Doc grabbed the wooden box from the desk and threw it into the lit fireplace. Smoke curled around the dark, dry wood as it started to smolder in the crackling flames.



Spike tackled the old man in his effort to retrieve the container before it burnt to cinders. The bugger was quick, much quicker than he’d imagine from such a wizened guy. The creature’s long blue tongue shot out chameleon-like and pinned Xander to the wall. Damn the boy not to know when to duck.



After a forceful blow to the demons’ chin, Spike picked up the sword and pinned the toad to the rough, wooden floorboards like an insect on display. Dark blue slime oozed from the wound and the demon stopped struggling, eyes finally closing with a last vicious smirk.



Flames licked Spike’s fingers as he fished the already blackened box out of the fireplace. Faint tendrils of smoke rose from his blistered hands and he patted them against his jeans to stifle the emerging flamelets. No worries, Spike had taken worse when making his mad dashes during the daytime, but he thought he’d outgrown that whole ‘bursting into flames’ phase. A quick check of the box’s contents revealed a leather wrapped object and lots of papers and scrolls, most dry from age, but thankfully unharmed by the heat.



Xander closed the door with a bang. "That was kinda creepy. Did you see his tongue? I’ve never seen a demon like that. Icky, but at least he died easy. One Glory worshipper down for us."



"Bollocks!" Spike stopped in his tracks and turned. "Owe you one, whelp."



He thrust the box at Xander and walked back into the shop. With one heavy black boot placed on Doc’s chest, Spike pulled out the sword and raised it above his head. He came down with the weapon in a glittering arc, just as the demon opened his eyes again with a snarl. The blade neatly severed Doc’s head, sending it tumbling over the floor, splattering blue slime over Spike’s boots.



Xander watched in confusion as Spike retrieved the head and threw it into the fireplace. "What... Why?"



"It’s a Reptilian demon. When you wound him or cut his arm off, he just re-grows it. Can only be killed if you burn him... well bet 'is head will be enough." They both watched in silence as the head crackled and blackened in the flames.



"Nasty bit of a bugger could’ve warned Glory. Thank God your mouth kept running… with somethin’ useful for a change."



Xander scowled "Ey, watch it!"



With that, they headed back to the Magic Box to determine what it was they’d found in the demon’s posession.



~*~



Buffy cautiously opened the leather wrapped bundle. Inside was a dagger, with elaborate carvings, the serrated blade gleaming dark in the light of the Magic Box. “This can’t possibly be good. Giles, have you found anything about a big honking meat cutter in these notes the Tweedies left us?”



Giles looked up from his research with a confused expression. “Tweety? What…? Oh, yes the Council.” A slight smile tugged at his mouth. She could slay the English language at least as well as she did demons. “Let me check. Willow, where is the folder about the artifacts?”



While they rummaged through the papers, Buffy went over to where Spike was sitting on the steps to the balcony. “Let me take a look at that hand.”



“No need to fuss over me, luv. I’ll heal in no time. Just a small burn”.



Buffy snorted and held out her hand demandingly. “I will need everybody in mint condition, so don’t give me this I’m-a-tough-guy attitude.”



Spike cocked a brow at her, but held his hand out as she’d asked. Buffy examined the flaming red marks on his fingers tenderly. “A bit of burn salve will help them heal faster. Stay put.” As she went to fetch the first aid kit from the training room, she noticed Willow and Xander exchanging a puzzled look as she fussed over Spike’s injury. What was their problem?



Buffy took Spike’s blistered left hand into hers. It would need a generous amount of ointment and a bandage. His hand was large, with long slender fingers that seemed to never be still, always moving, fidgeting … well, that was unless he had them firmly tucked into his jeans pockets. How often had she watched him secretly, as he let his cigarette dance or spun a stake or just rubbed a finger lightly over his lips in thought? Buffy applied the salve deftly and wrapped the white cloth firmly over it, hoping that Spike would be alright to fight when the time came.



Giles pulled her attention back to the research table as he started to read out from some of the papers the Council had left. “Ah, here it is! Let me see…There is a rumor about some artifacts which were brought over by Glorificus’ followers when she was exiled from her home dimension…”



Giles stopped to scan the paper. “There is a short list of items, let me see… yes here it is. Item six is a sacrificial knife which is supposed to be used to cut out the beating heart of a victim during the New Moon worship of Glorificus. Since the knife was forged in her own dimension, it could also inflict damage on the hell god. It might even make her susceptible to mortal wounds.”



When Giles lifted his head, he was able to look at Buffy with hope in his eyes for the first time in weeks. “As I interpret this, we finally might have found an effective weapon against Glory.”



Buffy looked around the Magic Box at her friends. Xander and Willow seated, as usual, at the research table; Willow holding the hand of a moaning Tara who’d curled up in a chair nearby. Anya was behind the counter fiddling, also as usual, with her money.



And then there was Spike, sitting on the stairs, his bandaged hand resting on his knee. Why did it ring true for her to include him when she thought of her friends? The notion seemed … far-fetched, ludicrous even, after all the bad he’d done, but hadn’t he gradually sneaked over to the white side? Hadn’t he helped, even while kicking and screaming, fight more than one apocalypse? Hadn’t he protected Dawn against Glory, never claiming any reward?



Buffy sighed … truth be told, of all her allies, Spike was the strongest and he’d proven time and again, that he’d do anything to help her and protect Dawn… so yes, she was probably right to include him in the list of her friends. She scanned the room again, sensing a tangible change in the atmosphere, as if a draft of fresh spring air had lightened their spirits. At last she could feel the crushing weight lift from her heart... at last there was a thread of hope.



“So, we finally have something to kick Glory’s ass. It’s safe to assume that she’ll find some other way to use the Key; she hasn’t come this far, to just quit now.” Buffy refused to say ‘Dawn’. If she had to think about Dawn in the hands of the hell god, she might just shut down again. She couldn’t let herself think about how frightened her sister must be, what might be happening to Dawn at this very moment. Even if Glory couldn’t kill Dawn before the ritual, that doesn’t mean she couldn’t hurt her, threaten her, torture her… Stop it, right there. Concentrate on the mission. There is nothing else you can do just now.



Buffy forced her mind back to the battle strategy. “OK, so what do we know?” Buffy asked the assembled group, looking from one to the next for answers.



“The alignment of planets, which is the only time to open the portal, is tomorrow at midnight. This is also confirmed by the scrolls in the box, which leaves us with only one more day to prepare and find out, where the location is,” Giles pointed out.



“We need weapons for everyone; hell god’ll’ave the place swarmin’ with minions,” Spike added. “I won’t be able to help with the humans amongst ‘em … chip ‘n all,” he explained with a sigh.



Buffy nodded, even if part of Glory’s minions were nut-jobs, they were still dangerous and she had no idea how many there even were. “Spike, you’ll concentrate on the demons, the others take care of the humans, I’ll confront Glory. I have the dagger, but I have got to get near her in the first place to use it. Any suggestions?”



“I’ve been working on something,” Willow smiled shyly at Tara. “I think I’ve found some spell that will restore Tara’s mind, to reverse the process. That should weaken Glory… I hope.”



“Good, try it, Will. Even if it just revives Tara it will be enough.”



“Use the hammer!” piped up Anya from the counter.



Everybody stared at her and so she clarified. “The troll hammer! It’s the hammer of a troll god after all, so it should be able to hurt a hell god.” She looked around at the astonished faces. “What? Do you think my brain is only capable of counting money and thinking about the orgasms Xander can give me? Eleven hundred year old ex-demon here. Think I slept through all those years?” She snorted delicately and returned to the comfort of her money.



After some more discussions, they finally adjourned the meeting to get some rest. They would meet up the next day at sunset for the final preparations. Buffy left deep in thought, dreading her return to the empty house.



Rest? Whenever will she be able to finally get some rest? Maybe when Dawn was safely home again everything could return to normal… or for what passed for normal on the Hellmouth.



~*~



They hadn’t found any trace of Dawn or Glory during the next day. When Tara grew restless and started moaning and saying ‘need to be there’, Buffy decided to use her as a guide. It was risky, but their best chance. The Magic Box didn’t have enough weaponry for everyone, so Buffy left with Spike to fetch some more from her home.



Buffy stepped through the front door of her house. “You take the weapons from the chest. Swords and axes will do best for the minions. Maybe you can also find baseball bats or something. I don’t want the insane-os hurt, if I can help it, but we’ll have to keep them out of our way.”



When there was no movement behind her, she looked over her shoulder to see Spike still standing on the porch. She watched as emotions flickered over his expressive face. Shame, even desperation, but most of all, longing. He locked his gaze with hers and she froze under the intensity of his ice blue eyes. Like the earth can’t resist the gravity pull of the sun, she couldn’t resist taking a small step towards him.



She cleared her throat nervously and whispered, “Come on in, Spike.”



Eyes wide in wonder, like a child before a Christmas tree, he tentatively lifted his foot and stepped across the threshold. For a moment he stared at her, face alight with some emotion she could not, would not, think about just now. Now wasn’t the time. Later. Definitely later. After the fight – when… if they survived.



She turned to go up the stairs but stopped. “Keep Dawn alive, Spike. Above all else, look after her. Can you do this for me? I can’t bear to lose her. Not after mom… You’re the only one strong enough…” Her voice faltered and all she could do was to stare at him pleadingly.



“Until the end of the world. Even if that will be tonight,” he pledged



Buffy was halfway up the stairs when Spike’s quiet voice stopped her. “I know you'll never love me. I know that I'm a monster, but you treat me like a man, and that's...”



Spike held her gaze for what felt like an eternity. Buffy’s mind floated, suspended in a timeless void until he broke the spell. “Get your stuff, I'll be here.”



Rummaging through her weapons supply under her bed, Buffy felt horrible. They had expelled Spike from their home because he’d declared his love to her. Not only had she voted for it, her mom had agreed. Her mom, who only hours before that had chatted amiably with Spike in her kitchen. Her mom, who actually liked Spike. Ok, he’d completely messed up, with the chains and all, but that had been afterwards.



When they’d revoked Spike’s invitation, the only reason had been his feelings for her. Buffy’s simply felt embarrassed, that a monster, who could have no concept for true feelings, pleaded with her to be with him, to give him a chance. Her mom had gone along with it, probably because she didn’t want Buffy dating another vampire, but she’d never know her mom’s reasons for sure.



Whatever the motivation, it had been wrong. Had he been a normal boy from college she never would have just shut the door in his face. She could clearly remember his devastated expression. At the time she had been furious at him, but he must have known that he’d lost the invitation, not because of his idiotic behavior, but because she rejected his declaration of love. He had tried to apologize and she’d chosen to ignore him.



As these thoughts raced through her mind, she felt like the monster here. But this was no time to dwell on it. She put her foot down firmly and stamped her regret into the deepest recesses of her brain.



~*~



"Go! Get Dawn! Hurry up!" Buffy yelled at Spike, readying the troll hammer for the next blow as she fought Glory at the base of a tall, rickety structure that Tara had led them to.



Two, three steps at a time Spike rushed up the fragile tower, his coat flapping behind him. At the top he found Dawn, struggling against her restraints, bound at the end of a ramp what looked like a plank on a ship that traitors would be forced to walk towards their deaths.



"Spike! Help me!" Dawn begged as tears streamed down her face, red blotches discoloring her cheeks. "Oh God, Spike, get me out of here!" With deft fingers, Spike untied the knots and Dawn collapsed at his feet with a sob.



Spike knelt down and gently pulled her into a tender hug, rocking her. "It's ok, it's over, Niblet... we’re all here and we’ll get you home." He tried to soothe her, keeping his voice even and low. His worried eyes took in her cheap dress and dirty, tear-streaked face. At least he couldn't smell any blood on her.



"Ben…" she hiccupped, "Ben tried to get me out... but then he... it was so weird... he talked to himself and... Glory was there... and Ben... he dragged me back." The words were tumbling out, breathless and choking.



"Shhhh, we know, pet. Everything will be all right. No worries. Big sis is down there, beatin’ the crap out of that hell-bitch."



With a comforting pat on her back Spike detangled himself from Dawn’s grip. He could feel the tower vibrating and shifting under his feet. "Someone’s coming. Be quiet and hold on over there. Stay behind me. Let me see who it is and if it's safe to bring you down."



The structure rattled as Buffy stormed up the last steps to the platform. "Dawn! Oh God, Dawn! Are you ok?"



With a sigh Spike moved to the side as the sisters hugged each other desperately. His gaze lingered lovingly on his Summers women, pride and relief warming his unbeating heart.



Tears glittered in her hazel eyes as Buffy glanced over to him. "Thank you, Spike. Thank you for keeping her safe!"



"Made a promise to a lady, didn't I?"



She stared at him for a long while, then a small smile tugged at her lips. "Yes, that you did".



After guiding Dawn down the tower, they stopped at the body lying deserted on the ground. All the minions had fled when the dagger pierced Glory’s heart, turning the shrieking hell god into her human vessel. A look of surprise at the handle sticking out of his chest was all the reaction Ben was capable of before he’d sunk to the ground. It was sort of anti-climatic, seeing the lone human figure who’d taken Dawn from them. Who’d willingly led the god toward her victim... to her Key.



Buffy looked at her exhausted group of warriors gathered around the base of the tower. “Tomorrow night we’re going Bronzing to celebrate. Everyone, and I mean everyone, is invited. You too, Dawn.”



“What about Spike?” Dawn asked, looking at her blond hero with a dreamy gaze.



“Well now, if Evil Dead is coming…” Xander began to protest, but Buffy cut him off.



"He deserves it. We fought together, we won together, and we’ll celebrate together".

It was a quiet summer.

It always was, after the annual apocalypse.

Buffy didn't know why, but she was grateful nevertheless. There were so many things left undone, now that real life started to pound against her door again. Bills and more bills. There seemed to be a never ending supply of them.

She had to close down her mother’s gallery, which was particularly hard for her to do. This was the last thread of her mom’s life coming undone, which left Buffy feeling utterly alone. On top of all the emotional turmoil, the exhausting hours she spent working on liquidating the art gallery didn't help with her growing pile of bills. Since most of the art was only on commission, there was little money left once she had paid the gallery’s expenses, broken the lease and returned the commissioned pieces to the artists. The few exhibits the gallery actually owned didn’t tip the scales.

Her friends spent their summer away from Sunnydale. Willow and Tara had gone to a camp celebrating the wiccan midsummer solstice. Buffy was uncertain what they actually did there - cut barley, brew elixirs, meditate or maybe dance nude in the moonlight? The witches had been really excited to go on their first vacation together and they had started talking about moving into their own apartment near the campus when the next semester started.

Xander’s idea of summer fun was a car ride to hot, dusty Las Vegas. He still flinched when Willow teased him about his last attempt at a road trip, which landed him just a few miles outside of Sunnydale in a strip club. Maybe he’d have better luck this time. Of course, with Anya as company, this trip might end up in a demon strip club. Anya had been excited about the prospect of going to the Mecca of all gamblers. She’d claimed to be a crack at Black Jack, so no doubt she was ecstatically counting her winnings every night. Poor Xander would have a hard time standing against that attraction.

Giles had been summoned by the Council back to the mother country at last. The official reason was to train him in the newly installed computer-based research library. Buffy wasn’t very happy about Giles spending so much time at the Tweedie’s evil headquarters. She was sure they would at least try to indoctrinate him again. Now that she had him housebroken… Giles had also intended to utilize the vast resources of the Council’s collection of ancient texts in order to do some more research about the properties of the Key. Buffy agreed with him; they had to learn more about the nature of the Key. Just because the lock was gone didn’t mean that the Key’s power was gone too.

So, everyone was away. This left just her and Dawn.

And Spike.

One day in early summer Buffy had found Dawn at Spike’s crypt, watching Passions with him, snacking on chocolate Weetabix, and chatting. It was innocent enough, so Buffy didn’t intervene. Spike seemed happy with the arrangement. When Dawn wanted to visit her friend Janice after dark, it was Spike who accompanied her. Soon he was spending more and more time at the Summers’ home, joining them for pizza nights, even watching chick flicks with them.

And it didn't creep her out. She was even grateful to him for keeping Dawn out of trouble. How weird was that?

The Spike she was coming to know was so different from the evil enemy who’d first come to Sunnydale and tried oh so many times to kill her. Who would have thought that he’d make such a great babysitter? Well, a hormone-driven-teenager sitter more accurately. He tolerated Dawn’s antics and had endless patience listening to her chit-chat about everything and nothing. He even succeeded in getting Dawn to read and talk about books – in her free time, just for fun.

One afternoon Buffy came into the house to find the two of them, Spike and Dawn, lounging together on the sofa. They had a heap of books between them and were reading passages to each other. Not just any passages: Shakespeare! They were reciting ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’ and Dawn had insisted on being Puck, while Spike impersonated all other characters. Buffy was just glad that Dawn’s school-girl crush on him had converted into something more like the adoration for an older brother.

Which made him Buffy’s older brother too – ICK! That didn't sound right, but Spike evaded all definition. What was he to her? He was constantly changing, redefining himself and his position in her world. He’d snuck into her life and now he’d dug himself in, firmly rooted, sometimes irritating, but always noticeable. Like a small stone in her shoe. Or a grain of sand in an oyster…

~*~

It was a warm night in early August. Spike was sitting on the steps of the back porch with Dawn while she prattled away about something her friend was interested in. Latest fashions, movie stars, the new ‘in’ boy band? He wasn’t really listening, but would utter an undefined grunt now and then to keep up appearances. Spike leaned back on one elbow and stretched out his legs. Savoring another deep drag on his cigarette, he stared up at the starlit sky and wondered how Buffy’s patrol was going.

He didn’t mind being here and watching over Dawn, because when Buffy came home she would normally sit with him and tell him what went down. But he would have preferred to accompany her for a spot of violence. The calm and quiet was getting on his nerves. And when he got antsy he was more likely to put his foot in his mouth and get into a row with the Slayer. Or go to Willy’s to get drunk and provoke a brawl, which didn’t do much good either.

Besides, getting drunk wasn’t as much fun anymore. Firstly, it was a waste of money, since one disapproving glance from Buffy sobered him up quicker than you could say, “Salvation Army.” Secondly, he feared what he might say when he was down under. Buffy hadn’t mentioned anything about him declaring his love to her since the incident with the cattle prod and the shackles; one of his less than stellar ideas. He didn’t want to risk their tentatively evolving friendship with some stupid drunken confession. He may be impulsive, but he was no idiot.

Suddenly he noticed that Dawn had stopped talking. There was a roaring, like thunder rolling down the deserted street. Stupid, stupid, stupid! He should be the one with the fine hearing and he missed it while mooning after Buffy.

He pulled Dawn to her feet and over to the back door. “Niblet, quick! Go inside and don’t turn on any lights. I‘ll take a look and be right with you, yeah?”

~*~

Bloody hell! Spike watched as a large group of gleaming motorcycles came cruising around the corner, each straddled by a hunk of a demon. The riders were all clad in tarnished black leather jackets, adorned with crudely painted signs of a horned beast in flashy red and yellow colors. Hell Riders! What were they doing here? They might look like dangerous buggers, but even as a group they had avoided a direct confrontation with the Slayer and skipped Sunnydale for easier pickings.

Crouched behind a bush, Spike observed through the foliage as the convoy stopped at the intersection and, after some heated discussion, divided into smaller groups. He looked over his shoulder back at the dark, deserted looking house, where he caught a glimpse of Dawn peeking out the window. What should he do? Look for the Slayer or keep watch over his Niblet?

As he hesitated, he heard the sound of boisterous laughter and breaking glass echoing up the street. This tipped his decision and he returned quietly to the house. Taking care of Dawn had to be his top priority. Buffy could fight for herself, but she would never forgive him if Dawn got even a scratch. Hell, he would never forgive himself.

“What are they?” Dawn assaulted him as soon as he entered the kitchen. “They sound dangerous! Will you fight them? What do we do now?”

Spike rummaged through the weapons chest. Bugger all! After the fight with Glory, they’d never gotten around to replenishing the weapons supply. Where could he keep Dawn safe? The Magic Box would be his best bet. Nobody would expect someone there after closing time. Good timing for the bloody Scoobies to be out of town, when he needed them to watch over Dawn. He knew it was unfair, but he felt better for blaming them. He yearned to get Dawn someplace safe and then find Buffy as quick as possible. There were far too many bikers for the Slayer to handle on her own.

Spike turned back to the agitated girl and laid his hands soothingly on her shoulders. “Dawn, listen to me carefully. We’ll sneak out the back and head over to the Magic Box. The training room has a sturdy door and there’re no windows to smash in. You’ll be as safe as houses there. After you’re securely tucked away, I’ll go and help Buffy, yeah?”

As she nodded hesitantly, Spike grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the door. “And keep as quiet as you can, Niblet. No sense in alerting the bad guys.”

He smiled reassuringly at her and off they went, meandering through moonlit back yards and deserted alleys, always staying hidden in the shadows, until they arrived at the shop. Good thing Buffy and Dawn had been entrusted with the keys to the shop while Giles was out of town. Spike would have hated to have them vulnerable in the open while he fiddled with the locks.

He tucked Dawn in a dark corner behind some training equipment, piled some mats up around her and checked to make sure she was invisible to an intruder. After he reminded her a last time to keep quiet and stay put, he let himself out into the night again, locking the door quietly behind him.

~*~

It had been a boring patrol, not even a fledgling provided a short distraction. Irritated, Buffy stomped through the dark, deserted graveyard. She kicked a stone across the lawn and sighed. She hated to waste her time like this. She could be at home, eating ice cream with Dawn and having a sisterly chat; maybe watching one of the rented movies with her. Dawn loved the ones with the happy endings. Buffy knew that Dawn felt neglected and even Spike’s company couldn’t compensate for her need for her family… or what was left of her family.

When Buffy heard the thunder of the arriving demons, the quiet night she’d just lamented turned into a nightmare. She knew that such a large group of demons were even beyond her fighting capacity. She’d been able to pick off two lonely bikers who had stayed behind to loot apparently empty houses. Mostly they had fun smashing windows and overturning cars and setting them on fire. You would have thought at this time of evening that there should have been more people around, but everybody seemed to be hiding. Good for them and good for her. So the field was clear and she didn’t have to shove bystanders out of the way or worry about accidently hurting an innocent.

Buffy was sure Spike had taken Dawn somewhere safe, somewhere the demons would never bother to look for her. In her heart she knew, she could entrust him with her life and with the life of her sister. After all, he’d made a promise to a lady... But now she was going to need Spike’s help, and soon. As Buffy warily worked her way towards the center of town, she kept an eye out for him.

Buffy had eliminated another small group of the demons vandalizing the Espresso Pump. They weren’t as tough as they looked, with their armor and metal-clawed gloves. There were just too many of them. When she arrived at the main street, she cautiously explored the area. Acrid smoke from a burning garbage can stung her eyes and obscured her sight. She began gagging on the fumes as the smell of charred litter, smoldering plastic, and the cracking of the heated metal assaulted her senses.

As Buffy stepped around the corner of the movie theater, what she saw made her jaw drop. Had she stepped into some bizarre dream world? She wiped her eyes to make sure she was not dreaming. On the dark street, only lit by the flickering flames from a burning car nearby, stood Spike, motionless. Feet spread wide, black coat billowing in the breeze, arms slightly to the side. Poised like some gunslinger of forgone time.

Opposite him was an imposing demon, wearing a feral grin and revving the engine of his motorbike to an earsplitting roar. Spike only squinted his eyes, not blinking, not flinching. His whole body quivered under the intense concentration as he waited for the demon to attack.

Suddenly, the Hell Rider let loose the bike’s brake and it sprang forward with a giant leap. It thundered down the street, directly at Spike. Move, move, move! Buffy chanted silently, holding her breath as she watched, transfixed. But he didn’t. He just stood there, staring at the approaching avalanche. She dug her nails into her palms. Surely he must know what he was doing. But hell, she didn’t have a clue.

Just as the bike reached him, Spike sprang in the air as if gravity didn’t exist for him. Like a giant bird, he flew up and up, black leather wings spreading out as he somersaulted over the demon’s head. At the apex of the curve, he reached down and neatly snapped the demon’s neck; she could hear the loud crack over the thunder of the bike’s engine. With a triumphant roar, Spike gracefully touched down behind the tumbling bike.

Wow! Double wow! Crouching Dragon meets the Matrix. She knew that, although the movies did it with wires and stuff, Spike was putting this down for real. He was exhilarating to watch, graceful and deadly, and she shivered at the little jolt of pride that zipped through her.

Spike turned and sent her his best ‘Big Bad’, shit-eating grin. He was so full of fun and life that it seemed to radiate off him in waves. How did he do it?

“There you are, luv. Was lookin’ for ya. Wanna dance? There must be still some beasties ‘round!” With that he pulled the heavy bike effortlessly up and gave it a quick check. “Dawn’s safely tucked away, so you don’t have to worry ‘bout ’er.”

A well of joy opened up inside Buffy and she began to giggle as the bubbles of pure delight tumbled up her throat. “Well, I don’t want to spoil your fun. I can just sit back and watch you finish up the horde,” she teased. ”Maybe it would be fun to watch some old western next time? We might even find a red cape for you to play toreador… or a lance for a joust…” As the giggling crescendoed into a full blown laughter, Buffy bent forward and put her hands on her knees to keep from collapsing on the pavement.

“Ah, nothing better than a bit of violence once in a while. But I’m generous, don’t mind sharin’ the fun.” He grinned back at her, then settled onto the bike and patted the seat behind him. “Jump on and we’ll see who wants to ‘ave a bit of the rough and tumble tonight.”

And that they did.

~*~

They’d chased the last of the demons out of town and far beyond the, “You are leaving Sunnydale,” sign before Spike cut the engine of his bike and dropped the kickstand. Buffy slid off from behind him as she watched the demons’ tail lights disappear on the horizon.

"Told you, it’d be fun.” Spike smirked as he dismounted, caressing the smooth curves of his new acquisition. “Always wanted a motorbike and this little lady is just what the doctor ordered."

Spike leaned back against it with a smug grin, his thumbs hooked behind his belt buckle, his long fingers framing his crotch and drawing Buffy’s eyes down. "They say bikes make the girls horny."

The sight was so outrageously cocky, she couldn't help it but breaking down in another fit of giggles. “You… you are… so full… of yourself, Spike!”

At that he just raised his eyebrow mockingly and grinned at her. "Let's get you home luv, before you’re unable to hold onto yours truly anymore. I’d hate to lose ya on the ride…"

She could only nod, tears of laughter streaming down her cheeks. God, it was good to laugh.

Buffy swung up behind Spike and leaned against his back, her nose buried into the soft, well worn leather of his coat… and hold on she did. Her right hand sneaked under the protection of his coat to lay flat against his tight stomach. She could feel his muscles jump under her touch as she snuggled closer to him. Then off they went, and all she could do was hold her breath and press her face against the nape of his neck, his loosened curls tickling her skin.

The trip was over too soon for her, as they arrived back at the Magic Box to retrieve Dawn.

“Spike! This is sooooo cool!” Dawn gushed when she saw the motorcycle. “Where did you steal it? Will you take me for a ride too? Buffy, can I? Please? Say yes! God! This is sooo awesome, wait ‘til Janice sees me!” Dawn spilled out the words so fast, that Buffy was afraid her sister would faint for lack of oxygen.

When Buffy saw Spike’s indulgent smile, she couldn’t deny her sister. “Okay, but only if Spike agrees and you have to wear a helmet and… proper clothes – boots, jeans… you can borrow my leather jacket. And you have to go slow and stay off the freeway.”

With a squeal Dawn flung herself at Buffy “You are the best sister ever!”

Buffy stepped into her house and wearily collected the envelopes piling up behind the door. One bill, then another. A letter from the bank, requesting a talk with her about the overdue mortgage payments. Would this ever stop? Each new request was another drop into the sink-hole of her life. Like Chinese water torture, each drop wearing down her shell of sanity. Sometimes she wondered, if it wouldn’t be a mercy to just step outside reality and cocoon herself within a dream of warmth, where there were no demands, no needs. Floating in a nimbus where everything was done for her.



She’d been summoned to Dawn’s school today, because her teachers were worried about Dawn’s progress. Her grades had dropped and she’d been ditching classes. Not that Buffy could blame Dawn for skipping algebra; she’d done that herself a time or two. But what if they couldn’t keep a low enough profile, stay under the radar? An icy lump formed in Buffy’s stomach. What if they came to the attention of the Social Services? What if they tried to take Dawn away from her?



Then she heard it. A tiny sound, like rain drops on her windowsill, but coming from her basement. Plink-plop, Plink-plop. Buffy tiptoed into the kitchen, removed a big solid cutting knife from the counter, and noiselessly opened the basement door. The light from the kitchen spilled down the steep steps and glittered on the floor below. Why were there ripples on the floor?



Buffy snuck quietly down the stairs and stopped abruptly. All her energy suddenly depleted, she slumped down on the rough step and stared at the rubble floating – floating! – on the sea that had been her basement floor. Plink-plop resounded hollow in the darkness. The sound sunk right to the bottom of the endless black pit forming inside her. She was so tired. Demons she could beat down, slash and slay. But against these constant demands of real life she felt so helpless; she’d always had mom to take care of these things before.



Each day she seemed to sink just a little deeper into this tar pit; every day it was that much harder to drag her feet out of bed to the endless unchanging routine of her days. There must be more to her life than just housekeeping, bill paying, and prodding Dawn to finish her homework.



She was the Slayer, the one girl in the world, strong enough... she knew the routine. Her job was to keep the world safe, so that everybody could live happily ever after. Looks like ‘everybody’ didn’t include her. Why did her day just suck? Why did she not even deserve a dry basement? Hell, why did her life suck, if you could call it a life at all? She knew there must be more to it than this. There was this bottomless hole inside her, this yearning clawing at her, which told her there should be more, if she just could figure out what it was.



~*~



Spike waited for Buffy, lounging at his usual place on the steps outside the back door, idly smoking a cigarette. He’d planned on going on patrol with her tonight, since Dawn was on a sleep-over with her best friend Janice. The back door closed with an audible plop as Buffy stepped out and locked it. He looked up at her as she quietly walked over to him. Something was wrong. Buffy sat down on the steps beside him and wrapped her arms around her chest. Knowing her, he patiently settled back and waited. She would need her time to come out with it.



After some moments in companionable silence she lifted her head and looked at him. "What do you know about finances?"



Spike stared at her. This question came totally out of left field. “Finances? Never considered you’d need my help for that one. ‘aving money problems, pet?"



"Duh, you should see my basement! The pipes are broken and I don’t know how much can be salvaged from all the flotsam that was stored down there. It already reeks of mildew and I know we’ll have to throw most of it out. We might even need a new washing machine and I’m sure the dryer is toast. On top of that, it seems there’s a rule that every other Tuesday some demon vandalizes the house. Who do you think is paying for that?”



A dark shadow passed over her face. “I can’t imagine how Mom handled all this," she finally whispered, looking depressed and battered. Buffy sighed , straightened herself and continued.



“That’s not even all, Spike. I’ve had an interview at the bank office with the loan officer today to try to get a second mortgage. It was a total bust. No matter how I spun it, they refused to give me a new loan to pay for the repair work on the pipes. They told me, if I couldn’t pay the current mortgage payments they certainly wouldn’t authorize a second loan and I might end up losing the house.”



Buffy swallowed hard. “It’s all we have left of Mom. To think that other people might sleep in her bedroom, remodel her kitchen… Spike, if I lose the house, Social Services will swoop in and take Dawn away from me!”



She closed her eyes and let her head hang, her arms wrapping tighter around her chest. One tear had escaped her iron control and slid down her cheek.



Spike couldn’t bear the devastated expression on her face; every moment he looked at her tore another chunk out of his heart. That was his Slayer, the proud, strong warrior. The girl who’d defeated every nasty who dared to stand up to her, the girl who’d even defeated him. To see her dragged down by so mundane a matter made his whole being ache.



Spike tenderly laid his hand on her shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze. "The Council wankers don't pay you nuthin’? Sorry luv, never thought ‘bout this."



"It's easy for you, Spike. Nothing to repair at your crypt and what you need you steal from us. But I’ve got to take care of Dawn." Buffy paused to take a shuddering breath which sounded very much like a sob. "Do you know how often she needs clothes and stuff? Every week there’s a new fashion she’s just got to have or she’ll be shunned like a leper! God, if I thought I was as needy as her as a teenager..."



Spike couldn’t help but smile at that. "Heard you were a cheerleader. How much worse could it be?"



With a scowl Buffy poked her elbow into his side. "Shut up, Spike! This doesn't help."



How could he help her? That wasn’t an easy puzzle to sort out. Being a vampire for over a hundred years meant that he had accumulated a cache, knick knacks he’d picked up here and there; valuables he’d stored for their sentimental value, as memories of happy times with Dru. Not that he ever used them. He liked to travel light and had much too much fun nicking what he needed. Sadly, Buffy would never accept anything from that source. She wouldn’t accept his help unless it was something she felt she had a right to take. Something she’d consider proper to use.



After a while in deep thought Spike tilted his head and looked at her, considering. "Remember the Gem of Amarra?"



"Huh, want to revive your glory days? How does you being invincible and taking a stroll in the sunlight help with my finances? Angel destroyed it, anyway. And I don't believe you’re offering to earn money for me, with that bauble on your hand doing an honest day’s work, nine-to-five."



"Ah, you know me luv, I might even be tempted if 't would help." Raising his undamaged eyebrow, Spike smirked at her. "Would be a right commotion in the demon world, Big Bad with an apron doing dirty dishes or what." He noted the laughter gleaming up in her eyes with satisfaction.



God, how he loved to see that teasing smile of hers! But in the last month, since the death of her mother, the spark in her had been dimming more and more. Why hadn’t he noticed the signs? Bloody hell, why didn't she speak up earlier? Stupid, stubborn bint. Why had no one taught her that being the solitary Chosen One didn't mean she also had to shoulder everyday normal stuff all on her own?



Where were all her friends when life got rougher? Even her Watcher had deserted her. Why didn’t Giles fight for her rights? The Council wankers paid the Watchers; why not also the Slayer? Why did they even need more than one Watcher for that matter? His bet was that they were sitting on their pompous, fat asses in a posh building, feeling all self righteous. Without the chip he might be tempted to give them a live demonstration of what their Slayer stands against every night.



“Hey, Earth to Moon! What did you mean when you mentioned the ring, Spike?” Buffy interrupted his musings by waving her hand in front of his face. “You seemed miles away. What’s with the frown?”



Spike shook himself back to the imminent topic. "Right, the Gem of Amarra. See luv, there was plenty of stuff – bloody good stuff, where the ring came from. Might still be. Wonder what happened to the stash after the roof collapsed. When I last saw the old cave I was livin’ in during the excavation, it seemed pretty intact then. We might be able to salvage some more of the treasure."



He looked invitingly over at her. "Care to take a look?"



Standing, he offered his hand to Buffy. She stared up at him, not sure if he was serious. "Oh hell, what else do I have to do tonight? Well, besides patrol, but that would be a bummer too, given the track record of the day. I’ve had my daily dosage of demon goo already today."



Her small hand felt warm and firm in his grip. She gave it a slight squeeze and smiled at his surprised and awed gaze. She left her hand there, comfortable and secure in his, as he led her through town.



~*~



As they entered the cave, Spike surveyed the decrepit surroundings. The bed was still standing, covered in dust and cobwebs, but the pillows and bedspread were long gone. Every other bit of furniture was either upturned or smashed to pieces. Harmony must have been in a real mood when she finally left. He snuck a cautious look over at Buffy who walked around inspecting the room. Hopefully she wouldn’t be reminded of Harmony and the last time she’d seen her, when Buffy was chained up in the basement of his crypt.



“So, this was where you lived when you came back to Sunnydale?” Buffy asked casually, picking up something from underneath the bed. She waved a statue in front of his face, with a devilish glint in her eye. “With Harmony?”



He flinched. Silly bint and her obsession with unicorns. The ‘artwork’ that Buffy now held aloft was an extraordinarily vile piece, all covered in pink glitter. What an especially stupid obsession for a vampire to indulge in: collecting wooden statues with sharp pointed horns. Of course when the vampire in question was Harmony… To be truthful, he’d never been interested in her brain anyway. Which was another landmine to avoid discussing with the Slayer.



Buffy looked around the room. “You know, I actually staked a vampire once with a unicorn. I think it was even here. Remember last year, when she kidnapped Dawn? God, that was pathetic!”



Ouch, she had to rub it in and she clearly enjoyed it.



Now Buffy turned serious. “What did you see in Harmony? I always wondered how you ended up with her. We all figured you’d lost a bet or something.”



Such a good question and Spike so didn’t want to answer it. “Sure you want us to compare our pick of lovers, pet?”



He turned and pointed into the tunnel leading from the main room. “This leads under the cave where the treasure is. I dug up from beneath it. We should check to see how far the tunnel is still clear.”



Buffy stomped her foot and glared at him. “Don’t try to distract me. You know all about me. You’ve collected stuff from my house, ransacked my drawers. You’ve even stolen my underwear! You talked to my mother... God knows what she told you about me, yet when I ask one little question about your past, you get all avoid-y on me. That’s unfair.”



She actually pouted. Did she know how deadly a weapon that was?



Spike sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. “Right then, I met her in LA and found out she knew Sunnydale, so we came here together. And Dru wasn’t here, so…” God, don’t tell her, that she reminded you of Buffy. He hadn’t realized it himself at the time, but it was so obvious now. Fingers crossed that when Harmony prattled on ‘bout the role-playing as the Slayer, Buffy had been too distracted to actually listen to her.



“Oh, so she was… what? Convenient? God, men are such pigs!” Buffy threw her hands into the air.



“Ey, Slayer! We came here because I wanted to help ya. And now all you do is make fun of me. Don’t need to rub it in what a berk I can be at times. If you want to know something ‘bout me, buy me a pint and ask nicely. Then we can compare our love lives, fair and square! It’ll make a right boring night, listening to the tale of the bloody interesting personality that was Capt’n Cardboard… oh, and let’s not forget the Magnificent Poof! Can we get some work done now?” With that Spike turned briskly on his heel and ended the conversation by resolutely marching down the tunnel.



The dig site was in worse shape than he’d hoped. After the cave-in, the authorities had filled up the area with coarse gravel without looking at what was actually underneath. The rubble had filled up the treasure cave, burying the wealth under tons of material. Some of it had spilled through the drill hole Spike had jack-hammered into the floor of the treasure room until it was blocked by some larger boulders, leaving a huge heap of gravel on the floor.



Spike rubbed his neck and looked sheepishly at Buffy. “Sorry luv, looks not too peachy. It wouldn’t do any good to drill a new entrance; it’d just pull more rubbish down. I’ll need tools and time to build; setup some supports, clear the rubble and dig an access tunnel through the treasure cave. As I remember, there were smaller heaps of jewels and burial gifts near the entrance hole; might be able to reach those.”



If only he could make it to the big pile in the center, which would be the solution he’d hoped for. His shoulders slumped. It had been a promising plan, but like most of his plans, it was busted. For a moment, he’d pictured himself as the knight in shining armor, swooping in and rescuing the damsel in distress. He’d wanted to help her, to lift her burden, but as usual he’d failed.



“Spike, it was a good idea,” Buffy tried to console him, letting the previous discussion about love lives drop. She pointed over to the heap of debris on the floor. “Let’s look and see if there’s something useful in there, since we’re already here.”



Further down the corridor they found an old shovel and a few discarded excavation tools. Spike sifted meticulously through the pile with the blade and finally uncovered a handful of dull silver coins and a jewel encrusted golden goblet which had been swept down by the avalanche. He might be able to convert them to cash using his contacts in the demon world. Spike promised to himself to come back and try his luck with the cave again. If he even had a slim chance of success, he didn’t shirk honest labor, contrary to what the Scoobies might think. He would need some help, but he would manage.



At least what they had found would be enough to pay some of the bills and fill up the fridge. Maybe he could add a pink motorbike helmet for Dawn.



~*~



By the end of August, all the Scoobies had returned to Sunnydale and demanded bonding time at the Bronze. Naturally, Buffy went with them to celebrate the start of the “Slaying Season”, as Xander had so aptly named it.



As Buffy entered the club, she stopped at the entrance and observed her friends sitting at a table. Willow was talking animatedly, waving her hands in the air while Tara watched her with a gentle smile. Xander was concentrating on Willow’s tale and Anya sat by, admiring something on her hand. She had missed them all, but she felt like the fifth wheel on the wagon.



“Hey, look who’s here, the Buffster!” was Xander’s enthusiastic greeting. The others smiled at her as she approached.



“Where’s Dawn? Is she doing ok?” asked Tara shyly.



“Hi guys. So good to see you again! Dawn’s fine, thanks! She’s at home with Spike, probably watching some movies and stuffing herself with popcorn. She sends you all...”



Xander interrupted angrily. “What is the bleached wonder doing with Dawn? In your house! How can you leave her alone with him?”



“Hey, calm down Xander! What’s your problem? If not for Spike watching Dawn, I‘d never have gotten to patrol all summer long.”



Buffy started to regret coming at all. “You all know very well that I trust Spike with Dawn.”



Tara softly confirmed, trying to calm the waves. “Xander, have you forgotten how much Spike helped Dawn with Glory? Of course Buffy can trust her in his care.”



Buffy gave Tara a warm smile; she was grateful that the shy girl was part of the group now. Tara was always so quiet, but often surprised Buffy when she stepped in to defend someone in her gentle way.



Hoping to avoid any further argument with Xander, Buffy looked at Willow and winked. “Ok, now what have you wiccans been doing all that time at your camp? I’ve had the wildest fantasies here…”



“Oh it was so wonderful!” Willow gushed. “There were so many real witches there! You remember the group I joined at college? Where I met Tara?” Willow sent a tender look at Tara who blushed deeply at the attention.



“Well, like then, there were lots of pretenders at the gathering, but some were totally amazing. I showed them what I could do and I learned so many new spells. Did you know that you can do nearly all house work with spells? Isn’t that’s awesome? I don’t need to do anything by hand anymore. And the best part is, casting spells doesn’t drain me like some of the other witches.” Willow was clearly proud of herself, but her tone held a hint of condescension.



Quietly Tara spoke up, “Willow, it doesn’t seem right to do normal, everyday tasks with magic. Things you can do easily with your own hands. It’s a gift from the goddess, it should be used to do good… not…”



“Oh, puh!” Willow brushed Tara’s opinion away. “Magic isn’t anything different than electricity. It’s a power source to be used if you can tap into it. All this worship and earth mother myth is just to make it more interesting.”



Buffy was picking up a fair amount of discord in the normally happy couple. Truth be told, if she’d been asked directly, in this argument she would have to agree with Tara. Just because you can do something doesn’t make it automatically right to do it.



“Buffy, what have you been up to all this time? Anything interesting?” Willow asked, clearly avoiding more confrontation with her girlfriend.



“Ah, no, everything was pretty quiet. Only the usual fledglings. Oh, some biker demons passed through! Spike and I chased them out of town pretty quickly though.”



“Spike? What did the fanged menace do? I bet he cheered them on.” Xander cut in.



“Hey, Xander, again I ask, what’s your problem? Spike was really helpful! He fought lots of the bikers all on his own – I didn’t even have to ask him to help,” Buffy defended.



“I understand why you hate vampires, I really do,” she continued. “But Spike’s different, not just because of the chip; everyone can see that but you. And I wish you wouldn’t call him names. I don’t like it.”



She could clearly see that she couldn’t cut through to Xander’s prejudice. It was baffling to her that her friend, who had an ex-vengeance demon as girlfriend, was so biased against one vampire. Yes, Xander was right to detest vampires in general, but clearly Spike had shown over and over again that he was one-of-a-kind.



“To risk an obvious change of topic, how was your vacation, Xander?” Buffy tried to calm the waves.



“Xander, can I tell them? You said it’s finally the right time,” nudged Anya. Her eyes were shining with excitement and she really enjoyed the attention.



As Xander smiled indulgently at her as she bubbled on. “Look! We’re engaged! Xander bought me this beautiful, unbelievably expensive ring.” She joyfully waved her hand around.



True enough, a sparkling diamond sat on her finger; Anya was gleaming with joy. Finally Xander had taken the next step. Buffy was glad to see her friend happy, yet couldn’t suppress a tiny feeling of unease. He was still so young and had just found his first solid job. True, Xander and Anya had moved in together nearly a year ago, but this was a huge step. Marriage! The first of her friends wanted to settle down; with a wife, maybe a house and 2.5 kids.



But it was Xander and Anya’s great moment, so Buffy beamed at them. “Congratulations! That’s fantastic news. When did you get engaged? While you were in Las Vegas?”



Anya nodded enthusiastically. “Xander wanted to marry me there immediately. You know, at that white chapel with an Elvis impersonator and the doorman as a witness. But I want to have a real wedding, with a beautiful white dress, flower girls, sunshine and a reception under a canopy. You all have to be my bridesmaids! This is the first time I’ve ever had a chance to marry in style.”



A slight frown appeared on Anya’s brow as she thought about it. “Olaf just threw me over his shoulder and dragged me to his hut. What kind of ceremony is that? That didn’t have any style at all.”



“Ahn, honey, it would’ve been romantic. Everybody thinks it’s romantic to get married in Las Vegas.” Xander tried to placate his newly appointed fiancé. “And can we not talk about Olaf the troll here?”



Anya pouted. “We now have all this lovely money I won in Vegas; I want to spend it on something nice. And I want to invite my friends – all my old friends; I haven’t seen them in ages. They’ll all be just green with envy… well, not counting the ones that are already green. My family, of course, is long dead, but we’ll have to invite your parents.”



Xander turned to Buffy with a grimace. “Can you imagine my father at my wedding? That alone is reason enough to try to marry as far away from Sunnydale as possible.”



“Oh, Xander! If you want, we can marry in Arashmahar! We wouldn’t have any sunshine of course, but we could hang up lots of fey lights and D’Hoffryn could give me away.” Anya was thrilled by the idea and began considering the possibilities with her usual enthusiasm.



All in all, it turned into a nice ‘welcome back’ celebration. They danced and talked and avoided the more explosive topics. Buffy joined Willow and Tara on the dance floor and listened fascinated, as Anya’s wedding plans grew more and more elaborate. At least she’d dropped the notion of celebrating in Arashmahar; the logistics would have been horrendous as Buffy pointed out.



Being helpful to Anya while she was in the throes of wedding planning bliss had its drawbacks, however.



Anya beamed, “Oh, you’re priceless, Buffy! You’ll be my Maid of Honor; I’ll bet nobody ever had a Slayer as a Maid of Honor! You already truly understand what it means to organize a wedding. You have experience! Do you still have the brochures from the caterers? A shame that Willow’s spell was broken before you’d had a chance to marry Spike. You would have been perfect together. Slayer strength and vampire stamina, you could have countless orgasms before you wear each other out; and your natural suppleness…” Her eyes glazed over at that vision.



Oblivious to everybody staring at her, Anya happily chattered on. “Have you noticed Spike’s body, all those wiry, hard muscles, his broad shoulders and slim hips? Silly me, of course you have, who wouldn’t? Just the sight of his T-shirt clinging to his body… You can imagine his fabulous pecs and toned stomach. Buffy, do you think you can persuade him to strip at my bachelorette party? There must be strippers and Spike would be perfect.”



“Ahn!”

Finally, after three long months, Giles had returned from England. He told everybody that he’d spent his time there getting reacquainted with his former colleagues and friends at the Watchers Council. Only Buffy knew that he had also been researching the background of the Key. After he had gotten settled in, he asked Buffy for a visit early the next afternoon at his flat.

“Hi, Giles! So what’s up? You acted like you’d been handed a clandestine envelope that goes - puff - up in flames after reading. What’s so sensitive that we can’t talk about it at the Magic Box?” Buffy greeted him as she entered.

Immediately she noticed several stacks of manila folders on the table. The couch was cluttered with stack of books. Disheveled rows of yellow Post-it notes were sticking out on all sides, marking pages for reference and letting the books look like ruffled canaries. Giles surely was on a serious research spree.

“Hello Buffy, please take a seat.” Giles picked up a stack of leather bound books from the couch and cleared a place for her. Buffy sat down and instantly pulled out a battered looking old scroll that he had overlooked from between the cushions.

Giles headed into his kitchenette and put a kettle on the stove.

“I wanted to talk to you about the results of my research, about the origin of the Key. I thought that you might want to decide what and how much to tell Dawn and your friends about it, so I deemed it better to meet where we might not be overheard by them.”

Giles opened the cupboard and picked out a mug. “Cup of tea? I brought some especially fine selections from England.”

“No tea, thanks. Have you found something useful?” Buffy watched impatiently as Giles prepared himself a cup, all motions meticulous and unhurried. He seemed to have all the time in the world while she sat on hot coals – or on ancient scrolls, more precisely.

Giles returned to the living room and settled down in his chair opposite her. He took a careful sip of his hot tea. “I’ve done intensive research into the properties of the Key. Thelibrary offered a surprising amount of material, most of which was collected or written after Glory made her appearance last year. The Council had started serious investigations into the circumstances of the Key; they even instituted a specific research group with ample funding.”

He sighed and laid his hand onto the folders on the table. “I’m afraid my research wasn’t of much practical use, however; all the reports are full of nothing more than speculation and hearsay. Primarily they concentrated on two contradicting theories: The first states that the energy will leak out and disperse like radiation over time, returning, in due time, the vessel to a normal human being. The second, newer theory, propagates that the energy is actually a magical entity, bound to the vessel, which might take over the control of the body as the resistance of the vessel grows weaker over time. This latest one is based on the now known fact that Glory had eventually been able to take control over her human prison, Ben.”

Buffy frowned, her brows knit in concentration as she followed Giles through the labyrinth of the explanations. Why did researchers have to complicate everything so much? Maybe to hide the fact that they really didn’t know anything solid about the matter?

Giles looked apologetically at Buffy. “I’m sorry that I cannot bring you better news. All research is inconclusive and speculative. To summarize their findings, they state that more research is required and only time will tell.”

“So you’re saying that Dawn either becomes a plain human or will be consumed by the energy? I don’t like the second option at all.” Buffy extracted the facts from the very tedious sermon.

“Indeed, you could sum it up as simply as that…” Giles agreed as he removed his glasses and began polishing them with a hanky. “I’m not happy about the options that second theory leaves us with.”

Giles rubbed the base of his nose wearily before he slowly put back his glasses. When he looked back up at Buffy, his eyes were tired. He picked up the top-most folder from the table, opened it and leaved through some handwritten pages.

“I've also worked through the cross references they gave for the treatises. The Key is old, ancient actually; it existed long before Glory was expelled from her world and locked in ours. The theory that the Key might open not only Glory’s portal but others too, seem plausible enough to me. This power might be at Dawn’s disposal if she learns how to tap into it. She is still young and it would depend on how much control she might gain over the energy. The ritualistic bleeding Glory intended for her to open the portal seems to be only a method to tap into the power from the outside. Dawn, as the vessel itself, should have access solely by her own will power.”

Buffy added thoughtfully, “That sounds possible. When Dawn cut herself, after she found out she was the Key, we didn’t notice any energy outbursts or other effects.”

“The ability to tap into the power of the Key might be similar to… telekinesis or accessing magic to cast spells. Often psychic abilities like that manifest during puberty, so we should watch her for signs of any unusual occurrences around her. I fear my news is not very reassuring for either of you.”

“Giles, it’s not your fault; I don’t blame you, I know you’ve tried your best. I just wish I knew what to tell Dawn. She’s gone through so much lately. She’s still a child, Giles. First our father left us and then, because of me, we had to settle in a new town. It wasn’t so bad for me, but Dawn left so many friends behind.” Buffy grimaced. “Sorry, I always forget that that wasn’t real.”

“Buffy, you shouldn’t think like that. Even if the memories were magically created, they still constitute the framework of her character and personality. They are as real for Dawn as your childhood is for you. Most of our behavior is based on what we experienced in the past. If this experience is real or not doesn’t matter at all; it only matters that we believe it.”

“It’s still confusing, and I know for sure that Dawn has her problems with it. She tries to play it down, but I can see it in her face when she’s near to freaking out again. We talk and some of the fake memories come up… Dawn gets this look of… I don’t know – confusion, self-doubt, insecurity.” Buffy shook her head. “It’s the same for me.”

They sat quietly for a while until Buffy continued, her gaze on her hands clutched in her lap. “And that’s not all. We both still miss our mom so much. There are so many things in the house that remind us of her.” She quickly looked up at Giles. “I don’t want to say, that’s bad. I love to still feel mom’s presence around us. But, at the same time, it hurts so much.”

“Buffy, my dear, what can I say that will help? Such a rupture in your life takes time to heal, time for the pain of your loss to subside. It’s like a wound. First it has to scab over, but it takes more than just a couple of months to close and you will always feel the loss, like a scar. Believe me, over time it will get better. Your mother loved you both so much; her love is what you miss most of all.” Giles looked at her sadly. “I miss Joyce too, even if I had only the pleasure to know her for a few years.”

Buffy nodded and looked back down at her hands as she contemplated what Giles had just told her for a long time. Meanwhile Giles busied himself, cleaning up his kitchen, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

Coming to a decision, she finally looked up. “Giles, don’t tell anyone… about Dawn, I mean. What we know now is zilch, speculation, nothing solid. It isn’t any help at all. Especially don’t tell Willow and Xander. You remember last time, when we hadn’t wanted Dawn to know that she was the Key? That was a bummer. She noticed that something was wrong; she’ll definitely notice it now too. When she asks me, I’ll tell her, but I'm not going to volunteer any information. I don’t want to burden her more than necessary.”

Giles nodded in agreement as he came out of the kitchenette. “That would have been my recommendation, also.”

“Thank you again, Giles.” Buffy smiled at him, as she stood up. “Now I’ve to go home so I’ll be there before Dawn gets back from school.”

~*~

“Why do I have to dress up? I’m not a kid anymore” Dawn pouted and rolled her eyes, looking exactly like the kid she refused to be. “It’s not like I’ll be allowed to go to a cool Halloween party. It’s just the Halloween sale at the Magic Box.”

“Dawnie, you know we promised Anya and Giles that we’d help them tonight. It’s an important night for them and they expect loads of new customers. They want all the helpers to dress up. Come on, it’ll be fun… we’ll find something nice for you to wear. Maybe my Red Riding Hood costume will fit you.”

“Oh, come on!” Dawn whined, her eyes comically wide in fake horror. “Don’t even think about dressing me as that! I refused to wear it two years ago.”

As Dawn saw Buffy’s confused look she added smugly. “Why do you think mom altered it for you? You looked so cute, like an eight-year old, with your braided pig-tails…”

“Hey, you…!” Buffy grabbed for Dawn, who evaded with a squeal, giggling happily. They squabbled with each other for a while, Dawn dancing just out of her reach and Buffy making playful attempts to corner her. For precious moments they were just two sisters, having a romp.

As they rummaged through the closet they came across Buffy’s old high school cheerleader uniform. It was from her try-out during her first year in Sunnydale. Those had been carefree days, compared to now. She hadn’t even died at that time. What a way was that to define her life, before my death, after my death? Buffy didn’t want to die another time, the drowning had been horrible, she sometimes still had nightmares about it and it took all the fun out of swimming.

“Can I dress up as a cheerleader? At least that’s a cool outfit,” Dawn interrupted her nostalgic thoughts.

“No way are you wearing that tight sweater and short skirt. It’s too skimpy!”

“Buffy, please? What’s the big? You weren’t so much older when you did cheerleading at Hemery High. And I won’t kick my legs up… Look there are matching panties with ruffles, I can wear them underneath.” Dawn looked pleadingly at her.

Buffy sighed, Dawn had a point. She just didn’t want her little sister to grow up too quickly. “Fine, take it. But be careful that you don’t tear it.”

“Look, pompoms!” Dawn hopped in excitement, waving the colorful fluffy balls through the air.

Now Buffy needed a costume too. She would’ve liked to wear a nice new one this year, but she didn’t have the money to even rent one. And her sewing skills were worse than her cooking, which about said it all. She sighed and settled for her old Red Riding Hood costume. She’d lost weight in the last two years so it was a bit loose-fitting. Dawn was right, she looked like a kid in it, but it was practical and she would also be able to do a quick sweep through the cemeteries in it.

~*~

When they arrived at the Magic Box in the late afternoon, the shop was already filled to the brim with customers. Giles was again wearing his purple wizard outfit; he had added a long, white Dumbledore beard to it which got tangled all the time. That made him scowl a lot which was so much more fitting than the goofy grin he was wearing at last year's opening.

Anya was dressed in a sexy outfit with red shorts and skates. She was really good at weaving through all the customers, keeping a wary eye on her merchandise. Xander was, as usual, in charge of the provisions, he was selling chocolate doughnuts with orange frosting and coffee or hot chocolate to the customers. He was dressed in a pirate’s costume, complete with a black eye patch, which gave him a roguish touch.

“Dawn, can you join Tara behind the counter and help her pack up the sales?” Anya put Dawn immediately to work. “We have this lovely paper with the pumpkins and orange ribbons. Tara’s excellent in wrapping; she’s not wasting any of the ribbon and the packages look very neat. I’m sure she’ll show you how to do it.”

Tara and Dawn made a pretty good team, folding fancy decorations and attaching elaborate bows to the purchases. At Dawn’s place behind the counter her short skirt was hidden, thank God.

As Buffy looked around to find where she could help, Anya swooped at her on her skates. “Buffy, can you bring more crates and supplies up from the cellar? Isn’t it wonderful? The customers are filling my cash register to overflowing with their hard earned money! We need lots more stuff up here so that they can leave me even more money. They especially buy the decorative items, like these scented candles and the magical fireflies.”

“Can’t Xander do that? I could maybe entertain the kids with Willow over there.” Why should she spend her time in the musty cellar when the others were all having fun up here? Buffy had hoped that helping at the Magic Box would at least have a touch of being at a Halloween party - not sweaty work, dragging crates from the dark cellar.

“Because you’re the strongest one – Spike will not be here for some time.” Trust Anya to have a good argument at hand. “Have you spoken to Spike yet, you know, about my bachelorette party? It would so top everything. I’d so love to take a closer look at all these muscles. I don’t know why I’m not allowed to do that anymore once I’m married.” Anya pouted.

“Sorry, Anya, I haven’t had time to ask him. Maybe you could when you see him the next time?”

Buffy dreaded asking Spike; it felt so awkward. Surely he would think she was crazy, or even worse, he might actually agree to do it – especially if Anya offered to pay him. She didn’t know what she feared most, that Spike would skewer her with one of his sharp tongued remarks when she asked, or that she'd have to watch him remove his T-shirt and – whatever. She'd hoped that Anya would forget the idea, but, like a dog and his favorite bone, she wouldn't let go. Buffy sighed resignedly and headed for the basement.

After several trips to the basement, Buffy’s dress started to look crumply and was smudged with dust and dirt from carrying crates and boxes. She was at a loss as to why someone wanted to buy candles, incense and stinky herbs anyway. Anya had her repack rat’s eyes out of a large earthen bowl into smaller pots… ewww! She was asked to collect mandrake roots – only three to a jar, because they got wonky when they were cramped. Buffy eyed the roots, looking like wizened, dried gnomes, and wondered what wonky mandrakes might be like. Did they join hands and start to Lord-of-the-Dance when there were four or more around?

The worst order was for a woman who asked for a mummy hand. What did you need a mummy hand for? Your mummy lost one hand while haunting the night and now you need a spare part? As Buffy struggled to catch the wriggling hand she just hoped that Anya was getting a really good profit out of it. The hand had clawed at her and finally ripped the hem of her skirt before she could nail it down by stepping on it.

“Anya, I need a break.” Buffy sighed and sank down into a chair at the table to watch Willow for a while.

Willow had offered to do the entertainment for the kids while their parents roamed the shop. She’d dressed as the Wicked Witch of the West; face painted green and three braids sticking out from beneath her pointed hat. She looked formidable in her tight fitting black dress as she performed little spells before the gawping children. To think that only last year Willow had ranted about all the girls dressing up as witches complaining that everybody thought witches were evil and wart-covered. Buffy had to smile as Willow indulged the kids with magic tricks and treats.

“So my little pretties, what should I do with you? Is anyone wearing my shoes? No?” Willow asked as the kids giggled. “Should I float this ribbon for you, my pretty girl?”

With that, Willow let an orange ribbon float through the air, winding around itself and forming flowing circles. Buffy heard one of the parents point at it and whisper to her little boy, “See, if you look carefully, you can see the strings attached. Look right there at the front!”

The Sunnydale inhabitants never ceased to amaze Buffy. Even if it was obvious that only magic or a demon could be responsible, most covered their eyes and ears and pretended that everything was normal. She was so distracted by Willow’s magical performance that she missed the tingles down her spine which announced Spike’s arrival.

“Are you bonkers? If you think I’ll wear that, you’ve gone completely Carrot Top!” Buffy could see Spike’s eyes gleaming golden as he bellowed at Anya, who was standing behind the cash register. If he’d lost so much control, something was seriously wrong. But why were Dawn and Tara grinning?

As Buffy approached, Spike whirled around and held something out to her. “Have you seen that? Am I everybody’s fool now?”

In his hand were white plastic fangs. Vampire fangs… fake ones…

Buffy blinked. Did Anya really…? She looked over at her and saw the black, red lined cape with the large starched collar in her hands. Buffy put her hand over her mouth and looked up at Spike. No, she wouldn’t add to his visible pain by breaking into laughter. Tears formed in her eyes as she tried her best not to fail.

“Pet, you look like you’ve swallowed a frog.” Spike whirled around and looked at the helplessly giggling Dawn, clinging to a wide eyed Tara who bit her lip hard. “You too, Glinda?”

Anya clearly couldn’t understand the problem. “Why not, Spike? I think it’s funny. And it’s not that you would have to actually see yourself wearing the cape and fangs, you know, being reflection challenged and all.”

“Does everybody have to point out how fangless I am? I won’t dress up, you can soddin’ well deal with it.” Spike briskly handed the fake fangs back to Anya with an icy stare and turned his attention on Buffy.

“Ya look lovely, Little Riding Hood. How ‘bout a bit of a rough and tumble with the Big Bad Wolf?” Spike smiled and looked Buffy over. “Looks like you’d had already some rough, maybe we just go on to the tumbling?” He curled his tongue behind his front teeth and gave her a sexy smirk.

“Buffy, I think we have enough stock up here now for the rest of the evening. Now you can spend your time trying to convince Spike to strip at my party. Then we can plan all the details around it.” Anya reminded her.

Spike looked between the blushing Buffy and the oblivious Anya and cocked his eyebrow. “Striptease? Since when are you planning for me to do a striptease?”

“It’s for my bachelorette party, Spike. Buffy as my Maid of Honor helps me with the planning and there must be strippers. We thought you would be perfect. The centerpiece of the whole party.” Anya was biting her lower lip, clearly visualizing again the possible details of her last party in freedom.

Buffy was in dire need of a hole to hide in. Dawn was watching her, wide eyed, and was Spike really considering the notion? “Ummm, it was Anya’s idea and, errhm, she wanted me to ask you…”

Why did Spike start to grin like a cat noticing a saucer filled with cream? He even licked his lips.

“So, you’re the Maid of Honor, eh? Helping with the organization, are you? Anya, you made quite a fine move here, when it comes to plannin’, the Slayer’s the best.”

Spike winked at Anya, pursing his lips, devilish delight glimmering in his eyes. “Demon girl, it would be my pleasure to entertain you. And all the girls will attend? I’ll have to prepare a right catching show then. Buffy, as the Maid of Honor, will surely work out the details with me.”

Buffy felt more blood rushing to her cheeks and her mouth opened and closed, the words she was looking for escaping her brain. She’d have to plan the party. With Spike. Stripping!

“Need some air, pet? We could do a sweep through town; even if most of the nasties are stayin’ home it’ll be safer to check, yeah?” Spike was enjoying her discomfort. She really needed to have a talk with Anya.

“Buffy, I could stay here and you can pick me up later.” Dawn looked coyly over to Spike and suggested, “Or maybe Spike could bring me home on his bike?”

“I could drive her home and wait with her until you get there,” Willow offered.

Buffy sighed heavily. Had everybody watched? Heard? It would be best to leave the field of her humiliation.

“Fine, thanks Wills. I’ll be back home by eleven at the latest. Spike, let’s go!” Buffy swept out of the shop without one backwards glance.

Dawn watched as Spike left the Magic Box behind Buffy, turning back at the door and giving her a parting grin. So, Spike enjoyed the thought of doing a striptease? In front of Buffy, Anya and all the girls? Dawn wondered if it was because he liked to show off or because he enjoyed seeing Buffy squirm.

She certainly wouldn’t be invited because she was way too young - what a shame. She wasn’t sure if she really wanted to see exactly what Spike would be doing. On the other hand, she didn’t know for certain what striptease was all about. What clothes did they take off? What did they leave on? When she was older, maybe for her sixteenth birthday, she should ask him for a demonstration. It would be surely an education.

“Dawnie, I think around nine would be a good time to leave. The children will probably be gone home by then, so Giles doesn’t need our help anymore. Okay? I’ll ask, if I can borrow Xander’s car.” Willow smiled at her and went back to her ring of little admirers.

“Do you think Spike’s done a striptease before?” Dawn whispered to Tara. She couldn’t get the idea of Spike stripping out of her mind. “I’ve heard about stripteases, but I always thought that it’s only women. Do men dance, too - like around poles and stuff?”

Tara smiled. Dawn clearly wouldn’t leave it alone. “I’m sure Spike knows exactly what’s expected from him. Vampires have no inhibitions. And yes, of course there are also male strippers. It’s normally more athletic but there’s usually music and some of them can dance really well. But that is all your young, still wet ears will hear from me.”

At least Tara took her seriously and didn’t brush her questions off. How was she supposed to learn anything interesting, if nobody answered her questions? She could process and understand lots more than they gave her credit for. Dawn looked over at Anya. She was sure, if she wanted to know more, she could always ask Anya. She was always so direct, Dawn found that funny. It hurt sometimes, but not because Anya intended to be harsh, it just hurt because it was the truth without any sugar coating.

Dawn thought about it while wrapping more parcels. If she ever wanted to learn about, you know, bees and flowers and stuff, she would go to Anya first. There she would get her answers and when Anya stopped talking, it was because she’d said everything and not because she thought that Dawn was too young to hear it. She really liked Anya.

At a quarter to nine she saw Willow returning from the bathroom. She’d removed the green face makeup and unbraided her hair. She joined Xander at his table and picked up one of the last chocolate filled doughnuts. Maybe Willow told him about the ruckus with Spike before? Xander had glared at Spike from the back of the room but he’d had too many customers to wait on to come over. Dawn wondered if it would be better if she joined them. Xander was always so biased against Spike, that incident would give him material to taunt him for a while.

As Dawn came nearer, she could hear snatches of the conversation.

“…told me about him. I really want to give it a try, Xander.”

“Is this really ok, Willow? I listened to your argument with Tara about using the magic for everyday chores. Not that I wouldn’t love to have an abracadabra spell to clean the bathroom once in a while, but from what you told me that looks like some darker stuff.” Xander was worried about something.

“No, why should it? Magic is just energy and its important how you use it, not where it comes from. Believe me; I know best how to use it for a good cause.”

“Ha, well then, why don’t you stop this stupid striptease idea Anya is so obsessed about. Why should she have strippers when I don’t have them at my bachelor party? And why is she so fixated on the Evil Dead? I couldn't persuade her to at least hire some decent, normal strippers. She just tells me, that it's none of my business what she's doing at her bachelorette party, I should keep to planning my own party and stop interfering with hers.”

“I could make her forget about it. That would be a good thing to do, right? Why would she want to look at somebody else anyway when she has you, Xan?”

Dawn rolled her eyes. Was Willow still crushing on Xander? How long could someone hold on to a kindergarten crush? Or maybe Willow offered her help because she didn’t like Anya? Or did Willow dislike Anya because she had still a crush on Xander and was jealous? Dawn found relationships often so confusing and complicated. If she had someone as devoted and nice as Tara for a girlfriend, well boyfriend in her case, she would be completely happy with that alone.

Willow noticed Dawn hovering and turned around, jingling with the car keys. “Ah, Dawn, ready to go? I’ve got Xander’s car.”

Together they walked over to the counter and Willow gave Tara a sweet kiss on the cheek. “Tara, honey, I'm taking Dawn home now and we'll be waiting until Buffy returns from patrol. Then I'll be back and we can go home together. It might be late, probably ‘round half past eleven.”

“I don’t mind helping Anya and Giles clean up the shop. They’ll close at eleven, so that would be fine.” Tara gave Willow and Dawn one of her warm, sunny smiles. “Good night, Dawn. You were a really big help to me tonight.”

“Bye, Tara. It was fun with you.” Dawn liked Tara a lot and she had enjoyed the day more than she might ever admit to Buffy. No way would she give her the idea she might enjoy work of any kind.

After one final wave and a 'Good night' to Giles, Willow and Dawn left the shop with a merry jingle from the bells above the door.

~*~

“Willow, where’re we going? This isn't the way home.” Dawn pointed out the front window of Xander’s car which Willow had borrowed.

“Dawnie, don’t worry. I’m just making a short detour; we’ll be home before Buffy is back. There's just something I have to check out.” Willow turned the car right into the entrance of a dark alley, put the car in park, and stopped the engine.

“Remember, the witch festival I was at during summer? A witch I met there emailed me today and told me that this terrific guru is in town today. I want to meet him. It'll only take a second, alright?” Willow started to open the car door to step out.

“Wait. What guru, a witchcraft guru? I thought witches are all women? And, he's living here?” Dawn looked suspiciously down the passageway between two abandoned warehouses. “Not even a hobo would live here if given a choice.”

Willow rolled her eyes. “Dawn, you're still too young to understand…”

“Willow, I’m nearly fifteen, I’m not a baby anymore!” Why did everybody still think that she can’t count to three? Dawn knew a lot more than everybody gave her credit. Hell, she’d been eavesdropping on them for ages now.

Willow sighed and settled back into the driver’s seat. “Ok, fine. He’s an inter-dimensional specialist on witchcraft. A male witch is called a warlock. His specialty is techniques to refill depleted energy, like meditation, laying on of hands, and elixirs to increase your abilities. Like a traditional healer compared to mainstream medicine. Nothing bad, see? He is only in town today; his office magically changes places so everybody can visit him. Come on, just do me a favor,” Willow begged, looking at Dawn with round and innocent eyes.

“Ok, but just for a minute.” Dawn finally agreed, opening the door and stepping out of the car. It still sounded wrong to her, but it was Willow, after all. Buffy’s best friend.

They were halfway into the alley when Willow suddenly stopped and raised her hand in front of her face. It looked like she was touching a vertical surface of liquid. Ripples of dark brown light flowed out and filled the space between the buildings with a webbing of gleaming circles.

“Here it is!” Willow began to chant under her breath, the syllables rolling low and guttural out of her mouth. Dawn shivered; she didn’t know if it was because of the chilly night air or the enchantment. She jumped as a fiery doorway suddenly appeared in the air in front of her. A worn wooden door swung open with a creak and revealed a dimly lit passage. Creepy!

“Come on, Dawn.” Willow pulled the girl by the hand through the door and into the corridor. An electric tingle ran over Dawn's skin as she was dragged through the opening.

The air inside smelled stale, like no fresh breeze had cleaned out the dust in ages. The only sign of life was the yellow shine of a lone light bulb dangling down from the ceiling and the light spilling from under the closed door at the end of the corridor. Dawn felt completely out of place here with her gaudy cheerleader outfit, like a parrot in a flock of crows.

Willow opened the door into what looked like the waiting room. Chairs of different styles and ages lined the wall. One seat opposite the door was occupied by a middle aged woman with her head leaned back wearily against the wall, eyes closed. In another corner, in a dusty lounge chair beside the door which must lead into the warlock’s office, slumped a young man with matted, dirty hair in dire need of a shave… a change of clothes wouldn’t have hurt, either.

Dawn hadn’t even closed the door behind her when the office door opened and a tall, haggard looking man shot out, dark eyes glittering with a faint red afterglow. His cheeks were sunken, his gleaming eyes nearly vanishing in the purple hollows of his eye sockets.

“New visitors, how lovely! What’s your name, my dear?” The warlock looked Willow over, his gaze gliding like a snail down her delicate frame.

Ick! This was the famous inter-dimensional guru? If a look could leave tracks behind, Willow would be covered in slime by now. Dawn hoped that they wouldn’t stay long.

“Are you Rack? A friend told me you’d be here today and that you could help me.” Willow stepped eagerly forward and eyed Rack like he was a rock star. Whatever it was that she saw in him, Dawn didn’t understand; she didn't like him one bit.

“Yes my lovely witchlet. I’m Rack. Heard of me?” He slowly walked around her and Dawn could see his gaze trailing over Willow’s breasts and lingering on her ass.

As Rack’s attention suddenly turned to Dawn, she stepped back and pressed herself flat against the door, her pompoms held in front of her as a barrier.

“You brought me a friend? Who is this sweet cheerleader?” Rack sniffed the air, like a blood hound taking the trail. “Not human, are you? Not completely at least. But I can’t place you. What’s your name, my child?”

Now Dawn definitely detested him. She was not a child! And she was human! “Willow, can we go now? You've seen him and I’m tired!”

“Ah, a sassy one.” Rack seemed to be pleased. “I can smell lots of anger here and confusion. Such a tasty little morsel.”

At last Willow stepped in. “Dawn is my protégé. She’s not here for your services.”

“I see, but you are, my beauty? I can help you, you know. I see much power within you, but so poorly set to use. You tire quickly when you do more demanding spells, right? I have just the remedy for that.” Rack’s attention was now focused solely on Willow. “I have some free time right now, come into my office. Your little friend can wait here for you.”

“Dawnie, it will take just a few minutes.” Before Dawn could protest further, Willow followed Rack into the office, closed the door, and left Dawn alone in the dingy waiting room.

Dawn eyed the room another time disgustedly. The chairs looked all dirty and it smelled like a moldy old house where somebody had peed in the corner. She picked one chair, as far from the other occupants as possible, pulled her skimpy skirt as far down her backside as possible and sat down at the very edge of it. Then she waited… and waited.

Fifteen minutes passed, then another fifteen. The time crawled by and Willow didn't return.

Dawn stared at the ceiling, counting the cracks in it. There were twelve chairs in five different styles. The woman in the corner snored softly, but Dawn couldn’t figure out the rhythm of it. On the wall opposite her chair was a rickety book stand with a few tattered and dog-eared books in it. The titles were all in foreign languages, some in Latin; she recognized it from the Magic Box. But even if she could have read them, they looked so dirty she wouldn’t have touched the books with a ten foot pole.

She even thought about the homework waiting for her at home. How bored could she get to long for homework? Another look at her watch told her, that it was already a quarter past ten.

“It’ll take some time, ya’ know.” Her musings were interrupted by the slurred voice of the young man in the corner. “Rack likes them young and juicy. Me? I don’t stand a chance against such a cutie as your friend. You know how long I’ve been waiting here already? Hours let me tell you.”

Dawn tried to look uninterested and hoped he would shut up. It was bad enough to be cooped up here, with nothing to distract her. Now this creep was all chatty, like they were buddies or something.

But the man wasn’t discouraged so easily. “He gives you a boost first, ya’ know? A bonus to get you hooked. Then when you want more, you have to pay. Not with money, oh no. I couldn’t have afforded it if he’d wanted money. He wants power, a slice of your own power as price for the elixir.” Dawn noticed that the man's hands were shaking and his voice was grating with need as he spoke.

Dawn shrunk back further into her chair and looked at her watch again. It had been well over an hour already. God, what was Willow doing in there?

“You always want more. It’s never enough power, ya’ know? Once you start, after you get the first taste, you can’t live without more…” The young man looked at her with so much despair in his eyes that Dawn felt sorry for him.

It was nearly ten-thirty now. She needed to be home now – Buffy would be home shortly and she knew her sister would be worried sick if she wasn’t there. What if Willow didn't come out soon? “You said, it’d take time. How long?” Dawn finally acknowledged the man.

“Oh, don’t know… the first time maybe two, three hours…”

“Three hours! Oh no, I’ve to go home!” Dawn was beyond anxious. She pictured Buffy’s face when she got home and the house was empty. Buffy would think they had an accident when she checked at the Magic Box and was told that she had been gone for such a long time already. She had to go home. She would normally never go out alone at night, she wasn’t stupid, but hadn’t Spike always said that Halloween was a night off for vampires and demons; that no real monsters would be out and about on this particular night?

Decision made, Dawn stood up to leave. Before closing the door behind her she turned and addressed the man a last time. “Tell Willow, I went home.”

He was sitting in his chair, rocking back and forth, humming a monotone little tune. Dawn didn’t know if he’d even heard her, but it was the best she could do.

~*~

Dawn nearly ran down the dimly lit corridor towards the door, silently chanting “let me out of here, please let me out!” She was relieved when the front door simply opened with a creak in front of her and she ran through. God, how she was glad she’d finally gotten out of that rat hole! She scanned the area for some sort of weapon – just in case - and ripped a plank from an abandoned crate. It came off with a satisfyingly ragged point.

Staying in the golden pools of the street lamps as much as possible, Dawn walked briskly through the dark streets. Crap, she was nearly at the other side of town from Revello Drive. The streets were deserted, all the kids with their entourages and tricky treats were back home and most likely either packed safely in bed or violently ill. She remembered with a shudder the one Halloween she’d stuffed herself with chocolate and Jujubes. She’d spent an hour vomiting when she got home, never again!

If she might cut across the cemetery, it would be much shorter, but Dawn didn’t dare to chance her luck. She was now shivering violently in the cold night air and her teeth had begun to chatter. The skimpy costume didn’t give her much protection and she tried to warm herself with a slow jog. It wasn’t far now, only around the south corner of the cemetery wall and then down a few streets through the quiet neighborhood and she would be home.

“Look who’s there, out all on her own. Bit late for the play, aren’t you?”

Dawn shrieked as a voice from her right startled her. She looked up and saw a swarthy man crouching on the cemetery wall, dressed in a shabby, dusty suit. Damn her luck, if that wasn’t a vampire she would eat her makeshift stake! She quickly hid her weapon behind her back; maybe he’d not seen it yet. If she could surprise him with it, that would give her an advantage and she would need all the help she could get.

Slowly she backed away. “What play do you mean?”

“Well, you’re a cheerleader, aren’t you, girl? When there are cheerleaders, there ought to be a play. Bit late for a training session.” He sounded smug.

Oh, he was a smart one, clearly a giant in the brain department. Hadn’t he gotten the message that it was Halloween? Costume and all? On second thought, if he’d just risen, maybe he didn’t know. Maybe she should tell him - as if that would make any difference now.

“Oh, that! That’s only my Halloween costume. Where’ve you been living, on the moon?” Buffy always said that her quips distracted the vamps. Dawn’s mind wasn’t working too well in the quipage-department right now; it was more focused on the ‘Oh my God’ litany.

“Halloween? Bit early aren’t you? That’s in two days.” The vamp looked puzzled and frowned until a rumbling stomach growl distracted him. “I’m hungry!”

“No! Today's Halloween, you’ve lost two days being dead! And, ahmm, all vamps stay at home on Halloween – it’s like a rule or something, so shouldn’t you, well, go home to wherever you came from?” Dawn didn’t believe that he would fall for that argument, but she tried nevertheless.

Slowly, step by step, she backed away onto the street behind her. Maybe if she surprised him she could get enough head start to reach her house. Once inside, she’d be safe. With a last wary look at him she turned and began running as fast as she could.

The cold air burned in her lungs as she sprinted down the sidewalk, along the quiet street, past dark houses. She could hear the vamp jump down from the wall behind her, and that made her run even faster. Her feet were pounding on the pavement in long strides, her arms pumped hard, swinging the pompoms wildly. Her right hand clutched her roughly made stake while the left fumbled in the pocket of her skirt for the key.

She was nearly home!

A blow at her back made her stumble. Dawn tried to turn around while falling as the impact slammed the wind out of her lungs. Her hand with the stake was caught behind her back and she wriggled frantically to free it. The vamp’s knees came down right and left of her as he settled on her hips, effectively pinning her to the sidewalk.

Dawn let out a piercing shriek, long and ear shattering, winding higher and higher like a siren. For a moment the vamp was startled then he clapped his hands over his ears. Yeah, super sensitive vampire hearing, take that! With fear-powered effort, she pulled the stake free and thrust it upwards with all the force she could muster. For a moment Dawn saw his eyes, suddenly wide open and scared, then she coughed as the dust settled on her face.

Another important tidbit nobody had told her about: Never inhale when you stake a vamp.

Two strong hands grabbed her arms, pulled her up off the pavement and into a tight hug. “Niblet, thought we'd be too late...” Spike’s voice rumbled in her ears.

“I’m fine. Air!” Dawn gasped as she struggled to breathe in his iron grip.

“God, Dawn, are you all right? Spike, give her some space, let her breath.” Buffy exclaimed as she ran up behind them, panting, her voice full of fear.

Dawn looked up at them, full of relief but also pride. She’d staked her first vampire! “Did you see? I staked him! God, he had me so scared, he was all Grrr and then I couldn't get the stake out from under me - I thought I was a goner! When I screamed he went like Arrgh... and I got the stake free and – POOF- vamp dust…”

“Dawnie, thank God you’re ok.” Buffy pulled her into her arms, squeezing the newly found breath back out of her. “What were you doing here, all alone? Where’s Willow? We came home and the house was dark. We just started calling the Magic Box when we heard your scream. Spike nearly tore down our front door to get outside. Thank God he didn't - heaven knows what that would've cost me.”

“You were brilliant, Bit. Let’s get back in and we'll talk ‘bout it, yeah? You're ice cold.” With that, Spike led his girls home.

~*~

An hour later, Dawn was still too hyper to sleep. She’d told them about everything that happened at Rack’s several times now and Buffy was worried for Willow, while Spike was clearly furious. He paced around the living room like a tiger confined within a too small cage. Dawn even imagined she could hear him growl.

“When I get my hands on that silly bint…” Spike started yet another time.

“Spike, please. That doesn't help, Willow might be in danger! What if this warlock trapped her in a spell so she couldn’t leave?” Buffy tried in vain to placate him.

“Ya know, Red's powerful. She might've encountered someone better than her, but Niblet would’ve noticed something for sure.” He took another circle and whirled back to where Buffy and Dawn were sitting on the couch.

“I don’t like what the Bit said about that tosser in the waitin' room. Sounds more like addiction to me and that's a tricky one to fight. Casting powerful spells is bad enough, but using magic just for the kick of it? Magic always has consequences…”

Suddenly the front door opened with a loud bang and Willow stormed in. “Is Dawn here? She ran off… Is she ok?” Willow looked flustered, her cheeks burning and her pupils dilated.

“You left me alone there! You said just a few minutes and I waited for way more than an hour!” Dawn accused Willow. She wouldn’t take the blame here.

“Dawnie, I was only gone a little while and when I came back you were gone!”

“It was nearly an hour and a half! The guy should've told you that I went home!” Why did she have to defend herself? Dawn shook her head. “It’s not my fault!”

Buffy stood up and interrupted the accusations sharply. Spike stepped behind her, forming a solid barrier between Willow and Dawn.

“Willow, you should check your watch. Dawn told me you left the Magic Box around nine and now it’s well past midnight.” Buffy stared Willow down. “Where have you been all that time? I trusted you with Dawn and you deserted her in a room with strangers? She nearly got killed on her way back home!”

With her mouth hanging open, Willow checked the time. “I didn’t notice how late it is already. Oh my God, Tara! She's waiting for me at the Magic Box!”

Willow looked with pleading eyes from Buffy to Spike. “I didn’t mean to leave her alone so long, really. I only wanted to check out this Guru. I didn’t think it would do any harm.”

“You didn’t think, that much is clear! Why couldn’t you’ve brought Dawn home first?” Spike stepped closer to Willow, anger radiating off him in waves. “You can’t mess with magic; don’t you have any respect for the forces you play with?”

Tiny blue flickers of lightning zipped between Willow’s fingers. “Don’t threaten me, vampire! I'm a witch - a powerful witch; you don't want to piss me off!”

Her eyes grew darker, her pupils dilating even more, swallowing up her usual grey green eyes. Static cracked in her hair as it started to rise in a cloud around her head. “I’m more than capable of taking you on.”

Dawn stared wide eyed at Willow and pressed her knuckles over her mouth. The vampire attack hadn't scared her as much as the redhead did now. She remembered the 'Ball of Sunshine' spell - what if Willow hurt or even killed Spike? She let out a little whimper and shrunk back into the couch.

“Stop it, both of you.” Buffy placed her hand on Spike’s arm, but he didn't waver. She turned around and stared up at him. As she pressed her palms firmly on his chest and pushed him away from the witch, he finally acquiesced and stepped back.

She took a calming breath and faced her friend. “Willow, it’s late. I think it’d be best if you leave now.”

Willow gave Spike a final deadly glance and locked her gaze with Buffy. Her widened black pupils reflected the living room like a dark mirror and distorted shadows moved in their depth. “I thought I was your friend, Buffy, but I know, when I'm not welcome.”

Invisible hands flung the front door behind Willow wide open and it banged loudly into the wall. Dawn flinched as plaster crumbled to the floor.

All three watched in silence as the witch turned and nearly glided down the front steps. A cold, violent wind came out of nowhere and swirled her hair around her head in a burning halo.

In a small, frightened voice Dawn said what everybody was thinking. “Buffy, what happened to Willow?”

Buffy went to the Magic Box the next day to ask Giles for advice about Willow. In the early afternoon the shop was quiet so Giles had sent Anya to the airport to pick up some valuable deliveries. Buffy settled at the research table, undisturbed for a while.

She immediately reported on the proceedings of last night which weighed heavily on her mind. “Giles, remember Willow offered to bring Dawn home last night? Well, she made a detour and visited some dimension-y magic booster or what-not, some warlock.”

Briefly Buffy covered the bare facts of what Dawn had told them about the visit. She left out the vampire attack on her sister, nothing could be done about that now and she didn’t want Giles to worry unnecessarily. But what to do about Willow?

“When Willow came to my house hours later looking for Dawn, she was – I don’t know how to describe it – ‘out of control’ would be the only way to explain her attitude. I’ve never seen Willow like that, so enraged, so charged. Her face was flushed and her pupils huge; she was covered in crackling energy bolts, like a walking nuclear reactor. When we asked what she’d been doing, she totally flipped out. She threatened us and I don’t know if she even noticed that she nearly ripped my door off its hinges with her magic. I swear she literally floated down the front porch.”

“Buffy, my dear, you must be exaggerating. Willow has power, true, but she is also just a beginner, dabbling a bit in magic. Primarily her spells are just little charms, like the children’s play she did on Halloween. You are clearly overrating her abilities.”

Buffy was disappointed about Giles’ reaction. She had to admit that it might be harder for him to envision Willow as the menacing, out of control witch that Buffy had witnessed. She wouldn’t have believed it either, had she not seen with her own eyes the radical change her normally meek and unostentatious friend had gone through.

“Giles, I don’t know. Maybe this warlock messed around with her. He might’ve, you know, hexed her or something.” Buffy shook her head and looked expectantly at Giles.

“That might be a possibility. When he put power into her, like your retelling of the events suggests, that might explain the phenomenon you described: the crackling of energy and her flushed state. The power was seemingly trying to find a way to leave her again. To be sure, we would need more information about this warlock and his whereabouts.”

Buffy leaned forward in her seat and put her hand flat on the surface. “Giles, I searched today for this Rack, that’s his name, in the alley Dawn told me about. It was just deserted buildings - there was no sign anybody had ever been there. But I’m not a witch, I can’t detect magic if it doesn’t jump up and smack me in the face. I might've trampled straight through his office without even noticing it. Maybe you should take a look?”

Giles rubbed the bridge of his nose and pushed his glasses higher. “I will do this, certainly. If this warlock is so renowned, I might find some information or at least references about him in the Wiccan registers. This would also be a good opportunity to try out the Council’s new online research library – providing I can still remember how to operate it.”

Buffy sighed, “Spike has no clue who Rack is, he’d never heard of him. He tried to sniff him out yesterday. We thought, if Rack’s still there he might smell him, or get a tickle, or a rash, or whatever. You know how Spike hates magic? I found his note this morning that he came up empty – ummh, he did phrase it a little more colorfully, of course. There were lots of ‘buggers’ and ‘bloodys’ in it.”

She smiled a bit about the memory. Spike had surprised her with that note. It was nothing special, just a few sentences scribbled on a ripped apart envelope, but with elegant, flowing writing, like calligraphy.

“I went to Willy’s and asked if anyone knew of Rack, but again, zilch. But you know Willy the weasel, if he gets no profit out of it, his brain turns to mush. I hit some of his customers, but that didn't bring up anything either. Not that I'd expected it, but...” Buffy looked a bit sheepish.

Thinking back, she’d just needed an excuse to funnel some of her pent up anger and frustration on the few demons hanging out there during the morning. Well, if they attacked a grumpy Slayer, or stood in the way of her fists, it was their own fault anyway.

Giles looked her over, amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. Clearly he had seen her true motivation behind the facts. “It would be best if we confront Rack personally. I’ll need to know the nature of his defenses and how to pass this barrier. You said that Willow chanted something? This might have been a password to open the gateway. I just wonder how Dawn could escape such a strong magical boundary, without help.”

Buffy stood up and restlessly paced the room, her arms folded over her chest. She needed to bring the topic back to Willow. “I would really like to blame Willow’s behavior on a spell, Giles. Just, I've a bad feeling with this one. Willow’s often been impulsive the last few weeks, like she was, I don’t know, above the rest of us – like our opinions didn’t matter – even with Tara. Willow's my friend and I don't want her to turn into what I saw last night. It was frightening. Whatever she was, she wasn't our Willow anymore.”

Giles pulled off his glasses and started to polish them again. “Maybe we should reduce the pressure on her for the moment. She’s spending a lot of her time helping with research and spell work. Now that university has started again, perhaps we should give her more time for her studies.”

Buffy shook her head and shrugged slightly. “Giles, I’m not so sure that’ll help, but it’s worth a try. I talked to Tara on the phone and I’ll meet up with her and Wills later at the Espresso Pump. Something’s going on, Willow is changing and not in a way I think is safe for her and everyone around her. I know Tara’s worried too, but I don’t want to question her behind Willow’s back about what’s going on. That wouldn’t be good, not for their relationship, or for my friendship with Willow.”

Giles smiled at Buffy. “Haven’t you grown up in the last year? I always forget how adult you are already. I often still see the headstrong young girl, who came into my library and wanted nothing more than to shed her Calling. The cheerleader, more concerned about fashion and dating than ‘vampyres’. You came along with friends and family, and turned my entire Watcher’s training upside-down.”

Giles paused for a moment and took a deep breath. “That reminds me of something else I wanted to talk to you about. While I was in London at the Watcher’s headquarters, I had also some talks with Travers. I don't agree with a lot of the Council’s procedures, but what he suggested made sense.”

Uh oh. That was what Buffy had feared. Interference from the Council again and Travers for sure hadn't forgotten how she outmaneuvered him last year. Giles at least had the decency to look uncomfortable. She slumped back into her chair and braced herself for what was coming.

He cleared his throat. “It is great that you have your friends, and now also Spike, to help you. You rely on them and that’s worked remarkably well in the past. But, what if you become too dependent on them? What if a situation arises where you can’t get help from them?”

Giles looked at Buffy, concern in his eyes. “Even worse, what if they get into trouble and you can’t help them? What if one of them dies? That would be a blow you might never recover from. What if you get distracted trying to protect them? You are taking a great risk, not just with your life, but with theirs, as well.”

Even if she didn’t like the questions, Buffy could see his point. She herself had often enough replayed scenes of ‘what if’ in her head. She absentmindedly shifted one of Anya’s bridal magazines back and forth on the tabletop.

“Please Giles, that’s one of those ‘chicken and the egg’ questions! What if I don’t take them with me and I lose? What if they cross a street and get run over by a car? They are living on the Hellmouth, after all - everything goes haywire here. It was always their decision to join the fight, I never asked them to – they just did it. Even when I tried to keep them away, they still got involved. I can’t forbid them to volunteer and, unlike the average people in Sunnydale, they at least know the threat they’re dealing with. The best I can do is place them where they’re of the most value and in the least danger.”

Giles stood up and walked over to the counter and back again. It clearly wasn’t an easy topic for him either. He looked down at her, concern but also understanding in his eyes. “I don’t want you to order them to stay back; we both know they are much too stubborn for that to work. But perhaps you could act more independently once in a while? Patrol without your friends; you can take Spike with you. He’s nearly as strong as you and knows how to handle himself in nearly any situation. If you cut down your dependence on all of your friends, this would also reduce the pressure on Willow without making it obvious.”

Buffy’s shoulders sagged as she thought this over. Was this what being grown up was about, making the hard decisions, or was that just a Slayer thing? Didn’t her problems ever get any easier? Whenever she felt some burden had been lifted, another one descended on her, just to keep her life from being enjoyable. Money problems, school problems, friend problems – where did it end?

Willow was veering off into unknown territory. She might lose their house and custody of Dawn, not to mention that she herself didn’t have a future to speak of. She might never have a chance to finish college and what job opportunities would that give her? She shuddered when she envisioned herself, working at a burger joint for barely enough to keep food on the table, the smell of rancid grease her substitute for Chanel No.5. Didn’t life ever get easier?

No matter how hard she tried, it was never enough. Life was throwing her one curve ball after another. As the Slayer, she could save the world from an impending Apocalypse. But as a woman, dealing with real life? She sucked! Boyfriends? She had efficiently chased them all – well, both of them - away. Now she seemed to be pulling Dawn and her friends down into the drain with her. What else was there to do for her?

“Okay, Giles. I’ll think about it.”

~*~

Buffy was sitting at a small table in the Espresso Pump, her hands folded around her hot White Chocolate Moccachino, while she stared vacantly at the sprinkles of dark chocolate chips melting on the frothy surface. It was growing dark and the evening chill was closing in. She tried to rehearse in her mind what she might say to Willow. How would her friend react? She hoped the witch wouldn’t go all ‘electrified woman’ on her again. When Willow and Tara arrived with their drinks at her table, an uncomfortable silence settled on the threesome.

“Willow, I’m sorry that…”

“Buffy, I shouldn’t have…”

Buffy started at the same time as Willow. They looked at each other and laughed, the ice finally broken. The redhead seemed her normal self again, no lightning cracks of energy, no black eyes, or electrified hair anywhere in sight.

“Buffy, I’m sorry that you worried about Dawn last night. I should’ve brought her right home from the Magic Box.” Willow gave her an apologetic look and shrugged it off.

Buffy had to give Willow credit for trying to look sorry, but there was an undercurrent in her voice that suggested that it was not heartfelt.

Buffy tried to explain her reaction to what had happened the previous night. “Willow, I may have overreacted, but I was so worried when we came back and Dawn wasn’t there. She got attacked by a vampire on her way home and was nearly killed! It’s a wonder she was able to stake him; we would’ve been too late to save her from getting bitten – she would’ve been completely drained before we could’ve gotten there.”

Oh, God, just when she thought about it again, Buffy could still feel the icy cold hand of fear wrap around her heart and squeeze it to a pulp. She’d never run so hard in her life, and with each footstep she felt the certain dread that she would be too late. Even though Spike had a head start on her, it wouldn’t have been enough to prevent Dawn from getting bitten.

“Oh my God! Buffy, how horrible! Is Dawn ok? This must’ve been so traumatic for her!” Tara’s voice trembled and her eyes were wide with concern.

“It’s okay, Tara, she’s alright. She was even smug about it this morning; thankfully she’s focusing on her first staking and not on the horror of being attacked. I don’t know how often I can endure her telling the tale though. Hasn’t Willow told you anything about it?”

“Uhmm, no.” Tara looked hesitantly at Willow. “When she got home, I was already asleep. Anya and Xander walked home with me when Willow didn’t come back. Xander was really upset that she didn’t bring his car back in time. We all thought that you’d just had an extra long patrol and she had to wait for you longer than expected.”

Buffy hesitated and took a sip of her rapidly cooling moccachino. She didn’t know how to bring up the topic about Willow going over the top. “Hmm, Wills, why did you go to that warlock, anyway? You were so, I don’t know, so high afterwards.”

Willow didn’t look fazed though. “Meagan, from the camp - Tara, you remember her? She was the tall brunette who taught me the cleansing spells? She recommended him and I wanted to check it out. If Dawn had just waited for me like I told her, nothing bad would’ve happened - she shouldn’t have run off on her own. Rack only gave me a short demonstration about how he works, and I think, ummm, I sort of got drunk on it. I felt a bit tipsy afterwards. But nothing bad, really.”

“Willow, you nearly yanked the door off its hinges and you seriously threatened Spike! This wasn’t ‘a bit tipsy’ but a full blast of fright night special, with lightning effects and a wind machine. Rack clearly must’ve done something weird to you! I think I should look into this guy… I mean what do you really know about him?”

Tara listened, her face showing concern as she looked back and forth between them. Her own hot chocolate sat forgotten in front of her.

Willow shook her head and rolled her eyes. “No, he didn’t mess with me. He couldn’t, even if he tried. I’m much too strong for that. He just gave me a bit of a power boost, like a vitamin drink. I felt a little fuzzy afterwards, hyper, like I said, but nothing more. And hey, it was just Spike, I didn’t actually do anything to him and he shouldn’t have attacked me anyway, verbally or otherwise. What was he thinking, accusing me like that?”

“Spike was angry because of what happened to Dawn. You know how he feels about her.”

“Yeah, he behaves like Dawn’s his favorite pet. He’s a vampire, for heaven’s sake, Buffy. They don’t have real feelings, so I couldn’t have hurt his.”

Buffy sighed; Spike’s feelings weren’t the point right now as much as she might have argued with Willow about it. “Wills, Giles wants to look into the background of this Rack character, so will you help him? He’d need to know how to locate him and open the doorway to his office. We need to know how long this warlock will stay in town and what his intentions are. I don’t feel comfortable with an unknown player wielding this kind of power so near to the Hellmouth – you know how dangerous that can be.”

Willow averted her eyes as she answered reluctantly. “Rack gave me the coordinates to meet with him tomorrow. I’m not sure it’s a good idea to take Giles with me though. He might frighten Rack off and I want to attend some more sessions with him before he leaves the area.”

“Willow, d-d-do you… you think that’s a good idea?” Tara was wringing her hands in distress. “I d-d-don’t think you should go there again, please. Why do you need more power? You’re already much more powerful than me, can’t you be content with the blessings you’ve gotten from the goddess?”

Buffy joined in, “I’ve got to agree with Tara. Until we know more about him, it might be dangerous to go there again. Willow, please, act reasonably. Don’t go back!”

Willow looked from Buffy to Tara with a dangerous glint in her eyes. “Now you’ve banded together against me? You want to decide what I do and who I see?”

“Willow, sweetie, that’s not…”

Willow cut Tara’s protest short and focused her wrath on Buffy. “Are you jealous because I finally have a chance to make something of the powers I’ve got? Afraid that I’ll become equal to the Slayer?” Willow asked with a sneer.

Buffy was completely thrown by these sudden accusations; Willow’s words and attitudes were so unlike her usually thoughtful friend.

Willow stood abruptly and turned to leave. “I’m going home now. You coming, Tara?”

Tara shot an anxious glance at Buffy and slid hesitantly off her seat. She looked sad, at a loss for words and slightly ashamed. Buffy watched them leave, Tara trailing behind Willow, giving Buffy a final timid wave before crossing the street.

That didn’t go well. Where had the conversation slipped into the disaster zone? Willow was defensive to begin with, but once Buffy suggested staying clear of Rack, the whole talk had exploded. Then the comment about being equal to the Slayer - where had that come from? Had Buffy given Willow the impression that she thought that she was better than her?

She looked after the retreating figures. Had she lost her best friend after all? She’d tried to mend the break that had been forming in their relationship. Willow had been her friend since her first day at school. They had exchanged confidences and shared their boyfriend troubles. Willow had followed her through all kinds of dangers, always standing at her side. Where had they taken a wrong turn?

The now cold, only half drunk moccachino stayed behind on the table as Buffy headed home, deep in thought.

~*~

When people spontaneously started to dance and sing in the streets Buffy jumped on the opportunity to distract her with the new mystery to puzzle out. It seemed innocent enough when it started, the strange music wafting through the air. People started singing about everyday routines like dry cleaning or parking tickets. Nothing sinister it seemed, but Buffy decided it needed investigating. Nobody turned her town into a musical stage without consulting her first. What if she didn’t like the act? She so detested tap dancing.

Later that night the situation reached red alert status for Buffy when she started her own dance routine during a normal patrol. A Slayer shouldn’t join hands with her prey to a choreography she hadn’t approved of. She couldn’t stop and resist the urge to gracefully weave around the headstones to the irresistible music - and she never sang. She always had hated singing in public and she knew that she wasn’t any good at it.

♫
Every single night
The same arrangement
I go out and fight the fight
Still I always feel this strange estrangement
Nothing here is real
Nothing here is right

I’ve been making a show of living
But now I’m tired of all this giving
Dutifully going through the motions
Walking through the part
Nothing helps to lighten my heart

Every single day
The same arrangement
I stand up and try to cope
Still I always have this empty feeling
Nothing here is real
Nothing here is right

I’ve not known what real life requires
What a heavy burden it can be
Alone I’ve handled all the problems
Repairs and endless household bills
Everything seems to work against my will
♫

Buffy didn’t find this amusing at all.

The next day as the first fatality turned up and the Scoobies kicked the research mode into overdrive. Apparently the dancing wasn’t just comic relief, a slapstick routine to amuse the onlookers. If the dancer couldn’t stop, he started to burn, until only a pile of dust remained. The ‘dancing bug’, as Xander had named it, seemed to affect all kinds of people, but most often it struck those who were not content with the turn of their life or who had suffered some loss in the past.

When the Scooby gang assembled at the Magic Box, Buffy noticed that Willow and Tara were holding hands. She had a nagging feeling that there had been some discord between the lovers, but whenever she tried to pinpoint it, the memory seemed to slip away from her grasp – like trying to catch a wisp of smoke or to remember an elusive dream. It couldn’t have been too important if she couldn’t remember it, right? She smiled at them affectionately. Star struck lovers, how nice to see them so devoted to each other.

Willow gave her that special little wave, wriggling her fingers, and placed a tender kiss on Tara’s cheek. The blonde girl blushed at that open display of affection and twirled a small, dusty pink flower between her fingers. With a sweet mellow voice she began to sing.

♫
I lived my life in shadow,
Never the sun on my face
It didn’t seem so bad so,
It just seemed my place.

Now I’m bathed in light
Something just isn’t right
Am I under your spell?
How else can that be?
♫

Willow laid her hand around Tara’s shoulder and pulled her near and answered in a low voice.

♫
You fill my life with sweetness
Always staying at my side
Everything to bring you forgiveness
To open your arms for me wide

To look at me with love
I put you under my spell
To erase all bad feelings
What else could I do?
♫

Tara looked questioningly at Willow and lowered her gaze to the flower in her lap.

After the witches’ song, Xander and Anya also confessed that they had a dance routine for breakfast, but they were extremely vague about the nature of the song. The Scoobies had already figured out that the theme and style always had some meaning for the affected, but if that was relevant at all was still beyond them.

While the gang turned pages after pages of musty old books, looking for a musical demon, a spell, or a magical disease responsible for this behavior, Buffy went to Spike for information.

At least this was what she told her friends. Nobody questioned her because really, Buffy and research were kinda unmix-y.

~*~

When Buffy entered his crypt Spike was just finishing his breakfast – well, if you call gulping down a cup of blood with pieces of crumbly stuff in it breakfast. Somehow it didn’t seem to bother her today as she hopped on his sarcophagus without any of her usual biting comments.

He strolled around the room to light some candles and watched her out of the corner of his eye. Her fingers toyed with the hem of her shirt and her teeth worried her lower lip. Clearly she had something on her mind, but he knew his lesson by heart, prodding her tended to just shut her up. So he continued to brush nonexistent crumbs from his chair and straightened his stack of video tapes.

“Have you heard about the incidents?” She suddenly blurted out.

“Sunnydale, the musical?” He tried to joke. “At least I’m not on the payroll. Can you imagine me doing Fred Astaire?”

“It’s not funny anymore. People have died.” Buffy’s voice was just a whisper, floating in the shadows of his dim, candlelit crypt. “Some of the victims seem to not be able to stop; they literally dance into their own graves. One of them had recently lost his wife to cancer, they’d reported in the paper that he was depressed and was taking medication.”

Clearly something about that was bothering her. He stood quiet and attentive, waiting for her to continue.

“Giles thinks there’s a pattern. Like, you know, they didn’t want to stop; or didn’t have the energy to stop. That they gave up resisting.” She lowered her eyes to the floor and tucked a lock behind her ear with slightly trembling fingers.

“I danced last night.” Her voice was hollow, devoid of all life; an icy promise of an endless winter.

The silence was deafening. If he had to breathe, he would have stopped now.

Then Buffy’s eyes locked onto his, holding his gaze steadily. “Remember, when you told me about the death wish all Slayers have? I think I get it now.”

No, no, no. Spike twitched to step towards her and wrap her in his arms, but stopped, too afraid that it would chase her away.

“It’s always the same, you know. Every day. The only sure thing in my future is that I will die. One day soon, I’ll lose – the demons just need ‘one good day’, right? And then there will be another Chosen One, the only memory of my end will be a footnote in a Watcher’s diary. And it will go on and on and never end.”

She turned her head away from him, unable to meet his eyes. “I feel like I’m being stretched, every day a bit thinner, a bit tighter, and the tension is growing. I feel like I’ll snap at any moment.”

She was breaking his heart. Gently he stepped nearer, tentative and quiet. When Buffy looked back up at him her eyes were filled with tears. She held out her hand pleadingly.

“Help me. Can you help me?”

Spike took her outstretched hand, cautiously, like encasing a timid little bird that was only faintly fluttering, too weak to take flight. His strong girl, his precious Slayer, so broken. And she asked him for help! All his barriers broke down and he began to sing.

♫
I died
so many years ago
and you can make me feel
like it isn't so
But why you come to be with me
I think I finally know

You're scared,
Confused by what you feel
And you won’t tell the ones you love
You want them to believe
That all is well, that nothing changed
That your façade is real

That's great
But I don't wanna see
'cause seein’ you hurt touches me
More than I can say
And since you seem to trust me now
I'm saying let me in
I’ll help you live in peace

Let me give you rest
Let me help you sleep
Sink into my arms and wrap you
In my love safe and secure
Let me bear your burden with you
To give you sweet release
So your heart can rest in peace
♫

Buffy stared at him, her green eyes wide and scared, like a deer frozen in the headlights.

“Spike…” Her voice was a promise, low and soft, full of warmth despite the trembling.

Like an invitation to a dance, she lifted her hand towards him. He could watch the emotions flittering across her face, each chasing the other away. Hope – Hesitation – Skepticism – Resignation - Longing.

Before he could grab her hand to pull her out of her misery, her limb fell lifelessly to her side. Then the spell was broken and she turned and ran.

Spike felt like he had nearly connected to her. Just one precious moment more! Now she was gone again, beyond his grasp, and he couldn’t follow her out into the afternoon sunlight.

~*~

When Dawn came home after school, the house was quiet and deserted. A message stuck to the fridge door: ’At the Magic Box. Do your homework. There’s a sandwich in the fridge for your dinner. No ice cream until you’ve eaten it.’

Okay, that wasn’t anything new for her. She took the peanut butter and banana sandwich and some milk up to her room to do her homework. While she cleared her desk she stumbled across the amulet.

When she held it up to the sunlight streaming in from the window it glittered in the sun, painting the walls in gaudy rainbow patterns. She felt slightly guilty that she’d taken it from the Magic Box, but it was so pretty! Anyway, it must have slipped out of a customer’s bag since she’d found it sticking out from under the counter. Really, nobody would know who the owner was, right? So, no harm done! It wasn’t like she’d been stealing stuff. Not on purpose. She’d just picked it up, like a penny lying on the pavement. Like the old saying, ‘finder’s keepers, losers weepers’?

She put the chain around her neck and admired the jewel in the mirror. It did suit her, the blue cut stone in exactly the color of her eyes, encased in intricate silver ornaments. She pulled her t-shirt down a bit until the amulet lay on her chest, emphasizing her still moderate cleavage.

A knock on the front door startled her. She let her shirt slide up hiding the amulet as she went downstairs to answer the door. Three strangers immediately pressed through the doorway and grabbed her. They had wooden, carved masks, or were these their faces? Before she had a chance to scream, one of them had pressed a damp cloth firmly over her mouth. The sickly sweet scent made her stomach heave and then her vision blurred and everything went dark.

When Dawn woke up, still slightly woozy, it took her a moment to get her bearings. She was at the Bronze, lying on one of the billiard tables. How did she get here? Her head swum as she tried to remember what happened, but her memories were misty and distorted. There was an overly sweet medicine-y taste in her mouth that made her gag. Then she remembered - the strangers! She’d been abducted, but why?

When the music started, her body acted of its own volition as she slipped off the table to dance with the demons holding her captive. She knew immediately that she was in serious trouble, but she couldn’t seem to stop. As she wove between the masked figures, gracefully evading their grasp, she kept trying to dance nearer to the doors. Abruptly the music stopped and a loud clapping made her aware of a man - no, a demon! - standing on the stage in the spotlight.

"Welcome, my delicious young girl. Allow me to introduce myself. ’M called Sweet. So young and beautiful, I’m a lucky one this time. What a lovely queen you’ll make." Like a Master of Ceremonies of one of the cheaper Las Vegas shows he was dressed in a flashy, blazing red suit with sooo out-of-date shoulder padding. Golden rings pierced his ears and his chin was long and sharply pointed. He looked at her with glittering eyes half hidden under heavy lids.

"Why am I here? What’s with the queen talk? What do you want with me?" Dawn was enraged. What did that moron think? She took several steps backwards until she bumped into one of his minions.

"You can’t just grab me! Wait ‘til my sister finds you. She’s the Slayer! She’s so not gonna let you take me anywhere!" threatened Dawn, trying to sound more confident than she felt at that moment.

"Ah, the Slayer? Your sister is the Slayer? Oh, what an opportunity! Today’s my lucky day it seems. I always wanted to get me a Slayer," purred the demon.

"Dress her up for the ceremony and don’t let her slip away." Sweet commanded his underlings. "You, Milroy, fetch me the Slayer!"

~*~

When Buffy returned to the Magic Box the gang’s research still hadn’t been successful. Her friends all sat around the table, clearly exhausted and, judging by the crumbs and icing sugar strewn about, even a whole load of jelly filled doughnuts hadn’t helped. As the door opened with a loud jingle, everybody looked at the Ronald Reagan wannabe in the entrance.

"I’ve a message for the Slayer," the stranger stated boldly. "I was told I can find her here."

"What do you want from me?" Buffy considered the intruder and moved discreetly between him and her friends. Clearly a demon, but she hadn’t encountered any of his kind before.

"We have your sister. If you want to get her back you’re to come to the Bronze after sunset." He looked at the group staring at him. "Come alone if you want to see your sister alive and well."

When Buffy strode forward menacingly he added, "I’m just the messenger, don’t blame me. I cannot guarantee the safety of your sister if I don’t return immediately and unharmed." With that, he slipped out the door and vanished.

Buffy turned back to the others and stated the obvious. "They have Dawn, whoever they are. We’ve to get her back."

"Indeed, I agree. Buffy, I believe... what I mean is, perhaps you should go and meet up with them yourself" Giles confirmed. When Xander and Willow started to rise he added "No, Buffy has to do this alone. You heard what the demon ordered. We can’t endanger Dawn until we know how many there are and what their intentions are. We shall all stay behind. Buffy is competent enough to do this on her own. We just might get in her way, endanger her mission - and Dawn."

Buffy nodded at Giles to acknowledge that she understood - it was what they’d talked about the other day. It made sense for her to go on her own, even if it felt weird. After she picked up several knives from the weapons stash, she hid them just inside the waistband on her slacks and quickly slipped out the door.

As she stood in front of the Magic Box, Buffy looked up at the darkening sky. The first stars were twinkling down at her as the music rose out of the shadows like evening mist and wrapped around her in a sheath of ice.

♫
I touch the fire and it freezes me
I look within me and it's bleak
Why can't I feel
My skin should crack and peel
I want the fire back

Now through the smoke he calls to me
To make my way across the flame
To save the day or melt away,
I guess it's all the same
So I will walk through the fire
'cause where else can I turn
I will walk through the fire
And let it...
♫

Meanwhile at the Bronze Sweet raised his head and tested the air. He let his senses float across the town, surfing on the tendrils of mist, searching for his prey. As his awareness wrapped around her, he nodded with satisfaction.

♫
She's getting warm it builds in her
She may just go up in a flash
And when she's done
Her friends can have the fun
Of sifting through the ash
Cause she is drawn to the fire
Some people yearn to die
And she will walk through the fire
And let it...
♫

Giles looked out the door where Buffy had vanished and frowned. Nobody looked at him as he started to sing.

♫
Is this really the right thing to do here
Am I leaving Dawn in danger
Should my slayer fight this on her own?
♫

Then Xander added,

♫
... What if Buffy can't defeat him?
♫

The Scoobies looked at each other and went out the door to follow Buffy. They had to help her. They always did. Relieved, Giles followed them into the night.

In the meantime, Buffy had nearly reached the entrance to the Bronze. She looked behind her down the dark, empty street and hesitated.

♫
So finally I’m on my own
I guess my friends can't understand
Why I did chose
Not one among them knows
And will never understand
♫

She had never felt so alone. She knew why Giles insisted that she go on her own; it was what they had agreed on. It was part of her now being a grown up, to stand on her own. That had been the whole point of their conversation, right? But it didn’t sit well with her, she missed her friends already.

Inside the Bronze Sweet closed his eyes and let his awareness scan the area again. Yes, the Slayer was already outside the door and her friends were closing in. There was also a vampire homing in, that was a puzzle but it didn’t matter; his spell would simply include him into the show. What a showdown it would be this time. He spread his arms and gloated.

♫
So one by one they come to me
The distant redness as their guide
But what they'll find
Ain't what they have in mind?
It's what they have inside
♫

~*~

Buffy entered the Bronze and closed the door behind her with a resolute bang. No time to be stealthy. She scanned the room quickly and noted the positions of each demon. She gave Dawn a thorough look over. She was sitting on the stage, dressed in a ridiculous princess outfit: a flimsy blue dress with ruffles, a sparkling tiara on her brow, and an amulet around her neck.

"So, here I am. Now let Dawn go." Buffy demanded as she stared at the demon on the center stage, crossing her arms. She didn’t feel as bold as she acted, but he mustn’t know that.

"The Slayer, I presume? What a pleasure to finally meet you. Well, one of you." The demon gave Buffy a deep mocking bow. "My name’s Sweet. So kind of you to invite me to your town."

"I didn’t invite you, and if you don’t want to leave feet first, you better go before I get really angry." Attack was always her strength.

"Ah, not so quick. We’ve still unfinished business." Sweet watched her with amusement. "You’ve also brought your own background singers, I see. How considerate of you."

Buffy turned around to watch her friends entering the Bronze. Everyone was there, even Giles. They formed a firm line behind her. She had felt something missing without her friends at her back, now she was more than glad to feel their solid support, backing her up.

"I’m not here to sing. We’ve already had too much singing in my town. I hold you responsible for the deaths though..." and Buffy advanced menacingly towards Sweet.

"Tsk, tsk. You summoned me. I didn’t come of my own volition. Now that I’m here I decide when there will be singing or dancing and - I feel like it now." Sweet commanded, clapping his hands twice and the music swelled up again.

Buffy stepped reluctantly towards the middle of the room into the spotlight. She straightened her back, threw her hair back over her shoulder and faced the demon defiantly.

♫
Life’s a show you don’t get to rehearse
And every single verse
Can make it that much worse
Still my friends don’t know that I despair
The million things or more
I can’t handle anymore
All the joys life sends
Are never mine to spend
♫

The Scoobies spread out at her back and joined the dance. She could hear the sweet soprano voice of Tara joining the chorus, then the firm alto of Anya weaving a counter tune.

Buffy swayed to the song, her movement jerky. She was struggling against the spell, trying to evade the dance, to control the words spilling out of her mouth. All the feelings she’d hidden from her friends; if out of shame or pride, she didn’t know. Now they were out in the open, for them to hear, for all to learn how she failed in her life.

♫
All the demands of life
Not knowing where to go
Everything depends
On if I can pay the bills
On if I find some work
To pay the price
To keep my home

All the money I need
Knowing they’ll take away
All that matters to me
Regardless how hard I try
On what efforts I take
It’s never enough
It’ always so tough

All the twists and bends
Knowing that it never ends
Well that depends
On if I want to struggle on
On if I shoulder the weight
So long ‘till I break
‘Till I’m finally done
♫

The music rose to a frantic beat and Buffy whirled faster and faster. Her desperation firing her spinning, driving her inevitably over the edge. Tendrils of smoke began to curl out of her clothing and her hair swirled wildly around her face. Her friends stared at her, stunned, unable to move forward and help.

Suddenly strong hands grabbed her shoulders and interrupted her whirling. Blue eyes burning with fear locked onto hers and the intensity in Spike’s gaze stopped her world from spinning out of its axis. With a trembling, pleading voice he finished her song.

♫
Life's not a song
Life isn't bliss
Life is just this: it's living
You'll get along
The pain that you feel
You only can heal by living
You have to go on living
So one of us is living
♫

His right hand reached up to cup Buffy’s cheek, his thumb tenderly wiping away the single tear trailing down her cheek. She stared into his eyes, lost in their endless dark blue depths. How was it that Spike, dead and cold, could radiate so much life, could warm up her frozen heart? Could give her the desire to stay and live... for him?

Loud clapping disrupted the sudden quiet. "Well, well, well, that was a real showstopper. Not what I’d expected," announced Sweet. "Now that we’re all assembled, I don’t assume you’ll let me take my queen and go?"

Buffy was completely stunned. Queen? She shook her head to clear it but felt totally out of the loop. After the drain of the dance her knees felt like overcooked spaghetti and her brain still reeled after her musical confessions.

"Buffy, I don’t want to go. He can’t just take me! I swear I didn’t want to take the amulet and I never did a spell with it." Dawn was in tears and tugged desperately at the jewel around her neck.

"Whoever invoked me has to keep the bargain and come with me," insisted Sweet as he added some mocking tap dance steps.

"Umm, excuse me! Is there also an opening for a drag-queen?" Xander tried to turn it into a joke, but when everybody just glared at him, he slumped down his shoulders and looked sheepish.

"Sorry... I thought it would be fun, you know, dancing and singing. I wanted to lighten up the mood. I didn’t know that it would end like this."

"Xander, what have you done? People died because of you! What were you thinking? Have you completely lost your mind?" Giles scolded him.

Sweet let out a disgusted snort. "You are pathetic. Keep the boy. I hope I’ll never see you again." With that the demon added an elegant pirouette and vanished with flapping coat tails in a blaze of sparkly fireworks as the music rose for the closing number.

~*~

Buffy couldn’t watch any longer. Her thoughts were tumbling through her head willy-nilly and she needed some quiet to sort them through. She silently slipped out the door into the cool night. Now everybody knew that she couldn’t handle her life anymore. What will they think about her? The Chosen One, defeated by profane everyday problems?

And Spike had been the only one to stop her. She looked up at the stars sparkling in a clear sky. Why did she respond to his wish for her to live for him? Why was Dawn not enough to keep her trying? Why not for her friends?

She heard the door open quietly behind her. Without turning she knew it was him, his familiar signature tickling her senses. "You ok, luv?"

Silently she turned around and nodded. As if pushed by the music inside, she stepped closer and lifted her head. The air seemed to quiver between them, crackling with tension. Slowly his head lowered until their lips nearly brushed against each other. She could feel his cool breath caressing her skin, his eyes burning into her, deeper and deeper, reaching for her heart.

She knew he waited for her. He always waited. For her to take the lead, to start the dance. This was the Spike who couldn’t wait one more day to kill her when they met the first time. The one who rushed head first into the thicket of a fight. A slight smile tugged at her lips as she leaned in and closed the distance.

Her lips brushed against his, barely touching, caressing the smooth skin of his full mouth. She could feel him trembling, his lips slightly parting. It felt like her whole self was streaming up to her mouth and in an exhale flowing into him. Though the only parts touching were their lips, it felt like she was melting into him, warming him with her breath. And when she inhaled she could feel him flowing into her, finally filling the bottomless void inside.

With a sharp crack, the door of the Bronze was opened and the excited chatter of the Scoobies invaded the moment. Buffy broke away and stared at Spike, struggling to find her way back to harsh reality.

"Go... please" she whispered desperately. She couldn’t handle him being so near, feeling him still wrapped around her, when she had to face her friends.

She watched silently as Spike turned and fled into the night, like always understanding her needs.

~*~

The Scoobies gathered around her, nervously shuffling their feet. Buffy watched them warily. Who would start pointing the finger at her?

When Giles cleared his throat she turned her gaze to him. She expected to see, what? Disappointment, or even worse, pity? But what she saw was shame.

"Buffy, had I known... I would have helped you of course. I’m your Watcher but I hoped I am also your friend. Can you forgive me?" Giles awkwardly laid his hand on her shoulder and Buffy collapsed into his embrace and started to weep silently.

Giles looked up at the others who were watching them intently. He wanted to talk to his Slayer, but in private. "Everybody please go, we’ll meet tomorrow afternoon at the Magic Box. Xander, I expect you to think about the tragedy your impulsive action has caused. People have died because you fiddled around with magic which you had no right to use in the first place. Tara, Willow, can you take Dawn home and stay with her until we arrive?"

Finally alone, he turned back to Buffy. "I’m so sorry. There really is no excuse for why I didn’t see how serious the situation is for you. I was so preoccupied with myself and the Council, that I didn’t notice what was going on around me. May I walk you home and we can talk on the way?"

When she nodded in agreement they started on their way back towards Revello Drive. Giles took a deep breath.

"After all you did to reinstate me as your Watcher, I feel deeply ashamed that I never thought about your own situation. I just stopped at the facade of the competent Slayer that you are. How you handle the direst situations and always come out as the winner. I never took the time to look beyond that."

Buffy waited patiently for him to continue.

"It is not an excuse, my dear, but your situation is so unusual. There has never had been a Slayer like you. Not only your longevity, but also that you grew up in your own family instead of being put into training as a potential at a young age. When called, you fought still living at home, with the support of a caring mother."

He stopped and looked her in the eye. "I cannot imagine how hard it is for you to have lost your mother. It was heartless of me not to offer you help and support immediately. But please let me help you now."

As Buffy nodded, Giles sighed in relief. "You are one of the longest living Slayers. So this situation is seldom addressed, but it is the responsibility of the Council not only to support the Watcher but also the Slayer. I will address this topic immediately, it is the least they can do to support you with regular payments. You have to get compensation if they want you in good fighting condition. It’s a scandal if the Council continues to sit in its grand headquarters in London and their Slayer is forced to work as waitress or shop girl to earn her living."

Once they had reached her house, they stopped for a moment on the front porch. Giles laid his hand on Buffy’s shoulder. "I hope you’ll accept my sincerest apology. I will always have an open door and ear for you beyond your calling. I would hope you can still trust me enough to come to me and talk about whatever is weighing on your mind."

She considered him solemnly for a while. She was sure he meant it and, yes, it would help to have monetary support from the Council. Despite it leaving a sour taste in her mouth to have to be dependent on them again, it was better than any of the alternatives she had come up with so far.

"I’ll have to think about it, Giles. As much as I need money to keep our home, I don’t want to have obligations towards the Council. I don’t like being on their payroll, for them to order me around, to be constantly on their beck and call. But I appreciate your concern."

"Buffy, you know that I feel for you more like a father than just your Watcher. I want to give you support in every way possible. Would you accept money from me personally? It was you that secured me the retroactive payment of my Watchers salary. I really don’t need it since I have enough income of my own from the Magic Box. It’s just money I can offer you now, but it might lighten your situation."

~*~

Dawn was already deeply asleep and the house was quiet around her as she slowly walked up the steps towards her bedroom, deep in thought. Giles, Willow, and Tara had left immediately, acknowledging Buffy’s wish to be alone.

She had accepted Giles offer of financial help, so for the moment, at least, she could put the money problems out of her mind. There was so much else to think about though.

More had changed today. She could feel a shift in the relationship between the people she called her friends.

In the bond between Xander and Anya she had noticed a change - not a rupture, but they had eyed each other with some reservation. Shouldn’t they be a giddily happy couple planning their wedding day? Whatever had happened between them today, it made Buffy feel uneasy. She shook her head. She didn’t know what their problem was, but to let this situation slide seemed wrong.

Willow and Tara had looked fine enough, holding hands and madly in love as always. Whatever the state of their dispute about the use of magic was, she hoped it was settled. Willow was her best friend, even if they hadn’t had a girl-to-girl talk for some time. Maybe she should invite her over soon - and Tara too - she really liked Tara and the witch’s quiet and caring demeanor. Yes, Buffy decided. After she had spilled the beans today, it would be nice to have a girl’s night with them to clear the atmosphere.

She quietly closed her bedroom door and sank down on her soft, inviting bed. Now that she had ticked off her friends on the list, only Spike remained. Even if she tried to avoid thinking about him, he was like that big pink elephant in the room. Wherever she looked, he popped into view right in front of her, blocking out all other thoughts.

She’d kissed him. Why? Because he’d saved her?

Maybe...

As she thought about Spike, her mind’s eye zoomed in to his lips. Those pliant, soft lips. It hadn’t been just a kiss; it had felt more like a joining of souls. What did that say about her? She had kissed a soulless monster and she’d never felt more alive. Only Spike wasn’t a monster, not anymore.

To tell the truth, Spike was her friend. He had wriggled and wormed himself into her circle of friends over the last year and had earned his place the hard way. She still flinched when she thought about the beaten down state she’d seen him after he’d defied Glory. She’d kissed him then, too. She still remembered his surprise, his expression full of wonder and awe.

He was also her confidant. How often over the summer had she confided her thoughts and worries to him? Mostly it was about Dawn, but still his advice had always been sound.

Now this kiss. It’d been more than only friendship or out of gratitude. She knew it was a turning point in their relationship, but her mind was still whirling in looping circles. Some invisible barrier between them had been broken. Everything was changing, but she couldn’t see where it would end up. He had earned her trust but she was too exhausted to analyze anything about their relationship tonight.

She massaged her temples. A terrible headache was building, pain shooting through her brain like lightning bolts.

She knew she had to figure out what Spike meant to her, what his place was in her life. She also knew that he wouldn’t let her just ignore the kiss. No, he would pursue her, would prod her until she’d figured it out.

Buffy closed her eyes and fell back onto her bed. Without removing her clothes she curled up on top of the covers, immediately sliding into an uneasy, restless sleep.

The next night, Buffy went by the Magic Box before her normal patrol. To be truthful, she’d tried to postpone meeting up with Spike as long as possible. She still hadn’t figured out what to say to him and she’d had a restless night, full of dreams she couldn’t remember after waking up, soaked in sweat.

The Magic Box was deserted of customers and Giles and Anya nowhere to be seen; the only person in the shop was Tara. She was sitting at the table, a book with illustrations of plants opened in front of her. She didn’t appear to be reading it, however, just staring into space, her eyes glinting with unshed tears.

“Tara, what happened?” Buffy immediately pushed her own worries to the back of her mind and sat down beside the witch. What had changed the normally so happy and content Tara into this bundle of misery?

Tara sniffed and pulled out an already wet handkerchief. She blew her nose and wordless held out a dried flower to Buffy. It was the flower she’d so happily twirled in her fingers the other day during the witches’ duet.

With a choked voice Tara was only able to utter, "Willow," before she broke down in sobs. Buffy placed her arm around the girl and pulled her into a hug. She caressed her long hair while Tara’s tears wet her shirt.

Buffy looked at the flower, then at the book. There was a depiction of the flower on the opened page, titled “Lethe’s Bramble.” Underneath was a description of its properties. She couldn’t make any sense of it, but it seemed the flower was an ingredient of some sort of charm or concoction. Surely Tara had understood its meaning.

“Tara, sweetie, what happened?” Buffy repeated.

“Willow… the flower… yesterday. I thought it was… a present. But… the song…” Between sobs Tara spluttered words, slowly forming the whole story.

She’d found the flower yesterday under her pillow and had thought it was a love token from Willow, who’d been especially sweet and caring to her that morning. But their song had triggered some doubt in her, so she came here today to check the flower out. Lethe’s Bramble was used in as spell called “Tabula Rasa” which altered your memories and erased certain events.

Buffy suddenly remembered her own vague feeling yesterday, of some memory slipping away from her mind.

Tara extricated herself from Buffy’s hug and wiped her eyes. “Sorry, I made your shirt all soggy. Buffy, I think Willow erased some of my memories. I can’t remember parts of the last couple of days. How could she do that? How could she violate my brain after what Glory did to me?” New tears spilled down her cheeks.

“Tara, whatever Willow erased, she might’ve also done it to me. Maybe she didn’t actually intend it for me, because I can at least feel that there is something missing. Like, you catch a glimpse of something out of the corner of your eye but when you look directly, it’s gone? If we only knew what it was she didn’t want us to remember or who else was affected.”

“Willow isn’t even here right now. She went to LA to meet up with a friend and she won’t be back before tomorrow. Oh, I hate that I have to ask her about the spell, but to have to wait so long is even worse.” Tara looked at Buffy and visibly straightened in her resolve.

“I love Willow so much, but if she really put a spell on me, tampered with my memories… I don’t know how I can live with that, how I can trust her anymore.” Worn out by the emotional onslaught, she rested her elbows on the table and hid her face in her hands.

Gently Buffy pulled Tara up. “Let’s get you home, Tara. Try to get some sleep. Maybe it isn’t something bad at all; maybe there is a reasonable explanation. Come on, I’ll take you home.”

~*~

"Buffy, we need to talk." Spike crept out from behind a tombstone. He’d been waiting since sundown, impatiently walking a groove into the ground, lighting his next fag with the burned down stump of the last.

God was he nervous! Since Buffy had sent him away after her amazing kiss the other night he’d been hanging on by a thread. Scenarios were running through his head, in most of them Buffy had sent him away, disgusted about what she’d done, not wanting to keep up any contact with him. God, he was still an insecure wimp!

"Can we not talk? I'm so not up to this conversation yet," Buffy avoided his gaze, looking back and forth across the cemetery.

He knew she’d pull back, hide behind the barriers she’d erected around herself. How did he stand a chance after the mess her boyfriends had left her in? Sod his bastard of a grand-sire, he was the first. How could he have hurt her so much? He hadn’t even tried to find a solution to work around his curse. He’d just left the girl. The pillock had even felt all superior and noble about it, Spike was willing to bet. He had watched them interact while he was looking for the love-spell. The wounded puppy-dog routine, the ‘we’re just friends’ declaration. He’d seen the train wreck advancing; he’d just been too drunk to care – if he’d have cared at all.

"Buffy, you kissed me! You can't just push it away and pretend it never happened!" Spike pleaded. “That’s like trying to un-ring a bloody bell!”

"Oh my God, Spike, I know that. You think I don’t know that?!” Buffy finally met his gaze, green eyes pleading with him. “But I can’t handle it right now. I… I don’t understand it myself, how can I explain it to you? Can we just not do this? Not now? Why do you need to analyze it? It wasn’t even a real kiss."

At least she didn’t deny it on the spot. But where did that leave him?

"You can’t just ignore everything that doesn't fit into your black and white world, Slayer. It doesn't work like that. It never does! I don't want to put any more pressure on you pet, but please, don't shut me out." He wouldn't back off. Not this time. This was too important for him to let her shrug aside the kiss.

"I deserve to know," he boldly added.

Buffy looked at him like a deer caught in the headlights. He could see the uncertainty, all the questions running amok behind her brow.

“I… I don’t know why I kissed you. I tried to understand it but… Hell, isn’t my life complicated enough? Giles wants to ask the Council to pay me compensation; I still don’t know what to think about that. And Willow’s done something – not sure what, we’re trying to figure it out. What if the kiss is another spell - like the marriage thing? I’m confused and…”

A shout sounded in the distance and she grasped the straw. With a hurried, “Demon! Need to go!” she turned and sprinted away.

Spike stared after her retreating form, his shoulder muscles tense with frustration. He would let it slide for now; what other options did he have? If he followed her and insisted on an answer, she might just pull back more. He knew that even going with her on a normal patrol would be too much. Resignedly, he turned and went back to his crypt. He would wait, but just another day he promised himself. One more day was the limit of what he could endure.

~*~

I woke up confused. My head was positioned on something firm and solid. A chest. A nice muscled, leather-clad chest. And it smelled enticing, musky, honey sweet like good whiskey mixed with tobacco. It smelled familiar. But this was the only sensation that made sense to me.

I wrinkled my nose and lifted my head to take a look. Oh, ummh, wow! I lay in the embrace of a solidly muscled arm, firmly pressed against the most attractive man I’d ever seen. Or had I seen him? I couldn't remember anything here. There was just some fuzzy fog in my brain, like I was on medication. But no man could look as yummy as my pillow. No man, not possible. His mussed white hair seemed to gleam and his cheekbones were so striking that
they should require a permit. And his mouth called for me, pulled me in. I just had to brush my lips against his, feel their softness, feel them moving under mine.

Hypnotized, I drew nearer when I was stopped by a whimper from his other side. A slender, teenaged girl with brown hair was beginning to stir in the protection of his other arm. Large blue eyes opened and stared at me in confusion. A wave of protectiveness swept through me as I extended my hand towards her and gently swept a lock of hair behind her ear. “Hey there! Are you ok?”

Her mouth opened, then closed again as a tear rolled down her cheek. “I… I don’t know… what happened?” She finally stammered in a small, frightened voice.

What could I say to this? “I don’t know either. Something is weird. I can’t remember anything. Well, anything useful at least. I can’t even remember my name. Can you?”

More tears spilled down the girl’s cheeks. “No… nothing… why can’t I remember who I am?”

“Shhh,” I tried to soothe her.

Suddenly I became aware that somebody was watching us. The stunning stranger – huh, how cheesy is that – was staring at us and he had the most remarkable eyes I’d ever seen. To call them blue would’ve been like saying that Niagara Falls is nice. They were cerulean, like the sky on a fresh spring morning, luminescent, burning with an inner light which seemed to spill out of them directly into my heart. And framed by long dark lashes I would die for. Crap, I was staring like a star-struck teenager.

“’ello ladies. What an extraordinary way to wake up.” He drawled in a low husky baritone. With an accent, a sexy British accent! I was a goner. Whoever this was, he was to be mine! Or maybe he already was … I can’t remember! How could I not remember that?

I gave him a beaming smile. “Hi, I’m… oh… somebody? We can’t remember anything, not even our names. Can you? Do you know where we are and what happened?” Whoever I was, I seemed to have the tendency to babble when nervous. So not a cool habit.

He chuckled and carefully extracted himself from us. He offered us his hands and pulled us up. The other girl was younger than me, but also taller. And the stranger, well he was the right size for a girl to snuggle on, lean but not over towering me. Nice, but irrelevant at the moment.

I checked my dress and looked around. We were in a shop which sold really weird stuff like statues with too many arms, candles by the cases, and it smelled of patchouli. There were several other people lying lifeless on the floor. Whatever had happened to us had obviously happened to them as well.

A thought popped into my head. “I hope this isn’t some alien invasion!” I blurted out “You know, like in the movie with Superman where they all went unconscious and then got these alien babies…”

“Whatever the bloody bastards did to us, they’ll get a special vicious kick from yours truly, for unsettling you with that awful image.” Blond and gorgeous gave me a fierce smirk.

Oh my God, I was way too young to have babies, aliens or not. At least I thought of me as young, wasn’t I? Judging by the attention I got from my pillow, I probably was young and not too bad looking. And why do I remember such irrelevant stuff like movies and not my own name for heavens sake?

Ok, focus on facts. The others were finally waking up too. Besides us, there was a group of young people; a slender red-head, a sweet looking blonde girl and a boy with dark hair who was built on the heavy side. Well, not my type, I like my men more compact. Behind the counter was an older man with grey in his hair who was helping a young, slim woman up to her feet. Was he the shopkeeper? Maybe he knew what was going on and who we are.

He cleared his throat and took charge of the situation. “Well, hmm, I would like to introduce myself, but there seems to be some problem with, ummm, my capacity for remembering.” Oh dear, another Brit, but a stuffy one. I compared my companion with the – shopkeeper? This was awkward, having no names. How should we address each other?

“Does anybody remember their names? Any clue who we are?” I piped up.

They all looked at me, shaking their heads. “What about – IDs, or driving licenses, we seem old enough for those.” Hey, it felt good to take the lead. At least we were doing something to clarify the situation. Maybe I was some sort of executive… yeah! A CEO of a multinational corporation! That would be cool. But my pockets were empty and there was no handbag near where I was lying.

I looked at the dark haired girl that I’d spoken to earlier. She had a necklace with a name on it. “Look here, it says ‘Dawn’,” I pointed out to her. “This must be your name. Pretty.”

She let out a squeal and hugged me. “I’m Dawn, I’m Dawn!” she announced to the amused onlookers. “But who are you? Did you figure out what your name is?”

“Nope. Not one single clue. And I refuse to look for a name in my underwear.” I’m definitely against being called Chantelle or Victoria or some such name they use for lingerie.

“Oh, you should just choose a name for you. How about Jenny?” Dawn squeaked. I shuddered at the thought.

“How about Elizabeth?” suggested my sexy Brit in his velvet voice. “That sounds fittin’? A beautiful name for a golden girl like you, pet.”

“Cool! We could call you Beth,” came the enthusiastic reply from Dawn.

Elizabeth, Beth, I could do worse. And it sounded right, well not on point, but close enough. “Elizabeth it is, for the moment, just until I remember my name again.”

I smiled back at him. “How about you? Found anything on you or should we christen you too?”

He tilted his head and gave me a heated gaze. “Anything you like, luv.”

Giving me pet names in this smooth caressing voice did things to me I would like to explore more. Preferably alone with him and for a long time. God, how I hoped he was my boyfriend. That would make things a lot less embarrassing. I tried to ignore the tingling running all over me and studied him. Contrary to his outward punk appearance, he behaved like he was a person who cared about people. So I racked my brain for a British, kindly sounding name for him.

“How about Edward, or… no – wait! William! Isn’t that a very popular name in England? I like it.”

He smiled back warmly. “Anything you like is ok with me, sweetheart. So, William it will be.” Did his accent turn more sophisticated with this or was it just my imagination? “Oh, sorry about that, I didn’t mean to be disrespectful,” he added.

Yup, definitely more refined. I smiled back reassuringly. “You can call me pet names whenever you feel like it.”

“Seem to feel like it all the time, pet.”

Dawn was frowning, watching us intently. “You know, I think he’s your boyfriend,” she blurted out. “You’re so perfect together, like you’ve known each other a long time. I just wish there would be somebody for me too, you know, not a boyfriend, but somebody who cares…” Her voice trailed off.

I couldn’t help but to wrap my arm around her. “You know, I feel like you belong to me. Maybe we’re sisters? At least we can be sisters now. Would you like that?”

She sighed and snuggled deeper into my embrace.

Suddenly two arms curled around us from behind and a quiet voice spoke. “I’ll take care of you too, Niblet. If you would like that and if your sister allows it,” he added with a shy smile.

It was weird but I felt good. Like I‘d gotten my family back. Somehow I had the impression that I’d not been too happy a person before this. Maybe our current situation wasn’t so bad at all. And if this bundle of yummy goodness was my boyfriend, who would reject such a present from the heavens?

~*~

Half an hour later most of us were assembled round the table in the center of the shop, still trying to figure out what had happened. Were we the only ones affected? I hoped that somebody out there might recognize us and help us regain our memories, but nobody had entered the shop nor even passed by, and darkness was falling.

At least we’d pinned down some more names. The older man seemed to be the shopkeeper after all; the business cards on the counter referred to him as one Rupert Giles. My bleached-blond pillow might be related to him or not, they couldn’t decide. The bottle blonde girl behind the counter voted on being called Sunny. Since she awoke wearing an engagement ring and lying directly on top of Mr. Giles, she was sure that she was his fiancée and no one could dissuade her. After the way she eyed the cash register with more tenderness than the shopkeeper, her preference was clear to me.

The dark haired boy found a driver’s license tucked in his jeans pocket which revealed him to be Alexander LaVelle Harris. Clearly he’d hoped for a more exciting persona.

“It could’ve been worse. Your parents could’ve named you Snoopy,” I joked, after which he surprised everybody by doing a Snoopy-dog dance. Arrgh, wish I could wipe out that image from my brain; this was prime material for a nightmare.

The remaining two members of the party were clinging together. The blonde girl was shy and, after stuttering a few words, kept mute with downcast eyes. Poor girl, she looked nice and sweet to me. Maybe we could cheer her up a bit.

The delicate redhead immediately latched onto the opened books strewn across the centre table. She seemed to have a sharp mind, turning the pages with enthusiasm and quickly giving the rest of us reading assignments. When I wasn’t immediately thrilled with her idea to research, she launched into a tiring speech about the merits of knowledge and yadda, yadda, yadda. Bossy! Hey, why did she think she could command us around? I’m the CEO of a billion dollar corporation. Sigh… whatever!

While turning the musty pages of my assigned book, my main attention was on my hottie. He strode through the room like a tiger that had been caged for far too long in a small prison; his heavy black boots clonking on the wooden floorboards. His leather duster hung deserted over the back of his chair so I now had an unobstructed view of his glorious body.

“You’re checking out his ass,” Dawn whispered, making me jump in my seat. Mischief glittered in her blue eyes.

“Hey, I so don’t…”

My lame excuse was cut short by her sniff. “Of course you are. Every woman who isn’t dead or blind would do it. I think I’m developing a crush on him too. What a shame that he’s way too old for me. But you should check him out. Have you noticed how he watches you?”

Okay, I had. Even if I tried not to make it obvious.

Bored by all the not-reading I was doing, I closed the tome with resolution and went over to him. “Hi, ummh, how are you?” Yup, queen of the eloquent repartee. Trust me to act brain dead when I want to impress a boy.

He cocked his scarred eyebrow and gave me a knowing smirk. “Books ’re not your thing, pet? You’re not alone there. If I have to stay cooped up in here any longer I might go bloody bonkers.”

I just had to agree, even if I didn’t understand half of what he was saying. In his velvet baritone he could have recited the telephone book and I would’ve listened in rapt attention.

“Do you think we know each other? You know, like friends, or more, as…” my voice trailed off, embarrassed. Well, subtle much? I could feel my cheeks rapidly heating up. Even better, blushing like a virgin, which I so was not. Or was I? Well, definitely not the time to ponder that disturbing thought.

“Luv, you look beautiful when you get all flustered.” He bent over and whispered into my ear. “Love to think I’m the reason for that radiant glow.”

Cocky bastard. Cocky, handsome, hard-bodied, blue-eyed bastard.

I was aware of Dawn’s stare spearing my back. Oh my God, where is a trapdoor when I need one? Exit, pronto!

His heated gaze pinned me to the ground and my heart was fluttering like a butterfly. He slowly walked me backward into the corner under the balcony, where we were a bit more hidden from the others.

“Why don’t we find out?” his husky voice sent shivers down my back, exquisite tinglings burning into my skin. If he kept this up, I would make even more of a fool out of myself by cumming on the spot without him even touching me.

And oh, how my body ached to be touched by him. When I lifted my head and looked into his eyes I was doomed. They were a burning blue, like a searing flame at its hottest, stripping my mind until nothing was left but the magnetic pull behind my belly button. From this center my stomach was filled with hot lava burning down to my core, consuming all other sensation.

Then his mouth lowered onto mine. Not forcefully as I’d expected, but softly, tenderly his lips were moving against mine, probing and begging for entrance. My arms sneaked around his neck of their own volition, my fingers gently sliding along the rim of this t-shirt which raised a low sensual growl from deep within him. His plastered-back hair was surprisingly soft and curled around my fingers as I loosened some locks from their gel prison.

With a soft moan I opened my mouth to welcome his tongue. It slid cool and moist against the inside of my lip and entwined around my tongue, gliding along it in the slow rhythm of a soundless tune. My ears were thundering, like waves crashing violently on a rocky shore. If his arms hadn’t pressed me flush against him I might have sunk legless to the floor.

I have never, ever been kissed like this – of this, I was certain.

My senses were all on overload. The musky smell of him, the silken touch of his lips, the soothing, and at the same time arousing, glide of his tongue. His firm body, flush against mine, his hard erection pressing into my stomach all combined to make me feel desirable, more womanly than I’d ever felt before. How would it have been possible for me to have forgotten these sensations? Eternal damnation to whoever had done this to us.

While I took a desperate breath, he whispered against my lips, “I don’t care what was before. We’re clearly meant for each other. Sweetheart, just this one kiss has me addicted to you. I’m drowning in you, pet.”

With another rumbling growl, he latched onto me again and I was lost in this whirlwind of emotion he could stir in me. Wherever his hands touched me, they left hot, tingling patterns on my body, and oh, his hands were everywhere. They possessively cupped my ass, kneading it with strong fingers. His right hand glided up my side slowly, oh so slowly, until it caressed the swell of my breast through the thin fabric of my shirt. I had left off my bra today so my nipple pressed hard and demanding against his thumb. Each stroke had me quivering as electric shocks threatened to fry my brain.

I gave back as good as I could in my overwhelmed state. My left leg wrapped around his hip to increase the delicate pressure as I rubbed my wet core against the rough fabric of his jeans, my heel massaging his calf.

When he moaned, “God, pet, you’ll make me cum in my pants!” I deepened the kiss ferociously, all inhibitions I might’ve had left going up in smoke from the roaring blaze he’d ignited inside me. Yes, I felt powerful; exhilarated that I could drive him as crazy as he’d made me feel. My hand tugged at his shirt and slipped beneath it, feeling the taut muscles of his stomach jump just under his cool, silken skin.

Then the bubble around us exploded when the door burst open with a loud crash.

I needed a second to focus back to my surroundings. Three dark, menacing figures stood in the doorway: the door itself lay in splinters. Something seemed wrong with them. I couldn’t see their faces clearly but they looked distorted.

“Spike, hiding behind the skirts of the Slayer again? Come out and pay up!” the leader of the group shouted. Who the hell was Spike?

As we stepped towards the table, the others scrambled out of their chairs. William pulled Dawn behind him and with his outstretched arm signaled me to stay back too.

Cave man! I didn’t actually feel helpless here. Looking around me, I grabbed a brass statue that felt heavy and solid in my grip. I saw Mr. Giles reach for a heavy leather bound book and Alex went for a large silver candlestick. The thugs were not impressed.

“Whoever you are, leave immediately or I will call the police,” stated Mr. Giles loudly. He sounded unafraid. He could’ve fooled me, but I saw his hand tremble slightly.

“We are three against you. Better bugger off now before it’s too late,” added William to the threat.

The three stepped into the light and I heard Dawn gasp. They looked horrible. Their brows were full of ridges like a Klingon and their eyes glinted golden and feral. Maybe this was an alien abduction after all!

“We don’t have any quarrel with you, Slayer, we came just to collect the debt from Spike.” The speaker showed a row of sharp glinting teeth and his speech was slurred.

Why was he looking at me? He’d addressed me as slayer. What did he mean? Slayer of what? I felt like I’d stepped from a fairy tale into a nightmare without any stopover or guide book. And when he said Spike he’d been looking at my companion – well, smooching partner. Was his name Spike? Whoever would name himself after a dog? Well, that’s assuming he wasn’t called after the weapon he was hiding in his jeans. I had to forcibly pull my brain out of the gutter with a firm promise to come back to these thoughts later.

“Are these… vampires?” I heard the shy blonde ask timidly.

That was a disturbing theory. Do monsters like vampires really exist? Considering that we all seemed to have lost our personal memories, I couldn’t be sure what was real anymore. I guess that was as good an explanation as my alien abduction.

“Don’t fool around here, Gimp. Collect the kittens. That is what I pay you for!” The raspy deep voice came from behind them.

Reality just made another jump towards horror movie as a small creature stepped through the door. Yes, I said creature, because this clearly was not a human, if you ruled out crazy scientists experimenting on man-beast hybrids. The raspy voice came from a mouth full of razor sharp teeth and its breath was rattling through a row of gills. It was a walking, talking shark, dressed in a fine tailored suit with manicured human hands. I looked down, yes, and expensive custom-made leather shoes.

And had he said kittens? Who has a debt in fluffy balls of kittens? Or was kitten a code word for something sinister, like drugs? That would be harsh if my cutie turned out to be a down-and-dirty candyman.

Well, the appearance of his boss clearly enraged Gimp. With a roar he charged forward and all hell broke loose.

While two attacked William – Spike? – one went straight for me. Without thinking, I raised my leg and kicked him in his balls. Well, that’s what they teach you in self defense class, right? What left me speechless was that my kick propelled him straight through the window and out into the street.

Mr. Giles and Alex had pulled one attacker away from William and were pounding on the thug without much effect. He just tossed them aside like they were children. The girls had the good sense to huddle unobtrusively behind the counter.

William grabbed the collar of his opponent’s shirt and threw him out of the door like he was a rag doll. Wow, seeing him doing this left me even more flabbergasted. How did we get this super-charged? No amount of weight lifting could make you so pumped up.

“Get them out of the shop! The space’s too confined and we might hurt the girls!” William shouted.

I went after him as he charged through the door. Don’t ask me why, but it felt like the right thing to do. With us both in the street, the last thug followed us out of the shop.

It was a ballet. A dance of pure violence and grace. William and I moved in harmony, back to back, punching and kicking. Attackers came at me in a blur and left me no moment for coherent thought. We changed opponents without any noticeable signal and I could hear his triumphant, animalistic roar when an especially vicious kick hit its target. It was exhilarating - my blood pumping in my veins, the adrenaline giving me a high. I was actually sorry when they were all lying motionless on the ground and the dance ended.

“Seems you go free this time, Spike,” came the rasping voice again. The boss had just watched the slaughter, not dirtying his manicured fingers. “Nice of you not to dust my enforcers. Halfway intelligent ones are hard to come by, as you know. You get another week, then pay up. I would hate to hurt a regular customer more than necessary.” With that statement he pivoted round on his heels and left us staring after his retreating form.

I turned around and stopped dead in my track. During the fight I was just reacting, concentrating on my target, only dimly aware of William – Spike. He’d seemed like a natural extension of me. Now I was looking consciously at him for the first time since the fight started. His eyes were golden and ridges had formed on his forehead. He looked dangerous, feral. A formidable, sleek beast, his animalism calling to me.

I stepped nearer, drawn by his exotic beauty. The curious thing was that I didn’t feel fear. He stared at me as I stretched out my hand; my fingers gently caressed his brow. I’m not sure he had even noticed his change. As my fingertips tentatively explored his ridges, the wrinkles faded, melting under my caring touch and his eyes shifted back to an electric blue.

“So, William? Spike? Who are you?” I whispered.

He just stared at me. “I can smell you, luv. You’re intoxicating, musky in your arousal. Your aroma is driving me crazy.” He murmured hypnotized. Had he heard my question? Then he shook his head like a dog shedding water from his pelt. “Sorry. Got… distracted. Might be Spike, but I also like it when you call me William.”

~*~

Mr. Giles and Alex stood gob smacked inside the shop door where they had watched the fight.

“Wow, where did you learn that?” spluttered Alex as he made clumsy boxing imitations. “Wang, bang baby! It looked like you’re used to doing this. Maybe you’re both pro wrestlers! That would be cool, wearing those form-fitting, low cut costumes.” His eyes glazed over until he heard the warning growls from Spike.

“Sorry, mate! Fingers off what’s yours, right?” Alex mocked in a fake British accent. “You were clearly marking your territory over there under the stairs. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

More of this testosterone crap and this Alex might earn himself a sample of my newfound talent in hitting people.

“Bloody well right!” growled Spike back with a fierce scowl at the boy.

The possessiveness in his voice made me quiver. God, I had to wrestle down my inner Gloria Steinem, but that was sexy as hell. A fantasy of me, dressed only in ripped underwear, chained to his bed ran through my head. Definitely not R-rated.

Dawn raced over to me and gave me a bear hug. “Are you ok? I just heard the noise. I was too frightened to take a look! But they told me you were fighting against the thugs.”

She turned her anxious glance towards Spike and repeated, “Are you hurt?”

It took me some time to calm her down, but after she had verified that neither of us was harmed, she released her death lock on me.

The redhead was clearly excited too, but not in a way I liked. She tried to turn me into a lab experiment, asking me to lift various items and trying to test my reflexes. When I refused she had the audacity to declare that, with my extraordinary abilities, I was obligated to use them for the betterment of the world. Who does she think I am, Wonder Woman?

During the fight, a slim, black crystal had slipped out of someone’s pocket and slid under the table. When we settled down around the table again, Mr. Giles stepped onto it and it shattered with a loud crack.

The world slipped and turned.

~*~

Buffy blinked her eyes and tried to sort out the jumble of memories. Wow had she…? She looked up, startled when she heard the scratching sound of a chair pushed back in the stunned silence. Spike froze when their gazes locked. Several emotions shifted behind his eyes and the one she could most clearly identify was fear. Fear of what her reaction would be. She gave him a slight nod and reassuring smile, signaling him to stay and he settled back onto his usual place on the stairs. His hand nervously flattened his hair again and again.

Dawn was sitting at Buffy’s side watching her with big eyes. “We knew we were sisters, didn’t we? And Spike promised to protect me. Even when we didn’t recognize each other.”

Buffy could just nod and smile at her sister. That was really remarkable. She reached out and pushed Dawn’s hair behind her shoulder.

“I think some things are so deeply imprinted in you that nothing can erase them. I love you Dawn, you know that, don’t you?” Buffy smiled tenderly at her sister and Dawn nodded.

“I love you too.”

Buffy gave her a tender hug. Over her sister’s shoulder she saw Spike fiddle with his silver lighter, his brows furrowed as he watched his finger’s restless play. Oh my God, she had kissed him - again. What had happened that she was so inevitably drawn to him? Was it the spell again or lay the reasons within her? She had to find out or she would go nuts, of that Buffy was sure.

As if he had felt her attention, Spike suddenly looked up. Time slowed as she fell into the bottomless blue of his eyes. There was so much longing and tenderness in them that it hurt her heart. She was drowning in them and she wished she could go back to the carefree moments before, when she’d been free to give in to her urges.

The sudden ‘click’ of Spike’s lighter closing jarred her out of her thoughts.

Buffy lowered her eyes and composed herself. It was time to get back to business. “Giles, what happened here? How can someone erase our personal memories on such a large scale? Is this some new attack?”

Before Giles could reply, Tara spoke up with tears in her eyes. “Willow, that was you, wasn’t it?” She pointed down to the smashed crystal. “It was the Tabula Rasa spell again. The one you did before to me, to erase the quarrel we had.”

Buffy’s eyes widened as she looked from Tara to Willow. Tara had explained about the spell, but she’d understood it was affecting only single memories, strands of events which were slipped out of the fabric of the mind.

Willow squirmed under the sudden attention. “It wasn’t meant to harm anyone. I just wanted you to stop the constant accusations. Tara, I swear I didn’t know that it would affect all of your memories. It was just a mistake.” She looked around the table clearly expecting everybody to accept her apology.

“How could you, Willow? After what Glory did to my head, after how upset I was the first time. How could you violate me again – despite my protests the first time! Don’t you understand what this means to me?”

Tara clearly was deeply upset. “And this time you put everybody in danger. What if Buffy and Spike hadn’t been here? What if we’d just had wandered off into the dark without knowing what dangers lay out there? Somebody could’ve died. Everybody could have died!”

“But it wasn’t intended to be so powerful. Rack said the modification of the spell is harmless. I don’t know what went wrong. I just wanted to erase a few hours; I just wanted you all to stop nagging me about using magic the way I like it!” As Willow didn’t find any sympathy, she started sobbing.

“Willow, I’m sorry, but I c..c..c..can’t trust you anymore. I can’t be with you at the m…m…moment. Please, y…y…you have to th.h.think about what you do.” Big tears splashed down Tara’s cheeks and Buffy put her arm around her.

Spike frowned at Willow, his eyes stormy grey. “Glinda’s right. Magic has consequences, always! Whenever you use it, you have to pay a price for it. We got off easy this time. What’ll happen the next time something goes wrong?”

“Hey, bleach boy, when did you turn into an expert on magic? What are you doing here anyway? And…” Xander choked on the spiteful words. “And what were you thinking, taking advantage of Buffy? If she’d known who you were, she never would’ve even come near you.”

Spike started to object, but Buffy beat him to it. “Xander, stop it, now!” Buffy was cross about her friend’s meddling. Why did Xander think he had the right to speak for her? “Whatever I did is for me to judge, not you.” She could see Spike flinch, so she hastily added, “He never took advantage of me. If anything happened, it was me who started it. Deal with it.”

“Yeah, and if it hadn’t been for him, we wouldn’t have been in any danger at all,” muttered Xander under his breath.

Giles cut in with authority “Stop it, Xander. We’re not here to judge anybody. As much as I dislike saying this, Spike hasn’t been the one inflicting damage last week. First, it was you, with summoning Sweet, and now it’s Willow, with another spell gone wrong. I’m greatly disappointed in you both.”

Xander huffed. “I know when I’m not welcome. I just wouldn’t have thought that you’d prefer dead-boy over me. Come on Anya, let’s go!” He strode out through the front door. Anya, who’d quietly watched the whole conversation, shot Buffy an apologetic smile and followed him.

Willow slunk in her chair as Giles turned to address her. “Willow, while I was in England, I also spoke with the Coven about you. They were very interested to hear about your talent, but they are concerned about the amount of training you’ve experienced or, more precisely, that you haven’t experienced. I agree with Tara completely. You should limit the use of your powers until you’ve the chance to get a proper training and an introduction into the ethics of using magic. Too many of your spells have gone awry to risk you fiddling around with so much power; you need supervision. I shall have to look into your schedule to arrange a trip to England.”

Willow clearly didn’t like this. Buffy felt sorry for her friend, but on the other hand she’d suffered more than once from a spell gone wonky. Also, what was the name she’d mentioned, Rack? It rang some warning bells in her brain.

“Willow, you said ‘Rack told me’. Who’s Rack? I’ve never heard of him before, was he also someone from the summer camp?”

Tara shook her head. “I can’t remember anyone by that name. Where did you meet him, Willow?”

Willow squirmed in the spotlight of the overall attention. “Ummm, that was a man I met in LA, you know? Meagan from the festival told me about him and she arranged a meeting.”

Spike squinted his eyes at Willow. “There’s more to that. You’re not telling everythin’, Red. I can hear your heart racing. Vampire ‘ere, remember? Who’s this Rack?”

“Oh, he’s nobody, just an acquaintance. He’s interested in magic. We talked a bit about spell work and magic when I visited Meagan in LA yesterday.”

Buffy made a mental note to look into this name; it set a red alert for her, but she still wasn’t sure why. That name had more meaning than Willow was willing to admit. With a glance at the distraught Tara, she decided to take some action.

“Tara… you can stay with Dawn and me for a while. I mean, if you want to… you know we have enough room and it would be nice to have company.”

Buffy could see Giles’ approving nod.

“But… Oh, I don’t know. I don’t want to intrude…” Tara was shyly looking from Buffy to Dawn.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Tara. We’re the ones who benefit most from it. Do you know how lonely the house is with just the two of us?” Buffy asked, interrupting any further arguments.

“Anyway, you should try to eat what she cooks,” added Dawn. “It would be so much fun to have you over for a while. We could watch movies together and play scrabble!”

Buffy could feel the smile Spike was giving her. He clearly also approved of her decision, he seemed to be quite fond of the blonde witch. If only she knew what to say to him now. She briefly turned and gave him a reassuring glance as she, Tara, and Dawn got up and headed for the door.

“Spike, I’ll see you tomorrow, I promise.”

Everything settled the next day. The master bedroom had been empty and unused since her mother’s death, but whatever memories were linked to the room, it was time to let them go. So, with Tara’s help, Buffy cleared most of the remnants of her mother’s nick-knacks, magazines and clothes and moved her own things into the bedroom.

Since Tara wanted to stay only for a limited time, it was better to let her use Dawn’s tiny bedroom. Dawn was happy to bask in the luxury of Buffy’s old room. The only downside was that Dawn now had easier access to the roof and sneaking out possibilities. But she’d crept out of her old room anyway, so Buffy just had to trust her to stay put at night.

By afternoon, everyone was sorted into their new rooms. Tara insisted on going shopping and cooking as payment for the room, so they did an inventory of the fridge. Even Buffy admitted that it was depressing.

“What did you eat all summer?” asked Tara, exasperated.

“I don’t know… we had cereal and Chinese takeout and pizza… I know Dawn’s still growing and has to eat properly and I want to do right by her… I really do - I just suck at cooking. Mom always did it …” Buffy’s voice trailed off. This conversation had taken an unexpected turn.

“No judging here. I know you’re trying the best you can.” Tara smiled at her.

“Yeah, except my best seems to completely suck where Dawn is concerned. She’s the most precious thing left in my life. Even when I didn’t remember who I was, I still knew that she was mine to take care of - that she was important to me. So it’s not some fabrication from fake memories, it’s just me feeling like this. I just feel like I can’t get through to her; she still doubts that she’s real.”

Why was it so easy to talk about her most secret thoughts to Tara? The white witch emanated a warm glow, a gentleness; it was like being with her mother again.

“You know, I would’ve died for Dawn. Given the choice, I would have. I couldn’t have endured losing her too, not after mom left us.” Buffy whispered.

A choked sob from the door made them aware of Dawn’s eavesdropping. “Buffy, I… I miss mom so much too… all the time…”

Tara watched the sisters shyly. “To lose your mother is one of the saddest things in life. It leaves a hole that nothing can ever fill completely. When I miss my mom, I try to remember happy moments we had together. Small things, like her fussing over my bruised knee or reading bed-time stories to me. It helps make the pain endurable.”

Buffy felt ashamed that she had totally forgotten that Tara had lost her mother at a young age. It felt comforting to have someone around who clearly understood what she and Dawn were going through.

Later they had dinner around the mahogany table. A pink rose plucked from the backyard and a candle created a festive and homey atmosphere. Even Dawn had to admit that having freshly prepared dishes was a vast improvement over pizza delivery, chocolate ice cream, and popcorn. Tara’s calming influence was like a spring breeze which had cleaned out the stuffy smell of winter.

Table talk turned to the ‘Independence Day of our Brains’ as Dawn had so aptly named their recent foray into having blank slates for minds. “Have you talked to Spike? Come on, what did he say?” Dawn asked Buffy, teenage curiosity dancing in her bright eyes.

God save her from nosy teenage sisters. Buffy would feel so much better if this topic had remained buried. She decided to be honest. “I haven’t seen him yet, but I promised to meet him today, so I’ll go by his crypt after patrol. I so don’t know what I should say to him after I practically jumped his bones.”

“Why? He seemed to like it. It would be awkward if you didn’t know him or if you hated him. But come on, it’s Spike! What’s the big? Besides, you two were so checking each other out. It was cute!” Trust Dawn to trample all over it with her accurate observation.

Tara looked earnestly at Buffy. “It seemed like you belonged together. I mean, your auras were linked and their colors were complementing each other. I don’t often talk about what I see with my sight because it disturbs people. But there really is a powerful connection between the two of you.”

Buffy looked at them both. Did Spike know that he had two sturdy supporters in Tara and Dawn? Somehow she wasn’t surprised at all.

~*~

Buffy sat on the headstone, her legs dangling as she contemplated the newly dug grave. It was always best to wait for the fledgling to rise and dispose of him immediately, before he had an opportunity to harm someone. Trouble was, it was boring as hell and left her too much spare time to think over what she would tell Spike. Why was it such an uneventful night? Where were the battalions of demons marching across her town when she needed them?

She dreaded the talk with Spike. The first kiss she could have put down to the spell, but she had to muck it up by kissing him the second time. She could try to blame it on a spell again, but that excuse went stale quickly. Trust Spike and his insightfulness to see right through her. To see what? She couldn’t understand it herself. What was drawing her to him? Was Riley right when he’d accused her of being ‘hung up on vampires’? Why was she drawn to the bad boys, to the forbidden?

“Hey, I know you!” a boyish voice interrupted her wandering thoughts.

Crap! She’d missed the rising of the vamp. Finally she was going to get the fight she’d been longing for. It would be short, but it was better than brooding. She hopped off her tombstone perch enthusiastically.

“You know me? Well that’s good, because I’ll be the last person you see.” Buffy quipped back. He looked cute, like a small boy put into his daddy’s suit.

The fledge seemed unimpressed by her advance. “Weren’t you at the bank office when that monster attacked us? That was cool! And what’re you doing out here all on your own?”

“Hey, I’ve been waiting for you. You took your time, mister.”

“I’m no mister, I’m Tracey, Tracey Knox. I was on my way to become a bank advisor. And you are… Miss Summers? Right?”

Buffy nodded and frowned. This fledge threw her a curve ball. Didn’t he know that he was supposed to attack her in mindless blood lust? Instead he continued his small talk.

“Hey, I was really sorry to hear that your mother died, and the loan falling through and all. Harsh. Doesn’t your father pay child support for you?”

Damn him to hit full force on her most painfully raw and sensitive spot. Buffy scowled at him. “That’s none of your business, Tracey… whoever. I don’t need anybody to take care of me. Least of all someone who ran away like a coward and left us on our own.”

“Whoa, sorry! Didn’t mean to offend you. So, your dad leaving didn’t sit well with you?” Tracey hopped on top of a nearby tomb and addressed her, clearly excited. “I wanted to become a psychiatrist when I was in school. C’mon, talk to me! You can trust me. I won’t tell.”

The wanna-be psychiatrist cocked his head and assessed her thoughtfully. “Whose fault do you think it was that he left?”

Buffy refused to answer and continued to scowl at him.

“I see. You think it was your fault. Right?” The annoying fledge had the audacity to look smug.

Buffy couldn’t let this slide. “Why do you think it’s me? It’s not that I shooed him away or anything.”

She crossed her arms resolutely and shoved out her lower lip. “Mom said that he cheated on her with his secretary. That can’t be my fault. Why does everybody think it’s always my fault?” Her lip started to quiver. Damn him again to bring that topic up – she should have just dusted him before he started talking.

“Always? So there were more? I mean, guys leaving you?”

Damn and double damn persistent pseudo-shrink. “That’s not your business,” she grumbled, but long hidden images came floating up her mind. Angel, vanishing into the mist. Parker, turning his back on her while he chatted up the next girl. Riley, a look of ecstasy on his face while the vamp whore was sucking his blood.

Buffy tried to push the memories back to where she had thought them safely locked away. Where they couldn’t haunt her and sink their claws into her heart any more. But this time they were stronger, more persistent, and she couldn’t hold back the tide of emotions. The words rolled out of her against her will.

“Angel left because of my own good. Ha! He nearly left me standing alone at the prom. How good is that meant to be? He had this notion that I could lead a ‘normal life’ without him. That’s a good joke! Then he came back to meddle in that life, as if I’m too stupid to do it right.”

“Parker? To say that he was even there gives him too much credit. That asshole just wanted his fun; he had a good laugh after that, probably.”

“The last one didn’t just run away, oh no. He took a helicopter to Belize! He went as quick and far away as he could get. To think that I actually ran across town after him to try and stop him…”

Buffy discreetly wiped a tear away, trying not to smear her makeup. This evening wasn’t going as she’d planned. Where had all this pent up frustration suddenly come from?

“The only guy that doesn’t leave, no matter what I try, is Spike,” she whispered.

“So, this guy gives you a headache?”

“I’ve known Spike such a long time now. Whenever I think I have him finally pinned down, he bounces back from another angle. It’s just not fair!”

“He’s supposed to hate me. It was supposed to be simple. Mortal enemies. We fight, I win, he’s gone with the wind. But it got complicated. Somehow he became my ally. I even spared his girlfriend on the condition that he’d go away and never come back. What do you think happened next? Of course he came back! For a love spell. And all he did was talk to people - he talked to my mom! He sat in my kitchen and drank hot chocolate with my mom and she liked him. When he had that ring that made him invincible, what did the idiot do? He came to me and bragged about it and taunted me about my sucky relationships.”

Tracey folded his arms behind his head, lying down on the slab of a tomb. “He seems to be a complex guy.”

Buffy snorted derisively. “Complex? More like tragic! You should’ve seen his girlfriends. This crazy ho Drusilla, who led him around by his short hairs. She cheated on him with the most disgusting creatures and he still loved her - wanted her back. And the stupid airhead Harmony? I couldn’t stand talking to her more than a minute in high school and he dragged her around for nearly two years. Then, after all that, he had the audacity to make a sex-robot - which looked exactly like me!”

“You seem to be very interested in his girlfriends and his love life.”

“Hfff, as if I care! You know, we were once engaged. We planned our wedding, reception, invitations, and everything. It was because of a spell obviously, but he never gave the others an engagement ring.” Oops, where did that come from?

Tracey grinned at her. “For someone who claims to not care, you sound awfully jealous to me. You talk a lot about what he’d done, but what is he to you? Why does he get under your skin so much?”

How had she ended up talking to an undead stranger about feelings she hadn’t even been able to admit to herself?

“And don’t evade the question. You know that suppressed emotions can fester like any other infection if you don’t take care of them in the beginning.” He sounded grave and earnest, a proper Dr. Freud imitation.

She decided to go along. What could it hurt anyway, to talk to soon-to-be dust? Buffy started to walk back and forth in front of the wanna-be shrink, tugging at her hair. “Okay, I don’t know, honestly! It doesn’t make sense. That’s the whole problem here. I can label what he isn’t anymore: not an enemy, not a threat. But what he means to me is so much more difficult.”

How could she label the emotions Spike was pulling out of her? The craving she got whenever she just thought about his lips, how his body molded against hers? The warmth she felt whenever he called her by his pet names, how his blue eyes burned into her heart?

She sighed. “Over the summer, we talked a lot, spent time with each other. I thought of him as my friend, but suddenly it got complicated. I kissed him and it was… it was…”

“It was what? Incredible, disgusting, meaningless?” Tracey spurred her on, sitting up and leaning forward, fascinated, with real interest in his voice.

“It was… the best kiss I’ve ever had. Don’t laugh! Hmmm, I don’t know how to describe it. It was mind-blowing. It left me breathless and I wanted more, even though I knew it was wrong. Yesterday, when we’d lost our memories, I still couldn’t keep my hands off him. I might’ve jumped his bones if we hadn’t been in a public place. How can I look him in the eye again? I know he… cares for me.”

The vamp cleared his throat and Buffy blushed.

“Ok, he told me he loves me. I don’t know what that means, if it’s real. He behaves like it is for him, but he shouldn’t be able to love. For heavens sake, I’m the Slayer and I shouldn’t be falling for a vampire – again.”

“What’s a Slayer?”

Huh? She had totally forgotten that she’d been speaking with a newbie vamp, who didn’t even know what a Slayer was. A fledge, whom she was supposed to dust, not open her heart to and not be analyzed by.

“Vampire Slayer’s the title. It’s my job to dust you. Well not just you specifically. It’s my job to hunt and kill your kind. I don’t think it hurts. At least I hope not.”

“And you fell in love with a vampire?”

It was his last question before his corpse exploded into dust motes which hung for a moment sparkling in thin air, as if holding on to the last remnant of his half-life, before settling quietly on the ground.

Such a good question.

~*~

Spike hadn’t slept the whole day. He’d tried to compose a speech - an entrancing, captivating, compelling speech to declare his love to Buffy. In his mind he’d played all possible reactions from her and he hadn’t liked one of them. How many ways could she reject him? Why was he so good at imagining them? He was still the hopeless stumbling fool when he was in love. In his cold heart he knew that he would never be man enough to be loved, especially not by the Slayer. All he knew of love was to give himself wholly, with body and mind and heart, and then endure the pain of not being loved in return.

He sensed Buffy’s presence as she neared his crypt. Her footsteps were approaching slowly but stopped just outside the entrance. He stepped silently to the door and waited. Her essence was a sweet tingle calling out for him, a pull he couldn’t resist. He placed his hand hesitantly on the door. Her warmth seeped through the rough wooden surface, like hot, sweet honey wrapping around his fingertips. He closed his eyes and let the sensation wash over him. Just to be near her gave him a peace like he’d never known before. The thump-thump of her heart a steady rhythm that seemed to hypnotize him, a beat that invited him to join her dance.

The rustling of her clothes accompanied a timid knock on the door. When had she ever knocked? Normally she stormed in, door crashing against the wall like she owned the place. Something had changed - he just hoped for the better. Nervously he checked his appearance and tried to smooth down his hair. While pondering all the possibilities he had mussed up his gelled locks and undoubtedly looked like a right ponce. With no more delay he opened the door.

She was a vision, wearing a black woolen short sleeved pullover, with colorful red and orange poppies on the front, over tight black slacks. Not her normal patrol attire. Had she dressed for him or was she on her way to the Bronze? When she shuffled her feet nervously he blinked out of his daze.

“Sorry, right, come on in.” He waved her towards the only chair with a flourish. Could he be any more pathetic? Add a bow and the Nancy Boy look would be complete. “You want something to drink? I have Diet Coke – and Jim Beam.”

When she looked at him with her huge green eyes all his carefully prepared speech scattered to the four winds. “Buffy…”

“A Coke would be fine,” she interrupted. He could hear her heart fluttering and knew he was not the only one scared here. Not that it really helped him.

She sat down on the cushions fiddling with the cold Coke can, her fingertips chasing the beads pearling down the surface.

“You…”

“I...”

They both stared at each other.

“You first, pet,” Spike offered, dipping his head shyly and rubbing a hand on the back of his neck.

She took a deep breath and sat up straighter in the chair. “You were right.”

Huh? When had the world stopped turning? Spike took in her face, how she avoided his eyes and the deep blush that crept up her cheeks.

“You were right. We need to talk. I… I need to explain… why I… why we…,” she stuttered and looked up at him with pleading eyes. “Please, help me here!”

“Luv, do you mean why you kissed me? Why you gave me the most delicious and delectable kisses I can remember in my long life?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “You mean, why I practically jumped your bones in public while I didn’t know who I was? You could also put it like that.”

She sobered again. “That was the real problem when I thought about it, you know. That I hadn’t known who I was, and what… who you were. The attraction I felt for you. That I couldn’t keep away from you. I saw you without the vampire makeup, just as a man - a kind and totally sexy man. A man who wanted me.”

The air hummed and crackled with sexual tension as she added, “Who I hoped was my boyfriend.”

Spike knelt beside her chair and placed his hand tentatively on the arm rest, too frightened to touch her and scare her off. “Buffy, luv. You know that I’ll never take advantage of that incident. You were a victim of the spell and not responsible for what you did. I’ll never forget it, but I won’t talk about it.”

She lowered her head, her golden locks spilled around her face, obstructing his view. “Spike, do you remember, when you asked me…,” she swallowed. “When you asked me for a crumb?”

He dared to reach out and tuck a lock behind her ear. “Goldilocks, do you mean what I think you mean?” Spike’s voice was hoarse and low, the sound barely able to pass by the lump in his throat.

Full of fear that he might have misinterpreted her words, he tried not to look her in the eye, but couldn’t help himself. What he saw there was fear, held at bay by sheer determination. Behind that was a flicker of hope. Hope for what, for whom?

She placed her small hand over his and looked him square in the eye, her gaze unwavering. “Do you still love me?”

That was his girl, taking the bull straight by the horns.

“Yes, with all my heart.” He didn’t dare to make it sound anything but sincere. Even if it reminded him of the sentimental fool he had been, oh so many years ago.

Her lip quivered and Buffy bit down on it. She shook her head slightly. “I don’t know what it is. But I feel something for you, something I want to - explore. I trust you. I don’t know when it started, but I really do - only I don’t trust myself.”

She let out a little, breathy laugh and dropped her gaze to her hand where it rested on his. She brushed her thumb tenderly over the back of his fingers. “I actually talked to a would-be shrink today about my feelings. It helped clear up the jumble in my brain. I know he’ll keep it totally confidential.”

He could only stare at her. This little slip of a girl did surely turn his world on its axis. “What ‘bout your friends, luv?”

Buffy looked back up and met his eyes with a whimsical smile. “You’d be surprised. Dawn is already cheering me on and Tara’s right behind her. You really got a devoted fan club started.”

Her gaze focused on his mouth and she licked her lips. “No more talk now. So come here and let me see if my memory is right.”

What could he reply when she accompanied it with the most adorable pout? “As my lady commands.” Then he bent in to pluck the first kiss from her tender lips.

She tasted like honey and milk, all innocent and young. The earthy scent from her sun-kissed skin complemented the faint citrus-y smell of her shampoo. Her silken hair clung to his fingers as he ran his hand through her tresses. He could hear her blood murmur at her neck like a small bird, fluttering excitedly.

All his senses were on overload. He nipped at her bottom lip and followed her tongue in a sensual slow tango. His fingers slid lightly down her arm, never really touching her. Her fine golden hairs rose up to greet him, tiny electric tingles jumped between them like small lightning zapping his nerves.

She moaned and pressed her mouth firmer against his, her lips and teeth demanding more attention. As their tongues danced, her hand grabbed a firmer hold on his shirt and tugged him nearer. He settled between her legs, not feeling the hard cold stone underneath him as he knelt, worshipping before her.

He couldn’t believe that this was real. It felt like the heavens had miraculously opened for him and warmth and light were begging him to enter. Buffy would burn him, consume him, and he would gladly give himself over to her.

He rained small butterfly kisses along her jaw line. When he neared her neck she hesitated for a second and then offered him her vulnerable jugular. His heart seemed ready to burst with the joy he felt at that declaration of her trust. Her hands traveled down his arms, kneading his firm muscles, her fingernails prickling his skin.

He ran his tongue along her collarbone, tasting the salt that the still warm evening had drawn out of her skin. His tongue followed the v-shape of her pullover’s neckline down to the beckoning darkness of her cleavage. He leaned his forehead below her chin and inhaled her spicy scent.

Her mouth latched onto his ear, her tongue exploring the delicate rim. She elicited a rumbling growl when her teeth bit into his fleshy lobe.

She giggled and repeated the bite. “You have the cutest ears.”

Spike pulled back from her and narrowed his eyes. “Hey, I’m not bloody cute. I’m handsome, charming, sexy, hot, irresistible, buff and I have a brilliant sense of humor. But I’m the Big Bad and Big Bads are never cute.” He stared her in the face with mock exasperation.

At that Buffy threw back her head and laughed out loud. “Spike, you’re so full of yourself.”

“Should I show you how full I am?” he smirked and curled his tongue behind his teeth.

Buffy blushed and whispered, suddenly earnest again. “Maybe later? Can we just – take it slow? I’d love to have the time to get to know you better, to see you in a different light. Time to just, you know, do the usual things, take walks, go dancing.”

She let out a small giggle. “Probably no picnic on the beach, but patrol instead? Can we just enjoy the ride and see where the road takes us?”

She was adorable. He never had expected her to be so playful, so trusting. Spike had asked for a crumb and she’d thrown him a whole cake. Bloody hell, she was offering a whole pastry shop to him.

“Luv, for you I’d wait ‘til hell freezes over. I just hope I don’t have to.”

With that he cupped her cheek, his other hand running through her hair. “It’s like spun sunshine, golden waves of silk. I’d like to see it spread out on my pillow, surrounding your face like a golden halo.” He couldn’t keep his inner William at bay anymore, sod his poetic urges.

She looked at him with luminescent eyes and leaned her head into the cage of his fingers. “One day, I promise...”

When Spike’s fingers started to softly massage her scalp she sighed, “… soon.”

Buffy woke up in the morning in a particularly exulted mood. The sun streamed brightly through her open window and she took a deep breath of the crisp morning air. She jumped out of her bed and stretched, her body prickling with energy. What a difference from the last months when she had to drag herself forcibly out of bed into each new, depressing day.

Humming to herself, she hopped down the stairs into the kitchen. “Oh, waffles! I love waffles! And hot chocolate-y goodness. Tara, you’re the best!” Buffy pressed an enthusiastic kiss on the surprised Tara’s cheek before she settled herself at the counter.

“So, umm, the evening went well?” Tara inquired, a mischievous glint in her eyes, her mouth turning up at the corners.

“Um hmm,” Buffy acknowledged with a grin, taking a cautious sip of the hot chocolate.

“Buffy, come on, spill!” Dawn put her hands on the counter and leaned forward in anticipation, eyes sparkling with excitement and curiosity.

“So, there was this fledge, who knew me from the bank office and…”

“Buffy, you’re mean,” Dawn whined and rolled her eyes. “You know what we want to hear. How was your visit at Spike’s?”

“Fine. We’re good.” Buffy dug into her heavenly smelling, crunchy waffles with fruit salad on top. How she loved to rile her sister.

“Oh, you’re such a spoil sport. You’re mean!” Dawn threw her hands into the air and turned towards Tara. “Why don’t you help me here? Please! Buffy has to tell.”

Dawn was like this alligator Buffy had seen in a documentary; once its teeth were set, it didn’t turn loose until the victim was drowned.

Buffy sighed in fake resignation. “Okay, okay, I’ll spill. We talked it out and we agreed to give it a try.”

She clapped her hands over her ears to shut out the earth shattering squeal that emanated from her little sister. “He’ll pick me up Friday night at eight for dinner. So be nice to him.” Buffy warned, not envying Spike when Dawn started her third-degree interrogation of him.

“A date! Buffy has a date! Buffy has a date with Spii-iike!” Dawn sing-songed. “This is so extracavitalistic! Wait, what will you wear?”

During breakfast they planned her dress and hair do as thoroughly as the invasion of Normandy. Dawn was determined to get everything perfect. After she finally went to school, Tara and Buffy chattered animatedly while cleaning up the dirty dishes.

“Your waffles were delicious, Tara. I don’t think that you’ll ever be allowed to leave here again. It was the best idea I’d had in ages to invite you over. Well, besides giving Spike his crumb,” Buffy blushed. Why was it to easy for her to spill her feelings to Tara?

“Everybody can see how happy he makes you. You really glow today. Wait ‘til Spike sees you, when you’re dressed up. You’ll knock him out of his Doc’s!” Tara giggled.

Buffy joined into Tara’s merry laughter. “Oh, I haven’t felt so good in… I don’t know when. That you’re so supportive, that means a lot to me.”

“I know Spike will be good for you. He really loves you,” Tara added softly.

Buffy spontaneously hugged the shy girl. “Willow is so lucky to have you. I hope that you two can solve your differences. But whatever happens, I hope you’ll always be my friend.”

~*~

In the afternoon Buffy went to the Magic Box for her usual training session with Giles. During his absence, she’d been lenient about the daily workout. It had been summer, after all, and she felt that she’d earned a break. Since Giles was back, she’d picked up the schedule again.

After a thorough warm-up with stretching and several minutes of jumping rope, Buffy set a straining pace on the punching bag. She could feel Giles assessing eyes on her every motion.

“You’re in excellent shape, my dear. We have to work a bit more on your balance, but your reflexes are perfect. That was a very impressive demonstration you and Spike gave us the other day. And to think, that you had no active memory of your abilities. Quite remarkable, really!”

Giles surprised her with his praise. He seldom did so, which made it even more precious to her.

“Yeah, that went pretty smooth... I just acted and Spike felt… like he was an extension of me... He was always… where I needed him to be.” Buffy grunted between some vicious final kicks at the large, sand-filled bag.

She picked up a towel to dry her sweaty face. “I just wish I could train with Spike. Don’t you think that would really improve my skills? Damn his chip. I really would like a sparring partner who can keep up with me.”

Giles looked at her with a thoughtful expression. “Spike’s an excellent fighter and I can see the benefit such an arrangement would have for you. He knows a lot of different techniques and incorporates them to a unique fighting style. He also mixes in whatever tricks he’s picked up on the street.”

Her Watcher hesitated for a moment. “Have you ever tried to see if he can spar with you? I mean, when there is no attempt of attack, no intent to harm you?”

Buffy thought about it while she unfastened the hand wraps from her wrists. “I can’t remember if we ever tried it. Crap, I wish we had more information on the chip and how it works.”

She inspected an opening seam on the heavy bag. “We need to update our equipment, Giles. This one will fall to pieces after a few more training sessions. They just can’t handle my strength for any length of time, sorry. A speed bag would really help too, you know, to work on my reflexes.”

Giles nodded absently. “What you said about the chip… I might check the discs we got from Adam about the Initiative. After we found the information about Project 314, we never looked at them again. Even a generic description of the chip’s modus operandi might help us to understand the principles involved in the detection of aggressive mind patterns.”

“That’s a great idea,” Buffy agreed.

Then she cleared the center area of the training room and went over to the wall to select a set of shoulder height wooden staffs for the next exercise. Giles removed his jacket and picked up his own staff. Loud clanks of attack and parry soon filled the room with a steady calming rhythm.

~*~

After a shower and a change of clothes, Buffy and Giles settled in his small office in the Magic Box to check the computer for the Initiative files. The room was cramped with scrolls, musty books and receipts from the shop. Buffy watched as the cursor blinked idly on the screen during the startup sequence.

Giles had grown more competent with computers since their early days in the high school library – he had basically been dragged, kicking and screaming, into the twentieth century. Despite a valiant effort, in the end he had lost the battle against the intrusion of modern technology into his life. He still kept books at hand, mostly for the atmosphere, he explained. Research just didn’t seem proper without the mildew-y smell of history.

Suddenly a message popped up in the middle of the screen. “Hey Giles, you’ve got a message! What’s an OWL-Service? Don’t tell me Hogwarts and the Ministry of Magic really exists.”

While Giles checked the in-box of his email, he answered absentmindedly. “OWL is the Council’s new Online Watcher’s Library. You can setup a research service request to scan through the data files using a search pattern you’ve defined.”

He scanned the text and frowned. “I can’t remember setting up any request though. Maybe it’s something left over from my training?”

Buffy watched, fascinated, as Giles selected the link to his research results and expertly navigated his way through the overcrowded website.

His ‘oh my’s and ‘that’s curious’ didn’t bode well. “Giles, what’s the up? Do I need to ring the alarm bell? Call in the cavalry?”

Giles wiped this brow with a handkerchief and looked at Buffy with alarm in his eyes. “These are the results of a search I set up last week, about a warlock called ‘Rack’”.

“Rack? Like Willow’s ‘just an acquaintance’ Rack? Why would you do research on him last week? We didn’t hear his name more than a couple of days ago.” Buffy looked confused for a moment then clapped her hand on her forehead. “Oh my God! The Table Clean spell! Willow erased our memories of Rack.”

Buffy frowned at Giles. “But why wasn’t this memory restored as well, when you broke the crystal?”

Giles removed his glasses and polished them furiously before finally slipping them back on.
“My dear, we might have a serious situation here. It seems Willow didn’t use the spell just the one time. There might’ve been more occasions, certainly at least one other not accounted for.”

He looked grim as he concluded. “I believe it would be wise to take some countermeasures against Willow influencing our minds. I cannot imagine what other damage she may be able to inflict. I shall need to contact the Coven in England to find the best way to block her spells. I think as a precaution I will print out this information immediately and keep some notes around, just in case.”

Buffy watched in silence as Giles’ printer spit out heaps of paper while he pinned a large note on his board: ‘Check email for OWL-Service’.

It seems Willow had tampered with their minds, God knows how many times. What all had Buffy forgotten? What might she forget the next time when Willow decided that it was not okay for her to remember? Fear gripped her when she listed what else might be in danger of getting erased.

Buffy was overwhelmed by a smothering wave of helplessness. She was robbed of her free will, violated without any chance to fight back.

Did a rape victim feel like that?

~*~

Dawn was bored, bored, bored.

It was one hour after sunset and the streetlights flickered reluctantly into life. She’d even done all her homework and was now flipping through the channels looking for a distraction. The speakers were blaring and she had popped her feet, clad in her favorite Chucks, onto the coffee table in front of the couch. But the thrill of doing the forbidden soon went stale. If there was nobody around to scold her, what was the fun in it?

She was spooning chocolate fudge ice cream directly out of the carton, licking the escaping droplets off her fingers. Even that wasn’t satisfying. She had found the unopened treat hidden behind a bag of plain French fries and knew that Buffy had reserved it for some special occasion. She had felt evil for a moment, before boredom returned full blast.

Everybody was gone, probably having some fun – elsewhere. Tara was at the college library, having research fun and Buffy was on patrol. Judging by the beaming smile she had given Spike when he picked her up shortly after sunset, they were probably having lots of fun right now. Either killing beasties or smooching each other’s faces off. Where did that disturbing expression come from? Dawn pondered the visual for a while before sinking again into a sea of boredom.

Going over to her pal Janice’s might be nice. After one look outside the front door her heart began to race. She’d felt her skin crawling at the thought of stepping onto the dark pavement and walking down the deserted street. The pools of light from the street lamps seemed to jump at her and an icy chill ran down her spine. She had never before felt such fear at the idea of sneaking out of the house alone after dark. It came out of nowhere, without any cause, and that made it so much more frightening.

Quickly she shut the door again and retreated to the safety of the cozily lit living room for another round of kick-the-boredom.

The doorbell interrupted her idle ponderings of just why on earth someone would willingly jump into a basin filled with creepy crawlers. As Dawn peaked through the peephole, she saw Willow standing at the front porch.

“Hi Willow! Ummm, Tara’s not here.” Dawn blurted out as she opened the door.

“Hey Dawnie, I was actually looking for you. I… wanted to apologize to you for the spell, you know, with the memories and all. I thought, maybe you’d want to go with me for some ice cream – you know, to make it up to you.”

Willow looked down at the dripping container of chocolate-y goodness in Dawn’s hands. ”Or instead we could go to the movies? I met Buffy on the way over and she said it would be okay if I took you out, I mean, if you want to.”

“Oh, that’s great! I was so bored here. Let me grab my jacket.” Dawn latched happily onto the offered distraction. She quickly put the empty ice cream container on the kitchen counter and slipped into her comfy jeans jacket.

She still felt a strange uneasiness as she stepped out into the night beside the redhead, but she felt safe enough. She was with Willow after all; the red witch would know how to defend them if something were to happen. Besides, Buffy had approved it.

Easy chatter about the movies they could watch soon occupied Dawn’s mind as they walked down the silent streets. When Willow took a left turn onto a darker side street, Dawn hesitated.

“That’s not the way to the movies. Shouldn’t we go this way?” She pointed down the street where she could see the lights and commotion from the main street several crossings ahead.

“Oh, it’s alright, Dawn. I just have to pick up something first.” Willow tried to placate her.

Dawn felt the icy dread rise in her again. Why did she feel so panicky, out here alone with Willow? The redhead had messed up a spell again and all were really disappointed with her, but she was still trustable Willow, right? Buffy’s best friend in the world?

“Come on, Willow, can’t you do that later? I really don’t want to go down there.”

Briskly Willow turned towards her and Dawn thought she saw a red spark flaring up in the witch’s eyes.

“Dawn, do me a favor and just come with me. It’s important that I go there first.” Willow’s voice had changed, it was commanding now which, as usual, made Dawn balk.

“No, Willow, I don’t want to,” she stubbornly resisted, standing firm and crossing her arms over her chest. “Let’s go to the movies or take me back home.”

Willow grabbed Dawn by the elbow and propelled her down the dark side street. It hurt and the girl let out a gasp of pain and started to struggle against the witch’s hold.

“Willow, let me go! I don’t want to…” Dawn’s voice was rising in distress.

“Tranquilitas!” A harsh command from Willow clamped Dawn’s mouth shut with the force of a bear trap.

Dawn tried to shout, but she couldn’t pry her jaws open, not even a faint moan escaped. Fearfully, she continued to wriggle against the iron clasp of Willow’s hand. She hadn’t done anything wrong; what was the matter with the witch? How could she just shut her up like that?

As Dawn continued to fight against the magical constraints, Willow got more irate. She dragged Dawn along, down the dark alley, growing angrier with each step. In front of an unlit archway into a backyard, Willow suddenly stopped and pressed her palm on Dawn’s brow.

“Devincire!”

Invisible bonds folded around Dawn, pressing her arms to her side. She felt like her upper body was being cocooned in bubble wrap. She wriggled and strained, but each struggle made the bonds just wrap more tightly around her chest. Dawn’s breath was becoming more and more constricted; she felt as if she was suffocating. Panic rose like acrid bile out of the pit of her stomach.

In front of her, Willow’s chanting had revealed a shabby door which opened into a dimly lit corridor. After another sharp command from the witch, Dawn was lifted into the air and floated behind the angry red-head down the passageway where a figure awaited them; a tall, thin shadow, backlit by the flickering light spilling out of the room behind him.

~*~

“You’re late, Strawberry.” The stranger rasped.

“Rack, I got her just as you wanted. She fought, so I had to gag her. I have to remove the spell before you can talk to her. That’s what you wanted, right? To talk to her?”

Willow sounded unnaturally insecure and subdued.

“Good girl. No need to be hasty. Bring her into my office.” The shadow turned and Willow followed into the brightly lit room, floating Dawn along behind her, bobbing up and down like a balloon on a string.

Dawn began to struggle violently when she noticed where all the flickering illumination was coming from. The whole ceiling was a swirling, nauseating whirlpool of iridescent light. Strange, distorted faces appeared out of the semi-liquid matter, mouths wide in silent screams, before being sucked back under the surface. The plopping and sucking noises were the only sound accompanying this macabre dance.

Willow seemed oblivious to the ghastly display over her head. She walked trancelike over to a divan and sat down obediently on the blood red velvet cover.

The stranger - Rack - turned in the light and Dawn shrunk back at the sight of the hollow, sunken cheeks in a face framed by grey mottled, unkempt long hair. His red, glowing eyes captured her gaze and bore deeply into her mind.

Dawn blinked to break the connection, but she only slid deeper into the dark pit behind his eyes. Tendrils of the slimy, rubbery material from the ceiling sank down and started to wrap around her.

He’s hypnotizing me! Dawn silently cursed ‘stay away, go away’, unable to protest verbally. She tried to kick him, but he was out of reach. But Willow wasn’t! She managed one vicious boot at Willow’s knee cap.

“Owwwww! What are you…” Willow cried out in pain and looked around. The shock had obviously jarred her out of whatever dream world she’d been in.

“Rack, what are you doing with her?” Willow turned in alarm towards Dawn and shouted “Dissolvere!”

Dawn fell to the ground and immediately started to pull at the slick, rubbery strands still constricting her. Their hold wasn’t solid yet, so she managed to slide them off after some desperate clawing. As she rushed towards the door it closed in her face with a loud bang.

“Willow, back to your place. You brought her here and you will get your reward. Keep out of my business, you stupid girl.”

Rack was fuming and tried to grab Dawn as Willow stepped into his way.

“This wasn’t the deal!” Willow accused the warlock. “You said you only wanted to talk to her.”

“Don’t get cute with me. I can squish you like a fly and don’t think I wouldn’t do it. I can get dozens like you if I want. You were only interesting because you brought her.” Rack growled at Willow and tried to shove her out of the way.

Willow fended off his hand and glared back at him. “Your ego is far greater than your power. That spell you gave me, to make them forget you? That was a total fiasco. And Dawn ran away the first time, just after you told me that nobody can leave without your permission.”

Waving up at the undulating ceiling above their heads Willow spit out, “You’re nothing without your pet demon up there!”

“She is mine” A voice coated in barbed wire vibrated suddenly through the room, cutting the air to splinters like an exploding grenade.

Eyes slit like a cat’s pupils, glowing in a fierce orange, had opened over the whirling vortex. The maw now sported razor-sharp teeth and more tendrils sprouted from it and reached down for their prey.

“I crave her energy! I need her force – she is mine!!”

Dawn clamped her hands over her ears and shrieked, a sharp, cutting cry, challenging the demon’s vocal attack.

“Dawn, run!” Willow commanded and pointed her hand menacingly at Rack. A column of wind lifted the warlock into the air, sending him sailing forcefully back towards the opposite side of the room. Dawn heard a loud ‘crack’ as his head crashed into the plaster and he slid limply down the wall.

The furious, red witch now focused her rage on the demon overhead. Her eyes grew solid black and her hair whipped around her face like living flame.

The demon aimed its tentacles at Willow and the barbed voice cut the fabric of the air to threads with unidentifiable syllables, clicks and screeches.

Dawn’s heart pounded a rapid, frightened beat as she saw blood trickle out of Willows eyes and ears. Dawn took one hesitant step towards the witch, unsure what to do, before she turned in a panic and rushed out the door.

~*~

Spike’s eyes followed every move of his Slayer with adoration. She was a vision, magnificent in every detail. From his perch on the pedestal of the Weeping Angel statue he had a perfect view of the fight.

A slender leg shot out in an elegant arc as Buffy gracefully bent backwards to counteract the right hook from the vamp. Her opponent collapsed to the ground, limbs flailing as he hit the gravestone with a heavy thump.

Buffy shook her head, her ponytail whipping. “Why did you have to interrupt us? Don’t you know that’s rude? Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?”

“Huh? Are you particular who’s biting you, poppy?” snarled the vamp while struggling to pick himself up into a fighting stance.

“Hey, watch your mouth!” Spike interrupted. Nobody called his love pet-names but him. Besides, poppy, what kind of a name was that? No class there. What a sorry excuse for a vampire.

“It was rude!” Buffy turned to Spike and pouted, her lower lip begging to be nibbled. “Can’t I have one quiet moonlight stroll without being attacked? It’s not fair.”

Grinning, Spike noticed the slight turn of her head. Behind Buffy’s back the vampire rushed towards her with long strides, until she whirled around at the perfect moment with a forceful roundhouse kick. It sent the attacker flying headfirst into the foliage covering the nearby tomb.

“Why don’t you finish him up and we can continue our – stroll.” Spike sucked in his cheeks in a sexy smirk. If they continued their ‘stroll’ as before, they would need weeks to cross the graveyard between all the kisses.

Buffy pulled out her stake and went over to the still dazed vamp and quickly staked him. She turned and grinned up at Spike. “Thought you enjoyed the show.”

“Can watch you forever, luv. All fluid and graceful. You are the best I’ve ever seen and fought.” He sighed. “What a shame, we’re not enemies again. Remember our first fight at the high school? That was a boost, well, until your mum interrupted us.”

When he noticed Buffy’s raised eyebrows he quickly amended. “Just miss the fight, ya know? There’s nothing better than going against a worthy opponent. To walk the edge between life and death.”

“It’s funny; you know what Giles’ said today? That you might be able to spar with me if the chip detects no evil intentions.” Buffy whipped on her tiptoes and her eyes sparkled in anticipation. “Would you like to try?”

Spike’s mind blazed at the idea of dancing with his Slayer. If his heart could beat, it would explode in joy. To not be able to challenge Buffy was what he’d mourned most since the chip had crippled him. To go against her in a friendly fight came near to being in heaven for him.

He eagerly hopped off the pedestal into a fighting stance, a devilish grin splitting his face. “Come on, Slayer! You know I wanna dance…”

“Take it slow, Spike. I don’t want to have to drag you all the way home if you fry your brain.”

Cautiously, Buffy aimed a hit at the side of Spike’s head which he blocked easily without flinching. As Buffy continued the attacks, Spike got bolder. He was only blocking, but still it must hurt her a little and he couldn’t feel even the slightest twinge from the damn thing. So, on the next attack, he grabbed her arm and in a fluid motion sent her into a somersault.

Buffy rolled, came up effortlessly, and turned anxiously back to Spike. “Are you crazy? What part of ‘take it slow’ didn’t you understand, you moron?”

Spike stormed to her, grabbed her waist, and whirled her around. “It worked! It worked! That was bloody brilliant!”

Buffy squeaked in surprise and wrapped her arms around his neck. He whirled faster, around and around, until the world blurred by and they both started to laugh.

“Oh… Spike… I’m flying…” Buffy gasped between bouts of joyous laughter.

Finally he stopped and gently let her slide down to the ground. She was simply adorable, her face flushed, the golden hair gleaming silken in the moonlight. He looked deep into her dancing, hazel eyes and latched onto her beautiful lips with gleeful abandon.

~*~

With a loud bang Dawn closed the door behind her and leaned her back against it. Her heart was drumming wildly as if it was intending to punch a hole into her ribcage. She looked around her in a panic, trying to get her bearings. Wherever she was, she wasn’t at Rack’s rat hole anymore.

This was a totally different rat hole.

Dawn pressed her back with all force she could muster against the wooden surface of the closed door. Thank God it did open inwards. Her legs began to quiver and her knees were wobbling as the adrenaline rush left her body. She took several deep breaths and tried to relax her tense muscles.

First things first. She remembered Spike’s advice from the countless stories he had told her over the summer about his adventures: ‘Secure your situation, find out where you are, who you stand against. Then make your move’.

The door behind her back was solid and still, no loud banging or rattling. Nobody seemed to have followed her here. Cautiously she straightened and took a step away from the door. In the lock was a key; she turned it and heard the bolt slide into the jamb. Absentmindedly, she pocketed the key in her jeans jacket and tested the handle – it didn’t budge.

This wasn’t still good enough. Dawn looked around the room she was in; there was a solid dresser to the side of the door. She struggled, tugging and dragging and pushing with all her strength and finally placed it in front of the door. Ok, that was as secure as she could get it.

Next she had to determine where she was. It was obviously a hotel room. Duh, that wasn’t much help.

She turned to assess the depressing interior of the room. Two doors, a small bathroom, everything seemed to have been refurbished the last time in the 70’s. The wallpaper design, with intertwining circles in moldy green and screaming orange, surely would give her eye cancer if she had to stare at it for any length of time. A moth-eaten carpet partially covered some stains on the light brown linoleum floor. She hoped it wasn’t blood.

This room looked like a murder scene from some black and white mafia gangster movies. Just, you know, crossed with “Psycho” and a little “Halloween” tossed in for more flavor. Arrg, now she was spooked.

She went over to the window and peaked behind the shabby, dusty yellow-brown curtains. The sun hung like a big, orange, rubber ball over a windblown desert landscape. Strong gusts of wind whirled up little dust-devils of reddish brown sand. In the distance, Dawn could see the shapes of hills and gnarled Joshua Trees stretching limbs up to the cloudless sky.

Great. She was lost somewhere in Arizona – if she still was in her home dimension at all. She’d heard enough tales from Anya to know there were far stranger places around than Arizona. Sky and sun looked pretty normal though.
Looking out the window, it became clear that she wasn't in a hotel room at all, but in a cabin. There were rows of similarly deserted looking, shabby cabins lined up like chipped beads along a tarred street running straight from and into nowhere. A rusty sign, the symbol of a yellow rising sun over sand-scratched, partly broken, neon lights told her she was at the ‘Sun—ale Motel’.

Nice vacation spot. She wondered if anybody ever came here, even when the motel had been new and less gnarly looking.

Now came the difficult part. Should she stay here and wait or go out and try to find help on her own? Anyway, she was going to need water and the thought of being outside when it was dark? No way.

Her first fleeting hope had been a mini-bar, as if such a rat hole would sport one. Nope.

The dangling bare light bulb in the windowless bathroom cast sharp shadows as she tried her luck with the tap. A thin trickle of slightly orange colored water was at least more than nothing. She really hoped the color was just rust. She cupped some liquid in her palm and frowned at the stale, lukewarm taste. But she was thirsty, so she clenched her teeth and swallowed it.

After she had drunk as much as she could endure, Dawn decided to take her chances and explore the outdoors. The sun was still barely above the horizon as she first cautiously peeked through a crack in the front door before quietly sneaking out in search of the office and maybe some human help.

~*~

Spike was happy.

If he looked at the long line of years, stretching behind him back to his death, he’d never been this happy before. Even as a human he’d been mostly miserable and lonely. Only his mum had shown him kindness and love.

He marveled at how he’d finally managed to get his chance. The chance that lay warm and soft in his cold, callused hand. This slip of a girl had given him hope. He still didn’t dare to call her ‘his girl’, fearing that the bubble would burst, leaving his life again bereft of all light and warmth.

“A penny for your thoughts.” Buffy looked up at him as they lazily strolled through the moonlit cemetery back towards Revello Drive.

He gently squeezed Buffy’s hand and his poet’s heart blazed under her smile.

“Luv, I’m just a sentimental fool. Don’t want to ruin my bad-ass image.” Spike pursed his lips and considered her. “Just thought how I enjoy going on patrol with you.”

Buffy giggled. “If you could call our kissage interrupted by vampires a patrol. Giles would be so ashamed of me. Thank God it was a quiet night.”

Spike stopped and pulled Buffy into his embrace and she melted against him. He put a gentle kiss on the top of her head and felt her arms snuggle around his waist under his duster.

She lifted her head and looked up at him. “I like it. This feels so – right. Why didn’t we do this way earlier?”

“Because you’re a stubborn, hard-headed bint?”

“Hey, mister!” She poked her elbow into his side. “I am not.”

“Bloody well are!”

With a light hearted laugh, Buffy detached herself and sprinted away. “The last one back is a rotten egg!“ she shouted over her shoulder with a playful smirk.

Spike took off chasing behind her, in no real hurry to catch up with her, rotten eggs be damned. He was admiring her ass, the play of her muscles as she ran in front of him. What a sight!

Leaning back against the front door, Buffy waited for him. As he strutted up the stairs she gave him a teasing grin. “You lose!”

“Do I now?” Spike questioned as he pressed his body flush against her and lowered his head for another hungry kiss. Tendrils of golden hair had escaped her ponytail and were clinging to her moist neck. He trailed his finger along her jaw line and freed the strands one by one. Her skin trembled under his fingertips and her heart rate accelerated even more.

He could smell her musky arousal and knew that he could take her if he wanted. With tongue and lips, with his murmured endearments he could drive her into a lustful frenzy, push her to lose her control and be all his.

But he didn’t. He didn’t want her body; he wanted her heart.

Who was he kidding? He wanted her body. To feel her legs wrap around him, to slide into her hot core, to listen to her when she cried his name as she fell over the edge. To feel her hot, sweaty skin move against his. To dive to her secret place and taste her nectar. To find out if she moaned or if she screamed. His dreams were filled with visions of her, in 3-D Technicolor and Surround Sound, now more than ever and his hand hurt from all the wanking he’d done to placate his ever present erection.

But all that would be empty, nothing more than smoke and mirrors, if he didn’t get her heart first. Without her love, it would be just sex for Buffy and some day soon she would be disgusted about it and leave. He loved her, with all his heart; he wouldn’t throw away the chance he’d been offered just because he couldn’t get his dick under control.

Panting for breath Buffy broke the kiss and placed her hand gently on his cheek.

“I’ve to go now… as much as I want this to go on. The lights are off, so Dawn’s already asleep and I don’t want to wake her. Besides, I have to spare something for tomorrow…” With an impish grin she turned and opened the door.

For the first time since his arrival at the front porch Spike listened to the sound of the house. “Buffy, something’s wrong. Can’t hear a heartbeat. Niblet’s not here, nobody’s here.”

Buffy switched on the light. A dripping ice cream container on the kitchen counter and a mess of spilled popcorn littering the couch were the only signs of a rebellious teenager. Dawn’s jacket was missing too.

On the fridge was only a note from Tara saying that she’d gone to the library to work on a paper and would be late.

“Spike, can you sense anything? Dawn can be a dork, but she would leave us a note to say if she’d gone over to Janice’s.”

He closed his eyes and cracked his neck as he concentrated on all the scents that hung in the air.

Dawn had been here recently - it couldn’t have been long since she’d left. The smell of her girly perfume and shampoo still lingered heavily in the living room, together with the salty tang of the chips and the chocolate aroma of the ice cream. Near the door the trail was mixed with a more earthen, spicy scent.

Spike opened his eyes and met Buffy’s concerned gaze. “Red was here.”

“Willow?”

“That’s what I’m smellin’. And recently.”

Buffy opened the front door. “Maybe she was looking for Tara? Can you tell if Dawn went outside with Willow?”

“Willow was here tonight?” Tara’s voice startled them.

The witch was standing in front of the door, her hand ready to open it; her brows were now knit in consternation. “She was here around noon and talked to me. She knows my class schedule and wouldn’t come by looking for me on a Thursday night. What’s with Dawn?”

“She’s not here and we don’t know where - or why - she’s gone.” Buffy was growing more and more agitated.

Spike put his arm soothingly around her shoulder. Why must such a lovely evening end in distress for her? “Sweetheart, let’s see if I can follow them. At least she’s not out there on her own.”

“Spike, I’ve a bad feeling. Remember what I told you about the research results that popped up today on Giles’ computer? Willow is involved in something serious and I don’t like what I learned about that Rack guy.”

Tara touched her hand. “Buffy, let me help, too. We’ll find Dawn.”

The two girls followed Spike into the night.

The trail wasn’t easy to follow.



Spike had to stop several times to circle back and pick it up again. First, it led him directly towards Main Street; as it veered away into a deserted side street he picked up the pace until he finally stopped in front of a dark alleyway.



“That’s funny. It stops here like it’s been cut with a knife.” Spike frowned as he turned to the girls. “Glinda, can you feel anything here? Maybe a trace of magic?”



Tentatively, Tara approached the spot, her hand stretched out in front of her, eyes closed, as she quietly turned from right to left. “There are strong emanations of dark energy. It’s like a wall, only it doesn’t have any feeling of depth. It’s as if a barrier or a sheet of glass is there, retreating whenever I come near.” Her voice was hesitant, whispering, while her hand caressed the air in front of her.



“Maybe if I command it…” Suddenly she pressed her fingers forcefully into the air and ripples of dark brown light spilled out from beneath them. The image of a door appeared, unclear and wavering as if seen through the surface of a rippled pond.



“Gotcha! What’s it, Glinda? Can you open it?”



Spike stepped nearer and hesitantly pressed his index finger onto the glimmering surface. His fingertip was stopped inches before touching the hidden door and angry lightning sparks flitted over the surface of the barrier.



“Giles’ report talked about a doorway, a portal into another dimension, where this warlock lives. We need that report, and pronto.” Buffy pulled a mobile out of her pocket and dialed the Watcher’s number.



“Modern technology, huh, luv? That’s neat. Can I get your number?” Spike shot her a sexy grin.



“Moron, of course you can. Just got it yesterday, now that I’m not broke anymore. Actually you should get one yourself.” Buffy held up her finger to forestall more conversation.



“Hi, Giles! We have a situation! Dawn’s missing and Spike has tracked her to a portal… Yes, a portal! Tara made it visible… We think it has something to do with Willow… Yes, we think so too… Take your notes and come here as quick as possible, it’s 1313 Cola Avenue… Wait, grab some weapons, I’ve got a feeling we’ll need them and we’re unarmed, if you don’t count the stakes and fangs… Alright, bye!”



She briskly closed her phone. “He’ll be here soon and he’s bringing the notes about this Rack guy. Tara, can you step back a bit, but still keep the doorway visible?”



The witch nodded and sighed. “Oh, Willow, what have you done now?”



~*~



Buffy focused the flashlight’s beam steadily on the sheet of paper as Giles chanted the incantation that was supposed to open the doorway to the warlock’s office. Spike watched her, shifting restlessly, eager to jump into action. Over Buffy’s shoulder hung a huge sword; he and Tara were each armed with an ax.



Dark syllables echoed in the archway as the outline of the door grew brighter and more solid until it finally opened with an eerie creak. Cliché much? Spike eyed the opening cautiously and wrinkled his sensitive nose. Stale, mildew-laden air streamed out, but he could also detect traces of Dawn and the witch.



“They went in there,” he confirmed. “Can’t be sure if they’re still there, though. Sorry, luv”.



Buffy drew her sword and signaled the others to follow. “Giles, Tara, would you watch out for magic? We might need some nifty counter-spells, so keep your wands or whatever ready.”



As Giles and Tara nodded their agreement, Buffy turned and went through the doorway without further hesitation. Tara adjusted her grip on the ax, swallowed, and followed behind Giles. Goosebumps ran over Spike’s skin as he stepped through the barrier, covering the rear. He hated magic, so why did he always get involved in it?



The hallway was dark and deserted, but when Buffy opened the door at the end, bright light flooded out, momentarily blinding them. The stench was incredible, worse than a garbage can after days of summer heat. The scent carried the odor of scarred flesh combined with burned rubber and seaweed, mixed with the coppery, metallic smell of fresh blood.



Following Buffy’s hand signal, Spike stepped to the front and surveyed the thrashed room. Willow was lying on the scorched carpet, bleeding from her nose and ears. A stranger was bent over her.



“Step away from her!” Buffy’s voice was level and commanding.



The man straightened and looked at them with bloodshot, mad eyes. Then he started to giggle, a high pitched, eerie sound which bounced around the ruined room. Bits of burned flesh rained down from the ceiling which was covered in a black crust of singed tissue.



“I said, step away!” Buffy tried to cut through the madness. “Are you Rack?”



“Rack? Who calls me?” The warlock choked between fits of giggles. “She ruined everything, arrogant bitch. Had to meddle, didn’t she? Had to hurt Him! But my Master’s not dead, not so easy, no.”



He shook his shaggy head, his eyes focusing on the group. “Meddling friends, she told me. Intervening, accusing, taking the fun out of her magic. She was always complaining. Helped her wipe the slate. She thought she was in control! Stupid bitch! She? In control?” His giggles bubbled, and popped, and foam spilled out of the corner of his mouth.



His mouth contorted into a lopsided grin, showing yellowed teeth. “She brought Him a present, that first day, full of green energy. He promised me new dimensions, new customers in exchange for it. So I made her bring it here. Now, look what that bitch has done to Him! Helped it to escape - it just vanished after stepping through that door. How did it do that? Nobody leaves here against my will. He was so angry. She ruined everything!”



Rack’s voice had grown louder and more furious during his sermon. Suddenly he pointed his hand up to the ceiling and howled. “Wake up, Master! I hold You to our contract!”



The scorched matter on the ceiling started to heave and roll like living waves of flesh. A huge eye half opened, oozing yellowish slime, and fresh, pink tendrils broke through the black, scarred surface. Without hesitation, Buffy and Spike attacked the groping appendages.



Buffy’s sword barely reached to the ceiling and left only shallow cuts which dripped dark slimy blood down on her. With a frustrated huff, she changed her grip on the hilt and threw it dead center into the eye.



The creature let out a creaking, rusty cry, which rubbed like coarse sandpaper at their nerve endings. A whirling maw opened in its middle, sucking more and more of the matter into it until, with a final snap, the abyss closed. Only flakes of blackened skin and scorched plaster remained, snowing down on them like a macabre blizzard.



“Shit, it ate my sword. That was my favorite,” Buffy muttered to Spike.



Buffy and Spike were still staring at the ceiling, transfixed. Rack let out a desperate cry as he grabbed the broken leg of a chair and began to wield it like a club. He stepped toward Willow, raising the leg high over his head.



“You’ll pay for it, bitch!”



His eyes suddenly widened in shock, a gush of blood spraying out of his mouth; then his eyes glazed over. Rack slumped forward, falling with a deafening thud onto the floor, an ax deeply embedded between his shoulder blades.



“Nobody messes with my girlfriend!” Tara glared down at the prone figure.



“Nice axing, Glinda.” Spike shot the white witch an approving glance.



Tara blushed while she hurriedly bent down to examine Willow. “She’s alive and I can’t see any wounds. Willow, sweetling, can you hear me?”



She gently rocked the redhead but Willow’s head rolled lifelessly. Tara looked up at her friends in despair.



Giles grabbed Spike’s arm. “Can you take Willow and Tara to my car? It’s best if we bring her to my apartment. I’ll make sure that Rack was truthful and that Dawn’s no longer here.”



~*~



Half an hour later, Willow was securely tucked into Giles’ guest bed with Tara rooted to her side. Willow hadn’t regained consciousness yet, but they all had agreed that it wouldn’t be wise to bring her to the hospital as long as her vitals were still strong. Anyway, it would be impossible to tell the authorities anything substantial about her condition and they didn’t have time for twenty questions.



Giles had performed a locator spell for Dawn with no results. Wherever she was, she was either hidden or too far away for the spell to connect to her. Neither option was very reassuring.



Spike sat on the steps and watched as Buffy paced the living room of the small apartment. Neither of them could resist glancing toward the table, where a wooden bowl held the two black crystals they had found in Rack’s office.



Spike eyed them with suspicion. God, how he hated magic, always messing around with his head. “Let’s just get over with it!”



All eyes turned to him questioningly.



“Oh crap, smash them, grind them to dust or whatever it takes to break the damn spell. No good staring at the soddin’ things all day. They’re either for us or not; no sense in stalling.”



Yeah, right. He just hoped that they wouldn’t crash his hopes too. What if Buffy just gave him his crumb because of a spell? What if a smashed crystal would put him back into his old place, outside, alone in the dark, a disgusting monster?



Giles looked down at his notes again. “Spike’s right. I won’t find anything else useful in here. I’ve gone over it several times already. Buffy, how do you think we should do it? Both at once or one after the other?”



Buffy picked up one crystal and eyed it suspiciously for a moment. She held it in the palm of her hand tentatively before she suddenly turned her wrist, letting it drop to the ground. She stepped on it deliberately, the heel of her boot crunching it into tiny particles. When she looked over to Giles and Spike, she shook her head. Nothing had happened.



She picked up the next one and broke it to splinters. This time, images flashed behind Spike’s eyelids and anger rose like bile in this throat.



“Red!” he bellowed.



Buffy looked to him, her eyes dark with fury. “Oh my God! Dawn! She nearly got Dawn killed! That’s what really happened on Halloween.”



Buffy turned to Giles who had slumped down in his armchair.



“I’m sorry, Buffy. I now remember the talk we had about Willow’s use of magic. You were obviously right. This explains how Rack knew of Dawn. That’s what he meant as he said, ‘Willow brought a present’.”



Giles plucked his glasses off his nose. “But I am sorry to say that this doesn’t help us to find Dawn. If what Rack told us is true, and I believe it is, once she went out the door she left his domain. Since Rack controls all exits, she should have stayed contained within his boundaries.”



Giles stared at his hands, fiddling with his glasses, and frowned. “Let me see – on her first visit she could also leave on her own. Most peculiar. Both times she must have been highly agitated.”



He looked at Buffy with alarm.



“The Key!” they both exclaimed.



“Huh? Wanna keep me in the loop here?” Spike stood up and walked over to Buffy.



Under the scrutiny of her watcher, she turned to Spike and took both of his hands. “When Giles was in England, he did research on the Key for me. I needed to know what was happening to Dawn. He didn’t find much, but what he came up with supports our theory that Dawn might still be the Key, only, you know, without a specific lock.”



Spike stared into her eyes, seeing fear and concern reflected in them. He had to admit, it sounded like a valid theory. But if Dawn could still open dimensions, how would they find her when she was so obviously lost?



“Dawnie could be anywhere. How can we possibly find her?” Buffy’s voice was distant and flat.



Buffy’s face was growing still, her cheek muscles tensed, and her mouth was a bitter, thin line. He too vividly remembered how Buffy had gotten lost in her mind when Glory had kidnapped Dawn - she’d had the same look then. Red had brought her back; only this time, there was no witchy friend to help. He slipped his right hand out of her grasp and her arm fell lifelessly to her side.



“Luv, don’t.” Gently, he placed two fingers under her chin and lifted her head. “Stay with me, don’t give up, let me help you. Bit’s a clever one; she’s tough - runs in the family. She’ll fight to find a way back to us and we’ll do whatever we can to find her. I know you’re frightened for her. Bloody hell, I am too.”



Her eyes welled up and a tear slid down her cheek. Tenderly, he brushed the drop away with his thumb. “Let it out, pet, you’ll feel better. Get your head clear.”



He pulled Buffy into his embrace and she complied with a sob, tears running more freely. Over her head he stared defiantly at her watcher. To his surprise he saw only concern in Giles’ face, and a shadow of speculation. What he didn’t see there was disgust or rejection.



“We’ll find her, luv, we will,” he murmured soothingly.



Spike could feel her trembling in his arms. With her tears, the tension was running out of her body. He swept her off her feet and sat down on the couch, Buffy on his lap. She curled into him, her head on his shoulders, her face pressed into his neck.



“We’ll find her,” he repeated into her ear. “We’ll turn over every stone to get her back. And don’t forget, Niblet’s a clever girl, just like you. She knows we’ll come for her.”



Trustingly, she was laying in his arms; he wouldn’t let her down.



He looked up at Giles. “Who knows about inter-dimensional travel?”



Giles cleared his throat and ran his hand through his graying hair. “The Council normally consults a specialist in Burma. He’s a monk, living in the Ananda temple, a Buddhist monastery near the Irrawaddy River. But he is difficult to contact since the monastery has very limited telephone access. It would take hours to get through to him.”



Spike sighed. “Bugger, what help’s a specialist, who’s living on the bloody other side of the planet? We need someone now.”



He looked down into the desperate eyes of his love. They had to find a way to locate the Bit. If he thought about her, somewhere out there all on her own, his stomach cramped in fear.



Suddenly an idea bloomed in his mind. “Bloody hell, what an idiot I am! Why don’t we ask demon-girl? She’s lived much longer than me and must know lots of people - demons - who might be of help. As a vengeance demon, she must have traveled through a few dimensions herself.”



~*~



“Finally, someone appreciates me.” Anya sent a flirtatious smile at Spike.



He could see Buffy glowering at Anya. His Slayer had this ‘hands off my man’ look. Was she jealous? That was gold, that was. But he knew he shouldn’t push his luck, so he carefully composed a neutral face.



“Ahn! You know that I appreciate you!” Xander protested.



“You appreciate my knowledge in sexual practices and how to increase your stamina, Xander. I meant the appreciation of my mind, my expertise.”



Xander spluttered some unidentifiable noises and wisely decided against further comments. He glowered at Spike, who openly smirked at Xander after that juicy bit of information.



“Anya, do you know someone who can track down Dawn’s location? Please, we have to hurry. We don’t know where she is and she might be in danger…” Buffy choked on the thought.



Anya looked at her with sympathy. “There is an oracle - that would be the best way to describe it. It’s monitoring the fluctuations in temporal and space dimensional crossovers. It’s accessible from all dimensions, so we don’t need to travel far to reach it. The location here in Sunnydale would be – wait a minute.”



Anya knit her brows and ticked off her fingers. “Yes, today it would be in the alley behind the Bronze.” She beamed at Buffy. “I can bring you there. Its price has to be paid in bars of iron.”



Noticing the stares she got, Anya shook her head. “What? Of course it has a price. Would you work for nothing? Gold isn’t a precious metal in every dimension, you know. Good for us that he wants iron and not uranium or the egg of a Phoenix; those would be more difficult to come by so quickly. These differences in currency make trading across dimensions so much more profitable. We should look into it, Giles.”



“Anya, do you really have to go with them?” Xander asked anxiously. “Giles, isn’t that too dangerous for her?”



“Xander, they’ll need me! I’ll have to negotiate the payment. Why do you have to spoil my fun?” Anya pouted. “Buffy and Spike will go searching for Dawn. God knows how long they’ll be away if I don’t help. Can you even imagine how much work it is to plan our wedding? I’ll need the help of my Maid of Honor.”



She scowled at her fiancé. “Wait! If this is a trick by you to prevent Spike from stripping at my bachelorette party…”



“Ahn! Of course not!” Xander tried to mend the fence.



Anya looked unconvinced and briskly turned around to Buffy. “Anyway, we need to get Dawn back. She’s the flower girl for my wedding. If she stays too long in another dimension, she might grow too old for that. There are no other children …”



“Wait, Anya, what do you mean by ‘grow too old’?” Buffy looked at Anya with alarm.



“Oh, I mean, that Dawn might be in a dimension where the time flows faster than here. The timelines aren’t synchronized in all dimensions. For example, a minute here might be an hour elsewhere, or the other way around. In some dimensions the time even flows backwards, so you start as Methuselah and die as a baby. Which is annoying, when you have all those X-rated memories and aren’t allowed to have orgasms anymore. No way to tell what the temporal effects are, since you don’t know where Dawn is. But we should hurry, just in case.”



Anya turned to Giles. “Do you have iron available? Preferably iron bars, but it can also be cast iron, reinforcement steel or any other implements of iron. Not stainless steel though.”



“I’ve several cast iron weight disks for my dumb bells. They fit your specification. I don’t use them anymore, but they must be still around somewhere in here.” Giles bent down and opened the doors of his cabinet and rummaged through the lower shelves.



“I’ll pack a bag with weapons and some supplies. Blankets, water, some food, first aid kit. We don’t know how long we’ll be away and what condition Dawn will be in.” Buffy’s hands were shaking as she busied herself.



Spike watched Buffy with worried eyes as she knelt down at the weapons chest. He had returned to his former perch on the stairs, giving her space. She was no longer on the brink of collapse, but still strained. Like him, she hated just sitting around, waiting.



Buffy looked up and their eyes met for a moment. ‘Hold on’ he wanted to shout to her, but he didn’t know how she would react in front of all her friends. So he just looked at her, trying to put his heart into his eyes.



Buffy’s eyes grew wet again and a tiny tear ran down her cheeks which she quickly brushed away. She nodded slightly and turned back to her task.



While Giles, Buffy, and Anya prepared everything for the meeting with the oracle, Xander approached Spike.



“Hey, bleach-boy – ummm, Spike.” Xander swallowed and looked down at his shoes. “Can I – can I – Damn!” He mumbled through gritted teeth and stuffed his hands deep into his trouser pockets.



Spike cocked his eyebrow. “Out with it whelp, I don’t bite – much.” What fleas had bitten the boy that he wanted to talk to him?



“I don’t like you; don’t forget it,” Xander growled. “But Buffy will be focused on Dawn. So - can you look out for Anya?” He stared defiantly at Spike, clearly waiting for a snarky response.



Spike studied Xander silently for a moment. It took guts to ask your enemy for help, it clearly cost him a lot. He must give the whelp credit, to know his priorities.



“Okay, I’ll do it. Demon girl’s a good one. Would’ve done it anyway.” Spike shrugged his shoulders.



“What?” Xander spluttered.



“Think I’d say no?” Spike shook his head at the open mouthed astonishment on Xander’s face. “That’s why you asked, right? I’m evil, but I’m not a heartless monster.”



“I owe you, if you help her come back safe and sound. But just to make it clear, I hate it.” Xander briskly turned and walked away.



Spike stared after him. He never would have believed that the boy would ask him for a favor. He respected a man who could push his personal feelings to the side for something important. He didn’t like Xander, but he felt sympathy for him.



~*~



The sand was everywhere.



Dawn pulled the collar of her jean jacket up over her face but it didn’t help much. With each breath through her nose she felt the gritty sand crystals coat her nostrils. Her mouth felt dry and the wind abraded her skin like sandpaper. It was difficult to see with her hair fluttering around her face; as she tried to secure it inside the collar of her jacket, it felt matted and brittle.



It hadn’t looked this bad when she’d watched the wind blowing the dust balls across the yard from inside the cabin. All thoughts of following the street towards civilization left her mind. That would be suicide. Even the trickle of water she’d drunk only moments ago seemed to have been sucked out of her body by the unrelenting wind.



Despite the huge, orange sun hanging in the sky, it was terribly cold. The icy wind snaked under her jacket and tugged at her trouser legs. The gravel poked through the thin soles of her Chucks. Definitely not the right clothes for this Wild West wilderness.



She stumbled onto the porch outside the reception area. There was no light on and the windows were covered in the powdered, reddish sand. She pulled one sleeve of her jacket over her fist and wiped a small area of the front window clean before leaning down to peek in.



“Yes!” she pumped her hand in triumph. There was a stand with snacks, potato chips and nuts, at the reception desk. And in the corner was a cooler full of soft drinks. In the dim light she could see rows of keys dangling on a board behind the desk, with just one missing.



When she tried the door she wasn’t surprised to find it locked. She knocked and shouted; she even rattled the knob - but nobody came. Duh, who would stay in this deserted motel and wait for guests? On the other hand, if it was deserted, why was there still something to eat and drink in there?

Dawn stuffed her hands into her pockets to keep them as warm as possible when her fingertips bumped up against an oblong object in her right-hand pocket.. She pulled it out and examined it. It was a red plastic key fob, naming her cabin as number ten. She looked at it thoughtfully; sometimes a room key also opened the doors to the common rooms. It wouldn’t hurt to give it a try.

The key slipped into the lock smoothly and turned. When she pushed against the door, however, it wouldn’t budge an inch. The knob turned easily enough – which could only mean that she had unlocked it, but something was blocking it from the other side. She peeked again through the window but she didn’t have a free view of the entrance door.



Determinedly, she put the key back into her pocket and leaned hard against the door; she pressed her whole weight against it, stemmed her feet firmly onto the terrace, and pushed with all the force she could muster. Chips and Coke waited for her inside.



Finally the door gave way with a groan. After she worked the gap wide enough for her body, she slipped through.



~*~



Buffy and Spike watched as Anya drew a chalk circle onto the asphalt in the alley behind the Bronze. It was so late that the club had already closed and the street was deserted.



Buffy leaned into Spike’s embrace as they watched Anya draw a row of symbols inside the circle and place an iron plate onto each of them. He could feel her shoulder muscles hard with tension and rubbed his hand soothingly over her back.



“We’ll find her, pet. Niblet’s ok, you’ll see. She’s a brave one.” How could he reassure her when he was so full of concern himself?



Buffy sighed. “I know that I can’t do anything right now. That’s what’s killing me. I’m so much better when I can hit something.” She relaxed a bit and laid her head on his shoulder.



“Thanks for being here, Spike. I can’t tell you how much it helps me,” she whispered. “I know you’ll do anything to bring her back. Together we’ll find her. We will.”



One after one the plates were disappearing as new symbols turned up, which Anya answered by placing more plates on them while murmuring animatedly in a foreign language. That seemed to be the negotiating she had spoken off.



“It was a good idea to ask Anya. I don’t know why I was so blind to how much she could help us. I never considered that she’s been around for over thousand years.” Buffy looked up at Spike and gave him a lopsided grin. “I also underestimated you. Why did I never see how much you care? Giles taught me that demons don’t have feelings. That’s obviously a load of crap.”



“Pet, I’m sure, I can show you many more qualities you might ‘preciate.” Spike tilted his head and watched her lips curl into a smile.



“It’s all set. Come over here - we have to enter through the circle.” Anya waved at them, interrupting the moment. “In the conference space you’ll not need a translator, but I’ll come with you, just in case.” She stretched out her arms. “We better hold hands when we step in, otherwise we might get separated.”



They joined their hands, with Anya in the middle, and stepped simultaneously into the chalk circle. It was like falling down the rabbit hole. The air rushed by and the temperature grew warmer. When the sensation stopped, they found themselves in a dark space which felt like a large, underground cave. In the distance, they could hear the hypnotic drip-drip-drip of water patiently forming towering pillars.



A whispering, raspy sound came nearer, like a breeze shifting brittle leaves over dry ground. Out of the shadows, a long arm extended towards them. The area was suddenly bathed in a soft, golden light as glowing eyes opened at the end of hundreds of slim fingers. They were swaying, like the tendrils of an enormous sea anemone dancing in the reef waters.



“That’s the oracle,” murmured Anya. “Let me speak to it first.”



She bowed and the eyes blinked at her. “Beljoxa, Great One, be greeted. We are honoured that you grant us an audience. We seek knowledge about the location of a lost one.”



“You paid me my due respect, Anyanka. It’s always a pleasure to bargain with you. Who did you bring?” The booming, velvet voice rushed out of the darkness and the arm turned around to observe Buffy and Spike.



Buffy stepped forward and bowed, mirroring Anya’s behaviour. “I greet you, Great One. We’re searching for my sister, Dawn. We can’t locate her; we assume she might have stepped into another dimension. Can you find her for us?”



“Sister? There is no sister. There is a child, yes, a green child. Although she is not human, I sense she is… yours.” The voice hesitated, eyes rolling and blinking, their light igniting glittering sparks on the nearby wall.



“Two warriors, one light, one dark - contradicting.” The eyes slowly turned first to Buffy, then to Spike. “Here we have water, strong and flexible. There we have air, steady yet also impulsive. Diametrical, but in balance.



“The child you seek. Green, an element of both water and air.” The silken basso voice rolled into the silence like a wave crested by delicate sea foam. “The child is made of you, has both your properties. She is the keeper of the Key.”



Wriggling tentacles from the cluster of eyes flowed to the music of the voice, feeling for answers. “The child is trapped in a prison of earth, out of her element; no water there and the air is polluted by sand.



“I can bring you to her if you wish. But you have to find your own way back. The child can only leave if the key remains behind.” The voice sounded final, finished.



Spike grabbed the weapons bag and took Buffy’s hand without hesitation. Buffy glanced at her ex-demon friend and stretched out her other hand. “Anya, do you want to come with us or do you want to return to the alley?”



Anya considered the options for a moment. “It might be helpful if I come with you.” She nodded and took Buffy’s hand. “We are ready, Beljoxa, please bring us to the child. It was a pleasure to meet you again. Say ‘hello’ to the wife and kids for me.”



~*~



Crap! Shit! Bugger! Bloody, soddin’, friggin, fucking…



Dawn really needed more lessons from Spike in cursing. It was lame. Whatever she could come up with, it was bloody not enough. She lifted her head and screamed in frustration.



She was back in the cabin.



What had blocked the door had been the dresser she herself had pushed in front of the door. All dreams of potato chips and something decent to drink had been blown away like dust on the wind.



What place was this? She’d left this cabin and gone quite a distance to the reception area. There she had opened the door and was – what? Back here again, like one of those crazy loopy things they’d had in geometry, a moby dick strip.



Exhausted, she leaned against the offending door and observed the room again. It was shabby but otherwise normal. There was just one peculiar and remarkable quality about the place: there was no dust and no cobwebs. You would think with all the sand flying around outside that it would seep through the slit under the door. But the floor and window sill were spotless clean.



Dawn reached for the key and locked the door behind her. Better safe than sorry. With no idea of what to do next, she went over to the bed and sank onto it, the bedsprings squeaking in protest.



Suddenly a flood of images assaulted her - memories of Rack and his office, the creepy waiting room. She gasped – and a vampire attacking her! Fascinated, she followed the visuals streaming through her mind as if she were watching a movie. Wow, she had staked a vampire, all on her own! And Willow had been really frightening with her lighting show and the black eyes. How could she have forgotten all that?



Thinking back to the attack in Rack’s office, she now had a clearer understanding of what had happened. The warlock had been really interested in her at Halloween, which was why he’d sent Willow after her. Maybe if she hadn’t left on her own he might have captured her then and there. Also, there was no longer any doubt about the theory that the warlock had Willow under some kind of spell. At the end, the witch had cut free and helped her escape. Dawn hoped that Willow was okay, if only for Tara’s sake.



Right, but none of this changed anything at her current situation. Think, Dawn! she scolded herself.



When Willow had dragged her through the door to Rack’s office, they clearly hadn’t been in the real world anymore. She’d often overheard the Scooby’s talk about dimensions, other universes. So, had she gone to another universe or was she still in her own? Hard to tell. It seemed to be endless sunset here, but it could just be her perception of time.



Then there was the weirdness with the door. Or doors? Was it just the one or were they different doors? She had left by the front door and stepped right into the landscape she’d seen from the window. Maybe it was just the back door?



Tentatively, she walked over and put her hand on the key which she’d left in the lock. She slowly turned it and cautiously opened the door. A cold, arctic blast of air blew in through the crack; snow flakes whirled in and melted on the floor. Dawn peered through the opening out into a foreign landscape. The sky was a leaden grey and ice stretched endlessly towards the horizon. No way was this the same place as outside the front door. She closed the door with a bang, turned the key and panted.



Weird, definitely weird!



She went to the window and checked. Yup, Wild, Wild West still out the front door, dust balls blown by the endless wind across the arid ground.



Turning around, she considered the back door again. So, what did this door and the door of the reception area have in common? She tugged at her hair. Think, Dawn, think!



Slowly, she stepped back towards the freak-door. Normal wood, painted a dull beige, just like the front door. Nothing distinctive - just a boring, plain door with a key. Locked.



Oh, locked! She had also used the key on the reception door, right? What if it was the key?



She put her fingers on the key and turned it. The lock clicked and the door groaned slightly. What will it be now? Again the icy wasteland or a damp jungle? She thought about fog hanging in huge trees, the cry of exotic birds, and gorillas sitting in a clearing.



The door opened a crack and she peered through, full of curiosity.



Damp, hot air wafted through the opening, and she heard the chatter of monkeys. Oh, it was the jungle she had imagined. Was this the clue she was looking for? Did her imagination define what was behind the door? Had she thought about her room when she turned the key in the door to the reception? She couldn’t remember.



Okay, another try. She closed the door and locked it. Where did she want it to open to? Of course - Revello Drive! She pictured the entrance, the stairs to the second floor. When she had it clearly in her head she reached for the key.



“Dawn! God, Dawn! Are you ok?” Buffy’s voice came from behind her, shaking her out of her concentration.



She heard the clunk of a heavy object hitting the ground. “Niblet!”



She turned around and saw Buffy, Spike, and Anya standing in the middle of the motel room, a canvas bag lying at Spike’s feet. Where did they come from? Had it been her imagining Revello Drive? But where did Anya fit in then? Dawn stared at them open-mouthed.



Buffy stormed to her and pulled her into a tight hug, with Spike following closely behind her. Anya beamed at them. Okay, for a vision, she definitely wasn’t getting enough air.



“Buffy! Spike! You found me!” she jubilated and returned the hugs.



“Oh God, Dawn! We were so worried.” Buffy caressed her hair and her eyes scanned her sister’s face. “You look alright. Have you been here all the time?” She looked around the room.



“I ran away from Rack, the warlock, you know?” As Buffy nodded, she went on. “Willow attacked the monster in the ceiling and I ran out the door, just to end up here. This is a really weird place. I went out to the reception and when I opened the door there I was back here again.”



Dawn beamed at Buffy, proud of herself. “But I think I just figured it out.”



“Hey, Niblet, what have you figured out?” Spike stepped up behind Buffy.



“Oh, Spike, I did just like you told me. You know? Secure, observe, and take action?” She saw Spike nod.



“That’s my Bit. Bloody brilliant, you are - just look a bit ruffled.”



“Oh, you know, it was the key!” When everybody just stared at her she clarified. “The door key! I took it with me and when I opened the reception door – I was looking for something to eat – I was back here again. Whenever I unlocked a door with this key, someplace else was out there. Whatever I thought about, I mean.”



Dawn was excited to have everybody’s attention. “I just tried to think of Revello Drive when you arrived. First it was some icy place, then the jungle. It works, I know. This key can bring us home.”



Buffy looked contemplatively at Spike. “The oracle said the child can leave when the key stays. What if he meant the room key?”



“Could be right there, luv.”



Dawn grinned as she observed Buffy and Spike smiling at each other. They were so cute. She couldn’t say that aloud – she wasn’t entirely stupid. But she could exchange an amused glance with Anya.



“Okay, does that mean we can go home now?” Dawn felt suddenly very tired.



“Just do what you think is right, Dawnie. I trust you.” Buffy looked earnestly at her and Dawn felt the weight of responsibility settle on her shoulders. God, did Buffy always feel like that when she was fighting evil? She didn’t envy her sister.



Dawn took a deep breath and concentrated. Destination: Revello Drive. She pictured the entryway, the mess she had left in the kitchen, the stairs up to her bedroom. Then she turned the key and opened the door.



~*~



Buffy sighed and leaned against Spike. “You have to go; the sun will be up soon. God, that was a long day.”



“Tuck yourself in, sunshine. I’ll find my way home. Bit’s back, that’s all that matters.” Spike tucked a lock of golden hair behind her ear and kissed her temple.



Buffy yawned and continued in a sleepy voice. “We can be proud of her, can’t we? She did so well. God, she’s growing up fast. Soon she’ll be an adult. Why do I suddenly feel so old? And – what was it the oracle said? We are water and air and she’s made of both of us? What does that mean?”



Spike gently brushed his lips against her pliant mouth. “Don’t worry too much, pet. Whatever it means, we’ll find out. Now, still up for our date tomorrow or should we postpone it?”



Buffy chuckled. “Dawn threatened to be unbearable for a year if we don’t go. I’m really frightened of her right now. So, tomorrow, at eight?”



“You bet!”



With a whirl of black leather, Spike vanished into the grey light of the arriving dawn.

Tara smiled at Buffy. “Give it to me.”

Tara took the hairbrush out of Buffy’s hands and started running it through her hair with long strokes. Buffy had decided to let it fall over her shoulder, after she remembered the admiring comments from Spike. He loved to run his fingers through her hair.

“How’s Willow? Was she awake when you left her this morning?” Buffy gently prodded the blonde girl for information.

Early in the morning, Tara had come back exhausted from Giles’ apartment and had slept nearly the whole afternoon. Even if Tara had tried to act normally, Buffy knew how anxious the girl was to get back to her lover. In spite of that, she had insisted on helping Buffy prepare for her date.

Tara let the brush fall to her lap and sighed. “Willow was getting more restless, tossing and turning, but she’s still unconscious. Giles took the day shift to watch over her and sent me home for some rest. Willow’s so pale, but her pulse and blood pressure is normal. I’m terribly worried! What if she doesn’t wake up?”

Buffy turned and took Tara’s hand gently between her own. “Willow’s strong, Tara. Remember? After the teleportation spell for Glory, she was unconscious for a while too. Maybe she just needs time to refuel her batteries or whatever you witches store your magic in. Dawn told us that the demon Will fought was very strong – the fight probably just drained her energy.”

“Giles said the same, but… It’s been nearly a day now. Oh, Willow!” Tara buried her face in her hands and Buffy gently stroked her back. Finally, the blonde witch sniffed and lifted her head again.

“Giles phoned the Devon Coven in England last night. The demon, oh, whatever its name is, lives like a parasite, sucking the energy out of the magically gifted. The Coven said that it might’ve taken all of Willow’s magic during the fight. If it did that…” New tears slid down Tara’s cheek and she looked desolate. “Buffy, they said a shock like that could cause permanent damage. They’re sending a healer over to Sunnydale, but she won’t be here for a couple of days.”

Tara squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her hand over her wet face. Then she looked at Buffy with large, red rimmed, sad eyes. “How can Willow live without her magic? I know we wanted her to cut down with the spells, but to not have magic at all…”

What could Buffy say to that? She wanted her friend back: funny, clever Willow who was so proud that she could float pencils. Over the years, her magic had overshadowed her enormous skills with computers and science in their fight against evil. There had been screw-ups, major ones, but Willow had been so eager to use her powers to help. When Buffy saw her lying there, motionless and quiet, her face white and drawn, fear had clamped its iron fist around Buffy’s heart. It was like stepping into her living room and seeing her mother, prone and unmoving, stretched on the couch.

Picking up the brush again, Tara continued to slowly stroke Buffy’s hair and murmured, “I hate it when I have to sit by and wait. I talked to Willow, all night long, about all the good times we’ve had, about all the dreams we’ve shared and the future we’d planned. They say, even in a coma, a person can hear what’s being said. Buffy, do you think that’s true?”

“I’m sure Willow knows that you’re at her side.” Buffy closed her eyes and enjoyed the pleasure of getting her hair brushed for a while, not sure what more to say to give Tara hope. Whenever Buffy thought about the demon and Willow, a sense of dread flooded her. She hoped she was wrong, that the demon was gone for good and Willow was free of his influence.

After a moment Tara asked in a more controlled voice. “Have you told Giles about, you know, you and Spike?”

“No, I haven’t, well not explicitly like ‘Hey, Giles, I’m dating Spike’. That sounds totally awkward. But I didn’t hide it from him, either. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, he said that it’s good that you have Spike, to help you with Dawn and your patrols. That sounded, well, like he knew and didn’t mind.” Tara smiled a bit and tugged Buffy’s hair back. “He’s like a father to you, right?”

Buffy nodded. “He knows me better than my real father ever did. It would hurt a lot if he interfered or tried to prevent me from having a romantic relationship with Spike. Not that I, uhmmm, already know where all this relationship-thingy is going. But, it really feels like the right thing to do. I couldn’t have made it through yesterday without Spike’s support.”

She smiled at Tara over her shoulder. “He has such a solid shoulder to lean on and he’s like my second half in a fight. Two treats a girl really can get used to.”

“Especially if said girl is not a normal girl but a super-charged Slayer who has to save the world on a regular basis.” Tara burst into giggles and was quickly joined by Buffy.

The doorbell rang and they heard Dawn squeal and shoot out of her room like a living cannonball. The stairs rumbled as she jumped down to open the door. Buffy suspected that her sister had probably been lurking at her window, waiting to see Spike arrive.

“We better hurry up and save your hero.” Tara stood up and put the brush on the dresser. She looked Buffy over and gave her an approving grin. “A bit of lipstick and you’re ready to knock him out of his boots. I think this pink one would look gorgeous on you.”

~*~

Buffy stopped at the top of the stairs; Spike’s eyes grew wide and he stopped talking to Dawn mid-sentence. His usual black duster was missing, but he looked absolutely gorgeous with his tight black jeans and an open-necked, black shirt. His skin shined translucent in contrast to the dark, lush fabric, his blue eyes sparkling sapphires under long, dark lashes, and his hair a bit mussed. Buffy’s fingers itched to dive into his locks and mess them up even more.

She slowly descended the stairs, watching his reverent expression. Yup, their careful planning had hit dead center. She could see Dawn, grinning widely, giving her the thumbs-up behind Spike’s back.

After a long discussion, they’d decided Buffy should wear Spike’s favorite colors, red and black. The soft black leather wrap skirt swished around her legs as she descended the steps. Her sleeveless burgundy red silk top was fastened behind her neck with a low cut back; the hem fell loosely over her waist. Her hair hung elegantly in gleaming, golden waves over her bare shoulders.

“When was the last time I’ve seen you speechless?” Buffy teased Spike as she stood in front of him. That finally shook him out of his stupor.

“Sorry pet, but you’re a right vision. Couldn’t help but admire such beauty.” He gently brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers.

Dawn giggled, “If I’d shoved him, I bet Spike would’ve fallen flat on his ass… ahm backside. Half the time when he was talking to me he kept peeking up the stairs.” She stuck her tongue out at him. “Which by the way wasn’t very polite. But maybe I’ll forgive you if you let me watch ‘Bring It On’ the next movie night.”

Spike rolled his eyes at that blackmail. “Sure Bit, we’ll watch whatever you want.”

Buffy looked back at Tara and winked. Spike was clearly wrapped around Dawn’s finger. Where did he get this endless patience with her quicksilver sister? Not that he complied with her every whim; he could also talk her into doing her homework. That was another character treat she’d learned to admire in the last months.

“Buffy, he got you flowers too! Spike, come on…” Dawn bounced on her toes.

“Dawn, I would think this was your first date, as excited as you are.” Tara teased the teenager. “Wait ‘til it’s time for your Prom, we’ll all be here to see you off.”

“And be sure to embarrass you in front of your date,” added Buffy with a dangerous glint in her eyes.

“Besides, I’d need to have a little heart to heart talk with the bloke that wants to take my Niblet on a date. If he doesn’t wet his pants after a look at my pearly whites, than he might get a chance to take you out.”

Dawn looked with wide eyes at them. “Oh, no! You’ll totally ruin my life. I’ll end up an old spinster, with you three around, talking to my dolls and feeding fifty cats. That’s so not fair.”

Spike saved her by fetching a bouquet of roses from the kitchen counter. With a gentle smile he plucked out one white rose and presented it to Tara. As Spike presented Dawn with another white rose, she actually blushed.

The red roses he offered Buffy. “Would you like to accompany me to dinner, my fair lady?”

Now she was swept off her feet. She’d expected flowers; that was part of the date-deal, yet not with such a romantic gesture. It could have been cheesy, had there not been the deep adoration in his gaze. She felt a blush rising in her cheeks. Oh my God! She was blushing in front of Dawn! She would never live through the teasing which was sure to follow the next weeks.

A not-so-hidden smile tugged at Tara’s lips as she reached out for the flowers. “I’ll put them into a vase, so you can get on your way. Don’t worry; I’ll make sure Dawn’s all tucked into bed before I head over to Giles’.” With that, she shoved Buffy and Spike out of the door so quickly that Buffy nearly forgot to pick up her jacket.

~*~

“Soooo, where are we going tonight?” Buffy prodded Spike as he helped her into her jacket. He had said nothing about what he’d planned for them to do; he’d been suspiciously secretive about it.

Spike cocked his head and rubbed his neck nervously with his hand. “Umm, pet… I want to take you to a restaurant here in town; not too far away so we can walk if you like. Thought you’d prefer to go someplace where nobody will interrupt us.”

Oh, does Spike mean, where nobody will recognize her? She was surprised by his thoughtfulness. If she was honest, she would have preferred her first date with Spike to be without any interference. Would she like to be seen with him by Giles or even worse, by Xander? As she studied Spike, she could clearly see that he was uncomfortable and anxiously waiting for her answer.

She linked her arm with his and smiled up at him. “Spike, I trust your judgment. Take me wherever you want.” She was pleased to see Spike relax and smile back at her.

“This is your night and it’s a beautiful one; so let’s walk.” Buffy looked up at the stars, glittering brightly in the dark, velvety sky, the moon just rising over the horizon. She pressed Spike’s arm closer to her and flashed him a grin. “Just let’s stay clear of the cemeteries, tonight’s my night off.”

Glancing back, Buffy noticed the tiny movement of the curtains from the living room. Obviously they were being secretly observed by two pairs of eyes. Matchmakers, both of them! She smiled at the idea. With a last wave towards the house, they were on their way.

~*~

They walked through the dark, quiet streets in companionable silence. Buffy watched Spike out of the corner of her eye.

“What’s wrong?” she asked softly.

Spike shot her a quick glance. “Nothing important, just thinking.” He pursed his lips. “Don’t want to spoil the evening, pet.”

“Come on, something’s bugging you.”

“Right. Ok.” Spike stopped under a streetlamp. “How’s the Niblet doing?”

Buffy looked up and studied his concerned face before she sighed. “She won’t talk about it. I tried to pry some reaction out of her, but – you know how mulish she can be. What she went through yesterday should give her nightmares. Top that with the returned memories from Halloween – she should be crying, screaming, weeping, something, anything…”

Buffy shrugged helplessly. “It’s like hitting a wall. Impenetrable. You’ve seen Dawnie; she was this Stepford-y bright and joyful the whole day. I thought I’d never say this, but I want my hormone-driven, pesky sis back.”

Spike grabbed Buffy’s hand and ran his thumb across her palm. “First Glory, now this beasty. Bit must think the bloody whole world is after her.”

Buffy’s stomach clenched. “That might be right,” she murmured.

How could she explain the foreboding that rose up within her whenever she thought of her sister? It felt as if a thunderstorm was approaching, the air full of crackling electricity, clouds billowing up into ever higher towers. She could smell something bad advancing in the wind but it was elusive, hidden in a mist, and she had no idea what to even look for, let alone how to fight it

Spike’s eyes flared up in a sudden challenge. “We killed them both. Whoever’s after our Niblet will have to go through us first.”

“Spike, I’m not sure we killed that demon. We hurt it badly and we drove it from our dimension – for now. Somewhere out there is an angry demon who knows about Dawnie. It would be too easy to just assume that it’s gone. Nothing in my life is that easy. This seems to be part of my job description.”

“That was a pretty nasty bugger, that one. Tough.” He nodded, thoughtfully. “And it might bring company.”

Spike turned and hit the lamppost hard, scraping his knuckles. “Bloody hell!” He raised his head and bellowed. “Can’t you scrawny ‘Powers That Fuck with Us’ bugger off and leave us in peace for a while?” For good measure he kicked the post with his heavy boots a few more times.

Buffy examined the dents thoughtfully. “Wish that would help. I’d help you kick up all lampposts in town.” Her shoulders sagged and she looked up to the sky. “Sometimes I’m so tired, Spike, so tired of fighting, so tired of being the strong one - the one to save the world.”

Spike pulled her into a hug and Buffy leaned against him. “You’re not alone, pet. You have your friends, your Watcher.” His voice rumbled in his chest.

“And I have you.”

“The whole bloody package.”

Buffy chuckled and leaned back to look up into his eyes. She laid her hand on his stomach and smiled. “A bloody nice package.”

As Spike smirked, she slid her arm through his and started walking down the street again.

“Dawnie’s birthday is coming up.” Buffy said after a few steps.

“Know anything she’d like, luv?”

“How about some weapon’s training? I know she pestered you the whole summer.”

“Could throw in a nice, handy dagger.”

“I just hope Social Services doesn’t find out about that.”

~*~

Spike was leading Buffy towards one of the seedier parts of Sunnydale. When they finally stopped in front of a brightly painted red door in a dark alley behind a row of warehouses, she looked up at him, puzzled.

“This is the restaurant? I’ve never heard about one here in this area.”

Spike grew very still. “Buffy, this place, it’s not somewhere you’d normally go. This restaurant mostly caters to demons.”

He cleared his throat and looked down at his feet. “Pet, I’m not human, haven’t been for a long while.” He swallowed hard. “I can’t pretend that I’m anything other than a vampire. Even if you’d like to forget it, I know that it wouldn’t work between us if I’d had to hide who - what - I am.”

Spike changed into his demon visage and raised his head, yellow eyes gleaming golden in the streetlamps. “Please, luv, I want you to see me clearly as who I am, a man, but also a monster. As hard as I might try, there will always be the demon in me. He’s a part of me; I’m a part of him – we’re inseparable.”

Buffy sensed how important her answer would be to Spike and thought about it for a long moment, searching for the right words. He deserved an honest and clear answer.

“Spike, I know who you are. I was fully aware of what you are when I said that I would give you a chance to show me that we could work together.”

She paused and looked him directly in the glowing, demon eyes. “I know it won’t be easy. God, there are a hell of a lot of obstacles in our way. But a little thing, like the odds being against me, has never stopped me before.”

Buffy reached out with her hand and brushed her fingertips over Spike’s wrinkled brow, just as she’d done it the day they had lost all their memories. Her fingers caressed the side of his face, wandering up again to the scar cutting his eyebrow. It was more visible in his demon form, a sharp, defined cross. She wondered where he’d got it.

Spike had his glowing, yellow eyes fixed on her face. Also in this form, his devotion and admiration was reaching out to her, filling her heart with golden light. Was this why he was so different? Because his demon was able to follow his host’s human emotions? Was able to feel adoration – love? - for her too? She couldn’t decide if this thought flattered her or scared her to death. Both, probably.

Slowly, her fingertips fluttered along his sharp brow ridges, feeling their rough texture. This time, he didn’t change back under her hand; he boldly presented his demon form, for her to inspect. Spike held her gaze, not blinking, not breathing, but oh so present to all her senses. Her thumb explored the sharp curve of his cheekbone, her hand finally cupping firmly his strong jaw.

Buffy leaned in for a tender kiss, her eyes never leaving his. Spikes lips parted under her insistent pressure and her tongue cautiously explored the sharp tips of his elongated canines. She knew the damage they could do, how easily they could break her skin, draw her blood. Yet she also knew that he would never use them against her - not the man and not the demon.

After many long moments, Buffy leaned back and beckoned. “Come on, Spike. Show me your world.”

~*~

Spike drew in a deep, shuddering breath and shook his face back to his human form. He stepped up to the door and knocked loudly with the attached brass handle. Buffy could hear footsteps approaching. A slider was opened and two hostile, dark brown eyes stared out at them.

With a foreign inflection Buffy couldn’t quite place, the man behind the door addressed Spike. “Is this how you honor the hospitality I’ve given you, Spike? By bringing the Slayer to my doorstep?”

Spike loosely crossed his arms over his chest and answered with a slight bow. “Kareem, my friend. Would I ever bring harm to the threshold of your home? We come here in peace, to enjoy the spices of the orient you introduce to this dreary town. The Slayer will not bring harm upon you or your customers, as long as the rules of hospitality are honored.”

Buffy watched in rapt attention. Spike’s voice had subtly changed to a more cultured tone and his speech was respectful and formal. She decided to confirm his introduction.

“I don’t intend to harm anyone who doesn’t attack me first or harms any humans without cause in my presence. I’m here as Spike’s guest, as Buffy Summers, not as the Slayer.”

The dark, intelligent eyes scanned her face for a long, long while and she felt vulnerable and exposed under his sharp gaze. Finally, he nodded. “If Spike vouches for you, Slayer, you are welcome in my home.” She heard a heavy bolt slide and the door opened.

With another formal bow towards his host, Spike waved Buffy across the threshold with a flourishing gesture into the most amazing restaurant she’d ever seen.

“This is the ‘Serail’ and this is Kareem, the unchallenged culinary master of oriental spices, and the best bloody cook I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet.”

Buffy scrutinized Kareem. He was of less than medium height, a middle aged man with a sun dried complexion. He looked human enough, if you didn’t mind his spiked, blue-tinged skin.

“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Summers. Do you prefer a seat at a table or would you like to try a divan?”

Spike came to her aid. “We could either sit on the floor, on cushions, like over there?” He gestured towards the center of the room, where several groups sat cross-legged on brightly colored pallets around dark wooden, carved tables.

“Or over there, on more conventional benches,” and he pointed to niches around the walls of the large room.

Buffy took in the ‘Arabian Nights’ themed interior. Her head was reeling from the heady aroma of sandalwood and spices that she couldn’t identify. Oriental music, low and with uncommon harmonies, was creating an alluring atmosphere against the background of the murmured conversation. The room was dimly lit by lanterns with joyful red and blue glass panels and the flickering flames from huge brass braziers. It looked exotic and inviting at the same time.

“Over there in a niche would be fine, Spike,” was Buffy’s decision. She was adventurous, really, but only to a certain point. Besides, to sit crossed legged on the floor in a skirt, over a long period of time, didn’t strike her as very comfortable.

The niches were divided by rattan-netting and offered privacy for each party. The low bench, running in a half circles around a narrow table, was made of brick, covered by huge heaps of soft, intricately patterned cushions. Buffy took her seat gingerly at the end of the bench and watched as Spike removed his boots, pulled his legs up on the bench and leaned on the headrest of the inner curve.

He stretched his limbs like a great cat, sinuous and with an elegant grace. He patted the cushion beside him. “Make yourself comfortable, luv.”

Buffy followed Spike’s example; she slipped out of her pumps and curled up on the bench next to him. Silently, a waiter had set two glass cups, filled with green leaves, on tiny brass plates before them. From a silver kettle he poured a steaming, amber liquid into them.

“Mint tea, very strong and sweet. Kareem grows the mint himself, specifically for the restaurant,” Spike explained. He was watching her with an anxious expression, still unsure if she liked his idea.

A fresh aroma wafted up and cleared Buffy’s mind as she took a careful sip from the hot tea.
Did she like it? She took in the sultry atmosphere and felt like she’d been dropped out of the 20th century directly into the middle of an exotic dream of Sinbad the Sailor. That some of the customers had tusks or fangs and scales or fur didn’t hurt that impression.

“Spike, this is the best dinner surprise I’ve had in a long time - scratch that, ever.” Buffy gave him a bright smile and chuckled at his smug grin.

She thought about the time, after much prodding from her and Willow, that Angel had invited her to coffee at the Bronze. How lame had that been? He’d also had coffee there with Cordelia. Where did that place her on the Zagat’s guide of dates? And Parker? Pffft! Don’t even dwell on that bastard. Riley had taken her out sometimes to the Espresso Pump or the Pizza Place, and don’t forget that picnic with the apple slices. Unadventurous and dull compared to this.

Spike interrupted her musings. “Pet, would you like me to order? A sampler with several small dishes would be nice, so you can taste everything and decide what you like best. A bit of salad and bread to go with it. T’is ok with you?”

Buffy nodded and watched as Spike expertly ordered their food. All the foreign names rolled off his tongue with ease as he negotiated with their waiter.

While they waited for their order to arrive, Buffy decided to ask the question that had been nagging at her since they’d arrived here. “So, Kareem? Your greeting sounded oddly formal. Who’s he and where did you meet him?”

“Ah, pet, it’s a long story…”

“Don’t we have enough time tonight? Besides, you know… You with the Buffy memorabilia hoard, and I only with the dusty information from the Watcher’s diaries about the Scourge of Europe.”

Buffy waved her hand regally. “I think, you owe me some entertainment, some tale from your colorful past, Scheherazade.”

Spike placed his left hand on his chest and bowed his head at Buffy.

“I’m your humble servant, my Sultana. Your every wish is my command. I’ll keep you entertained with a tale that will let you forget a thousand days, only waiting for the enchanted nights in my company.”

Spike winked at her and began.

“Kareem is a Brachen demon. There were large tribes of Brachens in North Africa, especially in the Berber part, until the Nazis drove them out during World War Two. I met Kareem in Tangier, in the mid-1920s.

“Dru and I arrived by ship from Gibraltar. I fell in love with that town the moment my foot stepped onto the gangway.” A reminiscent smile curled his lips.

“You should have seen the sky, luv, dark blue and the stars sparkling in the dry air, so near, as if you could pluck them from their sockets. Then there was the smell: jasmine; the salty tang of seaweed, fish, and the spicy aromas from the food stalls at the harbor; horse dung, urine, and the sweat of all the beggars crowding around the docks.

“We settled down in a posh townhouse overlooking the Souk Dakhli, the Little Square. The owners, ummm, were gone on holiday.” Spike shot a nervous glance at Buffy.

“Come on, Spike. I know enough about your past to not be scandalized.” She gave him a small, reassuring smile.

Spike cleared his throat. “Right, luv, you know, evil vampire and all. Anyway, Dru wanted to live near poets, writers, and artists; she told me they taste like starfish.”

He cleared his throat again and quickly changed the focus of his tale. “Have you ever seen pictures of Moroccan villages?”

Buffy shook her head and took another sip of the mint tea.

“The older quarters have small alleys, crisscrossing the city like labyrinths, and the houses are crowded against each other, sometimes overhanging the streets. On the outside there are only a few windows, but once you enter through the passageway, it opens up into an enclosed, lush green garden. In the center, a fountain moisturizes and cools the air, surrounded by palm trees; oleander and jasmine trees seem to bloom all year and scent the air. All the windows open onto this temperate patio.

“I used to sit in the shaded garden and listen to the hum of the city outside. It’s very hot in summer, so all activities were suspended from late morning on. In the afternoon, the town stirred again. You could hear cars honking – the rich liked to flaunt their wealth … they had to have a car, obviously, even if you couldn’t get around in them very well. The streets were crowded with donkey carts; the poorer farmers were bringing their produce in from the fields with wooden crates on their backs or in large bundles on top of their heads. Everybody was yelling to get through and announcing what wares they had for sale; it was a right ruckus.”

The tale was interrupted by the arrival of their food. Large tin platters covered with thin, soft bread, which looked like cloth, were heaped with samples of differently prepared vegetables, roasted meats with assorted dips, and thick, spicy stews.

“Shut your eyes for a moment, pet. Let me take you back to Tangier.” Spike suggested.

A slight smile curling the corners of her mouth, Buffy closed her eyes obediently.

“Concentrate on the smell in here; the spicy fragrances of our food, the incense and wood smoke of the braziers. Now imagine an undercurrent of heady, sweet jasmine. The food stalls on the market put out their dishes and shout the menu to attract customers. Add stray dogs barking, the piercing cry of sea gulls, fighting for the scraps. Add the sounds of hundreds of people, all combined to a tapestry which takes you flying directly into a tale of Arabian Nights.”

Spike leaned forward and whispered into her ear. “Pet, open your mouth.”

Nearly in trance, Buffy opened her lips and was rewarded with a piece of meat in a bread-like wrapping, dripping with a succulent, rich creamy sauce. It tasted of lime with a hint of peppermint, ripe tomatoes and a slightly bitter herb she couldn't place. She chewed, savoring the flavors and opened her mouth again.

Spike chuckled and fed her the next treat. This time it was cool - a minty, salty yogurt coating a crunchy, battered potato.

“Mmmm, this is yummy!” She opened her eyes to see Spike leaning in, a delighted smile on his face. In the darkened room, his blue eyes were like dark pools of vibrant blue fire. She picked up a piece of battered vegetable, dipped it in the yogurt and trailed it over his lips. Spike opened his mouth and accepted the gift. His tongue flicked up to lick away the droplets from her fingers.

They continued to feed each other bits and treats from the samples. A thick stew of lentils and carrots, small meatballs, a tomato-lime salad which was called tabouleh, spiced again with the intense mint leaves.

Spike’s fingers lingered to wipe away tomato sauce, Buffy’s lips folded gently over his offering fingertips. It was a sensual, erotic ritual, feeding more appetites than just their hunger. Buffy finally leaned back and put her hand on her stomach.

With a satisfied groan she admitted, “I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so much at once. That was – marvelous, absolutely delicious.” A slow, sated smile played on her lips.

~*~

Buffy curled up on the cushions and looked pointedly at Spike. “But you still haven’t told me how you met Kareem, Scheherazade. You’re stalling.”

“Right then, here you go.” Spike signaled the waiter to clear the dishes. Stretching sensuously, the muscles of his upper arm straining against the fabric of his shirt, he settled back.

“As you can imagine, I was intrigued by all the smells around me. That was actually when I found out that I like to eat human food. I strolled through the stalls and alleys, sampled a bit, just following my nose. One very enticing trail of delicious smell took me into a more down trodden area behind the market place. You can imagine my astonishment when I found at its end the small kitchen of a demon restaurant. Kareem and his family were operating a tiny eating place for the demon population in Tangier.

“I became a regular customer, didn’t miss a single night. One night when I came around the corner, there was a commotion going on. Two Fyral demons were blocking the entrance and sending the customers away. They were enforcers from a demon mafia organization whom Kareem’s father had refused to pay. I got pissed and killed both of them. After that, I was invited into their home, which sort of made me family.”

Spike grinned at Buffy. “See, nothing really interesting there, just me offing some baddies.”

“Spike put my whole family and our business under his protection.” The soft voice made Buffy look up into Kareem’s brown, intense eyes. “He’s a man of honor and I’m blessed to call him friend.”

“Kareem, come on now, I’ve a reputation to keep.”

“A vampire who keeps his word, who looks after his friends – that is your reputation,” Kareem insisted. “He put us under the protection of the Aurelius clan and threatened vendetta on any demon that would harm any one of my family. The Aurelius clan is feared amongst us all, but – forgive me – they are fickle in their promises. But Spike? Everyone knows that he keeps his word, even if it might kill him. They left us alone, even after Spike was gone.”

Kareem looked seriously down at Buffy. “Why do you think the demons he angers don’t hire human thugs to off him, Slayer? Because they respect him. The only troublesome ones are out-of-town strangers, and he’s more than capable of handling them.”

Buffy watched as Spike swung his legs off the couch and sat there, elbows propped on his knees, his hands running through his already messed up hair.

“Pet, believe me, that was not why I brought you here.” He shot a fierce glance at their host. “I should’ve talked to you before, Kareem. You’ve got a bloody big mouth.”

The demon looked at Spike, unfazed, his face quiet and unreadable. “It wouldn’t have mattered. I watched you two; she needs to know.” He gave Buffy a deep bow. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Summers. Have a nice evening and may the gods look with grace upon you two.” With that he turned and walked away.

“’I’ve always been bad.’” Buffy quoted at Spike and broke into merry laughter.

Spike shrugged and locked his gaze with Buffy. “Right, I wanted you to see me as who I am. Might have screwed that up...”

After that, Buffy decided that Spike had earned himself a treat. Now it was her turn to face some fears.

“Come on, Big Bad. How about some dancing to work off all the extra calories before they have a chance to settle on my hips?”

~*~

As they were leaving the restaurant, they nearly ran into a family arguing just in front of the entrance door. The little toddler was bouncing around his parents, ears flopping, looking exactly like a puppy dog - one of those where the skin was at least three sizes too large for it.

“Stop it, Skip! If you can’t behave, we’ll have to go back home.” His father glared at his over-excited child, red eyes glittering, trying to look stern. With his friendly face and flapping skin, that was nearly impossible to manage.

His chubby mother in the meantime tried to get hold of the toddler, who every time managed to dodge her grip like a slippery eel. “Oh, Skippy, you promised to behave,” she warned him. “No more frog’s spawn tomorrow if you aren’t my sweet little boy tonight.”

Buffy decided that the child was definitely spoiled. She smiled at his antics; he was just so cute.

“Hi, Clem! Would it help if I put a bit of a scare into the lad?” Spike greeted the demon, grinning.

“Howdy, Spike! Sorry, didn’t notice you, buddy.” The father, Clem, wriggled his fingers in greeting at Spike and looked interestedly at Buffy. “Oh, you have company!”

Clem stretched out his hand. “Hi, I’m Clem, and that’s my wife Vera and my son Skip. Nice to meet you.”

Smiling, Buffy took his hand and shook it. She had met evil demons, goo-y demons, and bad smelling demons, but never before cuddly demons. It was impossible to not like this one.

“Nice to meet you and your family, Clem. I’m Buffy, Buffy Summers.” She nodded at Vera, who had managed to grab her son while he was staring wide eyed, fascinated by Buffy.

Spike smiled at the female. “Hello, Vera, long time no see. You look well and the little rascal is growing so fast, I didn’t recognize him.”

With a fake scowl, Spike knelt down in front of the unruly boy. “Now, Droopy, what should I do with you? Will you behave, or do I have to eat you?”

The little demon boy tittered nervously. “You wouldn’t eat me, Uncle Spike.” He shot a glance at his mother. “He wouldn’t, mum. Right?”

“Well, that depend on if you let your parents have a nice evening or if you throw a tantrum, don’t you think?” Spike smiled fiercely at Skip, showing his teeth. “Midgets that throw tantrums are my very favorite.”

Skip took his mother’s hand firmly in his little, grubby fingers and nodded. “I promise, Uncle Spike! I’ll be good!”

Spike stood up and winked at Clem. “Have a nice evening, Clem. Oh, and do you think you can come by my crypt one of these days? I’ve a spot of repair work and plumbing to do if you’re interested.”

Clem nodded enthusiastically. “Of course, Spike. I still owe you for the kittens, man.” He took the hand of his wife and waved them good bye.

Buffy looked after them with amusement as they plodded into the restaurant like a sloppy conga line. She had never thought about demons having families and doing plumbing. But why not? Seemingly, at least some demons were made the old-fashioned way.

When she turned to Spike, she raised her eyebrows. “Kittens? Plumbing? Whenever I think I know a bit more about you, you throw me a curve ball. You’ll have to tell me about it.”

Buffy took hold of Spike’s hand and squeezed it. “But not now - now we do some Bronzing.”

~*~

The Bronze was packed with customers, as usual for a Friday night, but they were able to secure a seat at a table.

“How ‘bout I get us drinks and then join you on the dance floor?” Spike offered. “Diet Coke for you?”

Buffy nodded then slung her hands around his neck and pressed a kiss on his cheek. “Don’t take too long.” She nibbled at his earlobe and giggled when she felt the low growl vibrate in his chest. Teasing, savouring his firm pectorals which bunched and twitched beneath the fabric, she trailed her fingers down his chest.

“Minx,” he growled into her ear. With a whirl Spike dived into the mingling crowd, fighting his way over to the counter.

Buffy let herself be drawn into the moving, swaying mass of bodies in front of the stage. She raised her arms over her head and got lost in the rhythm, her hair bouncing, gliding over her bare shoulders like a waterfall. Soon, she was surrounded by admirers who tried to gain her attention.

At her periphery, she could sense the tingling, electrifying presence of a vampire. He was circling the dance floor, always hidden from her sight by the throng of dancers, but ever so present to her body. She ran her hands down her sides as the sensation caressed her skin and made her nerve endings burn. She didn’t even notice that she pushed away the grabbing hands of her suitors; like a person would shoo away flies, mechanically, barely heeding their presence. All of Buffy’s concentration was on her vamp, slowly edging nearer, a predator on the hunt.

Strong hands grabbed her waist from behind and she smelled his unique scent of smoke, whiskey, and Spike. It made her head swim and she leaned back into his embrace, resting her head on his firm chest.

Spike bent and murmured into her ear. “You’re the most beautiful and sensuous creature I’ve ever seen.” He placed tiny kisses on her temple and pulled her hips against him, following her slow movement in perfect synchronization, as if they had danced a hundred times.

Buffy felt his hard body pressing into her, the soft velvet of his shirt gliding caressingly against her bare back. She raised her arms and folded them around his neck, holding him closer to her. She was oblivious to the jealous glances Spike got from the disappointed males surrounding her.

He was dancing with her like he fought with her; always anticipating her moves. Following her lead and taking the initiative whenever she gave him free rein. She’d never had a boyfriend who could dance so close to her without making her feel restricted or out of sync.

Slowly, she turned in his grip and looked up into the dark, blue flames of his eyes. Spike’s hands sneaked possessively around her waist. Her fingers stroked the soft material as they glided up his shirt, rubbing the fabric over his hard muscles. She sighed as his hand slid under her silk shirt, his cool digits gliding over her heated flesh.

The band started a slow rock ballad and Buffy rested her head on Spike’s shoulder, content in his embrace. She floated, her mind idle, her senses on overload: Spike’s cool, silken skin under her fingertips, his breath a mixture of tobacco, beer and spices, the murmur of his endearments into her ear, his mussed hair, glittering in the disco lights like a shining halo, and the tingling along her spine, warning her about this delectable creature.

~*~

When the band took a break, they went back to their table. Buffy sat down on the stool, sipping at her Diet Coke, Spike leaning on the table at her side. He rested his chin in the palm of his hand and watched her, musing.

“First time I ever saw you was here. You were dancing with Harris and Red, carefree and laughing. Your hair shone golden in the light, bouncing and swinging to the music. A young, still inexperienced Slayer who had miraculously killed the Master. Then I saw your real dance, outside, in the alley.”

Spike’s eyes were dark blue pools, burning with an inner fire. “There are so many dances we could do…”

Buffy’s breath hitched as she felt his gaze admiring her body, gliding over her breasts like a caressing hand. Spike’s eyes held promises of coming delights and pleasures.

“Hey, Ahn! Look, there’s Buffy!” Xander’s voice rose over the buzz. “Hey, Buffster!”

Jarred out of her fantasies, Buffy sighed and straightened on her seat. She felt her heart begin to race in nervous anticipation and she had to concentrate to breathe normally and stay calm. Well, it had been her decision to come here; now she had to face the consequences.

Waving, Xander broke free of the crowd, Anya in tow. He stopped abruptly, scowling, Anya bouncing into his back. “What’s he doing here?”

“We’re here dancing.” Buffy tried to stay polite.

Xander stared at her, frowning. “Dancing?”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Yes, dancing. I’m here with Spike.”

Anya beamed. “Oh, it’s your date night, right? What do you have planned for later? You should reserve your energy, Buffy. Vampires have incredible stamina; they need nearly no recuperation time.”

Xander moaned and clapped his hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut.

Spike had been quiet, now he chuckled. “Demon-girl, you made a right catch; he’s a shy one. You should know that by now.”

Buffy had blushed during Anya’s prattle and felt sympathy with Xander. “Anya, it’s our first date. We just want to dance some more.”

“First date… Oh no!” Xander spluttered. “Please tell me you don’t want to really date bleach-boy.” He ducked as Anya gave him a clap to the back of his head.

“I’m sorry, Buffy. I don’t know why he’s so biased. He’s going to marry me, why would he object to whom you are dating. He’s neither your father nor your brother.” Anya wrinkled her brow in consternation. “Sometimes human customs still baffle me. They are so inconsequential.”

“Ahn, that’s not why… I just don’t want to see you hurt, Buffy,” Xander defended. “Have you forgotten how well that went with Angel? Angelus nearly killed you. If he hadn’t been such a sick, twisted psychopath, he could’ve done it in your sleep that first night. He could’ve turned you.” Xander’s voice trailed off, full of hurt and anguish. “I couldn’t live through another one of my friends being staked.”

“I would never turn anyone I love. Not even when it was the last thing to save her life.” Spikes face was stony, like cut out of white, cold marble, his voice flat and toneless.

Xander ignored Spike and turned hurt, brown eyes to Buffy. “Why another vampire, Buffy? Why Spike? I just want to see you happy, to have a normal life, a husband and kids.”

“I am happy, Xander. And a normal life? Since I was Called everyone tells me that I’ll die young. Haven’t you heard? I’m already one of the longest living Slayers in history. Where does your ‘husband and kids’ fit into that picture?” Buffy shook her head and leaned into Spike who placed his arm soothingly around her shoulder.

Anya looked dubiously at Xander. “Are you out of your mind, Xander Harris? A normal man? You know how strong Buffy is. Do you think that stops with her arm muscles? She can squeeze a normal man in half with her legs. I’m sure, a human penis wouldn’t survive a real, earth-moving orgasm from her; she would squash the poor thing to a pulp.”

“Ahn! I thought we agreed to only talk about that kind of stuff in private!”

“What? I haven’t talked about your penis, haven’t I? Xander, you know, I wouldn’t let anybody hurt your penis; I care too much about it.”

Buffy buried her face in Spike’s shirt, her whole body quivering in uncontrollable laughter. “Don’t worry, Anya, Xander’s safe from me,” Buffy squeaked, still torn between laughter and embarrassment.

Buffy finally got control of her mirth, extricated herself from Spike’s embrace, and placed her hand on Xander’s arm. “Please think about what I said, Xander. It hurts me that you distrust my judgement and put Spike down all the time. Can’t you try and get along, for my sake?”

“I’m your friend, Buffy. I just…” Xander stopped and stared hard at Spike. “Buffy might trust you, but I’m not on your bandwagon. If you ever hurt her, I’ll come after you.”

Spike looked at Xander and nodded decisively. “I won’t. But if I ever do, that’s what I deserve.”

Xander locked his gaze with Buffy’s pleading eyes. “Ok, Buffy. I’ll shut up and go along.”

She smiled at him, feeling a shadow lift off her heart, a shadow she hadn’t noticed was there until it was gone. She was no fool to believe that there wouldn’t be relapses to Xander’s hostile behavior towards Spike, but the first step was taken.

Buffy grabbed Spike’s hand. “I think we’ll dance some more. See you guys!”

Before they could leave for the dance floor, Anya stopped her. “Buffy, can you come by the Magic Box on Monday? Giles has put me in charge of the shop while Willow’s ill and I have a business proposal for you.”

A vision of the Halloween sale flashed through Buffy’s mind, endless hours moving crates in the dusty cellar and tending to cranky customers.

Her lack of enthusiasm must have shown in her face, because Anya quickly added. “Not about working in the shop, something more in your line of duty as a Slayer. I’ve also got the bridesmaid’s catalogues, and we need to plan the bachelorette party setup.”

Anya beamed at Spike. “Have you already decided how you’ll do the striptease? I need to rent the equipment and we have to think about the location.”

“Haven’t decided yet, demon-girl. Think I’ll talk it through with Buffy first, run some options by her, give her a demo or two, and see what she likes best. But tonight, I think we’ll do some more dancing – of the regular kind.”

Buffy quickly pulled Spike towards the dance floor before Anya could embarrass her even more. Her cheeks were burning; thank God it was so dark in here. If she thought about striptease demonstrations by Spike, her eyes would glaze over. His usual attire in a tight t-shirt and jeans left very little room for doubt about his physical attributes. Add to that the confirmation her exploring hands had already gotten, her mouth watered at the idea of watching him.

Spike leaned in and whispered into her ear. “Thinking about my goodies, pet?” His low chuckle sent shivers down her spine. “Your heart is racing like you’ve just unwrapped my hot, tight little body in your mind.”

Buffy smacked his chest. “I knew there was a downside to you being a vamp.” She laughed and pulled him into the milling crowd on the dance floor.

~*~

It was getting late and Buffy leaned beside Spike on the banister of the balcony. The last guests had abandoned the upstairs, leaving them alone.

She watched Xander and Anya on the dance floor among the already thinning crowd. Anya swayed elegantly to the music while Xander hopped around her like an eager puppy, arms waving through the air enthusiastically.

“That takes guts,” commented Spike.

“Hmm?”

“Harris. To dance like that, in front of all those people and his fiancé.”

Buffy chuckled softly. “Yeah, ‘he ain’t afraid of nothing’. That’s Xander for you.” She paused, observing the scene below.

“He was my first friend when I came here. Now he’s the only one of the Scoobies who’s without any special powers. He had this cool knowledge about weapons after the Halloween spell, but that’s been fading over the years. In spite of all that, he never hesitates to follow me into a fight.”

She turned and watched Spike’s face in the flickering light. He stared thoughtfully down at Xander, sucking in his cheeks. The light painted deep hollows, emphasizing the sharp edge of his cheekbones and the bold curve of his nose. Her stomach constricted at the beautiful sight.

“What did the Whelp mean – staking another friend?”

Buffy blinked. “When I first came here - Darla captured his best friend Jesse. We went after them, but were too late to save him. Darla had already turned Jesse and used him as bait for us. It was Xander who staked him.”

“Harris had to stake his best friend?” Spike shook his head and pulled Buffy into his embrace.

“That explains a lot. To see how someone you know and love changes into – something different …” His voice broke.

Buffy looked up into his troubled eyes. She saw dark shadows flicker in their depths and she remembered what he’d said to Xander about never turning her, even to save her. She placed her hand tenderly on his cheek.

“Who was it you lost? Do you want to talk about it?”

Spike looked away and she saw his cheek muscles twitch. Buffy leaned into his embrace and rested her head on his shoulder, waiting patiently. Several minutes passed until she could feel his tense muscles relax.

“It was my mum.” Spike’s voice was nearly inaudible over the music that wafted up from below. “She was ill, she had consumption, tuberculosis you’d call it now. I couldn’t do anything but watch her fade away. She was my world and I was helpless.”

He pulled her firmer against him, like she was his steadfast anchor in a sea of sorrow and regret. Buffy rubbed her hands soothingly over his back, tears welling up in her eyes as she felt his anguish wash over her.

“Her end was near when Drusilla turned me. It was a heavy blow for Mother when I vanished for several days, with no word. When I came back to our house, she was so much worse.”

Spike’s breath hitched in his throat. As she slowly raised her head, Buffy saw him staring into the distance, into the past, a teardrop running down his cheek.

“Maybe it was because I was a mere fledgling, I don’t know.” He looked forlornly down at her.

Buffy leaned up and kissed his tear away. “What happened?”

Spike sighed. “I turned her. I thought that would heal her, make her strong again.” Buffy felt his hands clenching and unclenching behind her back.

“My mum loved me, with all her heart. Your mother reminded me so much of her.”

Silently, she waited for Spike to continue. It tore her heart apart to see him in so much agony. Yet there was nothing else for her to do but to be just – there.

“She looked rejuvenated and glowing when she woke up. She looked like I remembered her as a lad. I thought it was a miracle; I was so happy. But… what she said to me! God, Buffy, that wasn’t my mum. She’d never have said anything so – hurtful, so scornful, to anybody. I couldn’t endure what I’d made of her.”

Spike pressed his wet cheek against Buffy’s neck and sobbed.

“I killed her. I killed her twice.”

“Shhh...” Buffy stroked his hair gently until his quiet sobs subsided and his body stilled. What could she say to make his memories hurt less?

“Spike, you said your mother loved you. She would have understood that you only tried to help her. Like you said, she was already dying and you were a new vampire. It is absolutely incredible that you still felt love for your mother. How could you’ve known, that it wouldn’t be the same for her?”

He looked up at her with hopeful eyes.

“I’ve seen a lot of vampires over the last years, there is so much difference in how the demon changes the – host. Maybe, because your mother was so weak, she couldn’t fight against the demon. Maybe you are the exception to the rule because Drusilla was psychic.”

She placed her hand over his heart. “Whatever it is, that wasn’t your mother anymore.”

Solemnly, he nodded. “At least she didn’t have to watch what I turned into. She would have hated me.”

“No, she wouldn’t. She would have been proud of you.”

She watched the agony slowly seep out of his eyes, saw his features relax. Peace was still a far way off, but she could sense the healing begin its work.

She leaned up and gave him a tender, chaste kiss on the cheek.

“Just as I’m proud of you.”

 

As Buffy entered the Magic Box on Monday morning, Anya was already waiting for her, heaps of illustrated catalogs splattered willy-nilly across the table. Enthusiastically, the ex-demon waved her over.

“Look, Buffy, what do you think about this dress?”

In horror, Buffy stared at the page. “Isn’t this color a bit – daring?”

“I thought that would let me stand out in my white dress. Also, it’s a good fit with what the men will be wearing.” Anya frowned at the picture.

“But - black?” Buffy picked up the catalog and flipped through the pages.

All the dresses were black or in shades of grey. Most of them were clearly not meant to be worn by human girls, at least not without causing some serious commotion. Who would need three sleeves and a big opening in the backside?

She turned the catalog around and looked at the title: ‘Norealean Empire - Dresses for all Occasions’. “Where did you get this from?”

“Well, they have decent prices and they offer human sized dresses. As I said, trading across dimensions can be very rewarding. Of course, Norealeans can’t see colors.”

Anya threw the catalog onto the floor and picked up another one. “You’re right, black is boring. What do you think about these? I put sticky notes on the ones I liked.”

Buffy looked at the front page; it was the catalog of a Californian online shop. She opened it expectantly to the first marked page. It showed a silken mini dress in psychedelic colors, lovely for a flower child, but inappropriate for a wedding, at least a proper one. She clearly had to approach this topic from a different angle.

“Anya, where will you be holding the wedding? I think the dresses should fit in with the coloring of the whole scene.” Buffy crossed her fingers behind her back.

Anya nodded and pulled out the advertising brochure of a respectable, if not posh, restaurant in town. “They offer a package deal for weddings: to hold the ceremony in the garden or in one of the conference rooms and the catering for the reception in the ballroom. They can also arrange for a band and the flowers and all decorations.”

Buffy flipped thoughtfully through the pictures. “See, isn’t that a good place to start from? It looks like the rooms are mostly styled in cream and soft red and pink. You’re the center in white, so let’s look for some dresses in red, not so bright, but lively enough so you can stand out in the pictures.”

Anya beamed at Buffy. “Oh, I was so right. You are perfect for this planning. What would I have done without you?”

Buffy shuddered as her imagination kicked into gear. Probably Anya would have chosen some ugly, screaming color in which Buffy would have looked dead or radioactive. At least the red and pink colors would suit her, Dawn, and Tara.

“We could have flowers, streamers, and balloons in the same color scheme, with some accents, like dark burgundy table runners,” Buffy suggested hopefully, trying to steer Anya clear of disaster.

“The groomsmen could wear cummerbunds and bow ties in the same shade of red as the bridesmaid’s dresses.” Anya was warming up to the idea. “Let’s look for some red dresses!”

“Anya, what will your gown look like? The bridesmaids should complement you in style.” Buffy hoped to navigate Anya towards dresses without ruffles. She had passed her ruffle-phase when she was about ten and didn’t want to revive it.

“It’s beautiful, Buffy. It’s white, of course, sleeveless with a lace corsage and a lace skirt spreading out like a frozen waterfall. I think I’ll curl my hair and pile it up on my head, with ribbons and flowers in it.” Anya stared dreamily into the distance.

“Then we should look for something simple for the bridesmaids, with a form fitting body, not too low cut and a more slender, slim skirt. Maybe in some silken fabric?”

Soon the girls were immersed in the catalogs, heads bent over the pictures, discussing cut, color, and texture for the dresses.

~*~

As the first customer of the day arrived, they had a small but thankfully decent selection of acceptable dresses and lots of notes about possible decorations.

Anya hurried to tend to her customer and Buffy watched in amazement as the woman, who had only asked for scented candles, left with her arms full of neatly wrapped parcels. Considering her usual bluntness, Anya had a way with customers.

Now Buffy wondered what the ex-demon had to offer her. “So, Anya, you said you had a proposal for me?”

“Oh you’ll love it! I found such a perfect way for both of us to earn big piles of beautiful green money.”

She wants to rob a bank with me, Buffy thought, trying hard not to roll her eyes.

Anya opened a drawer behind the counter, pulled out a folder and rummaged through the pages. Wrinkling her nose in disgust, she pulled out one sheet and held it out to Buffy.

“Look, isn’t that obscene?”

Raising her eyebrows, Buffy scanned the paper. It was an invoice for one pound of powdered Fyral horn and the price was sky high. “Who wants to buy Fyral horns?”

“It’s an aphrodisiac, like rhinoceros horn. Since the wildlife conservation is strict and the penalties so severe, many customers buy Fyral horn as a substitute. In my opinion, Fyral horn is much more potent. We have lots of regular customers, mostly Chinese.”

Buffy looked at the total and swallowed. “The price is incredible.”

“Just what I said! It’s scandalous! Why is Giles buying this at a horrific price when he has a Slayer at his disposal? We make a decent enough profit, but still.” Anya shook her head in exasperation.

“You say you buy for this price? Regularly?” Buffy still couldn’t wrap her mind around that concept.

“Well, the powdered horn is much cheaper than the whole horn. For an undamaged horn you get $1,000 per pound, which means a horn from a Fyral male in his prime will fetch between $3,000 and $5,000.”

Buffy sank down on her chair. “And I dragged the last Fyral corpse into the underbrush to hide it. That took me fifteen minutes and I broke my fingernail. No wonder it was gone the next night.”

“I know! You slay the Fyral, someone cuts off the horns and we buy them for this price, which cuts into our profits horribly. And there are several more body parts of demons in demand; that’s just one example.” Anya was deeply disturbed by the whole procedure.

 “So, your proposal is that I sell the valuable parts of the demons directly to the shop?” Buffy warmed up to the idea.

“Exactly! We have to talk about your commission, of course. We do the processing and the distribution and you provide the raw material.”

Buffy thought about it. Depending on her commission, that would provide her with income, not a steady one, but substantial. Fyral demons weren’t everyday opponents, but ten or twelve a year would add up at those prices.

“What about the other demons? I won’t kill any harmless and peaceful demon for profit. I’m still the Slayer and not a bounty hunter.” She thought about Clem and his family, and Kareem, and frowned.

Anya smiled at her. “Don’t worry. This shop has a strict policy. We don’t sell products which are harvested by harming or killing any innocents or which are primarily used in harmful potions or spells.

“But there are other products which are regenerative. Our unique position on a Hellmouth with a large demon population is a real benefit. I have a supplier for powdered Gnarak claws, he regularly sends in his nail clippings. Snak’r is a Lii’zar demon, they live in the sewers; he collects rat’s eyes for us. Could you believe that Ragnak urine gets a decent price too? They are very shy, but there’s a family in town that could roll in a barrel each month, more than we ever can sell.”

Buffy listened with rapt attention. The ex-vengeance demon was clearly well informed and well connected. She suddenly saw Anya, working in the shop, in a different light. Maybe Giles had not offered Anya a job out of pity, just to support Xander and his girlfriend.

She remembered that Giles had encouraged Xander to apply for the job at the construction site. Now they had a skilled carpenter and builder at their disposal. Her respect for Anya and Giles had grown ten-fold in the last hour.

~*~

The basement door creaked open and Spike entered the Magic Box, waving a handful of red, hair-like weed. “Can I borrow some Burba Weed, demon-girl?”

Anya scowled at him. “Borrow? Why should I take it back after you soaked it in your blood?”

Spike winked at her and placed the Burba Weed on the counter. Laughter in his eyes, he turned and swept Buffy into a deep dip, placing a smacking kiss on her mouth. “Hello, cutie!”

Merry laughter bubbled up in Buffy. She wrapped her hand around Spike’s neck and pulled him into a passionate kiss, present company completely forgotten.

Minutes later, she came up for air as the doorbell announced another customer. A blush rose in her cheeks as she noticed Anya’s amused grin. “Ummm, I think we better go into the training room,” Buffy stammered.

As she saw Spike’s sexy smirk, her face grew even hotter. “For training!”

Anya and Spike exchanged a look and Buffy huffed, turned, and resolutely marched to the back of the shop. “I’ll get the mats laid out.”

She felt steam rising from her blushed face. Open mouth, insert foot. It was all Spike’s fault anyway, why must he kiss her brain away? Stupid vampire and his stupid, soft, enticing, teasing lips…

She shut the door with a bang, cutting off  the laughter trailing after her. Right, prepare for training. Just normal, everyday training with her new training partner. Determined, she opened her duffle bag and changed into her training apparel.

To cool off her embarrassment, she pulled on her grips and went over to the parallel bars. With an upstart she launched into a series of exercises.

“Pet?” Spike’s voice was muffled through the door.

“Go away!”

The door opened anyway and Spike strolled casually into the room, watching her routine quietly. Finally, Buffy dismounted with a backflip.

He handed her the towel. “Look, I’m sorry, luv. I’m just a dumb git with a dirty mind.”

“That was - arrg! You kiss me and all my wits go on vacation. I’m the queen of quippyness! At least I used to be. Thank God it was just Anya listening. You’re a bad influence.”

Buffy had to grin at Spike’s ineffective attempt to look sorry. “Ok, training now. Real one! Do you want to warm up first?”

“Think I’ll work on the bars too. Haven’t done that in a while.” Absentmindedly, Spike removed his shoes and pulled his t-shirt over his head. “Learned to like it in the ‘30s when I was in Berlin for the Olympics.”  He powdered his hands and started with simple swings until he stopped in a handstand.

Buffy stared at the display. Muscles like steel cables slid effortlessly under Spike’s white, smooth skin. Strength combined with elegance, he was a splendid sight; his body a well-oiled, perfectly toned machine. Her mouth went dry and she licked her lips.

Longer swings followed, changing bars until Spike stopped, arms stretched, feet parallel to the ground in a static hold. The pectorals were clearly defined, as if carved out of marble with dusty pink nipples. The sight of his six pack abs left Buffy breathless, her fingers longing to explore each dip and rise on the expanse of his stomach.

After some more swings Spike descended with a straight flip and landed at the foot of the bars, face immobile in concentration. Then he shook himself and turned with a grin. “Enjoyed the show?”

He slipped his t-shirt back on and walked slowly over to Buffy, his bare feet sliding noiselessly over the floor. Like a predator, he circled her, keeping his distance. Suddenly, with a roar, he attacked.

And landed on the mat with a loud ‘thump’.

~*~

Dawn shifted nearer and whispered into Tara’s ear. “What will she look like? Have you met her?”

Dawn was sitting on the couch in Giles’ living room, squeezed between Buffy and Tara. Everybody was there to meet the Coven healer. Tuesday morning Giles had called, telling them that the healer would arrive today and wanted to meet the members of their group in the late afternoon.

Impatiently, Dawn wriggled on her seat. “What’s she doing in there?” She stared at the closed door of the guest room. She’d been waiting for half an hour already and nothing was happening. It was so boring!

Tara laid her hand calmingly on Dawn’s arm. “It won’t be long, but Giles said she wanted to examine Will immediately.” She looked down and sighed. “I hope she has good news for us.”

Dawn looked around the room. Anya sat in the armchair; Xander perched on the armrest, intent in a murmured conversation. Judging by the blush on Xander’s cheeks, Anya was obviously on her favorite topic. No need for her tender ears to listen in to that conversation.

“Buffy?” She poked her elbow into Buffy’s side. “Can I go over to Janice’s afterwards to finish my homework? I’ll come back before you go out to patrol, I promise.”

She could see Buffy visibly jar out of her daydream. Or, more accurately, vampire dream?

Buffy blinked and her smile faded as she turned to her. “Only if it’s not too late. Tomorrow is school and …”

The door to the guest room opened and a tall, slender woman stepped out in front of Giles. She was dressed in brown slacks and a short sleeved sky-blue t-shirt, showing slim but muscular arms. She had pulled her mass of curly, strawberry blonde hair back into a loose braid, hanging down below her shoulder blades. A strong jaw and a slightly curved, long nose dominated her stern, angular face.

“I’m Healer Elin Harper from the Bath Coven. Please feel free to call me Elin,” she stated businesslike. Giles quickly gave her the names of the assembled Scooby Group.

Intelligent, clear grey eyes scanned the room. “I’m sure that everybody wants to hear first how your friend is doing before we get better acquainted.”

Instinctively, Dawn knew that this woman couldn’t be fooled by much. She’d had teachers like that before, who seemed to be able to see right inside her head. She made a mental note not to get on her wrong side.

“I’ve not finished my examination, but I can already tell you that Willow is in no imminent danger. As you’ve already suspected, the attack has deprived her of energy and her body has shut down to repair the damage. That damage seems not to be permanent and with time and therapy I will be able to reverse the effect completely. But that is not something which can be achieved in a few sessions, so I will probably stay in Sunnydale for some months.”

Giles pushed his glasses up his nose with his finger. “Fortunately, an apartment in this building complex is for rent, so I’ve arranged the lease for the Coven. We will move Willow in with Elin, so she can work with her without interruptions.”

The healer nodded briskly. “I have specialized in trauma therapy because of my special background as a trained Watcher. That is why I was chosen for this assignment.” She paused, looked around at the blank faces, and explained, voice hesitantly. “Most active Watchers need intensive trauma therapy once their Slayers have died.”

The room fell into an eerie silence.

A sensation of extreme pain flashed over Elin’s face and she pressed her lips together and closed her eyes for a short moment. Finally, she took a deep breath and added in a quiet voice. “During my training, the Potential who was assigned to my mentor was Called. After only six months, the girl was brutally killed by a group of vampires.” She turned her head slightly and looked at Giles. “You remember Vincent Pridger?”

Dawn saw a dark shadow flicker over Giles’ features as he nodded.

The healer wrapped her arms closely around her chest. Grey eyes glittering with suppressed tears, Elin let her gaze run over the group. “My mentor came back to the Council headquarters, looking old and worn. He blamed himself for her death. Four weeks later, he committed suicide. That was why I decided to quit training to be a Watcher. Before I could leave, the Coven recruited me because of my empathy and magical talents for healing.”

Dawn felt fear cramping around her stomach. If Buffy died… She never dared to think about that clearly, she tried to push all reminders of the constant danger her sister was in to the back of her mind. She just couldn’t cope with it. For the first time she thought about what Buffy’s death would also mean to Giles, who was so close to her. She shuddered.

Buffy put her arm around Dawn’s shoulder and squeezed her. “Don’t think about that, Dawnie. And I also have Spike now to protect my back. Have faith in us,” she murmured comfortingly.

Dawn leaned into the embrace and nodded slightly.

Eyes suddenly full of compassion, Elin turned to Buffy. “I apologize for the outburst. I hadn’t wanted to stir up bad memories. I know that you lost your mother recently, Miss Summers. My sincere condolences to you both. Please, feel free to contact me, if you want my professional help.”

Dawn felt Buffy shift beside her. She knew how her sister hated to be reminded that there were situations where all her Slayer power was useless.

Elin’s sharp eyes focused on Dawn. “Your sister too, of course. Under those circumstances, counseling would be advised.”

Giles cleared his throat. “Since everyone is here tonight, perhaps we should proceed with the introductions in more detail before we make further plans.”

Dawn piped up. “Just Spike’s missing, but he’ll come by later. Right, Buffy?” She hated it, when Spike was excluded from the group, even involuntarily. He had earned his right, hadn’t he?

Buffy looked out the window into the grey twilight. She tilted her head, listening, and smiled slightly. “Actually, he’ll be here soon.”  She rose from her seat just as the door opened.

The healer’s head turned towards the leather clad newcomer standing in the doorframe. Her eyes went wide as Spike stepped over the threshold.

“Devincire!” she cried, her hand stretched out, palm facing the door. Glittering strands of green energy shot out of her hand chakra and wrapped around Spike, encasing him in a transparent, emerald sheath.

“Spike!” Dawn squeaked and jumped off the couch.

Buffy quickly stepped between Elin and Spike. “Stop it. Now!” she commanded in a calm, cold voice.

“Stand down. He’s an ally,” Giles added.

Elin frowned and lowered her hand. “He’s a vampire!”

Giles’ tone was dry. “Don’t you think we know that? He’s invited into my home and he’s part of our group. This is Spike.”

With a flicker of her hand, Elin removed the bonds around Spike. “Spike? Oh, that is what William the Bloody is called nowadays. I read the Council’s records about their visit last year. I hadn’t realized that he is so trusted.”

She frowned at the group standing by the door. Buffy had grabbed Spike’s hand after closing the door behind him. Dawn hovered protectively in front of them. She could feel Spike’s tension like an electric field, crackling behind her back.

Elin’s eyes took on a golden-green glow, her pupils reflecting the light like mirrors.

“The warriors of Light and Darkness. They give life to the Gatekeeper.” She murmured, trance like. Elin’s eyes bored into Dawn for several long moments, until she finally broke the connection and turned towards Giles.

“You seemingly left out a lot in your report about the defeat of the hell god Glorificus, Rupert. The Council believes that the Key was destroyed in the process.”

Dawn moved closer to Spike and Buffy. She didn’t like the sudden attention. She didn’t like it at all. Wasn’t she through with this? Every time she thought that her life finally turned normal there was another setback.

Giles was unfazed by the accusation. “Everything I told the Council was true. I don’t owe them any further allegiance. I am the Watcher for the current Slayer, not their intelligence.”

The healer shrugged. “I’m not bound to the Council either. But I need to know what is going on here if I am to work with you all.”

She stalked nearer to the group at the door, eyes still gleaming, focused intently on Dawn as she addressed the Slayer. “Miss Summers, you three are very close, aren’t you?”

Dawn stared with wide eyes at the healer. She felt small, like an insect placed under a microscope. She was glad when Buffy squeezed her right hand and Spike’s palm fell heavy and assuring on her left shoulder.

“Dawn’s my sister and Spike’s my friend.” Buffy’s voice was firm and held a hint of annoyance.

“Try to harm any one of them and you’ll find a new meaning for ‘when hell breaks loose’.” Spike growled protectively. Dawn straightened, reassured, and raised her chin defiantly.

“I can see your auras and you don’t look like sisters at all,” the healer went on bluntly. “Even your outward appearance isn’t very much alike.”

Elin frowned and turned towards Giles. “What do you know about her origin?”

Dawn got angry. Why did adults always talk over her head as if she wasn’t there? She opened her mouth to protest but then stopped. Nobody discussed with her where she came from. Not after she’d cut herself. Maybe she shouldn’t spoil the opportunity to learn more.

After exchanging a glance with Buffy, Giles took a deep breath. “We don’t know what exactly happened, but Buffy rescued a monk from Glory. He told her that the secret society, that was formed to protect the Key, sent it to the Slayer in the form of her sister. He indicated that they created Dawn out of Buffy. They altered our memories, so no one at first knew that Dawn hadn’t been part of our lives before.”

“So, because of these memories you feel that Dawn’s your sister.” Elin surmised, turning back to Buffy.

“I don’t know why you insist on this interrogation, but yes, I feel that Dawn’s my sister. I don’t need any memories for that. She’s the most important person to me; she’s like a part of me.”

“Even magic can’t bend the fundamental laws of nature and the DNA is one of them. If the monks made Dawn completely out of your DNA, she would look more like you. Perhaps not exactly the same, but, for example, she wouldn’t be as tall nor would she have blue eyes.”

Elin paused and looked intently at Spike. “Clearly they used some other DNA donor in the mix. If we disregard the memories they gave you, Dawn would be more Buffy’s daughter than her sister.”

She held her hand out to Tara who, with the rest of the group, had stepped nearer during the strange interrogation. “Tara, I assume you can sense auras too. Can you tell me what you see?”

Tara looked at Buffy for her permission before she closed her eyes in concentration. When she opened them again and looked at Dawn, Buffy, and Spike, her gaze was glassy and unfocused. She held her hand up, palm facing the group, and spoke in a dreamlike voice.

“Their colors complement each other. It’s like a rainbow split in three parts. Buffy’s dominated by blue and purple, Spike by red and yellow, and Dawn is all shades of green. Where their auras meet, they bleed into each other, intermixing, flowing from Buffy and Spike towards Dawn.” She sighed happily. “It’s beautiful. Whenever I’ve seen your auras before, the effect hadn’t been so intense. It’s like you three need to be close together and in physical contact.”

Tara shook her head and lowered her hand. “But I’ve never studied the aura of relatives, so I can’t tell if that’s significant.”

“The intermixing and feeding of the auras suggests some close relation and is normally found between parents and child. If you want confirmation, you could simply make a standard paternity test. That Spike’s a vampire would prove no problem, his saliva still carries his DNA.”

Wow! Dawn tried to wrap her brain around that concept. That was totally cool! She had for a while now considered Spike a part of her life. She had only some vague memories about her father which were all fake anyway. She’d been only nine when her parents separated. Hank hadn’t even written her a birthday card last winter, which would have been her only real memory. But Spike? He was always there for her.

She looked questioningly up at Spike. His clear blue eyes where thoughtful.

“Niblet, it doesn’t matter - one way or the other. You were my Bit from the beginning; don’t need any bloody science to tell me more.”

Buffy smiled at that. “It irritated the hell out of me how much Spike cared for you… how much time you two spent together.” Then her face fell serious again. “But now I think it’s time for Healer Harper to spill all the beans.”

Before the healer could start, Giles spoke up. “There seems to be more on your mind than just the question of how Dawn was brought to us and who her biological parents are. Elin, you mentioned a ‘Gatekeeper’. I did intense research about the Key, but I never encountered this term. As you pointed out, secrets are not productive if we have to work together. Hiding information might put us all in danger. Willow’s already in a coma because she fought a demon who tried to capture Dawn.”

Dawn felt Spike’s hand clamp harder onto her shoulder and flinched. Everybody’s attention was on the healer. Xander and Anya had moved closer in and the Scoobies now formed a circle around the Coven witch.

Elin shook her head and the gleaming shine of her mirrored eyes vanished behind the natural cool grey, like rain clouds closing over a short glimpse of sunshine.

She was quiet for a moment, and then she said, “When I studied for my Watcher’s exam, I came across a prophecy, hidden in the ‘Book of Satori’. I don’t know if it’s a real prophecy, but it spoke of two warriors who represented two opposites - white and black, yin and yang – who came together in a crisis. Instead of annihilating each other, their energy clashed and created the ‘Gatekeeper’, a being who is blessed - or doomed depending on the translation - to guard or open the doors between the universes.

“It was a long time ago, so I can’t be quite sure about the complete text. The translation of the Chinese scripture was very difficult; also the scroll was damaged and partly unreadable. It originated from the 6th century and the translation had to be based on the context of the social structures of the southern Chinese monasteries.”

Elin looked at Giles and shrugged apologetically. “We need to retrieve the scroll if we want to verify the prophecy’s meaning. Seeing them together sparked my memory and I trust my intuition, which tells me that it is important. I’ll be staying here a good while, so we have some time to work on it together. Maybe together we can figure out what it means.”

Giles nodded. “I agree that we need to look into the prophecy.”

Elin held out her hand towards Spike. “I’m sorry that I overreacted. You startled me. I hope you can forgive me.”

Spike shrugged. “I’d have minded if you’d thrown fire at me. I’ll live - sort of.”

Elin laughed and the smile transformed her stern face to translucent beauty.

The gray light of near dawn cast soft shadows on her bedroom walls and through the open window the joyous songs of early birds flowed into her room. Buffy sighed.

His strong hand was splayed over her belly where it had sneaked under her tank top, the calloused thumb tenderly caressing her silken skin. The bedsprings creaked as Spike snuggled closer to her back and nuzzled her neck. She could feel his solid, naked chest pressed against her spine, his stomach muscles rippling from the movement. Something even more solid and hard was pressing into her buttocks, a sensation which sent a tingling to her core.

Supple lips trailed tender kisses along her shoulder blades and his cool fingers slid up her arm, leaving ripples of goose bumps in their wake.

“Spike…“ Buffy sighed.

She turned in his embrace and looked up. His eyes gleamed cerulean blue in the dim light and she could feel his gaze, full of love and adoration, fill her womb with molten lava. She placed her hand behind his neck and pulled him down into a heated kiss. Her tongue traced his sensuous lips before entering and meeting its twin. She sighed into his mouth, a content, happy purr.

“One last time before I have to go, kitten,” he begged, his words a soft, cool breeze caressing her warm lips.
Spike’s hand slipped slowly over her hips, his fingers teasing along the elastic band of her panties.

“Let me in, my love,” he whispered, before dipping his hand inside her panties, his fingertips combing through her soft curls. His fingers explored her slick pussy lips, gliding between them as she opened her legs for him, pushing and rubbing her burning core against his cool hand.

“Love you, pet. Always so eager, always so wet for me.” His fingers circled her opening, feather light and teasing, before gliding upwards to her clit.

A lightning bolt shot through her body, bending her spine; she rubbed herself harder against his fingers. His huge erection pressed against her hip, caught between their bodies; her channel was yearning to take him in, to be filled, to be complete.

“Spike, I need you – now!” Her voice was rough, filled with desire.

He rolled her over and looked down at her, grinning. “Bossy bint.” With a low chuckle, he grabbed the waistband of her panties and pulled them down.

Buffy raised her hips and wriggled to help him; then she quickly pulled the tank-top over her head.

Spike’s eyes darkened as he watched her. “Too hot for you, pet?”

Slowly, his gaze trailed up her long legs, over her firm, flat stomach and lingered on her breasts. Buffy watched, fascinated, as his lips opened and he curled his tongue behind his teeth. How could anybody look so delicious doing something so simple?

Buffy bit on her lower lip and opened her legs invitingly. She extended her hand and winked him nearer with her index finger. “Come on, tiger,” she growled and wriggled her hips.

Slowly, he crawled up between her legs, his dick pointing straight at her womanhood like she was pulling him in. Spike’s eyes locked on hers, his gaze intense, hypnotizing. He paused over her chest and lowered his mouth to her hard nipple, never breaking the eye contact. His lips sucked and his teeth bit down gently on the sensitive skin. With a soft ‘plop’ he released it to tend to its sister.

Buffy couldn’t stand the anticipation any longer and grabbed his shoulders. Demandingly, she pulled Spike nearer until she could feel the tip of his erection press into her needy flesh. He looked down at her, eyes full with a dark, honey-sweet hunger. He positioned himself at her opening and slowly pushed in.

Buffy squeezed her eyes shut and let the exquisite sensations wash over her. The initial protest of her muscles fighting against the invasion of Spike’s rock hard cock until her opening finally widened and engulfed his length like a tight, velvet glove. The room was filled with the smacking sound of his balls slapping against her and the sucking, wet noise as her tight channel refused in vain to let him leave.

She wrapped her legs around his ass and each time pulled him further into her core before allowing him to draw back again. Spike increased his rhythm and placed his thumb over her clit to urge her on. She was panting, her skin covered in a thin film of perspiration.

With a loud moan she fell over the edge. Her vision was filled with exploding stars, cascading down in a kaleidoscope of burning fire. Spike’s face swam into focus, his eyes huge and dark, locked onto hers. With a last, forceful stroke he threw his head back with a resonating growl, neck muscles strained like cords of steel. Spike’s semen shot into her, the cool liquid soothing her hot flesh.

He lowered himself and leaned his head against her brow. “Buffy, I…”

The loud bang of the bathroom door slamming shut shattered her world. Her eyes opened wide and Buffy sat up in bed; her hair was a tangled, moist mess, her skin sweaty, her chest heaved in exertion. And her hand rested between her legs, the fingers sticky with her juices.

“Oh my God!”

~*~

As she walked towards the Magic Shop later that morning, Buffy was so deep in thought that she didn’t notice the black van with tinted windows trailing her.

She still hadn’t decided how to react to her vivid, wet dream. Whenever she tried to put her mind to it, her body started to tingle and she longed to feel Spike’s touch for real. Did this make her a slut or just a normal girl, a normal woman? Hell, it had been ages since she’d had anything between her legs that wasn’t driven by a battery. She was young and healthy - and she had a boyfriend who was sex on legs.

She rolled the word around her mouth: ‘Boyfriend’.

When she thought back to the last couple of weeks that was exactly what Spike had been. He was the most complex person she’d ever encountered. At their first date, he had opened up to her in a way nobody else had done before. He let her see past the cocky exterior he presented to the world and she just began to grasp the potential he offered to her. He was so full of life – a contradiction in itself for an undead vampire - and he made her feel spirited, energized, and happier than she had been since she was Called. She was looking forward to each new day; the world wasn’t a heavy burden on her shoulders now that she had Spike to share it with.

Not that he was all fun-having and frivolous. He had even been considerate to a point where she was seriously tempted to kick him. He insisted on doing real patrol with her and limited the kissage to when he’d brought her back home – mostly.

Spike had let his fingers dance and explore, slowly, oh so slowly, conquering more areas of her body. She’d been surprised by his self-control while she’d felt the evidence of how eager he was to do more with her. Her dream was based on real, hard facts. Not that she had seen him yet in all his glory, but she didn’t need much imagination.

Besides, he was maybe already the father of her child, if the connection Elin had pointed out proofed to be real. That would make it an immaculate conception – sort of, in a weird, magical way. They hadn’t filed for a test of course, that would have been ridiculous and a waste of money. It would change nothing in their relationship and she had learned, by the example of her father, that to be the biological parent meant zilch.

As she mused about her dream and its implications, she definitely felt excited and happy. Maybe it was time to take the next step; she would talk to Spike about it tonight.

If she could muster the courage.

As she turned around the corner towards the entrance of the Magic Box, she nearly ran into the opening door of a huge van looming at the curb.

“I’m sorry!” Buffy said politely and turned. “I didn’t…” Her eyes grew wide.

“Riley! How… When… I thought you were in Belize!” Buffy stammered.

“Buffy, sorry, I hadn’t wanted to startle you. I came here looking for you.” Riley stepped out of the van, looking her up and down with obvious admiration. “You look great.”

“Oh, uhmm, thanks… Why don’t you come in?” Buffy gestured towards the Magic Box, unsure how she felt about the surprise visit.

Riley was clad in a military style, green shirt and fatigue pants and heavy, black combat boots. The bulge at his side under his jacket showed that he was armed. Who would dress like that for a social visit? She just hoped the military or, even worse, a new take on the Initiative wasn’t back in town; that was a complication she could live without.

Accompanied by the merry jingle from the door bell, they stepped into the Magic Box. Riley shot a last glance back at the van and Buffy felt unease spread inside her. Somebody else was waiting in the vehicle; were they just waiting for him or observing, spying on them? That was the real question.

~*~

“Hey, everybody! Look who dropped in on us.” Buffy announced Riley’s arrival and plopped down on a chair at the table. Behind the counter, Anya shot Riley an anxious look and ducked her head, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, concentrating on her ledger. Buffy couldn’t blame her, if she was an ex-demon, she would also avoid any closer contact to a former Initiative soldier.

Giles stepped out of his small office and joined them. “Hello, Riley. What brings you back to us after such a long time?” He pulled off his glasses and started to polish them, clearly a sign that he was as startled and concerned by the visit as Buffy.

“Hey, Giles. Like I told Buffy already, I’m here looking for her.” Riley sat down and cleared his throat. “My unit is following a couple of dangerous demons who took refuge here at your Hellmouth. Buffy, we want to recruit you as help in our hunt. As the resident Slayer, you know all the possible hiding places and you might already have come across their victims; this species is highly aggressive.”

Buffy glared at Riley across the table with narrowed eyes. “Your unit? Why do you have to bring the military back into my town? Couldn’t you’ve just called me? Does ‘telephone’ ring a bell? I haven’t forgotten the mess the government dropped into my lap with the Initiative.”

Riley held up his hands, palms open in an appeasing gesture. “Believe me; we’re not even remotely linked to the Initiative. Sure, some of our soldiers were taken over by the organization since they already knew how to handle demons. But the Initiative was decommissioned, Buffy. They closed all facilities across the country. We have a different mission: to protect the human population and kill the demons. No more experiments or creating super-human soldiers.”

“So, let’s get this clear. The military wants to hire me to eliminate these demons,” Buffy summarized. “If dangerous demons wreak havoc in Sunnydale, don’t you think I would have done that anyway?”

Riley looked sheepish. “That wasn’t what I meant to say. I convinced my commanding officer that it would be wise to include you in our operation. I know that hunting here on your turf without your knowledge would have complicated our mission. We want your help as a consultant. We have enough firepower to kill the demons, but we don’t know the lay of the land. I have a detailed profile about its habits, the preferred feeding grounds and resting places.”

Buffy shifted in her seat. Seeing Riley again didn’t sit well with her. He had fled her town after giving her an ultimatum and no chance to talk it out. She was left behind with issues that she had no opportunity to straighten out. Now he’d jumped out from behind his bush, out of the jungle, and back into her life, trampling all over her - again.

Riley jumped off his seat and paced up and down the shop in long, energetic strides. “We’re doing great things, Buffy. The world needs us. You only see your suburban surroundings, the populated areas. In Central and South America the situation is getting worse. There are huge areas in the boondocks where no humans live anymore, where demons thrive in the dense jungle and damp marshlands. Left alone, they’d soon overrun the whole continent and, eventually, the whole world.

“We root out their mating grounds, keep them on the move. You can’t just dump missiles on them; that would cause too much attention, not to mention the diplomatic upheaval. So we fight them with helicopters or in hand-to-hand combat. Our scientists work constantly on more efficient weapons and protective gear. The arsenal of claws and fangs we stand against is alarming. Over the last year, I’ve lost three of the men in my squad.”

Buffy watched as Riley droned on in his military lingo. Had he always been so fanatic? Or had he changed so much during the year they’d been separated? Had she really ever known him at all?

“What’s so special about these demons that you have to follow them with a car load of soldiers?” Buffy interrupted.

Riley stopped and smiled patronizingly at her. “That ‘car load of soldiers’ is my unit of highly qualified military specialists. We’re equipped with lightweight personal protection gear, PWDs with special explosive ammunition, personal trackers and communicators linking us to headquarter via DSCS. The platoon leader is with the rest of the squad, looking for signs of the demons outside town. We left most of our platoon at headquarters on R&R.”

“You know that was quite a mouthful of irrelevant information. And yet again, what’s so special about these demons?” Buffy asked, rolling her eyes.

She really had heard enough gibbety-gob for one day. She well remembered how she had easily eluded and then decimated the handful of soldiers the Initiative had set against her in her assessment. Specialists, my ass. They hadn’t been immune to her fists.

Firearms, on the other hand, were a different matter. She could heal from wounds normal people would die from, but a bullet to her chest or head would kill her nevertheless. Explosive or not explosive. She was tougher than human, but she wasn’t immortal. Not that she thought Riley planned to attack her, but Dr. Walsh had tried it and she didn’t know this platoon leader and what he might be cooking up for her.

Riley stopped his pacing and faced the table. “It’s a couple of Suvolte demons. They use their poisonous stingers to paralyze their victims. The venom liquefies the internal organs before the demon sucks them out. They lay dozens of eggs and their offspring are agile and vicious from the day they hatch. They procreate rapidly in the proximity of a Hellmouth. So, now can you see why it’s so important to catch the demons as soon as possible?”

Behind her counter, Anya flinched and started to scribble on her notepad. Buffy wondered what it was that had her startled.

“You said you have a profile of the demon. Where should we look for them?” Buffy asked.

“They like a dark and damp climate, preferably underground and near water or the sewers. They usually lays their pod-like eggs in clay or mud where they can keep an upright position. I hope we only have to deal with the two of them. If their offspring hatches…” Riley stopped and shook his head. “I don’t want to think about that possibility.”

“Then we’re knee deep in shit.” Buffy summarized and couldn’t suppress a small smile as Riley flinched.

“I’d forgotten your colorful way with words, Buffy,” Riley admitted.

Maybe, because I always censored what I said to you, Buffy thought. She hadn’t realized how much she had held in for Riley. She’d tried so hard to be a normal girlfriend, to hold back her strength and her sharp tongue. Why on earth had she done that? If he couldn’t take her as she was, had he even really wanted her, loved her - or even known her?

“There are tons of places around here that fit your description, starting with the sewer tunnels and ending with the cliffs. I’ll contact some sources to find out if anyone knows of a couple of Highvolt demons settling down here. They must’ve come in recently since we haven’t heard of any attacks with the symptoms you described. But without Willow’s computer skills we might not be up-to-date. ” Buffy reasoned.

“It’s called ‘Suvolte’, Buffy. I can come with you,” Riley suggested, a hopeful smile spreading over his farm-boy face.

“Whatever. It’d be more helpful if you could scare up some connections to the authorities so we could look into the police reports for the last few days. If there really are victims, then their location might hint on the hiding place of the demons.” Buffy was glad she’d found a good excuse to shed herself of him.

No way was she hitting her sources with an ex-soldier from the Initiative in tow. Sunnydale’s non-human populace still hated the Initiative. Nearly every family had lost members to them; the Initiative had been indiscriminate in their actions against demons, harmless and dangerous alike.

“We should meet back here in three hours, after sunset.” Buffy looked at Giles who had been silent during the whole conversation, intently studying the soldier and listening to the explanations.

“When Dawn comes here after school I’ll keep an eye on her and make sure she does her homework. That’s not a problem, Buffy. Tara and Elin will come by later for research, so she’ll have company.” Giles laid a fatherly hand on Buffy’s shoulder.

Riley looked shameful. “How’re your mother and Dawn? Can you tell them ‘hello’ from me?”

After a moment of stunned silence, Buffy spoke up. “My mother died last year, Riley, shortly after you left. Dawn and I are alone now.”

His face fell. “Oh, God, I’m sorry, Buffy! I… I didn’t know. I thought she was getting better. This must’ve been a terrible shock to you.” His cheeks were heating up in embarrassment. “What about your father? Wouldn’t it be better if Dawn lives with him? It must be hard for you to care for your kid sister on your own.”

Buffy barely suppressed her urge to kick him in his military brass balls.

“I think we should concentrate on finding the demons now, Riley. We can catch up on the past later.” Or never. Buffy turned on her heels and left in a hurry.

~*~

Still furious at Riley, Buffy stormed into Spike’s crypt and banged the door shut behind her. What had he thought, or had he thought at all? She was in serious need of comfort and cuddling.

“Spike? Where are you?” Buffy shouted.

The crypt was deserted, only a t-shirt was hanging over the headrest of the battered couch and the freezer was humming and hiccupping in the corner. It was early afternoon, so Spike should be in and probably still sleeping.

“Spike? Are you awake?” Buffy asked in a calmer, more moderate voice.

She heard a slight rustling and shuffling behind the sarcophagus and Spike’s head appeared over the rim. “Hi, pet. You’re in a right snit today. What poor sod ticked you off?”

“Riley!” Buffy snorted and sat down on the couch. A puff of dust rose from the cushion in protest.

Spike came over to sit beside her. “Whitebread pissed you off? That’s quite an accomplishment, coming all the way from Central America.”

“Wish he was still there, or in Timbuktu, or on the moon. He’s here, in Sunnydale.” Buffy kicked the table with the VCR on it.

“Hey, go soft on my recorder, luv! There’re still episodes on it I haven’t watched yet.” Spike intervened, placing his hand on her thigh. “Common pet, relax. Just kick him out of town. I’m the first one to cheer you on.”

“He’s just…” Buffy stopped. Why was she so angry?

She shook her head. “He annoyed the hell out of me. What does he want? Who does he think he is? He dropped in out of nowhere with all his military gear and soldier talk. He hasn’t once called after he left, not even a letter or a fucking postcard! ‘Having a demon good time in sunny Belize – wish you were here!’” Buffy quipped dourly.

“He didn’t even know mom died. Now he suddenly pretends everything’s shiny between us because he needs my help.” She sighed.

Spike laid his arm around her shoulder and pulled her tight. “Come here, luv.” He leaned over and pressed a soft kiss on her cheek.

Suddenly all anger seeped out of her and Buffy leaned her head against his shoulder. “Stupid Riley. I was in such a good mood until he popped up like an ass-in-the-box.”

“Now, maybe we can restore your mood?” Spike grinned at her, curling his tongue behind his teeth. Then he bent over slowly, his lips hovered over hers for what felt an eternity before he softly lowered them.

Buffy melted into his arms and her mouth opened under the insistent touch. Spike’s tongue flicked out and licked a wet path over her lips, tasting and probing. Her tongue met his, entwining and caressing, tasting his scent of tobacco and faint, coppery traces of blood.

She curled her arm around his neck and pulled him nearer. All her thoughts and worries were lost in a haze of need and she closed her eyes. The memories of her dream surfaced, calling to her and making her blood sing.

“Spike,” she moaned, a bare whisper against his soft lips.

His left hand slipped under her shirt, gliding up the smooth expanse of her stomach tenderly cupping her breast. Spike’s thumb rubbed over her nipple, circling it in a hypnotic, repetitive movement. A flutter started in her stomach.

“Spike,” Buffy repeated. “… I want you…”

His thumb stopped abruptly and he raised his mouth from hers. “Buffy, luv?” Spike whispered.

She swallowed and opened her eyes wide. His stormy blue gaze bored into her, desperately begging her to repeat it. His arm slid behind her back and pressed her nearer. She could feel him trembling slightly, a nervous vibration running along the muscles of his arm. His cheekbones showed sharp angles as he sucked in a breath in anticipation.

She took a deep gulp of air. “I… I dreamt of you, Spike.”

“’t was a good one?” A low chuckle rippled up in his chest. “Did you dream of all the things I could do to you? How I can make you feel all tingly and weak?”

God, he really knew how to undo her. She couldn’t think straight, so she just nodded.

“And what do you want me to do now?” His voice was caressing her senses like velvet.

She poked her knuckles playfully into his side. “Why do I have to say it?” Buffy pouted. This always worked to distract him.

“Hm-Hm” Spike held his index finger in front of her eyes and wriggled it. “Say it. You can do this.”

Buffy glared at him. Stupid vampire. She had defeated a hell god. She could do this, couldn’t she? She took a deep breath – and let it out again. It should be so simple, why did the words evade her? She squeezed her eyes shut, maybe that would work. If she didn’t see him, she could pretend he wasn’t listening.

A finger slipped under her chin and lifted her head. She opened her eyes again and was met by his gaze boring into her, a gas blue flame which devoured her. She was tumbling down into their depth, falling into this abyss of devotion, admiration and – love.

“I want you, Spike” she whispered and his eyes swallowed her whole.

Spike’s iron grip pulled her tight until she was pressed flush against him. His mouth moved against her lips, his tongue demanding entry, playing and dancing around her own, inviting her to another dance. His hand slipped down her back, cupping her ass and lifting her up from the couch, placing her onto his lap. Buffy straddled his hips and ground against his hard, demanding erection.

“I want you,” she repeated, now more forceful and sure.

With gentle fingers, he brushed her hair back from her face, hooking the strands behind her ear. “I’ll show you how good it can be, luv.” His cool breath whispered into her ear. “You’ll shout my name until you lose your voice.” Spike traced his tongue around her earlobe. “I’ll fill you ‘til you won’t ever want to live without me.”

His mouth trailed down the column of her neck, placing soft, wet kisses. Buffy bent her head to the side, her skin burning under his ministration, his cool breath an icy flame devouring her. He started to suck at the soft flesh over her jugular, pulling her boiling blood to the surface.

Buffy grabbed the seam of Spike’s t-shirt when the door burst open and crashed against the crypt walls.

“Hostile 17,” Riley bellowed venomously, “I know you’re in here…”

With bones shifting and cracking, Spike changed into his demon visage and looked up at the intruder with a dangerous glare. Buffy slowly turned on Spike’s lap towards the soldier looming in the doorway.

A look of pure hatred contorted Riley’s apple-pie face and his mouth twitched in disgust. He stepped nearer. “Still all high and mighty, Buffy? You threw me away because I let vampires bite me. Now look at you, getting suck-jobs yourself by your fangless pet vampire. Hung up on the rush; how good does it feel to be a junkie?”

His burning gaze went to Spike. “Does she beat you up, animal, after she uses you?”

Enraged, Spike growled and shifted on his seat. Nobody called his love names, least of all the git who left her when she needed help the most.

Buffy placed her hand on his shoulder. “Stay calm, it’s my mess to handle.”

Spike took a deep breath and met her eyes – they were resolute, it wasn’t up for debate. He shook off his demon and patted her backside. He just couldn’t resist rubbing it in to Soldier-boy that now he was the lucky guy.

Buffy stood up, straightening her shirt and throwing her hair over her shoulder, deliberately displaying her bare, unmarred neck to the soldier. She stalked over to the door, every step crackling with her rage.

“First, Spike’s neither an animal, nor anything like your vamp-hos.”

Riley snarled and opened his mouth, but Buffy interrupted with a hard glare.

“Second, you left me standing at the helipad, not even having the guts to look back. Instead of facing the mess you made, you ran off. What I do is none of your business anymore so keep your opinion to yourself and be civil to my friends as long as you’re in my town.”

She was glorious, standing in front of the hulk, face stern and commanding. Cold waves of anger chilled the air and Whitebread cautiously backed off.

“Buffy, seeing you there, I assumed…”

“You assumed - that’s what you do. You have stereotypes and you normally assume the worst. I don’t think you and me would have worked out, but you didn’t even give us a chance. You left me, knowing my mom was seriously ill and a big bad was gunning for us.”

Buffy shook her head. “You’re a real, all American hero,” she added sarcastically.

His girl was a force of nature that soldier-boy wasn’t used to. Riley watched Buffy intently, like a mouse watching a snake ready to strike.

Buffy, with arms akimbo, bore down on him. “If not for my friends’ help, and that especially includes Spike, you wouldn’t be here. Your special forces would be dead after battling in vain against the flood. In fact, the whole world would’ve been sucked into hell; demons roaming the earth.”

“Staying here and helping us under my command would’ve been better for the world than fighting skirmishes in Central America. You said you went with the military because they wanted you back. I probably should’ve told you that I needed you more, but I don’t order people to help me. They volunteer; they help, because it’s the right thing to do.”

Buffy folded her arms, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “I thought you were looking through the police reports. So…why did you follow me instead of searching for clues?”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing, Buffy.” Riley protested. “We got intel that someone is offering Suvolte eggs on the black market. The guy’s calling himself ‘The Doctor’.” The soldier pointed his finger at Spike. “He must know something about it. Maybe he’s even ‘The Doctor’ himself. Look at his boots and his jeans!”

Spike looked down at his mud covered Docs and soaked legs and shrugged. “What’s wrong with them? Since when did you join the fashion police?”

Buffy suppressed a slight smile and explained to Spike. “The Sulfur demons Riley’s looking for nest in dark, damp, and muddy areas. Have you heard of any new baddies in town, settling down in the sewers or caves?”

“Ask him where he got his boots dirty, Buffy. He’s hiding something. And it’s called a Suvolte demon.” Riley corrected.

Buffy turned back to Riley and rolled her eyes. “Your boots tell me that you haven’t done any serious searching yet.” She frowned down at Riley’s clean and shining combat boots. “I can’t see why the state of Spike’s boots is relevant. I trust him. Besides, he hasn’t done anything stupid in a good long time - unlike you.”

Spike’s heart blazed at this display of trust. She didn’t question his whereabouts; her faith in him was a blinding light that drew him in, that motivated him to show her that he was worthy of her trust. What a difference to last year, when everything he did was weighed and inspected for hidden meanings. Not that he wanted to dwell on how he got so dirty.

“Last night at poker Que’uck, the Ragnak, told a story about some nasties settling down near the Induga Dam,” Spike said. “Warned us not to cross the pair ‘cause they’re fierce protectors of their offspring. That sounds like your Suvoltes. Haven’t heard the name ‘The Doctor’ around here for a bit. Not many fans in this area for that show; bloody shame, it’s a classic. Too complicated I reckon, needs a longer attention span than the kiddies have nowadays.”

Spike shook his head at the blank expression on Whitebread’s face. No appreciation for that cult classic there either. Probably also no attention span. Buffy was excused; his Slayer didn’t have much time for the telly. He would teach his girl some finer entertainment first. Maybe later they could curl up for some classic British TV education.

“Where did you get your info from, eBay?” Spike guessed.

Riley flinched.

Gotcha! A lot of posh military intel normally came from common sources or were made up in the first place. Spike had faked some in his time; that had been quite an easy way to make cash, especially during the cold war. After a warning look he received from Buffy he shut up.

“Buffy, this ‘Doctor’ is auctioning the eggs and the bid and interest in it is rising quickly. We know that some of the bidders are terrorist organizations and paramilitary groups. It’ll be even worse if these organizations get hold of the hatchlings than if they run loose. Their venom can be used in biological warfare.” Riley pulled out his walkie-talkie.

Crackling static filled the room until a firm voice said, “Sgt. Finn, report!”

“We got a tip for a possible location, Sir. The Induga Dam.” Spike raised his eyebrows. Soldier-boy visibly stood at attention talking to his commanding officer. There was something off about the commander’s voice, but the words were too distorted by static for Spike to pinpoint what it was.

“Affirmative... We’ll be right there… Over and Out.” Riley snapped the handheld shut and shoved it back into one of the many pockets at his belt.

“If you still want to support us, the van will meet us at the gate,” Riley offered, looking at Buffy.

“I think you know that I’m not just gonna stand here and let you run loose in my town. Besides, you’ll never find the entrance to the caves on your own. Spike, what weapons do you have handy?” Buffy stepped resolutely towards the chest in the corner.

“You don’t need any weapons; we’ll provide them and protective gear for you. Sam’s spare will fit you fine.” Riley stared at Spike. “He’s not invited. He’ll not set a foot in our van. I don’t trust him at my back.”

“Dress me up in Kevlar if you insist, but I don’t go near dangerous creatures without a sword or an ax.” She pulled an impressively long blade out of the chest and gave it a test swing. “I still miss mine, but this has a nice balance. Can I borrow it?” As Spike nodded, Buffy grabbed the scabbard and secured the sword across her shoulders.

Riley was already striding towards the cemetery gate as Buffy stopped in the doorway and quickly stepped back into the shadow of the crypt. She put her hand on Spike’s cheek and gave him a tender kiss. Her hand warmed his cheek and her kiss burned down his throat like sweet, hot chocolate. “I’ll come back later,” she whispered and a goofy grin spread on his face.

“Be careful, luv…”

With a last glance back she hurried after the soldier.

~*~

The van waited at the curb like a gleaming, sleek, black-metal monster, crouched and ready to spring. The sliding door at the rear opened and a soldier stepped out. Behind him a slim figure stood up, backlighted by the blue light of electronics beeping, face in shadow.

“We appreciate your cooperation, Miss Summers.” The voice was smooth, diplomatic and – female. “I’m Sergeant Major Samantha Finn, mission leader. This is Jim Miller and Carlos Fezzuglio is our driver. You know Riley Finn already.”

Buffy was speechless. Samantha Finn? She looked the woman over as she stepped out of the van and offered her hand in welcome. The Sergeant Major was taller than her, nearly as tall as Riley and athletic. Her smooth features were polite, but otherwise she couldn’t read any expression in it. She didn’t look like Riley’s sister or cousin, but there was a familiarity between them that spoke of a close relationship.

“Nice to meet you,” Buffy said cautiously and tested the waters. “Samantha Finn? Are you related to Riley?”

A high, amused laughter pearled up and Samantha’s face became more relaxed. “No, no, I’m Riley’s wife. Please call me Sam.” She looked over to Riley. “Relax, soldier. You haven’t told her?”

With a reluctant face he said, “There wasn’t really the right time for that. Buffy, Sam and I married about three months ago. We met on our assignment in Belize.”

“I killed the Sargoz demon that had its claws aimed at his back. I thought it was a shame to lose such a nice backside.” Riley actually blushed at the remark by his spouse. “I’m really excited to have the opportunity to meet a real Slayer. May I call you Buffy? Riley told a lot about you and how you defeated Adam. To stand against such an opponent without adequate weapons must have been intimidating. But enough with the small talk. You need a vest and weapons. Jim, get my replacement armory. Can you handle a FN P-90? They’re pretty common. The Initiative had you trained on firearms, I presume.”

This Sam was a weapon on her own. Buffy felt like she’d been run over by a truck. Riley had a wife and that wife was his commanding officer? She could believe that, whatever man this Sam set her eyes on, she would get him. Maybe that was what he needed, maybe if she had commanded him around like his wife did now, he wouldn’t have run off. She shook her head.

“You can’t handle a gun?” Sam’s voice sounded surprised.

Buffy surfaced from her musings. “Sorry, I know how to handle them, but I just don’t like to depend on them, I’ve seen them fizzle once too often. I’ll stick with my sword. In close quarters, like the cave we’re going, it’s better anyway, no ricochets.”

As the soldier stepped nearer with the vest, Buffy sighed and lifted her arms to get it fitted. It closed snuggly around her torso after the Velcro was adjusted and felt surprisingly lightweight. It didn’t restrict her movement more than her heavy leather jacket. Once she saw how it handled during the fight, maybe she would get one for herself. The Watchers Council was way too old fashioned sometimes, but she wasn’t averse to modern technology. Not if it helped her stay alive.

“Okay, let’s go. Finn, into the back with me, Buffy, please go upfront and direct the way.” Sam quickly tested the fit of Buffy’s vest. “Looks good to me. Close the crotch strap for the fight. It’s too uncomfortable now, but if you have to fall and roll without the strap, the vest will slip up and the rim might dig into the back of your neck.” With a final pat on Buffy’s protected shoulder, Sam climbed into the van and belted into the seat in front of a computer screen. A cluster of red dots blipped on a map centered around the cemetery gate. Trackers?

Buffy slipped into the passenger seat and nodded to the driver. The stoic Hispanic only grunted, put the gear into drive and the monster sprang forward with a growl.

~*~

The air was cool and damp inside the cave after the warmth of the early afternoon; it smelled of mildew and rotting cadavers. Buffy scrunched her nose. The soldiers had picked out nose plugs after entering, but nobody had supplied her with them. She shrugged. She was used to unpleasant odors in her line of work. As long as she didn’t have to bring it home with her she was fine.

Carefully, she stepped around the next corner, sword at the ready in her hand. The blazing light of the Maglite’s from the troops behind her glittered on the sharp edge of her blade and cast deep, dancing shadows on the walls. Sam had scolded her team for leaving the night vision gear behind.

The passageway forked and Buffy held up her left hand. Obediently, the caravan behind her stopped and fell silent. She closed her eyes and let her other senses fan out into the darkness.

A faint drip-drip-drip to the right accumulated to the tinny trickle of drops falling into a small pond. A possibility.

Further along the left opening, the air grew a bit warmer and the smell of rotten meat intensified. The ground sloped and the wet, sleek clay under her feet was covered with a thin sheen of water, flowing downwards. A faint scratching and rustling sound could be heard echoing in a larger space, maybe bats, but she would bet on the demons. She pointed down into the left tunnel and waved them on.

After a short while, the passage opened up into a huge cavern, the flat, muddy surface dimly illuminated by sunlight, flooding down in a golden waterfall through a narrow crack in the ceiling. In the center, around a ditch of disturbed mud, lay a big hulk of a demon, blood and goo glistening like black oil on the scaly skin.

Intently watching her surroundings, Buffy stepped nearer. Someone had made a real mess. The body was ripped apart, deep, half burned gouges cut through flesh and bone. Blade ready to strike, she kicked the carcass with the tip of her boot. The muscle structure was rubbery and gave way under her pressure – it was dead.

Sam came nearer and examined the wounds. “Looks like some kind of laser weapon. See the burn scars? We experimented with them because they can slice through thick skin tissue, horn, and plate armor. Sadly, it was too heavy for a mobile device and the batteries needed too long to recharge.”

“So you say that a pocket version of the Death Star did that? You sure it’s not some kind of special effect?” Images of white armored soldiers and zinging laser beams shot through Buffy’s head.

Sam shook her head. “Whoever did this is well equipped and has resources.” She pointed down. “Footprints, definitely human.”

“The eggs were stacked in this ditch, look at the indentations.” Riley stared down into the mud and counted. “I estimate about forty-five.”

The beam of his flashlight danced through the darkness, following the disturbances in the earth. “I detect two different sets of footprints, one is a heavier build. They loaded the eggs onto some sort of buggy or cart. Heavy-duty tires; the track out is imprinted deeper than the incoming track. The prints are heading to the back of the cave; there must be another access.”

He looked up, face grim. “The eggs are gone. We’re too late.”

Buffy went around the carcass and bent down and examined the demon more closely. The flesh was cold to the touch and squishy. “I would put his death at least one or two days ago. In this muck, the body has already started to decompose.”

She straightened just as the other demon lunged out the other tunnel exit at her back. She whirled around, sword ready, and attacked. Her blade bit into the scales and was nearly ripped out of her grip. The beast snapped at her with a long snout full of ragged, razor-sharp teeth. It seemed injured, its left hind leg dragging behind. She bent back and kicked the beast in the knee joint.

“Buffy, get out of the way!” Riley shouted.

The other two soldiers fanned out to the side, firearms trained on the Suvolte, the Maglite’s pressed to the muzzle of the guns, the light beam following their every move, illuminating the fight like crisscrossing search lights.

Buffy ducked a sweeping blow of the clawed hands and aimed her thrust at its belly. A blow from the tail backhanded her towards the ground, her blade flying through the air and landing out of reach.

Sam jumped over Buffy’s sprawling form and attacked the Suvolte with a series of quick, hard blows. Her fists impacted with smacking sounds in rapid succession, reverberating like drum signals from the rocky walls. She danced around the demon and it turned to follow this new adversary.

Buffy quickly jumped onto the back of the beast and gripped its head with both hands. With a grunt of effort, she broke its neck with a satisfying crunch.

“Don’t!” cried Sam, but she was too late.

Surprised, Buffy looked at her, adrenaline surging through her veins as the lifeless beast sank to the ground beneath her.

“We could’ve used the demon to track down the offspring.” Sam said, disappointed.

“Maybe now would be a good time to hit my resources,” Buffy offered in apology. She picked up her sword and the light of the torches broke into myriads of glistening shards on its sharp edge as she brought it down on the carcass.

~*~

“Can you hand me the dried locusts, my dear?” Elin looked up from her mortar at Tara who was sitting cross-legged beside her, a map of Sunnydale spread out in front of her.

Sam, Buffy, and Giles were standing in the Magic Box near the circle, drawn in salt on the floor of the training room. The two soldiers, Fezzuglio and Miller, leaned against the back door, eyes shifting nervously back and forth between their commander and the setup for the Locator spell.

“Don’t you think we can locate the eggs without a spell?” Sam asked.

“This is the quickest way to find them. It should work if no counter spell was set up to obscure the location.” Giles answered.

“Why haven’t you done this before?” Sam frowned and shifted beside Buffy, clenching her hands.

“For the spell to work, we need something either owned or linked to the objective. If we do a generic search, we might end up with hundreds of possible locations.” Giles explained.

Buffy observed the nervous Sam. “Don’t you have witches in your unit?”

Sam’s mouth twitched, showing disgust for a second before her features rearranged into her polite mask. “I think it's wrong to engage ourselves in magic if we’re trying to keep the human race safe from unnatural, demonic intruders. Magicians aren’t exactly human themselves and might one day turn against us too.” Her voice had become intense and her eyes glittered with a fanatic fire.

The door to the salesroom opened and Anya slipped in and walked over to them. “Buffy, I have thought about the bachelorette party. We definitely should have strippers. I found some advertisements; can you take a look at them?” Raising her eyebrows slightly, she looked intently at Buffy.

Buffy opened her mouth to ask Anya what she was talking about, but under the ex-demon’s intense glare she closed it again and took the slip of paper Anya was handing her. What the hell was this all about?

Anya smiled brightly and turned to Sam. “It’s my first real wedding. I’m just so excited and Buffy is helping me a lot. She’s my maid of honor. I heard you are newlywed too. Can I ask you about your reception? Do you think it’s better to have a fixed seating arrangement or should I let the guests seat themselves?” The words spilled out like a waterfall and Sam was soon distracted, wrapped up in questions about seating and decorations.

Buffy stepped aside and opened the slip of paper. She quickly covered up her frown as she read: ‘Suvolte demons are only aggressive during mating time and generally avoid humans. Mostly scavengers and harmless otherwise. They reproduce only once during their lifetime. The eggs must be kept cold to prevent hatching. Hatchlings have poisonous venom, deadly to humans, anesthetizing for most demons. They are lying to us.’

Buffy looked up and watched Sam, reluctantly answering Anya’s questions. They had dropped Riley off at the campsite where the communications specialists were still trying to locate and identify the seller. Buffy had noticed a refrigerated truck parked nearby. What was really the agenda of this mission?

Folding the slip, she caught Anya’s attention. “This looks promising; I’ll look into it as soon as possible.” She smiled fondly at the ex-demon. “We’ll get you the dream wedding you both deserve.”

“I’m glad you handle this.” Anya beamed at Buffy and nodded curtly at Sam. “I’ve to go back, I can’t have customers leaving without buying piles of merchandise first - or leave without paying.”

A flash of bright, rose-colored flame brought their attention back to the protective circle. The concoction in the mortar was now ground to fine powder and burning brightly.

Gingerly, Elin picked up the bloodied demon claw beside her and dropped it into the bowl. A fountain of glittering sparks rose like fireworks into the air. They danced like twinkling fireflies in a circle above the map, whirling and intertwining.

Tara intoned a sing-song of Latin phrases, moving her hand above the glittering swarm. At her final command, the sparks rained down onto the map, forming a thick cluster at the outskirts of Sunnydale.

Buffy bent over the map and studied it. “They’re in the industrial park; at the corner of Crenshaw and Del Amo Boulevard. It looks like the eggs are at the old meat packing plant; they went bankrupt a few month ago and it’s still abandoned. I cleaned out a nest of vamps there about two weeks ago.”

Writing down the location, Sam nodded. “We’ll check it out. I think we can take over from here. Thank you for your help.” She strode over to her soldiers and opened the door into the alley behind the shop.

“Wait! I’ll come with you.” Buffy grabbed the sword propped against the wall and purposefully went after her. There was no way she was letting the military out of her sight. This was her town.

In the doorframe, Sam turned and declined briskly. “Thank you, Miss Summers, we don’t need your support anymore. I’m sure we can handle the situation.”

Behind her, the van roared to life and she jumped into the passenger seat and closed the door with a final ‘bang’. Buffy stared after the vehicle as it skittered around the corner into the street. Furious, she slammed the door behind her and angrily muttered, “Bitch!”

“Buffy, come over here.” Still sitting in front of the map, Tara waved urgently. “There is another location on the map. It isn’t very obvious, but there might be at least one of the eggs somewhere else.”

Tara looked up from her perch as Buffy approached the map. “It’s at Restfield Cemetery, near Spike’s crypt.”

Giles looked from Tara to Elin. “You’re certain it’s a hit and not just some random residue?”

As both women nodded, Buffy looked at Giles. “Anya slipped me a note that the information Riley gave us about the Suvolte is at least partly fake. They’re trying to sucker us with some double play. Giles, can you follow Sam and see what they’re doing at the factory? I’ll head over to Spike’s.”

Without waiting for Giles’ answer she swung the sword scabbard over her shoulder and sprinted out the door. Riley had been so hostile and jealous today and the ex-Initiative soldier knew better than anyone else how vulnerable Spike was. Buffy’s breath labored and her heart pounded in erratic patterns as she raced through the town. Until the sun went down, Spike could be easily trapped in his crypt. Her footsteps thundering in her ears, she ran with long strides through the crowded streets, dodging startled shoppers.

~*~

“Well, well, well. Soldier-boy’s back. And he brought friends.” Spike pursed his lips.

He’d just come up to get some blood from the fridge when the door was flung open and Riley strode in arrogantly, like he owned the place. Behind him, another soldier dragged in a dark haired, young man who looked vaguely familiar.

“Shut up, Spike.” Riley growled and raised his crossbow. “This time, you can’t hide behind Buffy’s skirts. I don’t know what kind of spell you have her under, but I won’t fall for your play.”

He turned to the soldier. “Jim, drop the scum there in the corner, check his cuffs and bind his legs. We don’t need any trouble with this traitor.”

The broad rimmed glasses slipped down the prisoner’s nose as he was thrown unceremoniously onto the dusty cement floor. Spike now recognized the boy; it was the nerd who’d made him the Buffy-bot. Warren – something. His hands were bound behind his back and his mouth was closed with duct tape. Anxiously, his gaze flickered around the room, eyes wide with a mixture of indignation and fear.

Riley handed the crossbow to the soldier and nodded at Spike. “If he makes a move, shoot him.” Then he tapped the prisoner’s leg with his boot. “Now, Doctor, who did you think you’re dealing with? You thought we weren’t paying you enough, so you have the nerve to sell our property on eBay and cash in the front money?” He bent down and ripped the tape from Warren’s mouth.

“Nobody told us there were hardcore demons around the eggs. You said it was just a simple retrieval job. If I hadn’t had the laser gun with me, we would’ve been done in.” Warren sputtered, not noticing the dangerous gleam in Riley’s eyes. “I think that earned us a raise. We had expenses; can’t you imagine how difficult it is to get a new diamond to charge the gun again? Have you seen what the others offered for these eggs? You were trying to fleece us! Besides, you have the eggs - now pay up what we deserve or we go public!”

“I have something much better in mind.” Riley took off his backpack and sat it in front of Warren. He carefully removed a wrapped bundle from it and folded the cloth back. “I’ll feed you your own medicine. It’s about to hatch – and it’ll be hungry.”

The leathery hide of the egg rippled and bulged.

Warren let out a girlish squeak. “You can’t do this. This is… this is murder! I’m a human! You can’t just… Take the money back, I don’t care, just let me go. I won’t…”

Riley slapped the duct tape back over Warren’s babbling mouth, silencing him. “I won’t do anything to you - personally.”

Silently, Spike had watched and was considering his options. He wasn’t surprised how Riley manhandled the boy, the soldier always had a hidden streak of cruelty, he’d come into close contact with it himself one time or two. Underneath Finn’s cornbread appearance was ruthlessness; this last year in the military hunting demons had only hardened him more.

The nerd was nothing to Spike, but this was his crypt and Buffy wouldn’t be happy if she found a body here. “Hey, can’t you dispose your trash somewhere else?” He stepped cautiously nearer. “I keep a tidy crypt. Don’t need no wannabe crook stinking the place up.”

Riley sprang up, whirled around and slammed Spike into the column. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

Instinctively, Spike raised his fist and with a snarl punched Riley in the face. White-hot agony filled his brain and exploded behind his eyelids in razor-sharp flashes, ripping and clawing his vision into shreds. With a loud roar he threw his head back, cracking it soundly against the stone column. He didn’t feel the hard impact as his legs buckled and he sagged down.

Like an iron vice, Riley’s hand fastened around his throat. The coppery smell of blood filled Spike’s nostrils as Whitebread’s face filled his hazy field of vision.

“Don’t. Ever. Try. That. Again!” Riley spat out between clenched teeth and his fist punctuated each word with a vicious blow into Spike’s stomach.

“Finn, stand down!” a voice commanded from the door.

With a last, cracking blow at Spike’s nose Riley stopped his assault.

With agony-blurred gaze, Spike watched as a female soldier stepped through the door and walked over to Soldier-boy. She observed the scene and asked. “Was this really necessary? We take the traitor with us and his accomplice will think he ran away with the money. Case closed. Now we have a witness. Why don’t you just stake it?”

“Sam, he has to suffer after what he did to me. I want him to watch as his dream shatters. He has to take the blame.” Riley’s fist closed tighter around Spike’s throat.

“If they find the body and the hatchling here, everybody will blame Spike.” Riley’s spittle mixed with the blood trickling down Spike’s chin. “The evidence will prove that he is ‘The Doctor’ and disposed of his accomplice after a quarrel. He was just careless and got stung before he could cash out and vanish. That will throw a giant wrench into his cozy, little romance with Buffy. I wish I could be there when she stakes him.”

“The mighty Slayer,” the soldier - Sam - spat out. “After what you told me about her, she’s really been a disappointment. I imagined her as the spearhead in our fight against evil. But she’s corrupted. She encourages magic. Look at all the mages she’s assembled around her and her HQ is a magic shop!” Her mouth twitched as if she’d swallowed some vile medicine. “You say she’s intimate with this vampire? Even if it’s neutered, it’s still a demon, a vicious, dirty animal. How can she even touch it?”

A muffled sound came from behind Sam and she quickly spun around in alarm.

Buffy stood inside the doorway, crossbow in hand, the unconscious soldier that had been standing guard crumpled at her feet.

“Let him go, Riley.” Her voice was cold as ice, her eyes flashing in hot anger.

Riley loosened his grip but didn’t step back. “Buffy, you’ve got to believe me. Spike is ‘The Doctor’! We just came in time…”

“One… Two…” Buffy’s gaze speared the commando while the tip of her crossbow pointed unwavering at Sam’s unprotected neck.

Stepping backwards, Riley held up both hands, palms out in a conciliatory gesture. “Buffy, you’ve to understand…”

“Spike, grab their weapons and take care of the egg.” Buffy’s voice was clipped and precise, her attention fixed on the commandos. “Hands up, Sam. Step over to Riley.”

Spike shook off the pain-induced haze and quickly assembled the guns and knives from the commandos. Sam flinched as he came near and sucked in her breath. Stupid, bigoted bint. He couldn’t resist and sniff at her neck, chuckling as a tremble ran through her body and the pungent smell of her fear hit his nostrils.

He dropped the weapons into his chest and picked out a huge ax. With quick strokes he cut the egg and its contents into small pieces. These critters were dangerous and he didn’t fancy one in the neighborhood.

Blood and gore splattered all over Warren who tucked in his legs and started rocking back and forth, whimpering, his eyes firmly squeezed shut.

Buffy closed the crypt door behind her. “What shall I do with you? I don’t kill humans – normally. But I’m tempted to ignore that rule just this once. You know what they say; rules are made to be broken.”

She scowled at the pair. “You haven’t learned your lessons, Riley. Always falling for fanatic, power-hungry bitches. First Professor Walsh, now your over-ambitious, sanctimonious wife. I don’t need Psych 101 to see the pattern emerging here.”

Wife? Spike’s head whipped around and he studied the couple, standing before his Slayer. He smirked as he saw the glare on Sam’s face. “Got you a nice one, farm-boy…”

“Shut up, Spike,” Buffy said absentmindedly. “Wrap them up with the duct tape. I want their full attention. No skedaddling.”

With glee, Spike wrapped up the soldiers and positioned them on his couch. “We could go with some streamers and paper hats, luv. Hadn’t so many visitors in a while, that’s quite a party.” He was pleased to see a slight smile spread over Buffy’s face, even as she tried to remain serious and ‘professional’.

Somewhere in the backpack a walkie-talkie started to crack and buzz. “So, where is the rest of your squad?” Buffy’s question was answered with a grim twitch of Sam’s lips. Buffy shrugged, pulled out her mobile, and punched the speed dial.

“Giles? Everything clear?” Buffy asked. Spike listened in but could only distinguish the odd phrase. A grim smile suddenly lit up her face. “Great, see you soon.”

Spike raised his scarred eyebrow. “Good news, pet?”

“Score two for the Scoobies and zero for the amateurs.” Buffy turned back to the three stooges on the couch.

“Here is what you do. You pack your squad and equipment and leave immediately. If you ever set foot into my town or in this area again, all rules are off. We dispose of the eggs. Don’t even think about trying to turn the tables on us. We have proof on film… or DVD... or computer or whatever, and we have a witness who will give us a full report if he knows what’s good for him.” Buffy gestured at Warren who nodded enthusiastically.

“Buffy, you should be on our side. You should be fighting against evil, not backing up demons,” Riley tried to convince her again. “We have to save the human race.”

She shook her head. “And the human race is – what? All snowy-white saints and innocents? I’ve seen enough friendly, harmless demons and vicious, evil humans to know that the world isn’t black and white. I don’t fight for slogans or ideas. I fight for my friends, for my family, for the decent people – whether they are human or not.”

Buffy sent him a sad smile. “Try to grow up, Riley. Try to get out of this chicken-feet outfit. I once thought you were a decent guy. You stood up against the Initiative and did what was right; I was so proud of you. Now you are back to following orders, blind to what really happens around you. Open your eyes, Riley. Look around!”

The door opened and Giles stepped in. “All is ready. The rest of the soldiers are in the van, fast asleep; Elin’s on watch.”

“What evil have you done to them?” Sam spat out, hatred in her eyes.

Giles’ lips contracted to a small line. “A harmless healing spell, Elin and Tara voted for it. They will wake up in about two hours’ time; they will even feel relaxed and rested. I voted for putting them into the back of the refrigerator - with the eggs.”

~*~

Giles, Elin, and Buffy watched as the rest of the squad packed with military speed and accuracy. They escorted the huge van until it passed the ‘You are leaving Sunnydale’ sign and waited quietly till the tail lights were swallowed by the darkness.

Finally Buffy broke the silence. “Giles, I want Spike’s chip removed.”

Giles’ head jerked around and he studied her for a while, eyes hidden behind the reflections of the oncoming traffic on his glasses. “My dear, are you sure you know what you’re asking? Will you be capable of killing him, when he can’t constrain his demon? If I remember Angelus…”

“Spike’s not Angel. He won’t mess up.” Buffy’s voice was firm and determined in the darkness. “It’s not right to restrict him anymore; he needs to be able to defend himself.”

The silence stretched on, like the highway that led out of town, running on patiently to the horizon and beyond.

Giles finally broke the uneasy silence. “I’ll look for information about the chip and how to disable it.” He sighed. “I trust your judgment, Buffy. I’ve watched him and I think – I hope - you’re right.”

“Rupert, I’d like to help. Buffy, I don’t want to get your hopes up, but I once removed a bullet by magic. Any surgery involving the brain is risky, but if they could insert it without damage, then we might be able to get it out again if I can determine the right path.”

“Thank you, Elin, Giles. I know you won’t be sorry. Let’s go back to the Magic Box. Dawn’s waiting and we need to decide what we’ll do with this Warren guy. The night isn’t over yet.”

Dawn was furious.

The whole afternoon she’d been ignored while everybody else was joining the excitement in the training room. Even Anya went back for a while and left Dawn in charge of the shop. It must be really, really, apocalyptically serious if Anya did that.

She had caught glimpses of soldiers through the door, but nobody explained anything. While she lingered near the door she’d heard snatches of conversations, while officially browsing through a magazine. Riley was mentioned, that she’d understood. But if he was here in person or if it was a general military thingy, she wasn’t sure…

She stamped down her foot, mentally at least, since she was sitting at the table, pretending to do her homework. She hated it when everybody treated her like a… like a dim-witted, unicorn-loving, not-Harmony twelve-year-old. She was fifteen – well, soon enough. Nearly grown up, in a kissable, teenager way. Her mind wandered to the new boy in her class, the one with the brown, unruly curls her fingers itched to comb through every time she looked at him. And she’d looked all the time during Algebra. She sighed. Even that didn’t calm her. She was sitting here, ignored again, and missing all the excitement.

A while ago, Tara had dropped by to pick up her bag and she’d told Dawn that she was on her way to Elin’s apartment to look after Willow and prepare supper. She was so glad, that Willow was doing better now.

Tara had told her that Willow was still weak as a kitten and sleeping a lot but they could leave her alone for a while now. She had asked several times about Buffy and Dawn, but Elin didn’t allow any visitors yet.

As usual, Xander had come by after work and was now leaning at the counter, watching Anya close the shop. The training room lay dark and deserted; Buffy, Giles and Elin must have gone out the backdoor. She’d watched Anya clean away the leftovers from a Locator Spell, but the ex-demon didn’t know where they’d gone either.

What were they doing? Why didn’t they come back? It was already dark outside.

She nearly screamed with relief when the doorbell announced the return of Buffy, Giles, and Elin. Dawn sprang up and rushed to her sister’s side.

“What’s going on, Buffy!? Common, tell! Do we have another apocalypse? Can I help?” Dawn tugged at Buffy’s sleeve in excitement.

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Calm down, everything’s under control. Don’t worry, Dawnie, you’re safe.”

Dawn’s chin came up belligerently. “I’m not worried. I want to help! Why do you still treat me like a baby? I’ve staked a vampire and I brought you all back from another universe.” She nearly stamped her foot for real but stopped just in time. That wouldn’t prove her point of being a grown up.

Buffy’s gaze turned thoughtful. “Dawn, I’ll tell, I promise. But first I’ve to organize the clean-up.”

Buffy turned to the room and the expectant faces of her friends. “Ok, here’s the situation. The soldiers are gone, hopefully for good. We’ve inherited a truck full of demon eggs and the idiot who auctioned them on eBay. It turned out that Sam and her troops came here to get the hatchling’s venom for their anti-demon weapons project, but their local help turned on them and tried to cut himself a better deal. He’s safe and secured in Spike’s crypt.”

As it was clear that Buffy had finished her status summary, Giles cleared his throat and added, “Riley tried to setup Spike as the scapegoat for the mission.”

“What?” Xander spluttered. “Riley tried what? Are you sure that Spike wasn’t involved in the deal? Riley’s an honorable guy, he wouldn’t do that.”

“We’re sure Spike wasn’t involved in any way, Xander,” Giles interrupted the carpenter. “Riley beat up Spike and imprisoned their accomplice. The boy - Warren - told us that Finn threatened to leave him behind with the hungry hatchling and an unconscious Spike.”

“Oh, c’mon! You’re gonna take a stranger’s word for it? He must be lying!” Xander insisted. “Riley would never hurt or kill another human. He’s a hero. Look what he’d went through to help us with the Initiative.”

Giles frowned. “I really hope Riley only wanted to intimidate Warren. Xander, Riley isn’t the person we knew anymore and his wife has no good influence on him either.”

“Wife?” Confused, Xander looked around.

“He got married three months ago. She’s his commanding officer.” Buffy stated dryly.

Dawn was listening intently. So, Riley really came back. She would’ve had some words in store for him, and not friendly ones. She’d seen how miserable Buffy had been after he’d left her. He hadn’t wasted any time to find himself a wife; obviously he hadn’t missed her sister a lot. Dawn had never really liked the hulk; she had only put up with him since he was Buffy’s boyfriend. He hadn’t been very talkative around her and treated her like she was a toddler. And he’d hated Spike – wait!

“How’s Spike? Is he hurt, Buffy?” she anxiously assaulted her sister.

Buffy wrapped her arm around Dawn’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Dawnie. Spike got a punch in his nose, but Riley isn’t pimped-up anymore, so it wasn’t too bad. His super-vamp healing will see to that.”

“Why is it always his nose?” Dawn muttered under her breath. “Now that you finally stopped…”

Buffy squeezed her wordlessly and turned her attention back to the group. “Let’s start simple. What should we do with the demon eggs? I don’t feel very comfortable about destroying them.”

“We could give them back to their clan. They…” Anya suggested.

“Whoa! Why can’t we just destroy them? They are demons, right? That would be simple and they wouldn’t be a threat anymore. You said they’re poisonous.” Xander interrupted.

“Xander, you can’t just kill children!” Anya protested. “They’re poisonous because otherwise they might not survive to adulthood. They aren’t dangerous if you just leave them alone! The clan I know is living in seclusion deep in the National Parks around Mount Olympus. They don’t interact with humans if they can help it. There is plenty of game and they have an arrangement with the local werewolf clans about their leftovers. There are just some quarrels with a ridiculous, sparkling family of daywalkers…” Anya stopped her lecture as Giles cleared his throat. “Anyway, they cherish their offspring and I’m sure they’ll take in the orphaned eggs and hatch them properly. They propagate rarely in our universe, so they will agree to all conditions.”

“That sounds like a good idea, Anya.” Buffy agreed. “Can you contact them? And we’ll need someone to drive the truck up there.”

“That’s not a problem at all. I can drive the truck.” Giles suggested. “We’ve to pick up a substantial delivery from a supplier in Seattle anyway, so we can save the shipping charges. It’s a long drive, I know, but I wouldn’t entrust the cargo to someone else.”

“Since when did we change sides? Now we are what? Demons saviors, pampering their offspring? I thought we fight evil demons…” Xander stared accusingly at Buffy and Giles.

Resignedly, Giles pushed his glasses with his index finger up his nose. “Xander, the hatchlings are not evil. Evil means to deliberately harm innocents. No creature is evil in its nature; evil is defined by behavior. Riley’s accomplices killed the Suvolte demons and abducted their eggs to process them into weapons. Look at it that way and think about who’s evil and who’s not. I feel ashamed for what Riley did, which is why I want to help and bring the eggs up to Mount Olympus.”

“Ok, let’s save the cute little babies,” Xander backed down. “I can’t just stand by and look like a jerk. I’ll come with you, Giles. You shouldn’t drive over 2,000 miles all by yourself.”

With a squeak of delight, Anya swung her arms around Xander’s neck and hugged him. “I knew you’d understand!”

“Now we’ve only got this Warren guy left to worry about. There isn’t much we can do. Legally, he did nothing wrong, so we can’t hand him over to the authorities, but he didn’t strike me as a law-abiding citizen. He’s the one who built and abandoned the robot-girl last year.”

“Oh, was that the girl that threw Spike through the window?” Xander’s gaze got dreamy as he relived the moment. “That was classic. You really can’t see that often enough; wouldn’t mind a repeat performance. Didn’t he also build the Buffy-bot for Spike?”

Buffy frowned at her friend. “The robots are not the problem here. But this guy has technological talent and very questionable morals. Apparently, he also owns a powerful laser gun. We have to let him go, but we should keep an eye on him. My guts tell me that he’ll stir up more than dust in the future.”

~*~

With a bang, Spike placed his long, heavy-booted legs on his coffee table. He stretched, cracked his neck and studied the boy who was shifting nervously on the battered easy chair. He hadn’t seen the git in a while, not after the Scoobies repossessed his robot. The tosser hadn’t changed; he still looked like a little weasel - no backbone.

“So, ‘The Doctor’, eh?”

Spike’s sudden question startled Warren who protectively pulled up his bound legs and looked at him with wary eyes.

“Huh?”

“You called yourself ‘The Doctor’, right? You’re a fan? Bloody brilliant series that, a shame it dropped off in the eighties after Tom Baker left.”

Warren tried to smooth down his gelled, spikey hair with his duct tape bound hands. “It was Andrew’s idea. He has all the DVD’s. I’m more an Avengers fan. All those fashion model heroines - the tight costumes and the D-sized boobs alone can save my day. My favorite is Black Widow.”

Warren paused and the silence stretched on. “What’re you doing with me? Can’t you just let me go and tell them I escaped?” He held out his arms pleadingly.

Chuckling, Spike leaned back. “And why should I do that? You think I’m a moron? My lady said you should stay put, so you stay put.”

“Hey, common, Spike. We’re old pals; didn’t I make you the robot for free?” Warren grinned slyly. “All the special gymnastic programming. Did I get it right? Seems like the real one is more trouble than she’s worth. That verbal beat down she gave the soldier, you don’t hear that very often. She’s a sassy one. Not much in the front department, but a nice ass.”

Spike’s growl echoed through the crypt as he jumped up and bent menacingly over the boy. “If you ever open your gob again about my girl, you’ll stay put forever – like in forever dead.”

“Ok, ok, ok! No need to be that touchy. I just thought, after those very specific programs I installed for you, that she was just a f…” After another warning growl, Warren sank back into the cushions and kept his gob shut.

Spike leaned back on the couch, his brow wrinkled in annoyance. That damned robot had been one of his major mess-ups. What had he thought he would accomplish with it? After the first role-playing games it went stale very quickly. The sex had been great – if you like fucking inflatable dolls.

He hadn’t been able to keep up the pretense that the piece of wire and plastic was anything like his Slayer. No fire, no banter, no punch in his nose; just that daft, mindless grin all the time. After he’d enjoyed the real thing smiling at him with affection in her sparkling eyes, he couldn’t believe that he ever even looked at the vile thing. Thank God it had been damaged during the fight against Glory and was now packed away safely in a crate in Buffy’s basement. After the flooding from the pipes disaster it hopefully was ruined beyond repair.

His gaze unfocused as he thought about the promise Buffy had given him tonight. He wouldn’t mess up this time, no way. No chaining up in his crypt – at least not the first time. His gaze flickered over to the bunch of candles stacked on the sarcophagus. He smiled. This time he was prepared to treat his girl like she deserved.

~*~

Quietly, Buffy entered the crypt. She raised her eyebrows at the cozy sight. Warren was snoring softly in the chair, drool running down his chin, smudging the headrest. Spike lounged on the comfy couch, one leg thrown over the arm rest, watching some soap opera - Passions? - on his TV. His head turned around and he greeted her with a soft, happy smile that lit up his features.

“Seen them off for good, luv?”

Buffy nodded and sat down beside him. “All gone with the wind, hopefully never to return. You alright?”

“Still a bit woozy, but nothing serious. You had a right good timing, pet.”

Buffy shuddered. “Got lucky…” She pointed at the still sleeping boy. “Have you gotten any information out of Mr. Stupid?”

“Not much. He has a pal called Andrew, who’s a Doctor Who fan. Otherwise, he’s a snotty, misogynic bastard.” Spike snorted.

Buffy had to grin. Trust Spike to have controversial priorities. “That’s interesting, but I mean about the deal with the demon eggs.”

“Oh, right. He and his pal were answering an Internet ad, got attacked by the Suvolte then asked for more money. When that was rejected, they moved the eggs and tried to sell them on the open market.” Spike shrugged. “The nerd only had a contact address; he didn’t even know that he was dealing with the military. What will you do with the eggs?”

“We’re giving them back to their clan. It was feeling too much like genocide for me to destroy them. Anya has contacts, as usual.” Buffy leaned her head on his shoulder. “I’m so tired…”

“Let’s wake wonder-boy and send him on his way.” Spike stood up and shook Warren who jerked awake, hands flailing.

Buffy went over to the boy and folded her arms resolutely. “The military is gone, the eggs too. So, go home, keep what money you already got, and keep quiet. It’s in nobody’s best interest if the gossip machine is running. Most importantly, keep clean from now on. No more dealings in demons whatsoever in my town. Understood?”

Warren looked up at her with a sullen expression. “I didn’t do anything wrong…”

“Legally, no. But you brought the military down on us, killed two demons and forced us to clean up your mess. Be glad you came out of it unscathed. If there’s a next time, you won’t be so lucky, I guarantee that.” Buffy glared at the nerd. “Spike, remove his cuffs.”

As Spike cut through the duct tape, Warren eyed the huge knife with distrust. He rubbed his hands and hastily scrambled out of his chair. In the doorway he looked back. “The money didn’t cover my expenses, where do I get reimbursed? You could at least give me some of the eggs.”

“I don’t care if your deal went sour. I’m not responsible for that. Shut up and go home.” Buffy replied angrily.

Spike stepped behind her and looked menacingly at the boy. “Next time think about the consequences first. Now, get outta my crypt before I charge you for slobbering on my bloody chair.”

With a resonating bang the door closed behind Warren as he left without a further word.

Buffy stared at the closed door, her brow crinkled in annoyance. Strong arms sneaked around her waist, pulling her backwards against Spike’s hard body.

“Ungrateful bastard.” Spike’s voice rumbled in her ear. “Don’t mind him. He’s a pathetic loser.”

Buffy leaned her head back at his chest and sighed. “What happened to the day? It had such a good start…”

Cool lips whispered over the sensitive skin of her neck. “Luv, relax. They aren’t worth it. You’ve saved the day again,” Spike chuckled. “They didn’t stand a chance against you.”

Buffy turned in his embrace and placed her head against his shoulder. She wasn’t really physically tired, but she felt drained and disoriented. The day had brought her so many ups and downs, tips and turns, that now her head was dizzy.

“I never expected to see Riley again – I didn’t know how to react to him - he was like a stranger. Did I really ever know him?” Buffy looked up into Spike’s eyes and found understanding and compassion there. “I don’t think I ever really got him, never understood what drove him, what motivated him. He seemed so…” She wrinkled her nose. “… so unable to think for himself.”

“Sorry, luv, no support here. I always thought soldier-boy was a bloody idiot. To run away and leave you?” Spike dipped his head down and nuzzled at her temple.

A choked sound escaped Buffy’s throat and a tear ran down her cheek. Softly, Spike kissed it away. “Just let it go, pet.” His hand caressed her head, his fingers softly combing through her golden locks.

Some invisible bond snapped inside her chest and she wept for the boyfriend she never had really known and all the beliefs she still held onto. She finally acknowledged what they were – illusions of a life she never believed in, a normal life as a normal girl. Why had she been so blind to believe in that? Was it because Angel left her to give her a ‘normal life’ and all the hurt of their parting would have been in vain if she didn’t try to achieve that?

She wept on, silent tears running down her cheeks, wetting Spike’s shirt. He held her firm, a quiet and steadfast support. His large hands rubbed her back in endless, calming circles.

Finally, Buffy raised her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m so weepy… You must think I’m a hysterical, hormonal lunatic.”

“Shh, luv.” Spike pressed a soft kiss at her temple. “You’re not a lunatic. I’m an expert on crazy.” He chuckled softly. “Believe me, you’re completely sane.”

He placed his hand on her cheek, his thumb gently wiping away the wetness. “It’s been a long, emotional day for you. Should I walk you home now?”

“How can you be so – understanding?”

Spike tilted his head, a slight smile curling his lips. “One thing I’d learned over the years is patience. You said you want me, so I can wait.”

Buffy blushed.

She leaned closer and folded her arms around his waist and slipped her hands under his t-shirt. The skin of his back felt smooth and silken under her probing fingers.

“I really want to spend the night with you…” she murmured. “Only - I’m not sure I can do it right now.”

Spike’s fingers twirled a lock of her hair and smoothed it over her shoulder. The back of his hand caressed her cheek and slipped under her chin. With gentle pressure he raised her head. Their gaze locked and Buffy saw his eyes darkening as hidden shadows of desire broke through the surface of the cerulean blue sea.

“Why don’t you stay with me, rest a bit. We can take it as slow as you want. If you’re tired, lay down in my arms and I’m in heaven.” His voice was a soft, warm temptation.

Buffy sighed and gave in to the luring call. “Tara’s looking after Dawn and she knows where I’ll, uhmmm, be tonight.” Tentatively, she loosened her grip on Spike and turned towards the coach.

His hand, placed on her elbow, stopped her motion. “I’ve something better to offer than this battered coach, luv.”

Was Spike actually shuffling his feet? What had he done that made him so self-conscious? Buffy raised her eyebrows questioningly. “Okay… where do you want me to go?”

He entwined his fingers with her hand and pulled her gently around the corner of the sarcophagus towards the trapdoor to the underground den.

Buffy eyed the opening, memories surfacing of her last stay down there. “Shackles?” she teased.

Spike chuckled, “Better!”

~*~

Spike looked up at Buffy from the bottom of the ladder, his face a white blur in the darkness. “Give me a second to light some candles, luv.”

A soft, flickering, orange glow began to illuminate the floor below in warm, red and brownish colors. Buffy’s memories of the catacomb were of an earth-trampled floor and rough walls with protruding tree roots and half buried caskets.

At Spike’s call, she turned and slowly climbed down the sturdy ladder into his waiting embrace. When she tried to turn, his arms stopped her.

“Close your eyes, pet.”

As Buffy obliged, she was swung up. Giggling softly, she folded her arms around his neck. With quick strides, Spike carried her further into the room and let her feet slide back to the ground.

He kissed both her eyelids and the tip of her nose. “Open your eyes, luv.”

She blinked.

The walls were still earthen, but there the resemblance with her memories stopped. Carpets in rich colors of reds and blues covered most of the ground in luxurious layers; wall hangings obscured some of the rougher patches on the walls. A casket was still protruding from the wall, but it was covered in a rainbow colored rag and heaped with throw pillows in clashing colors and designs.

Everywhere candles were burning, their flickering, golden light creating a comfy atmosphere.
A wooden shelf at the far wall held an assortment of battered books; an armchair in front of it with a shaded lamp on a side table offered a comfortable reading place. In a corner, a Chinese folding screen beside a roomy cabinet partly obscured an opening into a side chamber.

The room was dominated by a huge, brass bedstead with dark red, silken sheets and pillows. Beside it was a bedside dresser with rows of drawers.

When had he refurbished this room? This was - breathtaking. She never had expected Spike to own such a tasteful and comfortable place. The tapestry and furniture looked worn and were partly mended, but that didn’t lessen the effect. In New York they’d pay big money for it and call it ‘shabby chic’.

With an astonished gaze Buffy looked up at Spike. His eyes were twinkling in the candlelight and a proud smile adorned his face. “This is…” She shook her head. “When did you fix all this?”

Spike chuckled, a low, pleased sound. “Common luv, you haven’t seen the best part yet.” He pulled her by her hand around the bed and towards the opening behind the screen. Through a narrow archway they entered – a bathroom. It was like no bathroom she’d ever seen before, but it deserved the name.

The clay floor was set in smooth, flat river rocks, sloping towards a drain at the side under a modern shower head. A screen of woven hazel twigs obscured a flush toilet. A big, enameled bowl and pitcher on a stand provided a washbasin with multi-colored, fluffy towels hanging on pegs beside it on the wall. Over the washstand was a huge, partly age-stained mirror in an intricately carved, gold-leafed wooden frame.

Buffy turned and hugged Spike enthusiastically. “You did all this for me?” There couldn’t be any other explanation. Why would Spike need a mirror and a toilet? “How… When…”

“Guess you like it? It’s a bit primitive, I know, but you have hot water and electricity. I thought you could use it to clean up after patrol. Clem helped me fix it; he’s a genius with pipes.”

“Oh, this was what you talked about when we met him! You worked on this all that time?” Buffy was overwhelmed.

With a cheeky smirk, Spike explained. “Kitten, if you let me have my wicked ways with you, I thought you might need a place to freshen up before you went home. Old Boy Scout motto: be prepared.”

“You were a Boy Scout?” Buffy asked.

“Nah, that was after my time; thank God. Would’ve hated it,” Spike chuckled.

He pointed to the side where there was an empty pipe sticking up through the ground. “I’m not finished yet; I want to add a bathtub. What do you think, luv? Ya like a huge, roomy one or maybe a Jacuzzi? I could scrub your back…”

Spike raised his scarred eyebrow seductively and curled his tongue behind his teeth.

Buffy giggled. “Only my back? How disappointing…”

“We could look for a tub together,” Spike suggested hopefully and Buffy hugged him again. In this playful mood he was just adorable.

“That’s why my boots were all muddy. You never doubted me.” He lifted his hand and gently stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. “Dunno how to thank you for that.”

A big yawn shook Buffy out of her stupor. It was all so much to take in. Spike had prepared them a lover’s nest. That was flattering, sweet, and somewhat cocky at the same time, just so typically Spike. She smiled sleepily.

“Let’s get you some kip, pet.” Spike swung her into his arms again and carried her back to his bed. He carefully lowered her onto the mattress and knelt down to remove her shoes and socks.

Buffy sank back into the soft cushions with a sigh. Her eyelids fluttered in fatigue and she closed them thankfully. The last thing she remembered was the dip of the mattress as Spike slid in beside her and folded her in his arms. Her head bedded on his shoulder, sleep finally overwhelmed her.

~*~

Buffy woke to the dim light of a flickering candle.

A soft blanket was covering her and her left leg was thrown over some firm obstacle. The fabric under her cheek and right hand was simple cotton, smelling of tobacco with a hint of sweat and dust.

Spike!

She slowly, carefully, lifted her head and studied him. He was leaning against the headrest, eyes closed. His long, dark lashes lay feather light against his white skin. Why did men have such luscious lashes and all her costly mascara never worked up to its promise?

He looked so peaceful, his expressive face now resting, relaxed in sleep and looking so young and innocent. His left arm was thrown around her waist, his fingers splayed out over her hipbone.

Startled, she noticed that his chest was unmoving under her hand; he lay completely motionless beside her. She rested her head against his chest again and thought about that. Spike was a vampire, of course he didn’t need to breathe, but he did it all the time. Was that why he always looked so alive, so filled to the brim with scintillating energy? Also, why didn’t it creep her out that he seemed dead to the world, lying beside her like a string puppet, abandoned by its animator?

A sigh suddenly heaved his chest and his voice rumbled, “Like what you see?”

Surprised, her head jerked up again and her eyes looked into his dark blue pools, sparkling with suppressed laughter.

“You were awake! That’s so not fair,” she chastised him, swatting his chest lightly with her hand. “How late is it?”

“Sun’s not up. How do you feel?” His hand moved slowly up her side until his thumb caressed the underside of her breast.

Buffy moved slightly and his thumb now rubbed over her nipple which hardened instantly under his caress. “Hmmm, rested,” she mumbled and rubbed her cheek on his chest. She shifted her leg experimentally and hit a hard object confined under the rough fabric which elicited a low growl from Spike.

She smiled and moved her hand downwards under the blanket. Her palm rubbed over his erection and she could feel his cock jump, pressing against its confines. Her fingers curled and cupped around the prominent bulge.

As she lifted her head with an inviting grin, Spike’s lips latched hungrily onto her mouth. His tongue slid between her open lips and demanded entry, which she gladly gave. He licked and caressed her lips and tongue while pressing his erection harder into her hand.

Boldly, Buffy slid her hand up and followed the line of soft hair up to his belly button and down again, slipping her fingertips under his waistband. It was too tight to feel more than the coarse hairs of his pubic bone. Spike shifted slightly and the tip of her index finger slid over the silken, slick tip of his head.

With another growl into the cavern of her mouth his hand abandoned her breast and started to open his belt buckle.

Buffy firmly pushed Spike’s hand aside and straddled his hips. With a triumphant grin she looked down at Spike who lay back, panting. She licked her lips and his eyes hungrily followed every movement of her tongue.

She felt energized, in control, and very, very desirable. Spike’s gaze devoured her, like she was the cup of water offered to a parched wanderer. She’d never felt so self-confident with a man before.

Her hands slid his t-shirt up and she admired his firm, flat stomach and finely chiseled abs with the single line of light brown hair; her gaze followed it expectantly downwards. She yanked at his belt and opened the buckle. The top button popped under her fingers and she eagerly slid down the zipper. Freed, his cock jumped out and bobbed against her hand.

“Oh!”

He chuckled. “I always go commando.”

Slowly, she wrapped her fingers around his full length and ran her thumb tentatively along the slit, rubbing the white, pearly liquid over his tender skin.

Spike’s eyes closed in pleasure. “You’re killing me, luv!”

Full of pride, Buffy laughed out loud. “You’re already dead, Spike.” She moved her hand down his length, her grip firm around his steely shaft.

“Your hand’s so bloody hot, burning me, it is. I’ll combust.”

“Oh, no you don’t.” Quicksilver fast, Buffy shuffled down his legs and bent over. Her lips closed over his tip and her tongue whirled around the sensitive rim. Spike’s hips bucked under her and his body convulsed.

“Fuck!”

She watched as his eyes opened wide and his dark pupils swallowed the gleaming blue. His hands tangled in her hair, gently holding it away while he reverently watched her mouth sucking in as much of his length as she could hold.

With a ‘plop’ Buffy release his prick and leaned upward to kiss him, his pre-cum still salty on her tongue. Her whole body was now tingling, her nipples hard and straining against the fabric of her simple cotton bra. All fatigue was forgotten, she was finally ready to consume this delicious, delectable man.

His fingers fumbled to open buttons, tugging at the fabric.

“Careful, don’t rip them off!”

“Right, luv!” Spike’s voice was muffled behind the front of his t-shirt, which covered his mouth because his arms wouldn’t come up fast enough. The seam under his armpit gave with a tearing sound as the stitching surrendered to Slayer force.

“That’s my last clean shirt!”

Buffy’s arms were tangled in her shirt sleeves while Spike’s hands fought the fastening of her bra.

“Spike, pull!” She held out her left arm and twisted out of her blouse.

With a squeak she fell on her back as firm hands grabbed her pant legs and pulled them upwards. Feet in the air, Buffy wriggled. “Button! Button!”

Spike’s deft fingers unfastened her trousers while her hand feverishly slid down the zipper. With a final pull she freed her legs.

She scrambled to her feet, clad only in her panties, and pulled down Spike’s jeans. “Mmmmm!”

His cock bobbed proudly against his stomach as he kicked his jeans off his ankles.

“Hey!” Buffy protested, as Spike’s hands simply grabbed the sides of her panties and ripped them off.

“Can’t say I’m sorry, pet,” he smirked.

Abruptly, the frenzy stopped.

Buffy sank back onto the blankets and lay still, her chest heaving. Suddenly self-conscious, she covered her bare breasts with her hands.

“You’re so beautiful, pet. A golden goddess…” Spike stopped in wonder. There she finally was, his girl, his dream come true. So many months had he dreamed of it that, as he blinked, he expected her to vanish in the brink of a moment.

But she was still there, her hair tousled and gleaming like spun gold. Her lips were swollen from his kisses and her face flushed. Amber light from the candles reflected in her hazel eyes as she watched him solemnly. He slowly sat down on the side of the bed and wrapped his fingers around her wrists. Softly he pulled her hands up and pressed soft kisses on her palms.

“Spike…” Buffy murmured. Her mouth opened and her pink tongue nervously licked her lip.

She was an enigma. Sassy and daring one minute, driving him mad, then suddenly shy and pliant. He loved her quicksilver temperament. He bent down and gave her a soft kiss.

Her hands gripped his shoulder as her mouth met his. Tongues dipped and licked tenderly. Suddenly her teeth started to nibble at his lower lip, biting and pulling at it. Her warm hands grabbed tighter and pulled him closer. Spike tumbled on top of Buffy and her legs wrapped around him. Her strong fingers kneaded the muscles of his back, her fingernails scratching trails from his back to his buttocks.

She was driving him crazy. Her hips gyrated against him, wriggling until she had captured his pulsing prick between her thighs. His balls were so tight he imagined they would explode, showering them both in ivory, spicy liquid if he couldn’t find his release soon.

Buffy’s eyes were closed, her face taut. Demandingly, she pressed her core against his erection. She was burning him up! Even this slight contact set his manhood on fire. He thrust his hips forward and her legs opened to him.

“You’re so wet, so bloody hot…” he sighed, burrowing his face against her neck so that she didn’t see the moisture blurring his vision.

Buffy’s hand sneaked between their bodies and wrapped around his cock. Spike shuddered and lifted himself on his arms. Her hand placed his tip against her slick pussy lips.

Their eyes met, hazel and blue, for a long minute. He saw tenderness in her eyes and lust - and he saw affection and wonder. What did she see in his? His heart was overflowing with love and joy. It felt as if it was fluttering in his chest, beating and straining against his ribs; it felt as if it was alive again.

Softly, Buffy pressed against his erection and his tip slid into her channel. Never breaking eye contact, he continued the invasion, slowly encasing his cold flesh within her furnace. It didn’t burn him, it warmed him; hot fire ran up his body and engulfed his entire being. If he had to die again, this would have been a perfect moment. Not that he wanted to. No, never did he want to leave his girl. He slid deeper into her until her warmth had swallowed his whole length.

He started to rock, slowly at first, then in a steadily increasing rhythm. The bedspring’s creek accompanied this dance, in and out, to the steady beat of the headrest banging against the wall. It was a primeval dance, the mother of all dances, a mating of flesh and a mating of souls. He was sure, his soul, wherever it was, was rejoicing in this union.

Her soft hands fluttered over his back, like leaves dancing on the wind. Tiny beads of sweat glistened on her flesh, running down her slender neck and pooling in the hollow of her throat. Her breath whispered against his face, soft whimpers and tiny sighs, a descant to their primordial melody.

Never breaking the rhythm he began to roll his hips, on each upstroke brushing his pelvis against her clit. Buffy’s breath hitched in her throat and she actively took over the dance. Faster and faster did she demand his return, deeper and deeper did she pull him in. His balls constricted and the tension rose in him like a gigantic wave, rolling in from deep water, building higher and higher as it raced towards the farthest shore.

No, he won’t lose his control. He was no whimpering, fifteen year old virgin anymore. Images flashed through his mind of his uncle dragging him to a courtesan, as a special birthday present to him. Left alone with the scarcely clad woman, he’d been trembling in equal parts with anguish and secret longing. She had placed his hand on her ample bosom and pulled his penis out of his trousers. When her hands touched his cock, he’d come in her grip and had felt deeply ashamed of his loss of control. With tears in his eyes he’d begged her to tell no one and she’d laughed at him. He had dreamt of it for weeks and never had he dared to touch a woman again as a human.

All this flashed through his mind like lightning, burning bright furrows of shame and longing. He hadn’t thought about it for decades. Now, his simpering, human part surfaced and he wished to wipe the slate clean, wished that Buffy would have been the one, his only love, his first. Love’s fool that he was, he hoped to finally win her heart.

A small hand reached up and cupped his cheek. The rhythm had slowed to a sensual beat. Huge, green eyes stared up at him, darkened with confusion. “Spike, you seemed so far away.” She averted her eyes and blushed. “Am I… Am I not good?”

What had he done? “Never, Buffy, never. You’re perfect, more than that. I’m a fool,” he confessed, hoping he hadn’t done any damage. “I… when I was young, human… I… just… I wish I’d known you then.” He bent down and kissed her, deep and with desperation, trying to convey his love. “You make me feel so alive, pet, like my heart’s beating again.”

A soft smile, like a ray of sunshine breaking through dark clouds, touched her lips and lightened her features. With renewed confidence, she started again to rock against him.

Spike leaned his head against her brow and chuckled. “Now you’ve seen my sentimental, wimpy side. I’m putty in your hands, kitten. How about some punishment?”

“Later, maybe…” Buffy grinned at him. “Now I think you should make up for the interruption.”

“As my lady commands.” With that, Spike sat back on his heels, placed his hands under Buffy’s ass and heaved her hips onto his lap. With long strokes he penetrated deep into her. He watched his dick gliding in and out of her folds, sticky and glistening with her honey. Gently he laid his hand over her mound, first pressing his palm into her clit, then the pad of his thumb.

With a heady growl, Buffy reached over her head, grabbed the gleaming brass bars of the headboard with both hands and pushed against him. “Faster,” she begged.

Spike increased the pace. His gaze focused on her perky, perfect tits bobbing in front of his eyes. Her nipples were hard peaks surrounded by a dusky pink, puckered areola.

Her inner walls began to contract around his prick in waves, each one rolling in quicker than the last. His thumb began to stroke the tiny, sensitive nub and a rosy shine spread over Buffy’s skin. Her breath was labored and ripples like small, electric shocks ran across her stomach.

Suddenly, her channel clamped around him like a vise, squeezing him with so much force that he threw back his head with a rumbling growl. The sensation was incredible. Contractions ran like wildfire over Buffy’s body and her untamed, hoarse cry filled the room. The wetness of her channel increased, covering Spike with her utter bliss and overwhelming his senses.

White hot fire filled Spike’s vision as he came thundering through the finish. His cock was milked by her fluttering walls, shooting his cool liquid deep into her flaming core. Stars exploded behind his eyelids and suddenly he felt weightless. All tension and strength ran out of him and he sank onto Buffy, limp and boneless.

He rolled them around, placing her head on his shoulder, his arms firmly cradling her to him.

~*~

His goddess lay naked and spent on his pillows, her sun-kissed skin gleaming golden in the flickering candle light. Her silken tresses were spread out around her head like he had dreamed oh so many times and he ran his fingers through her mane to straighten out her tangles.

Buffy smiled up at him and stretched, her muscles rippling under her smooth skin. Her lips were strawberry red, still wet and gleaming from all their kisses.

Spike crooked his head. “Do you trust me?”

Earnest hazel-green eyes locked with his gaze and she hesitated for a moment, considering the question. “Always,” she answered softly.

“Close your eyes, luv.”

Spike bent over to the bedside dresser and opened a drawer to pull out a handful of silken scarves in blazing colors. Sapphire green, royal blue, sunflower yellow and scarlet red fabric spilled onto the bedspread.

He picked up the green scarf by one end and slowly pulled it across Buffy’s body. It slid over the edge of her left hipbone and the flat plane of her toned stomach, dipping into her belly button. The fabric rippled like water as it glided over her skin. He circled under the swell of her right breast and when he pulled it up towards her shoulder, her nipples hardened as if they wanted to cut through the thin silk caressing her.

A soft sigh escaped her mouth and her eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings. “Hmmmm.”

He could see her relaxing to his ministrations, her mouth opening slightly, the corners curling in a slight smile.

Spike pulled the soft fabric up her arms and circled her wrists. As he gently pulled her arm up he could feel her resisting for a moment. Then he heard the barely audible, “Always,” again and she allowed him to pull her arm up and fasten the scarf around the bedpost.

He bent down to her ear and murmured. “It’s loose, if you shake your arm you can easily slip out.”

Buffy chuckled softly. “You know I could rip them apart if I want to.”

“And totally ruin my scarves? Don’t you want to play with them too?”

He could see Buffy roll her eyes behind her eyelids as he pulled the yellow scarf up to her left arm. The red and blue scarves travelled in sinuous curves down her thigh and calf, leaving trails of tremors and goose-bumps in their wake. Again he loosely circled her ankle and pulled her legs outward until she was bound, spread–eagle, on his bed.

Finally he covered her eyes with a white strip of cloth. “No peeking allowed,” Spike declared deliciously as he saw her pout and pressed a kiss on her nose.

Buffy was breathing heavily now, each inhale stretching her breasts towards him, begging to be kissed, for his tongue to encircle her nipples and suck them into his mouth.

Her pussy was opened wide for his inspection, rosy red, soft and swelling like an exotic flower, emanating the most enticing fragrance. He knew, if he opened her, her nectar mingled with his cum would be dripping onto his fingers and that thought alone made his mouth water and his cock jump.

He bent over and pressed a soft kiss on her thigh, then moved higher. His tongue flickered out to circle her belly button and lick a wet trail up between her breasts to the hollow of her throat. Buffy’s lips opened and pursed, waiting for a kiss, but he only chuckled and blew on the wet trail running down to her belly. She shivered as his cold breath caressed her hot, moist skin.

He continued teasing her. A nip here, a soft kiss there, his fingertips trailing around her areola. A not-so-gentle bite to her inner thigh left a nice red imprint on her golden skin. He could hear her heart rate accelerating until it was a frantic thrumming in his ears. Buffy strained against the bond, arching her back, trying in vain to make his feather light touches more intense.

“Please… please, Spike! Come on…” she begged.

“What do you want, sweetheart? Tell me what you want.”

Buffy licked her lips and swallowed. “Touch me, please,” she whispered breathlessly.

Spike grinned. That was his girl, this astonishing mixture of shy girl and wanton slut. Despite her bold experiments with her hands and tongue, when it came to expressing her feelings she was suddenly shy like a virgin on her first night.

“Where should I touch you? Here?” Spike ran his fingers across her stomach and felt her muscles jump and quiver under his calloused fingertips.

Her sigh was exasperated and she finally caved, although her voice was still shaky, she’d found the right words. “Touch my – pussy. Please! I want your mouth there, your tongue. You just have to…”

Finally! Spike decided to show mercy. He leaned down near her ear, his voice a low, vibrating timbre against her hot skin. “You want me to lick your cleft, my tongue swirling around your clit, sucking it until it’s red and swollen? You want my fingers to slide into your core and to feel your walls quiver and contract around them when I pump in and out until you rocket into heaven while you cry my name?”

“Yes…. Oh, yes… Spike!” Buffy moaned hoarsely and wriggled her ass in his direction, her juices glistening on her pussy lips. The smell of her arousal had intensified and Spike wondered if he could drive her to an orgasm just by talking to her. An interesting experiment, but just now he couldn’t help himself but to dive down and bury his nose in her heavenly treat.

Immediately Buffy started to rub her pussy against his nose, accompanied by moaned ‘come on’s’ urging him forward. His tongue lapped up her slit, capturing her tangy juices and his salty cum and finally circled around her clit.

“Oh God!” Buffy sighed, half a moan, half a breathy cry.

Tremors from her thigh muscles rippled against his shoulder. He adjusted his position and laid his cheek on her mound, his tongue never ceasing to lap and tap rhythmical against her nub. Rubbing his forefinger down her slit, he gently slipped it between her lips, dipping into her channel and running the fingertip around the opening, widening it for his second and third finger. Their mingled juices pooled into his palm as he started pumping in and out. He quickly dived down to lick the sticky, honey sweet liquid with his tongue while quickening the pace.

Tickling her inner lips he ran his tongue up to her clit again and gently bit down on it. He could feel her muscles constricting around his fingers and knew she was so near now. Her breathing was labored and his heart swelled as she started a steady litany of ‘Spike… Oh God… Spike… Don’t stop… Spike…’

For some final, quick pumps, he curled his fingers and spread them apart to increase the tension. Then he sucked her clit into his mouth, giving it rough, frantic swirls with his tongue.

With a load roar Buffy came. Her spine bent, pressing upward against his face, impaling her pussy even deeper onto his fingers. Her inner muscles squeezed and tried to suck his fingers into her, as if to hold him there forever.

He gently continued to pad her clit with his tongue until her quivers quieted and she relaxed into a limp puddle. He chuckled and slid his fingers out of her quim and licked at them, humming in pleasure.

Buffy pouted. “Can I look now? Why are you humming?”

Spike chuckled again and slid his finger back into her, eliciting a new moan from her as he ran it around her opening, coating it again with her juices.

“No looking yet.”

Spike crawled up her body and settled himself over her hips. He held his finger under her nose and watched as she inhaled. Her nose crinkled and she tilted her head questioningly.

“You taste heavenly, kitten. Wanna treat?”

She smiled as he trailed his finger over her lips, wetting them. Her pink tongue shot out, licking and tasting her own juices and capturing his finger.

Now it was his turn to moan as her warm, soft tongue encircled his digit and sucked it deeper into her mouth. She began to move her mouth up and down his finger in a sensual imitation and he watched as it slid in and out between her rosy lips. His cock jumped and bobbed against his stomach, aching to be where his finger was.

With an audible ‘plop’ Buffy let the finger finally slide out of her mouth and grinned cockily. “I thought yours was bigger, but I seem to be mistaken. What a shame I can’t see…” She opened her mouth invitingly.

Cheeky bint had him there, but he was more than willing to oblige. He raised her head and put a pillow behind it. Buffy sent him a sweet smile and licked her lips. She was the one bound to the bed, but hell, he was the one really captured here, and she knew it. He was love’s bitch but this time, he enjoyed it.

He bent down and suckled at her breasts before he shuffled up her torso until his cock bobbed in front of her mouth. She inhaled deeply, humming in pleasure. His stomach muscles constricted and his prick bumped against her nose.

“Someone is really eager here.” Buffy teased and let her tongue flick out to lick the underside of his shaft, followed by a nipping of her lips and teeth. She managed to capture his head and her soft lips curled around it. Her tongue lapped at the ample amount of pre-cum spilling out of its tip.

Gently Spike began to move in Buffy’s mouth, her lips sliding up and down his shaft, her tongue encircling his engorged head, every time running around the sensitive rim. He closed his eyes and let the sensation wash over him. Her small encouraging noises, the warmth and wetness of her heavenly mouth. It was more than he’d ever dreamed of, beyond even his wildest imaginings. He was quickly losing his control and as her teeth started to cautiously bite at his shaft his demon came out to play.

He could feel the short, puzzled interruption in Buffy’s movement as his cock enlarged even more. Then he thought he heard a slight chuckle as she let him slide even farther into her mouth. He wrapped his hand around the base of his penis and started to pump in time with her motion. A low rumble started in his chest and he felt his demon purring in delight.

Buffy started sucking in her cheeks to increase the pressure around his length. He could feel the tension rising and he pulled back enough to give her room to fill her heavenly mouth with his cum. His roar of release bounced off the walls, thundering in his ears, as he exploded into her. He watched, enraptured, as she swallowed down his spending, licking his cock and her lips clean.

He could feel his demon purring again and thought, “She has us both by the short hairs.” Funny thing was, neither minded at all.

Spike slid gently back down her body, settling his hips on hers. After he removed her blindfold, he looked deep into her eyes. She didn’t flinch a bit at the sight of his demon visage as he bent down to gently kiss her, careful not to cut her with his sharp incisors. Then he shook his head and the demon receded.

Buffy looked slightly disappointed as she watched him loosen the bond, freeing her wrists and ankles. She suddenly wrapped her legs around his hips and flipped them around, grinning down at Spike.

“You don’t have to hide your demon from me, Spike. I like the purring. It vibrates through my whole body. Uhmm, and the presto-chango thing? You should do that the next time you’re inside me.”

He stared up at her in astonishment. He had expected her to tell him to be more careful the next time. But to ask specifically for his demon?

“What’s the matter? If you don’t want it…” Buffy looked confused.

“No, luv, never thought you’d want my demon.” Spike shook his head in wonder and felt the purring rise again in his chest. Someone was really pleased here.

“I’m not stupid, Spike. You’re a man, and you’re a monster. You yourself told me, that I can’t have the man and ignore the demon in you. I see your demon all the time; he’s part of your package.”

Buffy averted her eyes and sighed. “I’ve seen what happens if you divide the sides. It’s like Jekyll and Hide, only worse. Angel never managed to make peace with his demon. Maybe it’s his soul that makes him so dangerous. I never want to meet Angelus again, but he is always there, if you know where to look, full of rage, hovering at the edge, trying to take over again.”

Spike blinked. Buffy had never spoken to him about Angelus before. He totally agreed, but he hadn’t dared to mention Angel or his soulless self before. That was a non-topic. You don’t talk about a girl’s first love if you have nothing nice to say.

She looked back down at him and smiled wryly. “What does that say about me, that I prefer your demon to his soul?”

“That you have good taste?” Spike tried to lighten the mood again.

She smacked his shoulder lightly. “No changing of topic here. I said I trust you and I didn’t say it lightly. I trust you, man and demon, which is totally weird if you think about it.”

Buffy frowned. “I trusted your word from the beginning, even without your chip. I left my mother alone with you when we made the truce. Okay, I flipped out when I found you in her kitchen a year later, but I was just so thrown by the events.”

“Luv, before I fell in love with you, you could have trusted the demon more than me. Ever since you threw away your weapon in our first fight I was fascinated by you. I videotaped your fights and used that as an excuse to ‘study you’. To tell you the truth, I wouldn’t have had one quiet moment if I’d denied my demon the pleasure watching your fights over and over. I think he would’ve never allowed me to kill you. To fight you, to bite you, but never to go for the final kill.”

Buffy raised her eyebrows. “So, he’s the peeping tom? What does that leave for you?”

“The sentimental fool,” Spike replied dryly.

Buffy laughed. “Way better than Jekyll and Hide!”

She quickly snatched up the silk scarves and started to wrap them around Spike’s wrists. She always surprised him with her unexpected changes of mood. He smirked at her and watched patiently until she had fastened the bond to the bed.

“Playtime for you, pet?” he enquired in anticipation, wagging his brows up and down suggestively.

With a merry giggle Buffy latched onto him. “Not what you expect, buster!”

And she started to tickle him.

Buffy closed the door quietly behind her and leaned back against it. She listened to the calm of the house surrounding her and sighed contentedly. She wasn’t tired, even if her rest had been short last night.

Her body hurt, but it was a pleasant, welcome hurt in all the right places. The sex had been glorious. She never had imagined it would be like that, primal and playful at the same time. Spike had always anticipated her needs, had kissed and touched her in the exact right spots. Was it a vampire thing? He surely heard her blood rush, her heart beat. Did he also hear her skin whisper to him, feel her nerve endings twitch under his touch?

Her stomach growled and she smiled. Whatever it was, the night surely had left her hungry – in a normal, physical way. She turned and went into the kitchen to rummage through the fridge.

Soft footsteps down the stairs interrupted her foray. Guiltily she looked up from her plate to give Tara a welcoming nod.

“Sorry, didn’t want to wake you,” Buffy mumbled through a mouthful of peanut-butter sandwich.

With a twinkle in her eyes, the blonde witch looked her over and shook her head. “Pancakes? You look like you need a hearty breakfast today.”

Buffy watched as Tara opened a drawer and put a skillet on the stove, then placed a bowl and a fork on the counter top. “Buffy, can you hand me the buttermilk from the fridge? Oh, and I need some eggs.”

While the girl mixed ingredients, Buffy cleaned up and set maple syrup and plates for three. Upstairs she’d heard the shower running, so Dawn would be down soon.

“Hmmm, so, had a good night?” Tara inquired.

Buffy blushed. “Is it so obvious?”

Tara nodded. “You glow – and not just your aura.”

Before Buffy could answer, Dawn shot into the kitchen. “I love pancakes! Why do I get pancakes on a normal school day, Tara? Oh, Buffy! You’re up already? I didn’t hear you in the bathroom…” Dawn narrowed her eyes and looked Buffy over suspiciously.

“You weren’t home, right? This affair tied you up the whole night? What about Spike?” she cannonballed at her sister.

“Who said he tied me up… I mean, no… there was no tying up, just… Oh my God!” Buffy buried her bright red face in her hands.

Dawn clapped her hands over her ears and momentarily squeezed her eyes shut. “Too much information! I don’t want to know any details about what you did last night. I’m much too young and impressionable. Images like that will scar me forever. Feel free to give me any details when I’m seventeen, but now I just want to think that you played Checkers with Spike, or Gin Rummy or… whatever.”

Buffy groaned and hid her burning face behind her hair.

“Why are you laughing, Tara? Don’t burn our pancakes!” Dawn squeaked.

Through her fingers, Buffy saw Tara slide helplessly to the ground, her whole body shaking in laughter and tears running down her cheeks. Her sister picked the spatula out of Tara’s limp fingers and hastily rescued the pancakes.

“Gin Rummy…” Tara gasped between bouts of giggles. “Checkers…”

Buffy raised her head and broke into giggles herself. She held out her hand and pulled the white witch off the floor. Buffy threw an arm over Tara’s shoulder and they leaned onto the counter in a helpless pile of girly laughter.

“Oh, come on! How old are you two? Twelve?” Dawn gestured with the spatula, and then sighed with exaggerated resignation. “Alright, I’ll play the chef this morning.” She turned and started making stacks of funny-shaped pancakes.

Half an hour later, they had decimated the pancake pile. Buffy leaned back and rubbed her tummy. “I don’t think I’ve eaten since the whole mess with Riley started yesterday morning. You wanted answers, Dawnie, so shoot away.”

“Uhmm, why did Riley come back? I thought he had a new job in the jungle and he was married now? What did he do to Spike and how did you get them to leave?”

Tara listened and added some questions of her own while Buffy explained the previous day’s excitement to her sister. It took a while to squelch Dawn’s curiosity, but finally even the teenager was satisfied.

“Next time, I want to help too. I’m old enough now,” Dawn pleaded. “I’m nearly as old as you were when you got Called. I could’ve fetched you stuff for the spell or you could’ve sent me as a messenger. Say yes, Buffy! Pretty please?”

Buffy laid her hand on Dawn’s shoulder. “I’ll think about something for you to do to help the next time, I promise.” She held her hand up as Dawn hopped enthusiastically off her seat. “Don’t get your hopes up. It might be something boring like making sandwiches or watching the phone.”

Seeing her sister so excited, Buffy immediately hoped there would be a reasonably safe task for Dawn when the next emergency arose. Time didn’t stand still and her sister was growing up so quickly. If they excluded her, she might just run off on her own and get into deep trouble. Buffy wished she could protect her from all the bad outside in the world, but that wasn’t possible.

“For a change of topic, what should we do on Christmas?” Buffy asked brightly, shoving aside all her thoughts about Dawn as a regular member of the Scoobies.

“Can we do a party on Christmas Eve?” Dawn piped up. “We haven’t had one for ages!”

“Elin told me that Willow might be able to leave the house now that she’s getting stronger. They might drop by for a while,” Tara said hopefully. “Maybe do a buffet with all kinds of snacks and desserts, and the whole gang could come?”

“Spike’s got to come too, right, Buffy?” Dawn asked.

“Of course, Spike’s invited, so is Giles. We’ll have to see if Anya and Xander have any other plans, but this should be a real Scooby Christmas,” Buffy confirmed.

~*~

Buffy looked around the living room.

Everything looked ready for the guests. She smiled sadly as she looked at the huge fir tree crowding up one corner of the room. She and Dawn had spent the afternoon hanging all the ornaments and angel hair on the branches. They’d unpacked the boxes from the attic and carefully unwrapped the decorated glass balls and carved wooden figures which their mother had so carefully stored away after their last Christmas. She had come back from hospital just before Christmas and was still weak. Also the loss of Riley had hurt Buffy a lot, so it had been a quiet and fairly subdued holiday. Had they known that it would be their last one together…

She was glad that all her friends were coming; maybe they could fill the void that the death of her mother had left, with new memories of a happy Christmas.

In the kitchen, mulled wine simmered on the stove and the scent of freshly baked cookies and homemade eggnog filled the air. The table in the dining room was already heaped with dishes of cold turkey, cranberry sauce and greens, roast beef and potato salad. Tara had been cooking and baking the last few days, happily humming Christmas tunes. Ice-cream filled the freezer and fruit salad and puddings rested in the fridge, ready to be devoured.

A tap on the front door jarred Buffy out of her reminiscence. She opened it and was immediately swept off her feet by a grinning Spike. He swirled her around and placed her under the mistletoe that Dawn had insisted they hang from the ceiling in front of the entrance.

Blue eyes sparkling, he pulled her close and kissed her soundly on the mouth. He reached up with his hand and plucked one of the berries off the branch and pocketed it. “Merry Christmas, pet!”

Buffy threw her arms around his neck and pulled him down into another, more thorough kiss. Her lips moved softly over his and her tongue licked and caressed its way into his mouth. Springy curls at the nape of his neck enticed her fingers to play with them.

“Merry Christmas, Spike. I missed you,” she murmured between kisses. “I know it’s been less than a day, but your kisses are so yummy.” Her lips trailed along his jaw and down his neck, nipping at the tender skin.

“I hope not only my kisses,” Spike chuckled.

“Uhmm, the other… things, too,” Buffy admitted. She felt heat rising in her cheeks.

They were jerked out of their reverie as Dawn rumbled down the steps. “Spike! Look what I got for you!” She waved a red Santa hat in her hand. “Merry Christmas!”

“Oh no, Niblet! I’m not wearing that. I’ll look like a right poofter!”

“Oh, c’mon, don’t be a spoilsport, Spike. It’ll fit you perfectly!” Dawn pouted.

Buffy pulled back from Spike. Over his usual black jeans he was wearing a bright red t-shirt which let his mussed hair gleam like fresh fallen snow. She smiled. “Dawn’s right, it’ll really suit you tonight.”

Helplessly, Spike looked at his Summers women and shrugged. “If it makes ya both happy.” He grabbed the offending hat and slapped it on his head.

“It will!” a cheerful chorus answered him. Buffy and Dawn each grabbed a hand and pulled him into the living room.

~*~

The party was in full swing. The plates were heaped and everybody munched away happily. Buffy watched Tara standing at the buffet as she coaxed Willow to eat. Her friend still looked alarmingly thin and fragile and she’d been very quiet the whole evening. Surely, so many people around overwhelmed her a bit, but it was so nice to finally have the whole group together again.

“Ouch!” Dawn suddenly cried out. “Stupid me!”

Buffy turned around in alarm to see her sister holding out her bleeding finger. Red drops welled up from a cut and dropped onto the white tablecloth. The knife in her hand clattered to the floor as Dawn stared at the wound.

At the other side of the table, Buffy noticed that Willow tensed. She stared as if hypnotized at the blood dripping off Dawn’s finger. The witch’s tongue licked her lips and her pupils widened. In the cozy light of the dining room it was hard to see, but her eyes seemed to be swallowed by black, moving shadows. She put her shaking hands on the table and her red hair fell over her face, obscuring her eyes.

“Willow, sweetheart, are you okay?” Tara put her arm around Willow who stiffened but after a short moment sank into her embrace.

“I feel weak, my legs are shaking. Can you help me to the couch, Tara?” Willow’s voice was small and shuddering.

As Tara led her out of the door, Buffy saw Willow’s head turning back to the dark red stain smudging the tablecloth. Her hand started to reach for it, but then she turned and both witches left for the living room.

What was that? Buffy stared after Willow’s back. Had she imagined it? Dawn’s blood seemed to have triggered a strange behavior in Willow and that was bad, very bad. She didn’t want to spoil the festive evening, but she’d have to talk to Elin and Giles about it pretty soon.

Guiltily, Buffy turned back to her sister and examined the wound. It was a clean but deep cut into the tip of her index finger. “We’ll put antiseptic on it and wrap it with band-aid. It’ll be fine by tomorrow,” she consoled her sister. “I know it stings a lot at the moment, but that’ll pass soon.”

“I’m such a klutz,” Dawn mumbled, looking at her finger.

Buffy put her arm protectively around her sister and hugged her. “No, you aren’t.”

~*~

Buffy smiled at the group assembled in front of the TV screen, watching a rerun of the movie ‘A Christmas Carol’. Since so many Brits were there, they’d voted for a British classic instead of the usual ‘A Charlie Brown Christmas’. Willow was leaning into Tara with a tired smile on her drawn face. Xander and Anya were sharing the huge armchair, snuggled closely together.

Elin sat beside Giles who’d put his arm over the headrest of the couch, his fingers hidden by Elin’s strawberry mane. Buffy looked them over more closely. Was something going on between those two? If she looked at it objectively, Giles wasn’t that old and he was still an attractive man after you got past his usual Watcher stuffiness. Also, he’d had his old friend visiting him two years ago during the attack by the ‘Gentlemen’. Surely he wasn’t too old to enjoy female company and Buffy liked the calm and competent healer.

Spike and Dawn were sitting in front of the coffee table on the floor, arguing.

“’s not right to watch the bloody movie instead of reading the book. It just doesn’t do the story justice. The book was modern at the time, it was full of social criticism, not this sentimental soppy story they made out of it,” Spike argued. “At least they choose British actors; Patrick Stewart is doing an ok job there and I know that guy who plays the Ghost of Christmas Past from somewhere. Creepy smile.”

“Come on, who reads books anymore? It’s boring,” Dawn protested.

“Bit, it’s only boring because you‘ve these modern, lifeless, revised versions. Destroys the rhythm of the verses, it does. It’s not just about the story; it’s about how it’s told that makes it a classic.”

“Shhh, shut up, Spike,” Xander hissed from his perch. “Others actually want to watch the film.”

“No, I don’t,” piped up Anya. “I want to go home and make love to you, Xander. Isn’t Christmas the time for love and…”

Xander clapped his hand over Anya’s mouth as everybody started to laugh. He blushed and stage whispered, “Haven’t we agreed not to talk about that in public, Ahn?”

“Why, we’re not in public, aren’t we? We’re with friends. Isn’t it normal to talk freely when you’re with friends?” Anya asked bewildered.

“Don’t mind me,” said Dawn and plucked her fingers into her ears, starting to sing ‘Jingle Bells’.

“Anya, chill! Dawnie’s old enough not to get scarred by a few juicy remarks, Xander.” Buffy laughed. “You two can’t leave so early. Have you forgotten that we decided to open the presents tonight while everyone’s here?”

“Yay! Present time!” Dawn agreed, clearly still listening in to the conversation. She sprang up and turned off the TV where the credits were rolling by. She pulled the stacks of parcels out from under the tree branches, sorting them by the labels and passing them out.

Eagerly, she ripped off the wrapping of her largest present and stared at the contents, confused. It was a set of loosely cut trousers and an open jacket made of padded cotton, and a long, white belt: a karate uniform. It was accompanied by a foam stick. She picked up the card.

“Oh! Oh my God!” With a loud squeal she jumped up, uniform and wrapping paper flying from her lap. “Official training?!” She swung her arms around Spike and hugged him, then threw herself into Buffy’s embrace. “You’re the best sister ever!”

She picked up the foam stake and playfully attacked Spike. “I’ll learn how to fight!”

Spike deftly caught her hand and unarmed her. “Not now, Niblet, wait for the training room.” He smiled at her pout. “It’ll take time and dedication; you can’t learn to fight in a few lessons.”

“He’s right, Dawn. I trained for years before I was allowed to go out into the field,” confirmed Elin. “I still train more than once a week to keep fit. But it’s worth it and you have the best trainers at your disposal.” She smiled at Buffy and Spike.

“I’ll help too,” Giles added. “You’ll have to build up strength and endurance first. After Buffy approached me with the idea, I revised the Council’s training plan for potential Slayers so you can get a proper introduction into the basic skills. Buffy will take care of the weapons training and Spike… well, Spike will show you his dirty tricks.”

After Dawn had calmed down, Buffy picked through her presents. Anya had given her a handbook on demons in which she’d marked all the dangerous ones with properties valuable for the shop. Trust Anya to combine commercial benefit with her gift.

Buffy looked up from the silk scarf Dawn had given her when Spike sat down at her side. He put his arm around her and handed her a small package. Smiling and curious, she tore off the wrapping. Inside was a slim book, a reprint of Dickens’ ‘A Christmas Carol’ from 1843.

On the first page was a dedication: “When you smile at me, it’s like looking into the sun, blinding me, making me feel human again. William”

Her eyes filled with tears as she looked at the flowing, graceful letters and his elegant, Victorian signature.

“I used to read it to Mother on Christmas Eve. It was a ritual we never missed,” Spike’s voice murmured into her ear. “I haven’t had a Christmas since my mum died. You don’t know how much this evening means to me, to be here with you…”

Slowly, Buffy bent over and kissed him on the cheek, her hand cupping his jaw. She looked into his eyes, so full of longing and joy that it made her heart overflow. She became aware that the room was falling quiet and her friends were watching them. Deliberately, she kissed Spike on the lips, her mouth lingering on his.

“Thank you, Spike. Merry Christmas,” Buffy murmured softly, the warmth in her heart flowing out in her words.

Then she looked around and smiled. “Let’s make a new tradition.” She offered Spike the book and asked, “Will you read it to me, to us?”

A delighted smile curled Spike’s lips and his fingers caressed her hand as he took the book from her grip. Slowly, he raised her hand to his lips and pressed a tender, gentlemanly kiss on it. “It’ll be my pleasure,” he accepted, his eyes sparkling in anticipation and gratitude.

They settled back into their seats and turned off the ceiling light; the room was now only lit by the soft glow of the electric candles on the Christmas tree. Spike opened the book reverently to the beginning of the first stave.

His warm, baritone voice filled the room, its tone conjuring images from a London long past. “Marley was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that…”

Xander’s head sank onto Anya’s shoulder and his eyelids fell closed.

~*~

Jessie was dead.

Xander pulled his hand back hastily as he eyed the door knob. Jesse was dead, he knew that. Yet, the door knob looked at him with Jesse’s face – and winked. He blinked and the illusion was gone.

He shook his head and trotted down the steps into the damp basement. “What the hell…” Xander stopped abruptly and his jaw went slack.

Jesse stood at the base of the stairs, his shirt hanging loose over his trousers, his mouth curled in a sarcastic grin.

“Hell has nothing to do with this, Xan-man. Still not the brightest kid on the block, right?” Jesse waved his hand and it went right through the railing. “Okay, you’ve got three guesses. What’s incorporeal and standing in your sorry excuse of a room?”

“Are… you’re… ghost?” Xander stammered.

“Your grammar’s a mess, but you got it,” Jesse confirmed and looked around the basement, his mouth twisted in disgust. “Man, it’s a wonder you ever got laid. This’s pathetic.”

“Hey, look who’s talking! The first girl who dragged you into the bushes was only interested in your blood,” Xander protested, finally finding his wits again. Damn if he would let a ghost insult him, even if it looked like his dead pal Jesse.

“Ouch! Don’t need to remind me. I died a virgin that night.” Jesse crooked his head. “You know that I died then and there, right? You only staked the vamp that took over my body.”

“My friends told me that again and again, but it didn’t feel like that, not for me. You looked at me, Jesse, not some demon. I staked you, I staked my friend.” Xander shuddered.

“Harsh. I couldn’t have done that,” Jesse admitted. “You were always stronger.” He looked around the room again. “So, up for a ride?”

“Ride?” Xander asked.

“Well, you know. Christmas, three ghosts visiting… The whole shebang.”

“But I’m not a miser…”

“Oh, you are, man, you are. Just not with money…” Jesse looked at him compassionately. “You were the heart of the group, but your heart’s getting dry and wizened.”

He pushed Xander back onto the orange-red settee.

“Sleep. Wait,” Jesse instructed.

With that he faded away.

~*~

“Ho, ho, ho!” the merry voice jarred Xander out of his sleep.

He jumped up from his seat and stared at the figure, sitting cross-legged on the washing machine, wearing an open, bright red Santa suit over black jeans and t-shirt.

“What’re you doing here, Spike?”

Spike plucked nonchalantly at his coat and smirked. “Didn’t choose the outfit, believe me. It comes with the job. Up, get moving, we haven’t much time.”

“You’re kidding! They chose you as the Ghost of Christmas Past?”

Spike jumped from his perch and bowed with a flourish, nearly dropping his hat. “The one and only.” Unceremoniously, he grabbed Xander by the elbow and propelled him along, right through the wall, out into the sunshine.

“Hey, why aren’t you burning up?” Xander inquired.

“Ghost, remember? Now c’mon, let’s see where you brought us.” Spike looked around the playground. “Cute.”

“I didn’t do anything…” Xander stared at the two small kids, playing in the sandbox. “Oh! That’s Willow!” He slowly stepped nearer. “Can they see us?” he asked.

“Nope.” Spike settled onto a nearby bench. “Feel free to tickle yourself if you like. Won’t hurt you.” He leaned back and held his face into the sun. “Wonder if I’ll freckle…”

Ignoring Spike, Xander stepped closer. His younger self was playing with his red toy fire engine and Willow watched him, wide eyes full of adoration.

When her mother came and picked her up, she protested. “Want to stay with Xan, mommy.”

Mrs. Rosenberg eyed the brown haired boy and shrugged. “We’ve got to go home now, Willow.”

“But it’s Christmas. Can’t I stay longer?” Willow pleaded, holding her hand out towards little Xander.

“Nonsense! We’re Jewish. We have no Christmas.” Mrs. Rosenberg turned resolutely with the crying, struggling Willow in her arms. “Stop crying, you’re not a baby anymore. Big girls don’t cry.”

Little Xander sat alone in the sandbox, watching his friend being carried from the playground. When nobody came to pick him up, he trudged home on his own after a while. He remembered that particular Christmas. His father was away on a business trip, the last one before he got fired. There’d been no tree and no festive meal.

But Willow didn’t have a Christmas either, and that was consoling him a bit.

“Off we go, then!” Spike jarred him out of his memories and propelled him through the nearby garden wall into a dark backyard.

Snow was silently falling onto the ground, covering a sleeping bag.

Spike pulled his hat firmer over his ears and eyed the scene. “What’re you doing out here in the cold?”

Xander shuffled embarrassed his feet as he watched his younger self sit up and look around in wonder.

From the house, he heard loud voices arguing, followed by the crash of porcelain shattering on a wall.

“Oh!” Spike exclaimed. “I see.”

“It was the first time we had snow at Christmas,” Xander said quietly. “It was a wonderful, enchanted night.” He watched as his earlier incarnation scrambled out of his sleeping bag and held his face up towards the snowflakes that were merrily dancing in the crisp air. The flakes melted on his outstretched tongue.

“Buffy told me later that the snow stopped Angel from committing suicide,” he added.

“A shame, that,” Spike drawled.

To his surprise, Xander chuckled. “Right, man. What a shame.”

~*~

“You again,” Xander sighed resignedly.

“Yup, busy night, this one. At least the attire’s better.” Spike whirled around, his black leather coat swinging. “Just this tinsel-crown is getting on my nerves.” He adjusted his headband of fir twigs wound with red and green beads.

“Can I take a picture?” Xander grinned. If he had a picture like that to show around, it might make this whole charade worthwhile.

“You know that you’re dreaming, right?”

“Well, a guy can dream…”

Spike snorted. “C’mon, this trip won’t take much time.” With a short shove through the wall, they were standing on the porch outside the Summers’ residence.

“What am I supposed to do here?” Xander asked, staring through the window.

“Dunno. I’m only the guide. Just watch.” Spike leaned back against the railing and pulled out a crumpled package of cigarettes. “Let me enjoy a fag in some peace. Deal?” He plugged the stick between his lips and ignited it with his silver lighter. Spike pulled in a deep breath and exhaled the smoke in a series of tiny, perfect rings.

Xander turned towards the house. What was he supposed to see and learn here? He was in there, for heaven’s sake. He’d already lived through this. But that was also true for the previous events. So Xander pressed his face against the window pane to the kitchen and watched.

He saw his fiancé, chatting animatedly with Buffy and Tara, washing dishes. Buffy laid her hand on Anya’s arm and smiled at her. Tara giggled over some funny thing the ex-demon had said. Dawn pulled at Anya’s sleeve, asking a question.

They really liked Anya, didn’t they? She was part of the group, accepted by all despite of her sometimes erratic behavior and penchant for uncensored comments and observations.

Then his girl turned and a bright, happy smile lit up her face. She grabbed present-Xander’s hand and pulled him under the mistletoe to kiss him thoroughly. The others watched them and applauded.

He went over to the living room window. Time seemed to have sped up, like a film on fast forward. He cringed as he saw himself doing the ‘Snoopy dance’. Seen from the outside, he decided to definitely never, ever make such a fool out of himself again. But on Anya’s face Xander saw enjoyment and honest admiration as she watched his performance.

“That’s real love for you,” Spike commented dryly.

“Yeah, I know.”

~*~

“Not you again…” This definitely wasn’t his night. Someone was not very inventive here.

“You think I’m keen about dragging you around all night long?” Spike snarked as he looked down at his brown suit and pulled at his red-dotted bowtie. “At least they spared me the ugly cap.”

“They gave you antlers instead, with green, glittering little reindeers at the tips. Not high on the Zaget’s Guide either,” Xander observed. “Where to now? It’s the future Christmas’es now, right?”

“The ones that might come. They’re only possibilities, depending on what you chose to become. These ones always give me headaches.” Spike grimaced and propelled the resisting Xander along.

Future Xander was sitting in an armchair in a small, decrepit hotel room, turning a picture over and over in his hands. Outside, the street was lined with Christmas decorations and people were passing by his window with happy faces and parcels under their arms. Inside the room however, there was no sign of the holiday.

The phone rang and Xander jumped, bumping into Spike who was standing silent and unaffected behind him.

“Yes?” Future Xander’s voice was lifeless. He didn’t look much older, but he moved slowly and his face had a yellow tint and was puffy and unshaved.

“Buffy, didn’t expect you to call.” Dull eyes stared at the far wall as he spoke.

“No, I’m not well. What do you expect?” His voice was cold and angry. “I’m not feelin’ the holiday spirit, thank you very much.”

He listened, his body tense. “You say that often enough, but, sorry, I can’t forgive you, no more than I can forgive myself. Anya’s dead and you killed her. It doesn’t matter that I drove her to become a vengeance demon again, you’re the one who killed her.”

He held the receiver away from his ear and eyed it for a moment, listening to the tinny sound coming from the earpiece.

“Don’t call me anymore.” He crashed the receiver back on the hook and grabbed the half empty bottle of whiskey beside his chair. He took a long swig and leaned back.

He closed his eyes for a moment, then sighed and looked down at the picture. It showed a happy, smiling Anya in a white wedding dress. His thumb tenderly stroked her face before he said, “Merry Christmas, Ahn.”

Full of horror, Xander looked back at Spike for an explanation. “How? Why? When?”

“You left Anya at the altar. Ran off into the rain.” Spike’s lips were small and he looked grim. “Dunno why you did it. When she killed several boys on a vengeance gig, Buffy had to go after her. You don’t know what that did to her. It nearly destroyed her too.”

Spike turned and spoke over his shoulder. “I always liked demon-girl. That’s one of the nastiest things you can do to a girl, you know, leave her on that particular day. Way I figure, it was her way to commit suicide.”

Xander looked in horror at his possible future and shuddered. “No. No, I’d never do that to her. I love her!”

“We’re here, so face it, whelp, you might. People do lots of horrid things in the name of love.”

Grabbing Spike by the sleeve, Xander pulled him through the nearby wall. “Let’s go. Nothing can be worse than that.”

They entered a homely kitchen, full of delicious smells. Anya stood at the stove, stirring cranberry sauce. A little girl with blond curls sat in a baby chair at the counter and watched with a delighted smile twinkling in her brown eyes.

As the doorbell rang, Anya shouted, “Can you get the door, Xander?”

His future self opened the door and welcomed Buffy and Spike into the house. Behind them Dawn waved, carrying a toddler on her hip.

“Look who dropped in on us from New York!” Buffy explained. “Hope you don’t mind a surprise guest and a half?”

Xander smiled and tickled the baby boy under his chin. “How’s Tiny Tim?” The boy hid his little face on Dawn’s chest, his brown curls falling over his surprisingly sky blue eyes.

Spike squatted down and addressed the dark haired four-year-old looking out from behind Xander’s legs. “Hey buddy, you’re growing fast. How’s my namesake doing?”

“’ello, Uncle Spike. Wanna see my new bicycle?” Little William answered him.

“Don’t spoil the kid. You two look great. How was Cleveland?” Future Xander clapped Spike on the shoulder. “Come on. Dinner’s nearly ready and you know how Anya hates it when we’re late. I’ve got some O-neg in the fridge for you.”

Xander looked up at the grinning Future-Christmas-Spike. “Okay, that was better. Weird, but definitely better.”

He watched the happy company pile into the dining room for Christmas dinner. “Can you tell me what I did right this time?”

Spike shrugged. “That’s for you to figure out.”

~*~

A hand shook his shoulder. “Xander, wake up. Time to go home.”

He opened his eyes and looked into Anya’s face. “You’re so beautiful, Ahn. I love you so much…” he murmured, still half caught in his dream. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, you and the kids.”

His fiancé smiled brightly at him. “We don’t have kids. But that’s a nice idea; let’s go work on them.”

As they went out of the living room to pick up their coats, Xander stopped by Spike and clapped him on the shoulder. “Merry Christmas, Spike!”

~*~

Finally, everyone had left and only the lights from the tree illuminated the living room. Buffy was lying on the couch, her head resting in Spike’s lap. His fingers combed tenderly through her strands, gently massaging her scalp.

“I haven’t given you my present yet,” she murmured sleepily.

“It can wait, pet. This evening was present enough for me. You know that, right?” Spike bent down and kissed the tip of her nose. “Just one year ago, I never dreamt that I would be here, celebrating Christmas together with you and all your friends.”

She reached up with her hand and caressed his face, tenderly running her fingers along his prominent cheekbone. He turned his head and kissed her on the palm. His hand cupped over her fingers and pressed them against his mouth.

“Your present, it’s a promise,” she softly told him. “We’ll get your chip out.”

Spike jerked forward and looked down into Buffy’s eyes. “It’s too dangerous.”

“I talked with Giles about it, and he’s researching the chip. We still have the files from the Initiative. Also Elin will support us. If it can be safely removed, we’ll get it out.” She looked directly into his concerned eyes.

“I didn’t mean that it’ll be dangerous for me. It’s too dangerous for you, for the Bit. What if I can’t control the demon? Buffy – think about what you’re suggestin’, luv.”

“That won’t happen. I know you, Spike. I trust you. You don’t need the chip to hold you back, not anymore. What if I’d been too late? What if Riley had staked you before I could get to you?” Her fingers folded around his, squeezing his hand in her anguish.

“I don’t want you helpless around humans. I want you able to defend yourself.” Her voice was adamant.

Spike took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Alright.” He let out a small laugh. “If you trust me so much, I should start to trust myself. Thank you.”

“It’s getting real late, dawn’s coming soon,” Buffy said quietly and sat up.

“Right. I’ll scamper off. See you tomorrow?” Spike reluctantly started to stand up.

“Why don’t you stay, Spike? You haven’t seen me yet in my yummy sushi pajamas.”

A smile started at the corners of his mouth and spread across his face. It was like watching the sun rise over the calm waters of the sea, the light spreading and streaming over the grey surface, breaking into thousand glittering sparks, illuminating the world with a golden glow.

“Merry Christmas.” Buffy leaned up and softly kissed Spike.

“God bless us, every one,” he murmured.

“She saw you, you stupid bitch!”

The voice shrieked in her skull, the sound tearing at Willow’s brain with iron claws. Curled in a tight ball on her bed, she hid her head under her pillow. Not that this would help.

She whimpered and squeezed her eyes shut.

Pain drilled into her brain; piercing streams of red-hot rage scorched her mind. She pressed her hands against her temples and begged, “Stop, please stop, stop, stop…”

The smell of Dawn’s blood had called to her on a subconscious, primal level and she’d not been able to resist her attraction to the pull. It was the demon’s fault, but she didn’t dare accuse him. His punishment would be immediate and unbearable.

As the pain finally receded, she rolled onto her back, placed her head back on top of her pillow, and looked up at the ceiling. In the dim light of her bedroom the narrow, gleaming crack was clearly visible. Each night she watched it, transfixed in her dread. Watched as it grew larger, grew brighter with every passing day.

The demon’s spawn was in her head. Though it’s slithering, slimy tendrils wriggled inside her mind, he hadn’t yet returned physically. They’d hurt him too badly and even with all the magical energy he’d sucked out of Willow, he hadn’t enough for a speedy recover. But still, he was persistent, relentless in his appetite for power. Without pause, he wore away the barrier between their worlds, ripped at the very fabric of the universe. Soon, he would break through and then…

With all the resistance she had left, she retreated to her haven, to her place of safety, to the center of her being inside her mind where he couldn’t reach her – yet.

~*~

Her haven was a lovely place, or had been, once upon a time.

Tall, majestic beech trees surrounded the sunny clearing, intermixed with pliant rowans full of clusters of gleaming, red berries. The haven still offered Willow a place to rest and regroup, but the peace had been drained from it. The leaves had turned a burning orange and the grass was starting to wither and die. Brambles snagged at her feet and scratched her ankles as she approached her usual perch on a downed tree in the middle of the clearing. A passing cloud shaded the sun and she shuddered at the sudden gust of cold wind.

Far to the north, she saw tree tops swaying violently in a sudden squall. A squirrel chattered angrily from a nearby branch as a particularly tall tree in the distance bent and fell, ripping and tearing down smaller trees on its destructive descent. She heard the explosive crack of branches as they were violently torn from their living trunks. The demon’s constant psychic assault battered against her boundaries and the region her will still controlled was shrinking daily.

Willow sat down on the log and wrapped her arms tightly around her chest. She rocked back and forth as she replayed her memory of the Christmas party.

When Dawn had called out, she’d automatically looked at her. As the sight of Dawn’s blood and the rich, coppery scent hit Willow’s over-active senses, the demon’s instincts had taken over for a moment. On her insistence he’d withdrawn, but she didn’t fool herself. His retreat had been carefully calculated, and not because she’d been strong enough to push him back.

Had she trusted in Tara’s good advice and respected the use of magic, she might not be in this mess. Willow sighed. She thought of Tara, of her lovely, sweet face, her soft hands and pliant body. She turned and smiled sadly at her love, now sitting beside her on the moss-covered log.

“Tara, I miss you so much,” Willow said, desperately. She knew that Tara was just a projection, born from her loneliness. But she found it easier to talk to her friend than with a phantom of herself.

“I’ve been such an idiot. Magic always has consequences, right? See where that’s brought me…” She paused and thought back to the beginning. “I believed Meagan when she told me that all that power’s just there for me to take. If I can harness the power, then I have the right to use it, to do whatever I like with it. They’re probably all laughing at me now…” Willow stared at the tree tops in the distance and the dark clouds billowing over them. A storm was coming.

“I can’t hold him off much longer. He wants the Key. It’s been all about Dawn since Rack and his demon first saw her,” Willow continued, trying to explain to the figment of her lover. “I’m just a vessel, his only vessel, since Rack’s dead. I’m not stupid; I know that I’m only alive because the demon still needs me.”

With compassionate eyes, Tara looked at her. Willow reached for her hand, but her fingers went through the mirage, like bathing in a beam of sunlight. It warmed her hand, but she so longed to touch Tara, to caress her face without the demon’s mocking laughter in her head.

Willow buried her head in her hands and silent, desperate tears ran down her cheeks. “I can’t tell you, can’t tell any of you, what’s going on inside me. He controls my speech and my actions. The only thing left for me is to stall, to keep him from taking me over completely, for as long as possible.”

“Sleep well, my love.” She waved her hand and Tara’s image vanished.

Willow’s eyes went towards the swaying tree tops in the distance. With a roaring crash, another tree went down. Birds flew off, startled, and a black cloud surrounded one late robin. The piercing cries of the bird cut into her heart until they finally died away; a few feathers slowly descended towards the ground.

How much time did she have left?

~*~

Spike’s hand lay warm across Buffy’s waist. She spooned against his naked body, her breath slow and steady in sleep. She was so warm, so hot…

Too hot!

With a shout, he squelched the flames licking at the back of his hand and rolled down to the floor, into the safe shadows behind the bedstead.

“What?” Buffy sat up, her eyelids still heavy with sleep, her hair tousled in a gleaming halo around her head.

“Sorry, luv, hate to wake you up…” he apologized from his shelter, peeking carefully over the edge.

“Oh my God!” Buffy sprang out of bed and quickly pulled the curtains closed. The wind through the open window had blown them apart and a broad stretch of golden light had crawled over her bed. Hastily, she pinned the draperies together and grabbed the jar of skin lotion from her dressing table.

“Let me see,” she demanded. Stretching out her hand she sat back on the bed.

“It’s nothing, pet, really! Don’t ‘ave to pamper me. Just an irritation, it is.” He was angry at himself for being so careless. Here he was, the first time in her bed, a place he’d never dreamed of being invited into, and what did he do? Instead of gently waking her up with kisses and murmured endearments, he’d ripped his girl out of sleep and scared her.

Buffy raised her eyebrow. “It’s still smoking.”

Spike sat obediently back on the bed and surrendered his appendage to her. His resistance would only prolong the inevitable ending. When she had this look in her eyes, she wouldn’t budge.

Tenderly, Buffy tapped cream on his inflamed skin. Her fingers were softly holding his hand, her head bent over it. She wrapped a clean bandage around his palm and fastened it with a knot. As she placed his hand gently in her lap, she looked up into his eyes.

“I’ll have to vamp-proof my room,” she apologized. “I can’t risk you burning up.” She bit her lower lip and her eyes were full of concern.

“I know better ways for you to burn me up, luv, thousand times more enjoyable.” He sucked in his cheeks and smirked at her, wagging his brows up and down suggestively. “Right now I just want to eat you up, sushi pajamas and all. You look yummy, absolutely adorable.”

To proof his point, his cock proudly stood to attention. He lowered his uninjured hand and wrapped his fingers firmly around his erection, pumping slowly up and down. A drop of creamy white pre-cum pearled out of its slit. Buffy’s tongue slid out to wet her lips, the rosy tip lingering on her lower lip. Hypnotically, her hazel eyes watched his movement, her pupils widening. Under her skin, her blood was rushing hot and fast.

“We can’t... Dawn and Tara…” she sighed, although her eyes never wavered from where they were glued to his lasciviously moving hand.

“’s not a problem. Means we’ve got to be quiet, kitten. Very, very quiet...” He put his bandaged hand on her shoulder and pressed her softly back into the cushions. Her eyes followed his movements as he abandoned his prick and opened the first button of her top.

His lips kissed the silken skin of her cleavage and he inhaled deeply. “You smell of oranges and cinnamon.”

Another button popped, quickly followed by the next. He spread her top open and slid his index finger slowly from the pit of her neck downwards, through the valley between her firm mounds to the dip of her belly button. Her skin was so soft and he could feel goose bumps forming under his fingertip.

With fingers spread wide, he placed his palms on her belly and gently slid them upwards over her ribcage. He cupped her breasts with both hands and rubbed his thumbs over her hard nipples. “You have the most perfect tits, luv. They’re made for me.”

Buffy drew in deep breaths and her chest heaved under his caress. He bent down and licked at her hard peaks, then sucked the soft flesh of her breast into his mouth. Buffy placed her hand over her mouth and bit into the ball of her thumb. Her other hand frantically loosened the string of her pajama bottoms.

Spike’s eager hands grabbed the waistband and he slipped the garment down her legs. He lay down beside her and ran his hand softly up her curves. Buffy turned towards him, threw her leg over his hip and captured his cock with her body. Deftly, she positioned his hard rod at her wet opening.

Soft, warm lips covered his mouth and squelched his moan as he slid deep into her hot channel. They rocked slowly, tenderly together, savoring the exquisite sensation. Feather-light, Buffy’s hand caressed his back, her fingertips following the muscular strands gliding under his skin. Her heel pressed into his thigh, holding him tightly against her. His bandaged hand was folded over her firm buttocks, pressing her to him in the rhythm of their dance.

He could feel her vaginal muscle flutter around his prick as the tension started to rise inside her and he deepened his strokes, pushing them over the edge. With a gush of hot breath she soundlessly cried her release into his mouth, swallowing his growl in return.

He relaxed in the sweet aftermath of their love-making, his arms resting relaxed around her body. He leaned his brow against her forehead and inhaled the sweet fragrance of her skin and the salty aroma of their mingled juices. Tenderly, he brushed a strand of hair away from her moist cheek, his fingertips worshiping her soft skin.

Buffy raised her head and placed a soft kiss onto his lips. “Best Christmas present ever…”

~*~

On Boxing Day in the early afternoon, Buffy entered the Magic Box to find Giles and Elin already waiting for her at the table, both deep in conversation. They looked at her expectantly.

“Hello, Buffy, what’s so important that you wanted to meet us here today?” Giles greeted her.

“Willow.” Buffy pulled out a chair and settled into it.

Elin frowned and tucked a stray lock of her strawberry hair behind her ear. “Willow’s fine, just a bit exhausted after the Christmas party, but that was to be expected. She’s been asleep since yesterday.”

“Are you really sure that Willow’s alright again, Elin?” Buffy flattened her hands on the table top.

“Well, yes. Her energy’s still a bit low and she tires quickly, but everything seems to be progressing,” Elin replied.

“Buffy, what’s the matter?” Giles asked. “You’re normally not concerned without a good reason.”

Buffy took in a deep breath and stared down at her hands. “Dawn cut her finger during the party and Willow… she like… totally wigged. The blood got her all excited. She stared at Dawn and something was wrong with her eyes.”

She raised her head and looked at them with troubled eyes. “The light was dim, but I’m sure about it. I saw her eyes turn black. There was something moving in them, a dark shadow. Just like at Halloween; when she got angry, her eyes changed black then too.”

“Oh, dear,” Giles exclaimed and pulled off his glasses. “You think that she’s still under the influence of Rack? No, that can’t be. Rack’s dead and his demon was defeated.”

Buffy exchanged a concerned glance with her Watcher before she continued. “Elin, do you have any information about that demon?”

“It’s a parasite who steals energy from people with magical talents. Let me look for my notes.” She bent down, picked up her bag, and pulled out a notebook. She leaved through it for a while.

“Normally, this creature sucks energy while placing the victim in a trance, a dream state, very much like a LSD-induced hallucination. The victim feels energized, but the process really just loosens inhibitions. It drives a person to use more power than normal and that can drain their own life force over time. The experience is addictive and the process is parasitic.” She looked at Buffy. “That’s what I assume happened to Willow.”

Giles energetically rubbed his glasses with his handkerchief. “Elin, you said ‘normally’. Is there another modus operandi for this creature? How can its relationship to Rack be explained? He called the demon ‘Master’ and seemed to have a contract or some agreement with it.”

“The demon is a creature from another universe and according to my resources only able to partly cross over to our world. So it keeps a personal servant on our side; with this representative, it develops a symbiotic link. It controls its servant to recruit more ‘food’ and enables him to access and manipulate other dimensions. That explains the moving inter-dimensional room this Rack was living in.” Elin leaved through more pages and finally shook her head.

“I couldn’t find any detailed information about this symbiotic relationship. Most of what I have are speculations. If the demon is destroyed or driven back to its home-dimension, normally the servant dies or goes insane when the connection to the demon is cut off. I understood that’s what happened here, right? The demon was killed and Rack, the servant, died too.”

Buffy shook her head. Something didn’t add up. “I don’t think I killed the demon, but it was seriously injured and backed out. It could still be over there, on the other side. Rack was already raving mad when we came. Tara had to kill him when he attacked the unconscious Willow with a club.”

Elin blanched. “You say Rack was insane before the demon was driven back? It would never sever the bond to its servant unless…” She looked at Giles and they exchanged a worried glance.

An ugly lump of fear settled into Buffy’s stomach. “Guys! Not a mind reader here. What does that mean?”

“My dear, it could mean that the demon had already got hold of a new servant before Rack was killed. That could only mean Willow, since nobody else was there.” Giles put his glasses back on. His face was drawn and sad, his brow creased with worry.

Buffy thought back to the last few weeks. Willow had been in a coma for nearly two weeks and after she’d woken up, she’d been so weak and quiet. Could it be that she had been under the influence of the demon all that time?

“But where’s the demon now? If it still has influence over Willow, how can it do that if it isn’t here? And what if we find it and kill it, what will happen to Willow?” So many questions, Buffy thought.

Giles and Elin just looked at her, they didn’t have any answers to that either.

“But we can help Willow, right?” Buffy grasped for a straw of hope. “Now that we know…”

“Buffy, I’m sorry. I can’t tell how deep the demon’s influence is rooted inside Willow. It’s seemingly well hidden since I haven’t detected it on my normal examinations. I should’ve looked closer, probed deeper, but…” Elin looked ashamed and closed her notebook.

“I’ll contact the Coven and ask for help. Our main concern should be to keep Dawn as far away from Willow as possible, and to make sure that the demon can’t spread or even transfer its influence onto us.” Elin stood up and went over to the window. Her shoulders tense, she folded her arms around her chest and stared out into the street, deep in thought.

Finally, she turned around and went back to the table, her features grim. “We’ve got to put Willow in isolation. We’ve to place protective spells over everyone who comes near her. We’ll also have to come up with a plausible explanation as to why we keep her secluded.”

Elin sat down again and bowed her head for a moment. When she looked up again, her eyes were haunted. “I’m a healer,” she sighed. “I heal people. To protect us all, I see no other way but to go against my oath. I’ll infect Willow with an illness, a rash or eczema. That will provide cover and give us a plausible excuse for limiting her access to others. It’s unpleasant, but not epidemic or even life threatening.”

Gently, Giles laid his hand over Elin’s. “That’s a good idea. Sometimes, the right decisions are difficult.”

Elin gave Giles a grateful smile. Her face softened and the tension ran out of her. It wasn’t a wonder that Giles felt attracted to her. When she smiled she looked very appealing, Buffy thought.

As Giles noticed Buffy’s thoughtful glance, his lips quirked in a small smile and he raised his left eyebrow questioningly.

Buffy just nodded. It wasn’t her place to judge anyway.

“What about your other research? Did you find out more about Dawn’s keyness?” Buffy finally changed the subject. “What about the garbled prophecy?”

Elin straightened. “Rupert and I are still working on the translation of the ‘Book of Satori’. The warriors mentioned are indeed referring to a Slayer and a vampire. This is a strong indication that the description might actually apply to you and Spike. There are other documented vampire/Slayer pairings throughout known history, but they didn’t last long, for the Watcher’s Council invariably hunted and executed them. Gladly, such barbaric methods are no longer used.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” murmured Buffy.

“The Council still has its wet-works team,” Giles explained. “But I believe Mr. Travers has accepted that Buffy’s not so easy to deal with. We have a truce with the Council, but they don’t like how we handle our job.”

“Oh, I see,” Elin said. “Well, I’m with the Coven and not with the Council. The Coven knows about the natural attraction between a Slayer and a powerful, older vampire. If a Slayer comes into her twenties, normally she looks for a compatible partner. Of course, a vampire is the natural choice, someone who can hold up with her strength and doesn’t age as well.”

Buffy listened with astonishment. So, her attraction towards vampires was normal for a Slayer? Why hadn’t anybody explained that to her before now? It would’ve saved her a whole boatload of heartache. By the dumbfounded look on Giles’ face, not even he had known this secret.

“Wait, what was that about ‘aging’?” Buffy suddenly caught onto the phrase.

Elin explained. “A Slayer doesn’t age once she reaches adulthood and is fully grown. There are few Slayers recorded who got older than twenty-five years, so it’s still a hypothesis, but the current state of medical research supports it. Your Slayer healing is constantly repairing all damaged cells in your body, Buffy, so aging, which is caused by cell degeneration, just doesn’t take place.”

Giles shook his head. “I haven’t heard anything about that theory during my Watcher’s training.”

“I know,” Elin confirmed. “I haven’t either. Sadly, most Slayers die young, so this information is only of theoretical interest. But continued youth means keen reflexes, agility and endurance; those are survival factors which shouldn’t be underrated.”

“So, no aging and a vampire partner - life is certainly full of surprises,” Buffy summarized. “What about the Gatekeeper? Does this mean that Dawn’s still the Key and can open gates between dimensions? That would explain why the demon’s so interested in her.”

“We’re cross-referencing my research notes with the prophecy right now, Buffy,” Giles said. “We think that Dawn instinctively opened passages between dimensions on at least two occasions; when she escaped from Rack and when she brought you all back. This indicates that she’s developed some control over her powers, even if on a subconscious level. We’re still trying to find a way to test and train her so she can use her powers properly.”

“Have you asked Anya for help? She knows a lot about traveling between dimensions and has connections all over the place. Maybe she can come up with an expert for us.”

“Why haven’t I thought about that?” groaned Giles.

“Because you’re growing old and senile?” teased Buffy. She looked at her watch. “Dawn will be here soon for her first lesson and Spike’s joining us. I have the key to the backdoor, so if you want to leave…”

“Will Tara come by with Dawn?” Giles asked. “We need to let her know about our suspicions regarding Willow as soon as possible.”

Buffy nodded. “I wish we could spare her the heartache. She was so happy that Willow was with us for Christmas.”

A look of deep sympathy appeared on Elin’s face. “We will need her help, she knows Willow best.”

~*~

“…eighteen, nineteen, twenty,” Buffy counted their sit-ups.

Dawn slumped back onto the mats. “Tell me again why I wanted training…” Only twenty sit-ups and she was totally winded and already wiped out. They’d done all that warm-up and the stretching yoga-y stuff and she’d felt like a fish out of water, a very unfit fish, at that.

Laughing, Buffy stopped and looked at her sister. “It’ll get better each day, I promise.”

“Each day…” She remembered that Elin had told her she still trained regularly. Dawn hoped it would really get better over time. It just had to!

“Come on, I’ll teach you how to fall while we wait for Spike.” Buffy stood up and offered Dawn her hand. Groaning, she took it and was hauled off the ground.

“If you fight, you’re gonna fall. The important thing is not to stay down. If you’re on the ground, you’re vulnerable. You have to learn to redirect the force of the fall to help you get up again. The simplest moves are to roll forward or backwards. Let me show you…”

Dawn watched Buffy’s demonstration as the door to the training room was opened and Giles stuck in his head. “Buffy, there’s a visitor for you. He says it’s urgent.”

Grabbing her towel, Dawn followed Buffy out into the shop.

In front of the counter, a demon stood, wringing his hands agitatedly. He looked strange, with his skin hanging in wrinkles down his face and his cute floppy ears. Dirt smudged his cheeks and tears filled his red eyes.

He stormed to Buffy, grabbed her hand, and pulled her towards the door. “Buffy, you gotta help! Hurry!!”

“Wait, Clem, what’s the matter?” Obviously, Buffy knew the stranger.

“It’s Spike! There was an accident…” Clem anxiously yanked at her hand.

All the blood drained from Buffy’s face. She stood frozen and white as a sheet.

Dawn blinked and clapped her hand over her mouth. “He… he isn’t… dead?” she finally stammered.

Time ground to a standstill as everyone stared at the strange demon standing in the middle of the Magic Box.

“Spike… he isn’t… dead?” Dawn finally stammered.

“Yes! No!” Clem replied.

“What happened? In God’s name, speak up man!” commanded Giles as he grabbed the trembling demon by the arm.

“The shaft caved in. The ceiling timber broke and buried him. I can’t reach him and pull him out… He’s bleeding…” Clem stumbled over his words and pulled again at Buffy’s sleeve.

This shook Buffy out of her stupor. She took a deep breath and firmly put a lid on the bubbling pot of fear in her stomach. If she let her imagination run free, she would break down in tears. Spike needed help, needed her to be strong, to be her efficient Slayer-self.

She turned towards Clem, put both her hands on his shoulders, and stared into his eyes. “Calm down, Clem. Where’s Spike? What happened?”

“At the Amarra cave where he’d been mining for the last few weeks. I’d run out to fetch some more support beams and planks when it happened. I can’t pull him out. A huge beam’s lying over him and… and… there’s so much blood.”

“That damn idiot!” Buffy cursed under her breath.

Her brain went on autopilot. “Giles, call Xander. We need a car-jack, a hydraulic lift, and metal support beams… and a stretcher and his truck.”

She paused for a second. “We’re gonna need some blood. If Spike has lost very much, we’ll need potent blood, human blood. Ask Willie if he’s got some O-neg. If he gives you any lip, tell him I'll tear his booze can apart if he doesn't comply.”

Elin grabbed her coat. “I have medical equipment, syringes, and bandages at my apartment. We’ll have to put Spike on an IV if he’s lost lots of blood. Drinking it won’t help him quickly enough. Where’s this cave?”

Buffy told them the location. Elin and Giles left in a hurry, taking Tara with them.

“Clem, we’ve got to get changed. Wait here.” Buffy grabbed her sister and hurried back into the training room.

Dawn squeezed Buffy’s hand desperately. “He’ll be alright, Buffy, promise?”

Buffy pulled her sister into a tight hug. “Let’s hurry.”

~*~

Half an hour later, Buffy crouched in the narrow tunnel which was just large enough for her to crawl through. The mess was spectacular.

Spike had cleared the big pile of rubble under the entrance to the cave. A ladder led up to the winding shaft that burrowed deep into the gravel which had filled up the cavern after the cave-in two years ago. The ceiling of the tunnel was underpinned with a patchwork of wooden poles and planks. About twenty feet in, the tunnel had partially collapsed and splintered wood stuck out of the debris.

Why had he started something so dangerous? Hadn’t he agreed with her that it would do no good to dig for the rest of the treasure? He’d only wanted the money for her anyway, and since she now worked for the Magic Box, she had enough cash to pay all her bills. He must’ve known that.

Buffy wiped a loose strand of hair out of her face. The dust was everywhere, the grit irritating her eyes and making them water. She did not weep for that stupid vampire.

She pushed the flashlight ahead of her and then she saw it. A hand, sticking out from under a pile of dirt. She suppressed a sob of relief. Clem had told her that Spike was still alive, but to actually see him lifted a heavy weight from her heart.

Carefully, she crawled nearer and gently touched Spike’s hand. “Spike? Can you hear me?”

His fingers twitched and she heard a low groan. “Buffy?”

“I’m here. We’re all here. We’ll get you out.” Her voice was grim and determined.

She shifted a large boulder to the side and freed his arm up to his shoulder of dirt and debris. Clem had been right; the gravel was sticky with blood. Spike was lying on his stomach, the back of his head facing towards her. He was pressed to the ground by a huge beam across his back, its splintered end sticking out over his right shoulder. He must’ve been on his way out when the support gave and the ceiling fell on him. Thank God, he didn’t need to breathe.

Softly, her fingers caressed the back of his hand. “Spike, where are you hurt?”

“Shoulder… Splinter… Left…” He coughed, a wet, gurgling sound. “Lung…”

“Don’t talk. Tap your finger on my hand. One time means yes, two times no.” She gently slipped her hand under his fingers.

“You’ve a splinter through your left shoulder.”

Tap.

“Your lung is pierced.”

Tap.

“Are you bleeding somewhere else?”

Tap. Tap.

Tap.

“You don’t know?”

Tap.

“Can you move your left arm?”

Tap.

“Your legs?”

Tap. Tap.

“Listen, here’s what I want to do. I have a hydraulic car-jack. I’ll put it under the beam and take off the pressure. I’ll only move it a bit till I can see where your shoulder is hurt. That sounds okay?”

Tap.

Carefully, she cleared the ground of all loose gravel and rolled onto her back. She looked at the planking over her head. She’d tested the poles supporting it, and they proved to be still stable. She slid the car-jack under the end of the beam and slowly started to work the lever. The wood groaned and gravel shifted.

Spike let out a loud growl of pain. Immediately, Buffy stopped and grabbed his hand.

“Should I lower it again?”

Tap. Tap.

“Is the pressure less?”

Tap.

“Hang in there, Spike! We’ll clear the rubble away ‘til I can see where you’re hurt.”

Buffy crawled back towards the tunnel entrance and stuck her head down. Anxious faces looked up at her. They were all there, helping her, helping Spike, without hesitation. Even Xander hadn’t made one sarcastic remark, one lame joke.

“Spike’s lung is pierced; God knows where else he’s inured. He’s covered in lots of gravel and dirt and has a beam across his back. I’ve secured it for the moment. We’ll make a bucket-brigade to remove the debris. Dawn, can you help me up here? You’re the smallest. Xander, Giles, you stay at this end. Dawn will pass you the buckets. Empty those down there somewhere, Clem can show you the best place. Let’s hurry.”

~*~

Endlessly, they hauled dirt and stones out of the tunnel. Buffy’s nails were broken, her hands scratched and raw from shoveling the gravel. Dawn took a filled bucket and pushed it to the opening where Xander passed her an empty one back. Dawn’s face was encrusted with dirt and trails of tears had left streaks down her cheeks.

Buffy grabbed her sister’s sleeve and stopped her. “Can you hold the flashlight for me?”

They had uncovered most of Spike’s body. His head was now free but still turned away, immobilized by the beam. Buffy took stock of his injuries.

Dust and blood matted Spike’s white hair. The blow had grazed his skull and left a big lump at the back of his head; he was drifting in and out of unconsciousness. His left leg was twisted between two boulders and broken. Ivory splinters of bone were sticking out through a rip in the fabric of his twill coverall. A large iron clamp had buried itself in his right calf.

Buffy peered into the gap between Spike’s back and the beam. She inhaled sharply and bit hard on her lower lip. The coppery taste of her blood filled her mouth.

A wooden splinter pierced his back between his left shoulder blade and spine, precariously near to Spike’s heart.

~*~

“Looks bad…?” rasped Spike’s voice.

Buffy swallowed and cleared her throat. She tried to speak, but no sound came out.

“Buffy, how bad is it?” Dawn’s voice quivered and the beam of her flashlight danced in the cramped space.

“It’s near his heart, Dawnie,” Buffy finally whispered. “If I lift the beam more, I can’t tell how the splinter will move inside his chest.”

“What…” Dawn’s voice broke in a sob.

Buffy took the flashlight and once again assessed the damage. They couldn’t cut the beam, that was clear; it still propped up the remaining planks that supported the ceiling. The splinter in Spike’s shoulder was attached to the beam from which it was ripped off. If they could saw it off, they could lift the beam a bit more and pull Spike out from under it. But that might be dangerous too – sawing it off could also cause it to move within his chest, no matter how careful they were.

Buffy put her trembling hand back under Spike’s fingers. “Does the splinter stick out of your chest? Just tap.”

Tap. Tap.

“Then I’ll cut the splinter from the beam and we’ll pull you out without removing it first. We’ll get you out. Don’t you dare leave us!”

Tap.

Buffy’s chuckle ended in a small sob. Dawn looked frightened at her, eyes wide and glittering with tears.

“We need a very sharp, very slim saw, like a hacksaw, Dawn. Can you explain that to Xander?”

Her sister nodded and crawled out the tunnel.

Left alone, Buffy bowed her head. She stroked Spike’s fingers, which lay still and pale against the earth. Images of him flashed through her mind. Spike, always so full of laughter and life.

He had changed her existence. He’d shown her that her Calling wasn’t a burden, that she could enjoy it, that fighting was invigorating, liberating. And he’d shown her what else her body was capable of. His hands, his mouth, his cock let her body sing, her skin quiver, and her heart dance. He had wormed himself into her life, into her heart – and into her soul.

On the brink of losing him, she fiercely took possession of him. She wanted Spike, true, but it was more than that, more than just a physical attraction.

She loved him.

Over the past few months, she’d fallen in love with him. Even more surprising, she didn’t shy away from this emotion. She liked it. A lot.

She wanted to keep him. Forever.

“Don’t you dare to leave me, you stupid vampire!” she repeated, furiously. “Don’t you dare!”

~*~

Xander had given Buffy two types of saws, a wire saw and a slim, Japanese hand saw with a long bamboo handle. The wire saw slipped easily between the beam and Spike’s back, but the sawing motion twisted the splinter.

She carefully slipped the slim blade of the Japanese saw into the narrow slit. Gently, she pressed the blade against the splinter and pulled. The razor sharp teethes bit effortlessly into the dry wood and fine sawdust trickled onto Spike’s shoulder.

Her hand stilled as the last sliver of the splinter broke from the beam with a sharp crack. The wood shook and quivered in the wound as the tension released. Buffy pressed her eyes tightly shut, fearing she’d hear the soft sigh of a vampire disintegrating to dust.

The only sound she heard was a low groan.

She handed the saw to Dawn. “Please, go back to the others. I’ll lift the beam now. If the ceiling holds, I’ll need your help to pull Spike out.”

“But…” Dawn complained.

“No, Dawn. It’s too dangerous and you can’t help me anyway. Just get out. Wait until I call you.”

After her sister left, Buffy turned back to the car-jack. Carefully, she pumped the lever and the beam started to lift. The supported plates shifted and creaked; a trickle of dirt rained down her back. Slowly, the beam lifted off Spike’s back and shoulder, freeing him. He finally could turn his head.

Buffy stopped and bent forward and their gazes met. A flood of relief roared through her, swept all anxiety away, and left only fierce determination. Tears poured from her eyes, blurring her vision. Spike’s ghostly white face was cut and bruised, but he was still the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen. She reached out with her trembling hand and placed it softly on his dirt encrusted cheek.

“Spike… Thank God…,” she whispered.

“Love you…” Spike answered and coughed again. Bloody foam trickled out of his mouth, reminding Buffy that time was of the essence.

“Your leg’s broken. I’m sorry; it'll hurt a lot when I pull you out.” She gently stroked his cheek.

Spike nodded slightly and closed his eyes. “No …worries.”

Buffy turned around in the tunnel and saw that Dawn had already returned. “Didn't I tell you...” she began, then shook her head as her sister stared stubbornly back at her, lifting the first-aid kit.

Buffy pointed at the flashlight. “Focus it straight on the splinter, Dawn. Yell if it moves at all.” She gripped Spike's right arm and started to pull him slowly out from under the beam.

Half hidden under his body, his left hand grabbed a long object, the fingers tightly wrapped around it. As it came free from the rubble, Buffy saw that it was a leather scabbard with a huge sword, its hilt intricately decorated with ivory inlay.

As his broken left leg was pulled from its confines, Spike cried out in pain and passed out.

“Quick, Dawn. Let’s get the splinter out while he’s unconscious. Lean on his shoulders with all your weight and hold him absolutely still.”

White-faced, Dawn did as she was told.

Buffy grabbed the end of the wood and slowly pulled. With a sickly, squelching sound the tip of the splinter finally came free. She could see the white surface of a rib that had deflected the wood away from his heart; it was cracked. Blood welled out of the opening in his chest. Dawn handed Buffy a compress and she pressed it to the wound.

As exhausted as Buffy was, she knew there was still a lot of work ahead. Wearily, she grabbed Spike’s shoulders and started to haul him down the narrow tunnel to where her friends were waiting.

~*~

He was so still.

Spike lay motionless on Buffy's bed. His skin was pasty and yellow tinged, with dark violet rings under his sunken eyes.

With her hand, she flattened a crease out of his blanket. Gently, she laid her fingers over his left hand, careful not to hinder the flow of blood through the drip which Elin had fixed into his vein on the back of his hand.

“Everybody helped pull you out of there.” Her soft voice felt too loud in the quiet room. “Even Xander. Not one acid comment or dumbass joke came out of his mouth – can you imagine?”

How could she tell Spike about the painstaking process lowering him out of the narrow tunnel? About the ride back home, holding his hand like it was her anchor in a stormy sea. If she were a praying woman, she might have prayed to the patron saint of vampires. She wouldn’t have cared if the devil or the ghost of Bela Lugosi answered, as long as someone heard her pleas.

“Elin cleaned the wound. Don't worry, all the splinters are gone, no wandering time bomb left.” She paused and listened to the hypnotic 'drip-drip-drip' of the blood trickling into the IV.

Elin had explained that wooden fragments could wander through his body, like shrapnel, and one day, maybe years from now, or maybe next week, pierce his heart. It took the healer nearly an hour to thoroughly clean Spike's wound.

“Your leg's broken and you've got a nasty bump onto your head. I hope that will knock some sense into you. God knows I haven’t been able to.” Why had he done this stupid excavation? Oh, he was in for a third-degree interrogation by her and Dawn when he was well enough.

Slowly, the door opened and Dawn slipped in. “How is he?” Her eyes flickered between Spike and Buffy as she held a plate out to her sister. “I made you a sandwich.”

“He's... I can't really see a change yet. Elin said we've just got to wait. Eventually, his body will start to heal when the infusion begins to work.” Buffy looked helplessly up at her sister. “There’s nothing to do now but wait. You should go to bed, Dawnie. It's late.”

“The others are gone. Elin said you can call her anytime; she left you her number.” Dawn pulled Buffy's phone and a piece of paper out of her pocket and placed it on the bedside table. She briefly laid her hand on Buffy's shoulder and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “He'll get well, he's way too stubborn not to. You'll see.” Then she turned and left quietly.

Buffy hated waiting. Waiting was the bane of her existence.

She shifted in her chair. Beside the far side of her bed a leather scabbard leaned against the wall. She'd had to pry Spike's fingers open to release it from his grip. “You definitely have some explaining to do. What's so important about that stupid sword that you risked your life for it?”

Spike had been unconscious most of the time, but during his rare, lucid moments, he’d asked for the sword. Only after she'd shown it to him and he saw it in her hands had he quieted.

As the minutes ticked by, Buffy thought about what else she could do. Ever since Elin had confirmed that Spike urgently needed blood, she'd known what she could offer him. Slayer's blood. The most potent blood in existence.

She looked at his haggard face. She would do anything for him. She knew the risk, after Angel had nearly drained her, but she knew also Spike and Spike's demon.

Determined, she stood up and pulled a small, razorsharp knife out of her weapons cache. As she sat down on the far side of the bed, his eyes began to move behind his blue-veined lids. She pulled off her shoes and socks and leaned against the headboard. Tenderly, she ran the back of her hand down his sunken cheek.

“I trust you, Spike.”

In one short, expert movement she opened a vein in her right arm. Slowly, her blood poured out of the small cut. She held it in front of Spike's nose and waited for his reaction.

His nostrils flared and his face changed slowly into the visage of his demon. Suddenly, yellow eyes opened and locked gaze with hers. She saw hunger in them, the need for nourishment, but also recognition and gratitude.

“There you are.” Buffy smiled into his fierce face as she pressed her bleeding wound against his lips.

His rough, long tongue slid out and licked the blood from the cut. It sent a quiver running down her body, tickling along the inside of her thighs. Spike's yellow eyes clouded in delight. Sharp incisors scratched at her arm, not breaking the skin as he started to suck.

The pull went directly to her core. Her muscles involuntarily constricted and her opening longed to feel his touch. His tongue licked again and she felt it sliding directly over her clit. Oh my God! She'd heard that giving blood to a vampire was addictive, but never had she expected it to be so sensual, so erotic.

He pressed his fangs over her wound, but stopped and looked her steadily into the eyes. Was his demon asking for her permission?

This was so different from the time when Angel's demon had torn into her neck, so wild, untamed, and painful. With Angel, the primary sensation was pain and Slayer senses of violating the rule against letting a vampire near her neck.

As she nodded her consent, she felt no protest well up inside her, no warning that this vampire was a fiend, her natural adversary. Instead, she felt anticipation.

Slowly and carefully, his sharp fangs entered her wound. She felt his penetration doubly; his incisors gliding into her arm, and between her legs, a phantom penetration into her channel. Seeking release, her left hand unwittingly cupped her mound, pressing urgently between her legs. As the flow of her blood increased and spilled into Spike's mouth, her juices seeped out and tension filled her stomach. Another pull and she exploded into an orgasm, tremors rippling through her belly, down her legs, a hot gush wetting her panties.

Trembling, she sank down from the high and felt the demon purring at her side. He slowly licked the last of her blood trickling from her cut, his incisors already pulled out. As she looked down at him, the yellow faded and stormy blue eyes stared up at her.

“Buffy, luv...” His brow smoothed and the demon had fully receded again. “You shouldn't 'ave done that. Dangerous, it is...”

Buffy smiled at him. “But it helped. Look at you, awake again! Your color's much better too. I even think the bruising has faded.”

She leaned her head back against the headboard. “Oh God, I'm so tired, but I need to clean up...”

With his right hand, Spike reached up and twirled a lock of her hair around his finger. He sniffed and grinned. “You smell delicious, pet. No complaints here.”

He opened his arm invitingly. “Slip down under the covers and rest.”

With a sigh, Buffy complied.

She was a wondrous sight.

Spike looked down at Buffy, snuggled against his bare chest, deep asleep. Her face was relaxed and peaceful and she looked so young. His lips curled in a soft smile. Nobody who saw her like this would believe what this tiny slip of a girl was capable of achieving.

There were still smudges of dirt at her temple and her hair was a mess of tangled locks - but she was so beautiful! He longed to touch her cheek, to comb gentle fingers through her golden tresses, but he couldn’t move without waking her. Not that he wanted to move at all. This was his heaven, to hold her in his arms.

He shook his head in wonder. After she’d removed the splinter of wood from his chest, he hadn’t been in imminent danger anymore. Despite that, she’d risked her life and offered Slayer’s blood to him. He would’ve undoubtedly healed in time, but her sacrifice had sped his recovery immeasurably.

Deep inside, he could hear his demon purring. It was a happy and contented sound which vibrated throughout his whole body. The bugger was clearly smitten with this girl, not that he could blame him. He’d always been drawn to Slayers, had sought them out. Truth be told, he’d hunted them. Not the baby Slayers that died like mayflies, but the experienced ones, the battle hardened, self-confident warriors. Time and again, when he’d set eyes on his prey, his demon had been disappointed and refused to take on the fight because she lacked that certain something. Had both he and the demon been on the search for this girl the whole time? In search for a formidable warrior for his demon, a passionate, caring heart for his human self?

His musings were interrupted as the door slowly opened and Tara slipped quietly into the room.

“I’ve got a replacement for your IV. Sorry, Spike. Hadn’t wanted to wake you up,” she whispered. “How’re you feeling? You look much better.”

“’s alright, Glinda, ‘ave been awake quite a while. Had my fair share of rest yesterday.” He winked at her.

A slight smile spread briefly over Tara’s face before she fell solemn again. Even in the dimmed room he could see that the girl had dark shadows under her eyes and looked haunted. What had happened to affect her like this? Clearly, his bloody stupid accident won’t have caused her to weep. He watched as she expertly hooked up a new bag of blood to his drip.

“What’s wrong, luv?” he asked softly, reaching one hand out and touching her arm gently.

She looked at him before she cast her eyes down. “Willow… she…” Tara clasped her hands firmly together until her knuckles went white. A big tear ran down her cheek and she opened and closed her mouth several times without saying anything. “I’m sorry,” she stammered finally, turned, and fled the room.

Puzzled, Spike stared at the ceiling where the morning sun cast rippling shadows through the curtains. Something must’ve happened to Red to get Tara that distressed. It wasn’t really his business, but he cared for the gentle blonde witch.

He felt Buffy stir at his side. Her heartbeat quickened and she uttered a small sigh. Her hand flexed on his shoulder and her thumb started rubbing tenderly over his skin. She snuggled closer to him and pressed her nose into the crook of his neck. He would like to wake up like this every day. Well, without the whole ‘being bandaged’ theme. Come to think of it, every time he’d been in her bed now, he’d been patched up. He chuckled softly. What a sorry sod he was.

Buffy opened her eyes and looked up at him. “Hu…”

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he greeted her as he placed a soft kiss on the tip of her nose.

“Hey, guess who’s chipper again,” she teased before stifling a small yawn. Buffy sat up and looked him over. With tender fingers she examined the lump on his head. She cupped her hand under his chin and slowly turned his head to check his numerous cuts and bruises.

“So then, what’s the verdict, doc?” Spike had to grin at her earnestness. “You should wear a nurse’s uniform, pet, all tight and low cut.” He licked his lips suggestively as he noticed the excited gleam in her eyes. Maybe they could do some role playing when he was well again. His gaze clouded as he ran some taunting ideas through his mind. Sexy police girl with hand-cuffs?

Buffy squatted lightly his arm. “You must be healing well if you can think about that already.”

“I’m just a guy, pet; we think about that all the time. If we stop, we’re probably dead.” He smirked. “Besides, with all the blood you’re pumping into me… That had to go somewhere, right? Want to take a peek?”

The tent in the cover was clearly visible, standing up like a ship’s sail over the horizon. Buffy crooked her eyebrows. “I think, Nurse Buffy won’t tend to that swelling today. You need more rest and I need a shower.” She resolutely nodded and crawled out of bed. She had a point, he had to admit that. But he definitely needed to get a uniform for her. Maybe he could ask demon-girl?

“I don’t want to know what you’re thinking right now, Spike,” she scolded and planted her hands firmly onto her hips. Even in her rumpled clothes, she was a dream. With that slight slant to the hip, her thrust out boobs - she looked the image of a cover girl. And look at that full, pouting lip…

“Hey, that’s unfair! I’m lying here, all vulnerable and at your mercy, and you dangle your grapes out of my reach.” Now, it was his turn to pout.

Buffy threw back her head and flung her hair dramatically over her shoulder. She turned and sashayed towards the bathroom door, tauntingly swinging her hips. “No grapes either!”

“Bugger.”

With a final laugh, she closed the door behind her.

~*~

Buffy leaned against the bathroom door, her smile still on her face. She turned towards the sink and looked into the mirror. Her eyes stared back at her, a sparkling hazel green, laughter glittering like sunshine on a quiet pool of tranquility. Something stirred inside her, something startling. She felt happy, but more. She felt peaceful, content. When had she last felt so relaxed?

As she tried to catch the reason for the change that drifted up in a corner of her mind like a wisp of smoke, it slipped through her fingers, sliding just out of her reach again. She shook her head and gave up on it as she turned her attention to the damage the rescue operation had done to her body.

Last night she’d only taken the time to let down her pony-tail, quickly wipe clean her face, and change into unsoiled clothes, too anxious to leave Spike’s side for too long. Her hair was a mess, tangled and still gritty to her touch. She brushed it out of her face with her fingers. On her chin and cheeks the tiny scrapes had already faded and were nearly invisible.

The deeper scratches on her arms had scabbed and thin, jagged lines crisscrossed the back of her hands and forearms. On her bronzed skin, Spike’s puncture wounds stood out like beads; two neat and clean circles of new, rosy skin connected by a thin, ivory, already healed cut. Her fingernails were another matter altogether, lots of them were chipped or broken off. Her Slayer healing repaired living tissue quickly, but not hair and nails. With a resigned sigh, she took the nail clipper and cut her nails short and even. She should’ve learned by now that fighting and elegant fingernails just didn’t go together.

She slipped out of her t-shirt, sweatpants, and panties and stepped into the shower. As she opened the tap, warm water poured down, prickling on her shoulders and back. Buffy raised her head, closed her eyes, and held her face into the hot stream. The water massaged her brow and rivulets ran down her chin, forming a small torrent between her breasts. Her hair spread like fringes of seaweed on her back, shifting with the water current and clinging to her shoulders. She combed her fingers through her tresses, loosening the earth and particles still caught in them.

A fresh, citrus smell filled the steaming shower cabin as she worked the shampoo into her hair and scalp. Clusters of silken foam bubbles slid down her neck, tickling and popping as they dissolved in the water. She grinned as she remembered how they had christened Spike’s new bathroom, just a few days ago. She’d slain a slimy demon and it had showered her face and neckline with clinging, green goo. Spike had helped her wash it off, his slender fingers massaging shampoo into her hair. She remembered his hands, sliding over her slippery skin, rubbing at the gooey spots and never leaving out the most sensitive ones. Trust him to get the most fun out of each situation. Surprisingly, they’d ended up chasing each other around the bathroom, laughing and blowing foam all over the place.

After lathering her hair with a generous amount of conditioner, she twirled it and wound it tightly on top of her head. With a sigh, she turned and let the warm spray splash on her back. She rolled her shoulders under the torrent and felt a strained muscle in her right upper arm loosen. Her body unwound, tension uncurling, and the last of her worries washed away with the dirt.

She turned back towards the showerhead and leaned forward, pressing her hands onto the tiled wall. The spray of water loosened the knot of her hair and rinsed the conditioner from her tresses. Despite the agitation and drama of the cave-in she felt strangely quiet. Like a band around her chest had snapped and released her from its hold. She felt free, free to breathe, free to laugh, free to enjoy. What had caused this astonishing change?

As the water splashed onto her head, her mind floated away, wandering through the events of last night. Suddenly, she jerked upright.

Spike.

She loved him.

She was in love with him!

In all the excitement, she’d pushed it back, but now it was in the center of her mind again, clear and strong, shining like a beacon.

She felt the emotion swell in her chest, fill her heart with warmth until it overflowed. It bubbled joyfully up her throat, streamed out of every pore of her skin. Surely, she was glowing right now. She chuckled and her giggles grew until her whole body was shaking. She wanted to sing and dance, but that was not her way.

So she stood there in the shower, grinning like a madwoman until the water ran cold.

~*~

In the late afternoon, Elin came to redress Spike’s wound.

Spike lay on his stomach, with a towel decently hiding his naked backside. Beside him, Buffy sat cross-legged on the bed. Her left hand rested on his head, her fingers gently twirling his hair into tight curls. She looked down at him and a small smile played on her lips. Just watching him, simply being near him, filled her with joy.

The healer had removed the IV and curtly declared that Spike could return to his usual eating habits. She picked at the tape holding the compress over Spike’s shoulder and ripped it – ouch - off with a swift jerk. Carefully, she lifted the compress and looked at the wound.

“Uhmmm…” she murmured.

“What is it?” Buffy inquired, looking intensely at the wound. It was still a nasty, mangled hole, drilled into Spike’s back.

“It is healing. Quite well actually, more quickly than I expected.” Elin pointed with her finger. “Look here, the fractured rib is already mended; you can see the slightly lighter color where the new bone structure closed the gap. The rip through the lung is closing nicely, forming new tissue. And see here,” she waved her hand around the rim of the wound, “the muscle is re-growing too.”

Buffy nodded. “That’s good, isn’t it?”

“More than good. It’s astonishing. Well, of course I don’t have experience with the healing capacity of vampires, but I assumed that they would heal similar to Slayers. To improve like this is amazing. I wouldn’t have expected this kind of progress for at least two or three days.”

Suddenly Elin’s gaze latched onto Buffy’s left arm that she had propped up on the bed. Buffy quickly cradled it against her chest while heat crawled up her cheeks.

“I see,” the healer continued, staring intently. “Slayer’s blood would certainly speed the healing.” Her grey eyes looked at Buffy, detached in scientific interest. “How much did he take?”

Buffy shifted uncomfortably on the bed under Elin’s scrutiny. “Not much, about ten sips I guess.”

“You should drink a lot to replenish the blood loss. It might’ve seemed to you like small sips, but, I assure you, a vampire can take quite a lot in a short time. Can I see the bite marks?” The healer held out her hand. Buffy slowly extended her arm and Elin took it lightly, turning it into the light. “They are small and nearly invisible. Your other scratches aren’t quite as healed and they weren’t so deep. Did you apply any salve or ointment to them?”

Frowning, Buffy shook her head lightly. “No, just Spike – the demon… he licked them clean.”

Spike lifted his head and looked over his shoulder at the healer. “Vampire saliva. It closes a bite,” he explained. “’tis necessary if you want to preserve a meal… uhmmm… a victim, you know, for another day or two.”

Elin seemed unfazed. “Yes, that makes sense.” She released her grip and Buffy’s arm fell back to her side. She’d been expecting a judgmental reaction from the Coven witch. Some warning that letting a vampire bite her was too dangerous, some reprimand that Slayer’s blood was too valuable to use it to speed up Spike’s recovery. The only reaction that she’d seen in Elin’s face had been curiosity.

Buffy watched as the healer deftly placed a new compress onto the wound and taped it. “Spike, I recommend that you continue lying on your back so that the fluid can leave the wound unobstructed. Since you don’t have to consider infection, it should heal without complications. Let me take a look at your broken leg.”

While Elin removed the splint, Buffy touched Spike’s shoulder lightly, running her finger over his shoulder. “Does it hurt you a lot?”

“Tingles mostly, pet. Kinda like an itch I can’t scratch.” A grin tucked at the corner of his lips and his eyes held a suggestive glint.

Lightly, Buffy poked her finger into his shoulder. “You need to rest. Later…” She grinned back and licked her lips. She liked the heat that immediately flamed up in his blue eyes and how his pupils widened in anticipation. That alone would’ve shown her that he’d improved quickly. If her blood did so well, she should give him another round. Solely for healing of course, she assured herself. Not that she minded the side effect of a mind blowing orgasm.

“The bone has mended too. Really amazing how Slayer’s blood quickens the recovery.” Elin looked up at them. “It wasn’t a complicated fracture anyway; just a bending fracture of the fibula. I think we could forego the splint as long as you don’t put any weight on the leg for a day at least. I’m sure it would be more comfortable for you if I only bandage the wound. The tear in the muscle isn’t closed yet.”

As the healer dressed the wound in a light bandage, Buffy watched the woman closely. She was working with efficient, short movements, every grip firm and steady. “Thank you, Elin. I don’t think I told you before, but I’m real glad you’re here in Sunnydale. I hope you’ll stay with us for a while; you are making yourself quite indispensable. I don’t know how we managed without you.”

Elin straightened and smiled one of her rare, beautiful smiles. “It was one of the best decisions in my life to come here. Here I feel needed; I can tribute to the fight against evil. Since I dropped out of the Watcher’s training, I always wondered if I did the right thing. I joined the Council because I wanted to contribute to the fight. Here, finally, I can really be of service. I just have one request…” she looked down to the ground, suddenly shy.

It was such a change in her behavior that Buffy was startled for a moment and didn’t immediately reply.

“It’s just a small thing, really,” Elin continued.

“What is it?” Buffy probed gently.

“Well, I still keep in good shape. But I don’t want to hamper you in a real fight.” Elin shifted nervously. “I just thought… you are giving Dawn weapon’s training now. Maybe you can work a bit with me too? Just some advice… maybe work out a training plan for me?”

Buffy blinked in astonishment. Why had she never thought of that? Training the Scooby group? It was such an obvious idea.

“We could do that, right, pet?” Spike’s voice intruded her thoughts. “Wanted to ask Glinda anyway. Did a right nice axing at Halloween. Won’t want to see her in harm’s way without being prepared.”

“Glinda?” Elin asked.

“He means Tara. Glinda, the Good Witch of the South,” Buffy explained absentmindedly. “I’m so stupid. You’re right, Elin. It would be my pleasure to train you. We should train all of the Scoobies.”

“You’re not stupid, luv,” added Spike. “Just a bit slow on the uptake sometimes.” He chuckled as Buffy glared down at him.

“Then I’ll leave you two alone,” said Elin, smiling at them. At the door, the healer stopped. “Remember to drink a lot, Buffy, if you donate blood. Best are mineral drinks, although juices work too. And don’t give too much at a time.”

She closed the door on a startled Buffy. Had her thoughts been so obvious?

~*~

Holding the huge mug of warm blood in her hand, Buffy opened the door slowly. Spike was still asleep, lying sprawled on her bed. She slipped quietly into the room and set the mug down on the bedside table.

He looked so beautiful, it pulled at her heart. His thick, long lashes lay dark on his white, translucent skin. The injury had taken its toll; he was thinner, his cheeks more sunken than normal, pronouncing the sharp line of his cheekbones. His mouth was full and soft, relaxed in sleep, beckoning for her kiss. On his forehead and temple the bruises had faded to a yellowish green and would be invisible in another day or two.

However nothing marred the alabaster firmness of his chest and stomach. Her eyes wandered admiringly over the flat planes and defined curves of his well-muscled torso, down to where the blanket decently hid his groin. Her hand stretched towards him of its own volition and she sat down on the edge of the bed, drawn by her need to touch him. Her fingers hovered over his chest, right over his heart. She wondered what he’d been like when he was still alive, when his heart was still beating in his chest.

He’d told her he’d always been bad. She might’ve believed that, long ago, when she had detested him, when she hadn’t known him like she did now. Too often some remark, some action, had slipped through his guard, and penetrated the armor he’d wrapped around himself like his black leather duster. She chuckled softly. What Big Bad scoundrel would’ve read Dickens’ Christmas Carol to his mum? Of course it didn’t matter what he’d been, she loved what he had become. Yet she wondered. He must’ve been a really special man, strong of heart, to preserve so much of his humanity in the face of the demon.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Spike interrupted.

Her hand sank down onto his chest as she looked into his eyes. They were so blue, sparkling azure pools surrounded by these incredibly thick lashes. “It’s unfair for men to have such lashes,” she blurted out her first thought.

Spike’s laughter vibrated under her fingertips and she felt heat color her cheeks. Stubbornly, she pursed her lips and glared. “Well, it is, you know,” she contended indignantly. “Do you know how much money we spend on lash-extension mascara?”

“You didn’t just wake me up to complain about cosmetics, did ya, kitten?” Spike grinned that infuriating grin, like he knew what she’d been thinking of.

“How do you…” Buffy stopped and took a deep breath. She closed her eyes and counted to three. Her hand was still lying on Spike’s chest and she felt the contact burning her skin, tingling on her palm, and the heat crawling up her arm. Slowly she raised her arm and gripped the already cooling mug in both hands. “I brought you supper.”

Carefully, Spike pulled himself to a sitting position, resting his shoulders on the headboard. She noticed the tightening of his jaw and how he momentarily pressed his lips together. As much as he pretended to be fine, he was still in a lot of pain.

She held the mug to his mouth and his lips captured the straw and sucked. Dark red liquid ascended and she watched him swallow the blood in long gulps. She had to smile as she remembered doing this before. As Spike raised his eyebrows in a silent question, she explained.

“Remember Giles’ bathtub? You’ve hated it when I fed you.”

Releasing the straw, Spike smirked. “And you enjoyed it every second, luv. Kept teasing me with your neck, all that Slayer’s blood rushing underneath your tender skin… all that blood just pumping away…”

“You made it so easy for me.” Buffy thought for a moment. Something had always bugged her. “Why did you come to me for help, anyway? How did you know I wouldn’t just kill you?”

Spike took some more gulps of blood before answering her, his voice serious. “I didn’t know, pet. It was a gamble. The demon insisted I go to you, and he was right. I was vulnerable, to humans and, I thought, also to other demons. I could’ve gone into the woods, lived off game and livestock, I suppose. But what kind of life would that ’ve been for a warrior? ‘ave my pride, pet, always had. So I went to the strongest protector there was, and put myself at your mercy. Either you would’ve helped me or you would’ve killed me, clean and honorable. Either way, I would’ve been better off. As it worked out, it was a good decision.”

Buffy smiled. “In the end, it worked out well. Without you, we wouldn’t have defeated Glory, we might not have killed Adam without the data disks you brought us.”

Without you, I wouldn’t be here, feeling so happy, loving you so much… she thought.

Spike cocked his head and looked at her inquiringly. “What’s the matter, pet? You’re lookin’ at me like…”

“It’s nothing…” Buffy’s heart jumped and her throat constricted. Panic rose up and flooded her mind with confusion. How could she tell him? It would be so simple to just say ‘I love you, Spike’. But something stopped her, told her it wasn’t the right moment, told her that something terrible would happen if she did. If she told him, he would leave her, just like her mom left her, like her dad, like Angel and Riley had left her.

“It’s just that I was so worried about you. And now you’re here, all safe, and…” she stumbled on, trying to clamber out of the hole opening underneath her feet.

She took the easy way out, the warrior’s way. She attacked. “Why did you go there, anyway? Digging in that cave? Using so much wood? I can’t believe you were so stupid.”

Buffy glared at him, her hands shaking around the mug. She ripped it away, the straw still between Spike’s lips, sliding out of the cup and spraying droplets of blood all over the white bed cover. Spike took the straw in his hand and looked at her, his eyes warded and cautious.

He spread out his hands, palms up in a soothing gesture. “What got you suddenly in such a snit, kitten?” He slid further up the bed, pressing his back against the headboard.

Buffy lowered her eyes and pointed at the sword, standing until now forgotten at the side of the bed. “You’ve got some explaining to do. Why did you dig there? Was it because of that sword? Why is it so important that you risked your life for it? If you’d died there…” Tears suddenly welled up in her eyes and she angrily brushed them away.

Slowly Spike extended his hand. “I can explain, luv. Just put that mug away.” Buffy placed the nearly empty mug on the bedside table. Then he grabbed her hands, his thumbs tenderly rubbing over her wrists.

Buffy suppressed the urge to pull away from him and tried to relax. She knew she was overreacting, but suddenly all the suppressed anxiety had overwhelmed her. How could he have risked his life now that she’d finally acknowledged the bond between them? It was unfair, since he’d not known, since she hadn’t known at the time. He didn’t know yet, but he could’ve guessed, right? He always seemed to know what she was thinking – didn’t he know that too?

Her shoulders slumped and she nodded. “So explain.”

“It’s your birthday present.”

“My what?”

“The sword, it’s your birthday present. You know, for your birthday next month?”

Confused, Buffy shook her head. “You mean all this digging was just to get me a sword for my birthday? Couldn’t you have simply, you know, bought one, or stolen one? And you know that I have several lying around here already.”

“Ah, luv, but that’s a special one. Saw it when I was digging for the Gem. The Sorcerer who created the Gem also created a sword that could kill even the wearer of the Gem. Sort of as a precaution, I reckon. I wasn’t real interested in bringing a weapon with me that could beat me with the Gem of course. Not that you needed it anyway. ” He shot her an admiring look.

“Explanations, Spike,” Buffy urged. “We don’t have the Gem anymore.”

“Ah, but it doesn’t just help against the wearer of the Gem. It’s supposed to harm and kill all magically protected beings which are otherwise impervious to normal weapons. It’s like a supercharged sword, like a Slayer of a sword. Thought it would fit you. Besides, it’s a beautiful work of art.”

The sword in the corner drew her attention. It was beautiful indeed. She remembered the feeling as she’d held it in her hand, the lightness and perfect balance. She wasn’t sure she liked having a sword with magical powers; it sounded so – Lord of the Ring like. Magic always had consequences. So, what was its prize? Was it paid by nearly losing Spike or was there more to pay? Maybe she was just superstitious.

She slowly pulled her hands out of Spike’s grip and stood up. She felt his eyes follow her as she stepped around the bed and carefully picked up the scabbard. Her hand fastened around the pommel and she slid the blade out a few inches. The light from the bedside table danced on the gleaming, polished metal and the edge broke it into glittering shards of color. A band of intricately chiseled arabesques intertwined with flowers and leaves ran down the length of the blade. The metal had a bluish color, like midday sky on a fresh spring day. It surely looked enchanted.

“May I?” she asked reverently and Spike nodded.

With a soft hiss she pulled the sword completely out of its scabbard. The hilt lay in her hands like it was made for it– neither too large nor too small. The leather binding around the pommel was warm and soft under her grasp, yet firm, giving her a perfect grip. She raised the sword until the tip was at eye level and rotated it. Blue light danced up and down its length as if it was talking to her. She looked over the tip of the blade towards Spike. His eyes were intensely focused on her and she saw admiration in his gaze.

Admiration for her or for the sword?

It didn’t really matter, it was all the same.

“Thank you, Spike. I know it’s not my birthday yet, but it’s a wonderful present.”

“But,” she added before Spike’s pleased smile could spread any further across his face, “if you ever, ever, take a risk like that again, I’ll kill you. Personally. With this sword.”

~*~

Willow studied her reflection in the window pane. Her hair hung limp and she had dark shadows under her eyes. When had she last slept? She couldn’t recall.

Absentmindedly, she scratched her itching, blistered skin. Dry flakes rained down to the ground like snow and she stared disgustedly at her dark red stained fingers. If she couldn’t resist the urge to scratch herself to bloody shreds, how could she withstand the demon?

In the background of her mind she felt the static hum of the demon spawn’s presence. Her captor had retreated to the otherworld, but he kept her on a tight leash. She felt the strangling hold of the demon wrap around her neck like a choker, pressing against her windpipe and controlling her voice. Carefully, oh so slowly, she’d poked a mental finger under it, loosening its grip by just a fraction of an inch. But it wasn’t yet wide enough for her to slip a warning out undetected.

Downstairs, she saw movement in the darkness; Elin returning home. As the door opened, a beam of golden lamplight spilled out onto the dark patio, bathing the healer in a warm glow. She heard murmurs wafting through the stillness of the night and a golden haired girl stepped out of the house into the pool of light.

Tara. Her sweet Tara.

She’d been here, and Willow hadn’t noticed her, hadn’t felt her warm, comforting aura. Her fingers pressed against the windowpane as if they could reach through the glass, down to her lover. How had she not sensed her being so near, maybe even sitting just outside her closed door?

Since the rash had spread over her skin, she’d been restricted to her room. Had it only been yesterday? She wasn’t allowed any visitors, but Tara could’ve talked to her through a crack in the door. With longing she watched as her girlfriend waved Elin goodbye and vanished into the darkness.

Willow leaned her brow against the cool sheet of glass and it soothed the headache that was now her constant companion. She wanted to slide down onto the floor and wrap her arms around herself, to curl into a tight ball and finally surrender. The constant struggle had worn her out and her nerves felt taut like a bow string being pulled beyond its capacity. But she had work to do.

In her mind, she formed a delicate cocoon; thin as silk, like spun out of glistening spider webs. It was a veil, nearly transparent and light as morning mist. The demon’s watchdog was alert, but it was also limited she’d found out. At first she’d tried to ward herself by building a solid, massive barrier against her intruder. Immediately he had assaulted it with brute force and she’d barely escaped its crushing destruction with her sanity. Yet delicate workings seem to slip by his radar undetected. So she wrapped herself into her grey shroud of inconspicuousness.

Slowly, she picked up an empty piece of paper, controlling the movement from inside her cocoon while outwardly observing the dancing shadows, cast onto the sidewalk by the moths which danced around the streetlamp.

With jerking motions she started to write.