped, not saying a word for several torturous seconds.

With a whoosh Giles released his held breath and stepped forward, knowing instinctively that Riley would have difficulties taking instruction from a vampire.

“We have destroyed project 314,” he told them, holding up the clear thick plastic containing the gory remains. The soldiers didn’t even flinch, but nodded while still refraining from activating weapons.

“We still need her. For Spike.” The voice that spoke to them was hard and steely and they knew better than to challenge a Master Vampire solid and vengeful in front of them, so nodded, allowing them to continue their passage to the cemetery exit.

As they left, the feeling of dread had dissipated and with a lighter heart, Giles pushed the woman toward his flat so that they could at last get some rest. And just like that, Maggie Walsh realised that she had been stupid to be relieved at being free. The knowing spark in the vampire’s eye was enough to tell her that she would never be free again.

As the thought of her own death wound tightly around her heart she again gasped and clutched at the thumping muscle beneath her breast and had the insane pleasure of knowing that she would outwit them first with her own natural death. She collapsed in a lifeless heap on that dark, but brittle grass, clouded by the darkened shadows of night.


A/N2...you know what to do if you want 42!

Chapter Forty-Two

Buffy ached. For the past ten hours straight Spike had taken every part of her in electrifying possession until her voice was hoarse and her limbs limp. She was exhausted. Every time he had made love to her and reached fruition he had gently sunk his fangs into her, taking small sips of her powerful blood, and shared another word as it was revealed to him.

“Love.”

“Home.”

“Hope.”

“Mate.”

“Yours.”

“Mine.”

“Beautiful.”

With each revelation her tears flowed anew, her heart flooded with devotion as he licked and kissed her exposed skin. His hands had wandered, sketching odd shapes and promises over her flesh until delicious chills pushed all concept of reality from her mind. Her night had become flushed with images of the past, the claim making its impact with renewed influences of power and possession. She saw him as human, foppish hair and clothing dating him more than his tremendous knowledge of life currently did. She saw and recognised his first love and the harsh way she had treated him and his meeting with Drusilla, and Angelus. She saw the secrets the things that Angel had never shared with her the understanding of why he called himself Spike’s Sire. Flashes of knowing came to her throughout the night, right up until his entry to Sunnydale. She saw him watch her dance, watch her fight on video, saw his attention to Dru; his caring. But more powerful than the watching, was the feeling, for she felt every emotion joined to those flashes of his history and she felt momentarily flabbergasted. His first view of her had signaled the change, but he hadn’t recognised it. Dru’s persistent encouragement to ‘kill the Slayer’ had nothing to do with approving his reputable skill. Drusilla had seen even then that she was to lose to a blond wave of sunshine who would be the force of her White Knight’s redemption.

The final joining had been the most intense, and she could feel the opening of Spike and even feel the trust that spread between them, encouraging his soul to venture out of hiding a little more at a time until he was on the brink of returning fully. His remembrance of words did more than spark her hope. She delved into the glory of this moment, the spark of singularity and belonging of what she was experiencing totally overwhelming in its true beauty. She felt that these moments they shared were almost reverent, holy. She was accepting his spirit as his human personality swamped back to his consciousness. Finally, they had lain gasping, rocketed by the consuming bliss of being soul mates, and the burning heat of his eyes seared her flesh till it was tingling anew with anticipation. But they were at last knowing. He knew.

He knew! As Buffy’s own eyes widened in excitement she flung her arms around him and squeezed tightly. She was so relieved and grateful that he was back that she ignored the flinch of his body against hers. As he tried to pull away she held him tighter, refusing after the intense emotion of the night to allow him to withdraw from her. Her mind was blank of everything but her need to rejoice over his return. So when he finally was able to thrust her away from him and push his way to his feetshe was in emotional lockdown, no bad memory of the past ten hours breaching the barrier holding her together.

As she looked up at him, her eyes hooded with renewed desire, it took her long moments to register that he continued to move away from her, then snagging hold of his jeans and pulling them on almost frantically. Finally she took note of the deep tormented creases on his face and sat up, clinging to the blanket that had fallen around her body.

“Spike?” she asked hesitantly.

He started at her voice, pulled back from his foray into the past with a grimace.

“How…how could you let me do that to you?”

“Do what?” She was genuinely confused, a horrible sense of fear that things were about to be blown sky high. As his hand swung wildly, finger gesturing her lack of clothing and the bites all over her body. He was speechless too soon after regaining the ability to speak.

“Angel!” He bit the name out with a residue of fury and loathing, and with a thud she came back to the event that had inspired the frenzy of sex. She sighed in defeat, knowing that the train wreck had begun its crash off the rails, and she had no way of halting its progress. She shrugged her shoulders helplessly, sparking another burst of his helpless anger.

“Spike? I love you.”

It took the wind abruptly out of his sails and he fell to his knees, his head bowed. When he raised his face to hers his eyes were filled with tears.

“I raped you!”

The exclamation was nasty and she flinched.

“No, you really didn’t.”

They stared defiantly at each other, both refusing to lose in the staredown.

“I threw you to the ground, ripped the clothes from your struggling body and fucked you senseless. Funny, but pretty bloody sure that counts as rape. I did it to you again.” At first his voice had held strong to the rage and the self-condemnation he was determined to cling to but by the end his voice was so quiet she had to lean forward to catch the last syllable. When she did she straightened her back with purpose, ready to shoot him down the next time something stupid came out of his mouth.

“First, you never raped me. The future you attempted to rape me because I had confused you to the point of madness. I am not angry about something I have not experienced.” She smiled at him in encouragement, but slapped her knee in frustration when he refused to look at her. “Second, you weren’t you earlier. Maggie Walsh took everything away from you except your base need to survive and be a demon. She made your soul hide for protection. But Spike, she failed. You didn’t hurt any of us. As soon as you tasted me you didn’t even try to hurt anyone. Third, you did scare me, but I understand why you attacked me like that. You tasted something of me in Angel’s blood and you had to protect your property. I was the mate of a pure demon, Spike. Human, all-Chosen Slayer Buffy. I belonged to your demon, Spike, and he made no attempt to hurt me or turn me. To tell you the truth, I’m in awe of the love and protection your demon has for me.”

He was still silent and she dropped the blanket and crawled forward so that she was right before him. She placed both her hands on either side of his face, pleased when he growled at the sight of her naked body before him.

“It was a good thing, Spike.” She leaned forward and left a tiny, fleeting kiss on the corner of his mouth, feeling powerful at the catch of his breath. “Now I know for sure I can trust the demon.”

His hands went around her, skimming the curve of her hip and bottom, winding around a thigh until he coerced one leg up over him. As her lips found his, she used them with her tongue to repeat her assurances, feeling giddy with need at his emotional response. She allowed her hand to fall, gently brushing over his erection before popping the stud of his jeans and sliding the zipper down. The heaviness of his hard cock felt at home in her hand as she squeezed him, swallowing his tortured groan down her throat.

Slowly rubbing against him was no longer enough, the fire between her legs becoming slick and needy as she rubbed her protruding nipples against the hard perfection of his chest, and she finally sunk down and swallowed him whole. As she moved up and down, her body held enough away to allow her nipples to rub against him in slow, obliterating torture. She felt the pressure build and her eyes grew heavy with intent. His hands cupped her rear and began to pull her hard onto him and the ache began to reassert itself.

Her hands slid over his skin, from his neck over his shoulders and down his ribs until she finally wound them round his back and pulled herself closer. Her mouth found his neck and licked a spot up high, just below his ear. Licking soon became too passive and the nibbles she bestowed found their mark in his elicit growls. Buffy felt the cramping tightness of her skin, the clenching of her stomach muscles as she tried to hold off, but she was so prepared for him always that the smallest touch of his cool skin against hers set her on fire. Their stunning cries of release coincided with the sudden slam of the front door, and they smiled into each other’s eyes as they heard Angel and Giles shouting at each other. Their panting recovery and quick visit to the paradise they found in each other blocked out the actual words from the other room, and they surrendered to a new understanding and comfort.

It was okay. They had broken records tonight. They had broken curses. And they had broken the hold of the Initiative woman who had tried to destroy them all. With an exhausted sigh that Buffy felt was becoming repetitive, she kissed Spike’s neck before pulling a bag toward herself and locating some clothes.

“Shower first, then I guess we’d better come up with a plan to take out Adam.”

Spike stared at her in admiration mixed in with something stronger. Adoration.

Another brief kiss and she stood, allowing his deflated member to slip from inside her.

“You wanna come with?”

Standing, with an old brown blanket wrapped around her good bits, Spike had never seen anything so beautiful in his life. With a cocky grin, he leapt to his feet while firmly tucking himself back into his pants.

“Very cheeky, luv.”

Holding hands, they silently opened the door and tiptoed down the hall to the bathroom, feeling sneaky as they bypassed Angel and Giles still arguing in the kitchen. They allowed the water to run a little too long as they got caught up in some more kissing, then got to the business of cleansing their bodies of ten hours of continuous sex.

Amen!

A/N...well, how was that? Did that satisfy the Spuffy withdrawal? I wanna know so please click the review button...and I need to say...am SO excited about almost reaching 200 reviews...all Spuffy Realm readers rock! Go us!

Chapter Forty-Three

“We’re in a bloody mess now then, aren’t we?”

Giles angrily drilled his fingers on the smooth surface of the dining table as he occasionally swished back a mouthful of scotch. His frustration was etched indelibly around his mouth, and his eyes flashed in cranky admiration every time they fell on the figure of a very brooding vampire. Angel sat hunched over, his head in his hands.

“What the hell are we gonna do now?” His voice was almost whiny in the inflection of panic and he suddenly threw his hands in the air, got abruptly to his feet and then stood shockingly still.

“I still can’t believe you nearly plowed that axe through her head. And the way she jumped aside …and then all painted in gore; those are some images that I will hold dear.” Giles burst into tipsy laughter and received an amused but slightly shocked look from Angel.

“She is dead, you know. I put on my bad act and shocked the shit out of her.”

Giles looked at the straight face of the blaspheming vampire and couldn’t hold onto the hilarity. He chuffed his amusement, revealing that he had already done more than sip a single glass of scotch before taking a seat at the table.

The sound of the halt of rushing water from the shower had them quickly calming down, not wanting to be involved in insensitive laughter when Buffy left the bathroom. She needed their support right now, not to mention some brilliant ideas on how to cure Spike. Unfortunately, thought Giles, now that the wicked witch of the west had carked it, they were hardly likely to come up trumps in the near future.

As they prepared to face Buffy when she emerged from the bathroom, their earlier tension again rose to entwine them with invisible restraints. The images of the night, though satisfying every bloodthirsty impulse for revenge that Giles could call to his alter-ego, were dashed with freezing water in view of the further problems they were yet to embark upon.

Buffy’s quiet giggles caused dual frowns from the men awaiting her appearance, and they wondered if she had cracked from the emotional turmoil of her recent experiences. When she finally surfaced, all clean and refreshed and holding the hand of the resident bleached Big BadAngel and Giles swallowed hard in disbelief.

“ ‘ello blokes.” Spike grinned at their matching stunned expressions and waited patiently for each one to drag his jaw from the floor.

“Ho-how, when, I mean, um, what happened?” Giles was the first to recover and as realisation finally sank in he grinned like a delirious fool. He felt happy. The smile faltered as he contemplated why exactly he felt happy, then with a simple “what the hell” accepted it and went back to being happy.

“Why Rupert, you should know that lots of quality shagging can cure a man of all his ills!”

Giles spluttered his surprise and embarrassment at the comment and proceeded to smear the already smudged glass lenses in his grimy handkerchief.

It took this action for Buffy to take in the appearance of the other two men, and she turned her nose up delicately.

“Ewwww, what on earth have you two been up to?”

“Whatever it was, it sure looked like fun.” Spike pouted his jealousy.

Angel could not tear his eyes away from his Childe. His senses picked up the hesitancy that was well concealed, and he knew that Spike was trying to cover the unease he felt about the mode of his recovery with opinionated bravado. For the most part, it seemed to throw them all off track. Choosing to not comment on the night spent locked behind the study door, he strode forward and gathered Spike in an uncharacteristic hug. Without saying one word he stepped back and the vampires nodded to each other in understanding and gratitude. From a connection over a century old, they communicated their apologies and acceptance, then let it go. Angel felt a wash of tension fall from his back and determined to show his affection for his family more often. Not his hate and intolerance.

Buffy slipped an arm around Spike’s waist and leaned into him to both comfort him and be comforted in return. Both Angel and Gilesmissed her pointed look, so she chose to remind them that there had been a topic of conversation current.

“Giles. Watcha been doing?”

“Well, funny story really,” he began, a nervous grin twitching his lips. Within half an hour the story was told, accompanied by intermittent expressions of horror, outrage and guilt, with a little touch of remorse, though that last only came from Buffy.

“Whew.” Buffy collapsed back in Spike’s lap now that they occupied a comfy seat on the sofa. “So, that seemed easy. I like this knowing of the future. Giles, did you write a list of all the things Spike and I told you about the other events in the future?”

With a new preoccupation Giles stood and went to locate his writing pad which contained a large list of garbled events. He frowned momentarily; his glasses were too smudged to aid him in deciphering the blurred events written on the page. He jumped as the phone rang, wondering who would be ringing at such an ungodly hour.

Giles snagged the receiver with a sense of dread and listened to the cultured tones of a Watcher from over the ocean, letting him know that Faith was on the loose.

“Oh dear,” he exclaimed, attempting again to polish lenses filthy with demon guts and blood. He seemed completely unaware as he contemplated the list again, and recognised that this must be when Faith would try to swap bodies with Buffy.

“What does ‘Oh dear,’ mean in a fit?” Spike seemed eager to catch up on all his missed wit in one session, but the question had weighed on the mind of all present in the flat.

“It means that we have to stop Faith from trying to take over Buffy’s body.”

In sudden awareness, Spike jumped to his feet. “Too bloody right we have to stop her. How about we keep Buffy here while Peaches and I go and find her?”

Angel and Giles wore matching expressions of concern.

“Don’t you think you should take some time to get yourself together before you go rushing back out to the fight?”

Spike knew Angel was right, but that didn’t prevent the slope of his shoulder dip in resignation. He nodded his head in the supplication of a Childe, just this once feeling thankful for Angel’s curious support.

He sat back beside Buffy and curled her hand in his. His eyes remained fixed on the floor and Buffy looked at him in worry, but the belief that her mother might remain in danger if she didn’t quickly arrive to face off with Faith made her switch her focus.

“I think she goes to my house first. That’s where I saw the switch happen.”

“Okay, then I go to your place. I still have an invite, don’t I? In case your mother won’t let me inside?”

Buffy could hear the hurt in Angel’s voice, the fear that she had already barred him from every corner of her life, even if it was just the freedom to enter her home. She smiled reassuringly at him, and nodded her assent.

“Don’t let her grab your hand. I’m pretty sure she can’t swap her essence with a vampire, or even that she would want to. But you can never tell what might happen if she tries it.”

With a decisive move to the door, Angel grabbed hold of his coat and melted into the night. Everyone remained quiet, Giles again taking his place at the table and nursing another glass of scotch. Belatedly his eyes fell on the excluded vampire and he filled another glass and passed it over. The two men exchanged a comfortable smile and Giles once again sat back, and began to giggle. Then he laughed. And roared with such an intense sense of fun that he had Buffy and Spike sharing in his amusement.

“What?” Buffy called the query out amidst a heavy burst of giggles and Giles struggled to gain some control.

“Her face!” He spluttered helplessly. “She thought Angel was going to split her head open with the axe. Oh God, the look on her face.” He chuckled a little more then suddenly became grimly serious. “But she is dead now so I suppose it is ill to make fun of her.” His eyes twinkled as he caught Spike’s amused twist of lips, and fell again into a spate of hilarity.

Buffy rolled her eyes and just thanked God that she had her boyfriend back in one piece, and that this time Faith wasn’t going to use her body as a raving ho machine. Sighing in relieved contentment, she lay back against a hard shoulder; waiting for Angel to return with Faith she closed her eyes and drifted off.

A/N...okay everyone, almost at the end now...any thoughts??

Chapter Forty-Four

Blooming roses stood out everywhere, once fresh scarlet petals drifting from cut stems as if deprived of life. They fell and littered the floor while writhing brunettes crushed them: naked they claw, and bite and fuck beyond human capability. With a graceful calm, the male stills his thrusting to spread his strong fingers over the smooth whiteness of her throat, adding pressure to the squeeze as her lustful eyes faded into terror, unrevealed in the sickly sweet smile that seizes her face. As her breath is cut off, the smile remains. Fangs take a vicious, hungry bite from her exposed column, blood tracking down in a thick river to crest her large breast through force of volume alone, swirling erotically around the rock hard nipple before dripping with finality over the top and to the ribs.

The girl takes gasping breaths as the hands finally allow her freedom, her head turned to the side to avoid the acid look of the ridged face leering down at her. The head falls and a tongue flicks out to lap at the pools of blood, occasionally teeth scraping at the rosebud of her breast causing new rivulets of the reddest rush of fluid. She was mutilated, and loving it. In a turn, their faces became clear, and for just one second it was Faith before her dark glossy curls faded to blond, and the figure became one who had been determined dust a long time before. But the man remained the same, pumping his angry crimson, engorged cock to and fro from her cavity. The face a twisted parody of an angel, the blissful acceptance of vampire. Darla, her face enraged but eager, moaning and rubbing against his hard body, fingers stroking the ridges almost with affection.

Her body visibly shudders with completion before thrusting the man away with great power. He snarls as he stalks back to her but her face changes and she jumps to her feet, snarling in return. They circle each other warily, both naked to the core, lust and affection clashing across the divide. Enough, they lunge for each other’s neck and fangs sink in, breast pressed against defined chest muscles and tanned skin, cock held viselike between two milky white thighs. No blood gushes, but both swallow greedily before the fucking continues, once again falling to the pillow of falling rose petals, and one word is screamed when a peak is once again obtained.

“Angelus.”

A screaming Buffy hit the floor in a terrified tangle with a thump. Immediately she was scooped up into shaking arms and her head placed against a smooth shoulder. She gave in to the knowledge, her fear pushing beyond herself as she tried to dig herself into the skin pressed against her face.

“Oh God,” she began almost hopelessly. “Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God…” the line repetitive and heedless as the misery overwhelmed and she became lost in memory and death. Innocent, needless death. Jenny’s death. She rocked against the arms holding her tight, her coherence for the moment disappearing in a cloud of expectation that she wasn’t yet ready to share.

The sound of a door shutting and hesitant steps breached her introspective state, and her memories faded slowly like vanilla ice-cream. Not fast like double chocolate, and for that her anger built until it flashed the fences she had begun to erect, and Determined! Buffy finally entered the building. She raised her face, beyond embarrassed that she had allowed herself to become so overwhelmed by the dream, and she stood, determination rolling off her like ‘out-of- control’ surf.

“What happened?” Giles directed the question to Buffy, but his eyes strayed to the worried expression transforming the face of the blond vampire. His eyes caught the troubled shake of Spike’s head as Buffy tried to grab hold of words.

“It was a Slayer dream, I think.” Her voice was low, deadly almost in its dislike.

The men were left to wonder what dislike had tainted so sharply her earlier happiness.

For all of three seconds.

“Angelus,” she spat, and their understanding was immediate and chilling.

Giles, now clean of demon grunge, sat wearily in his armchair and found a fresh hanky, glasses aiding his thoughtful movements. The activity for some reason heightened his thinking skills, and also watered down unwanted images much like a half bottle of scotch was likely to do. And with images of a lifeless Jenny posed erotically on his bed suddenly swimming in his head, he decided right now was the perfect time to resume his earlier drinking.

As they all sat quiet, contemplative, they were unprepared for the bang of the opening door and the entrance of a really pissed off Faith and a sheepish Angel. Faith took one step away from her captor and collapsed at his feet as his fist connected with her face. Already she was deformed from bruises and swelling, and with silent cooperation she was trussed up and tied to a chair, much like Maggie Walsh had been earlier.

Her defeated posture sent a sigh of relief through those gathered, and they at last felt confident enough to turn their backs away to find repose.

Buffy’s calm was short-lived, and though the buzzing that electrified her danger senses had her nearly bouncing into conflict, Angel ignored her as he turned to the Watcher and wondered aloud what was to become of her.

Giles rubbed his hand across his face in defeat. It would be a miracle to ever sleep again. Looking hard into the steady stare of the brunette, he told them exactly what the Council plans would be bolstered by his knowledge of what actually happened from Buffy’s visions and felt a sense of satisfaction at Faith’s frightened quailing.

His quick glimpse to the side revealed an unfocused Slayer, one who reeked of tension, and Giles recalled those startling moments before Angel had arrived, and the name Angelus jumped back to the forefront of his mind. He was positive it was Angel sitting before him now, and he let out the held breath he had unconsciously pulled in with the anticipation of a fight to defend their lives.

Angel stood in front of themstatuesque in stillnesshis face a mask of concern as he looked from one altered expression to the other. No one spoke; no one sought to fill him in on the change that had occurred since the last moment he was in front of them before departing to retrieve Faith. Nervousness rushed up through his groin to his throat, and his demon tickled his conscience with a promise of lust and darkness. His eyes captured the love and closeness between his now souled Childe and ex-girlfriend, and he felt his control once again compromised by a challenge for dominance. Angelus clawed, scratched but he continued to hold the evil at bay. His body went rigid from the struggle and he noticed with a sense of growing alarm Spike’s eyes caught his in query.

The draw to darkness had never been so great while with soul, until he found his Childe battered and hiding behind the ravages of time, stripped of all that made him Spike. His thirst for blood had taken him unawares, and he was horrified to admit quietly to himself that he had felt shifts, just subtle and fleeting, but shifts nonetheless, to Angelus. There had been moments, the demon had pushed humanity to the side and triumphed.

His eyes caught and held the shimmering but enlightened green pools of misery that belonged to Buffy, and his pathetic need to hide and lick his wounds became a force to be answered.

“Do you want the Council to take her?” He asked Giles the question, knowing that despite the history with the Slayer, no one in the room really wanted her to end with the Council sweeper team.

“No.” His answer was brief, to the point. Watching for the next sign as tension became a tangible thickness in the room.

“Good.” Angel went to the heavily restrained girl, and lifted her over his shoulders. “I’ll take her with me. We’ll sort something out. Maybe I can help her.”

Without discussion, without consent, he left them alone and gaping.

With Buffy’s face reflecting understanding and dawning fear.


A/N...well, what do you think??? Please note that only one more chapter remains, but sequels will follow, though not immediately...and I warmly welcome all my new readers...I love to know the story has reached you...keep reviewing, it means so much.

A/N...well, what can I say...this is it everyone, the end of Taste of Juliet. I have so much to say, and am shocked at how teary I feel. Firstly thanks go to my fantastic friend and Beta, Holly. Without her I would never have had the courage to write let alone post this story. Second, my other fantastic beta enigmaticblue, picked up some extremely important boo-boos that saved embarassment. Thirdly, I thank all of you for reading and reviewing...and I hope you all hang around for my new story which I will begin posting in a couple of days.

Important detail, this is not the end for Buffy and Spike in this storyline. When I have completed a few other things, I will start on a sequel that will aim at re-writing season 5. So bear with me, but in the meantime, enjoy the finale!

Also, I will probably start posting under Megan rather than Peta, so if you see this fic elsewhere with a different name, rest assured that it is just me being schizophrenic!







Chapter Forty-Five

“Are you bloody kids mental?”

Spike sat forward, hands flexing through his hair and on the verge of tearing out a couple of sizeable chunks. All chatter stopped and focused upon him, and all of a sudden he shrank back not entirely comfortable with being in the spotlight, even if that had been his regular position over the past weeks.

“Well excuse me, Dead Boy Junior, but try and see this from our side. We’ve never been excluded from the action; always been part of the plan, the follow-through, the muck-up, and hey, even the hospital run, particularly for yours truly. So don’t go getting down on us for feeling a little miffed that Big Vamp Daddy-O and Pappa Giles went and had all the fun. Where’s the Apocalypse? Nada! Bupkis! All out, Senoritas! They didn’t even take photos. We now just have a supremely boring summer ahead of us.” Xander slumped back in his seat, defeated.

A second later and Spike followed posture. “Yeah. Always like my vicarious spots of violence. Then he took hold of that whole Faith bird situation and adios. Back to L.A. Ponce never could share.”

The crowded room nodded with him in sympathy, their earlier feelings of betrayal slightly dampened by the vampire’s obvious misery.

The Scoobies had thrashed their way into Giles’s place the moment the sun had set, bringing maps, laptops and other paraphernalia deemed important in the take down of a monster of Frankenstein proportions. Their nervous energy, laced with giddy excitement, came to an abrupt end when Spike announced that Adam had bit the big onedue to the dynamic duo of Angel and Giles and that the “‘kiddies’ should all calm themselves down so some of us can honour the broody one in peace and bloody quiet!”

Their simultaneous deflation was almost comical, and Buffy nearly felt sorry for them, until she got that twinge that reminded her that she had been kept in the dark about the mission as well. Admittedly she had other things on her mind at the time. Like possessive-primitive vampire boyfriends who found it necessary to invade her body with every physical implement he possessed. But still, she wasn’t used to sitting on the side while others took over her job. Actually, it was kind of nice, once she really thought about it. But it better not ever happen again.

Thinking was really taking over her night, though. They had all chosen to relocate to the Summers’s house, thanks in large part to access to lots of soda, chips, and the important technology like a current television and DVD machine. These points were so far up on Giles’s abode that the move had brooked no argument.

So, though some movie off the ‘newest release’ shelf was currently flashing on the screen, no one paid it the smallest bit of attention while the argument of everyone’s worth within the Scooby Gang raged on. The occasional comment from Buffy was enough to divert everyone’s attention from her introspective stance, except for the veiled knowing gaze of an almost-healed Spike, and she allowed herself to dedicate some of her attention to the things that bothered her.

There was something about Angel that gave her a sense of unease; that sent chills up and down her arms whenever she remembered that look in his eye, the slump of his body, the shadow of darkness that seemed to cling to him from the moment he had renewed acquaintance with Spike. She was afraid that his jealousy might begin to push him over the edge, or that he might take risks with his soul. She wasn’t sure though. There had been no vision detailing events with Angel, so she was in the dark as to what to expect with him. She only knew that something was wrong, and it bothered her. It bothered her a great deal.

She felt quite overwhelmed with how easy it had been to eradicate Adam, and with the special project out of the bag so to speak the Initiative problem was pretty much wrapped up and no longer her concern. The ease of the whole thing made her feel slightly ill. It was Buffy’s normal experience that things did not go so easily. She felt monumentally torn. Was this the Powers That Be rewarding them for many years of service by allowing her and Spike to change the events of the world? Or was something very big about to go ‘Boo’, and knock them all out of their ivory tower?

Her reverie was interrupted with Giles affirming the time for a little housekeeping. His big flowery, monotone speech left Buffy feeling like she was strolling through liquid air slow and weighed down until she heard the word ‘magic’. And another of her concerns seemed about to be dealt with, bringing her lethargic mental abilities sharply into focus.

“I have made arrangements for Willow and Tara to take instruction at the Coven in England. Apparently they have felt a growing force from Sunnydale for quite some time. They were a little, um, annoyed, that I haven’t sought their advice earlier than now.” Giles rubbed his glasses in embarrassment, quickly tucking the hanky back in his pocket and propping the glasses on his nose when his colour softened and he was ready to continue. “I know that you probably think that we are being extreme with sending you out of the country, Willow…”

“I don’t understand why I need that much help, anyway.”

“It’s all very well to master the basics, but you have already made some very damaging mistakes and need to learn control. You would never embark on any of your science experiments or…ahh…computing whatsimajigs…without the proper knowledge and instruction. Would you?”

Willow bowed her head and accepted his wish. Then, in normal Willow perkiness, she looked on the bright side and thought of all that England weather and culture not to mention magical atmosphere.

Giles sighed in relief, having achieved one of his goals, and sank back to let the others have their moment. What with all the bruised egos from being left out of the fight he was positively bewildered and exhausted.

Once they had all settled down again and turned to focus on the movie that was more than half way over, Buffy continued to think of the things that bothered her. She had to finish up college for the year and she had already missed so many classes. Not to mention that one of her Professors was dead. And as luck would have it, she was doing well in Professor Walsh’s class. The pout that settled on her lips was quickly seized by an attentive Spike, his eyes having remained on her rather than the movie, her troubled facial expressions building a cloak of unease around her that he was hesitant to cross.

He sucked her pouty lip into his mouth, his playful tongue flicking it gently before letting it ‘pop’ from between his lips. His playfulness earned him his reward and she smiled at him. She took his hand, looked into his eyes brieflythough long enough to identify his concern then tucked herself into his side so that he could no longer plainly see her face.

With the loss of his scrutiny, she returned to the bigger problems, and admittedly the one she had continued to put off all night. Glory and Dawn. A sense of foreboding had captured her earlier, or probably from the moment that Angel had left with Faith. It escalated in power whenever she thought of the Key that was to become her sister.

She wondered if her knowing would ultimately change events, so that there was either no Dawn, or a Dawn but not with Buffy as her protector. Or perhaps Glory was onto her, knew that she would be able to kill her because of her knowledge of Ben. She actually felt fear curl into a ball in the pit of her stomach at the possibility that Dawn was not to become her sister, that her mother’s illness would be a burden for her alone to carry.

Bigger yet, was her own death off the cards now? The image of her falling from a weak, shaky tower into a shattered flat of electrical energy made her shiver and she couldn’t help the reaction of her body against Spike. Knowing that he would know, she wasn’t surprised when he tightened his arm around her almost crushing the air from her lungs, and knew that he also was afraid. The tingling at her neck told her that her fears and been transferred to him; that he felt, and knew. Her death. It would be their preoccupation next year, she felt sure.

Joyce Summers, a glowing picture of health, entered the room loaded down with a tray of drinks and more snacks, and took an alarmed step back as the offerings were pounced on by what she could only describe as a rather alarmingly hungry bunch of young people. She shared an amused smile with Rupert, then took a chair and became immersed once again in the story on the screen. Buffy was sure that no one actually knew what it was all about.

Buffy looked around the room, taking in her mother, her Watcher, her lover, and friends, and rejoiced in the family that she belonged. Once she hated the burden of being the Slayer, but now she acknowledged that by being this she had captured to her the most extraordinary group of people.

She was blessed.