Early evening hours same day, Saturday, April, 16th, 2011, Gift-less Dimension:



Buffy leaned heavily on the tile wall of the shower and let the warm water pound down on her head and wash her tears away. The shower area was built for twenty, but she was alone in here. Annie had already gotten a shower and was in the locker room area changing back into her clothes. Her only clothes. It seemed a shame to put those dirty things back on, but it was all they had.

For his part, Riley hadn’t said a single word to Buffy when Spike asked him to show her and Annie to the showers, but his red, glowing eyes never left her. It gave Buffy the wiggins right down to her bones. She couldn’t read anything in them – not surprise, happiness, anger, or confusion. They were a blank slate to her and that added to the wigginess.

Riley looked pretty much the same as the memories she had of him from this world. Apple-pie, all-American good looks. Unlike Spike, he’d kept his hair trimmed short; he wore an olive green army t-shirt and heavy fatigue pants in the same color. His black boots clunked loudly as he walked down the hallway towards the showers with the same lumbering gait that he’d had in life. The muscles of his chest and arms bulged against the soft fabric of his shirt, which clung lightly to his torso hinting at a hard flat stomach beneath. He’d always been big, but now he seemed even bigger to Buffy, bulkier, stronger, maybe even taller. But the biggest difference was in his eyes. Red. Dead. Demonic.

Finn’s eyes never morphed back to the soft hazel he’d had in life, even in his ‘human’ visage. Spike told Buffy it was because he was a ‘half-breed’: drained by one of the Jacks then turned by him.

When Riley found them standing outside the doors of the base camp, Spike had ushered Buffy and Annie inside the fortress then pulled Riley away into a room with an actual door on it and spoke with him at length. Buffy couldn’t see or hear what went on in there. She assumed Spike had been trying to explain where he’d been, and Buffy and Annie’s presence to Riley … the man she now knew was also his childe and lover.

Despite the warm water flowing over her, Buffy shivered at the thought of Spike and Riley as lovers. A knife twisted in her gut, she tried to stop thinking about it. She couldn’t. It was like trying to look away from a horror movie: you know you don't want to see any more of it, but you simply can't force your eyes away from it.

Buffy dropped down onto her knees under the warm spray of the shower and sobbed. Her counterpart failed Spike in this world, failed all her friends really – failed Dawn. Her heart ached for them all, but for Spike more than any. Forced into this life out of guilt and some twisted sense of loyalty to her memory, he’d perhaps sacrificed the most. He could’ve easily turned his back on them all; the world was full of demons now, or at least this part of the world. He could’ve run amok, gone back to his old ways, left a trail destruction and mayhem in his wake. With the exception of Dawn, who was comatose, there was no one left that expected anything better from William the Bloody. No one except William the Bloody himself.

There were plenty of dead and dying humans that he could’ve fed from, even with the chip. He could’ve simply formed an alliance with some of the Jacks or other lesser demons to kill the humans for him so he could feed, or just stolen their kills … it would’ve been a simple enough thing. He’d shown his ability to best them not twenty-four hours ago; he’d dusted one of the Jacks that very first night. He could’ve become their leader, their king – he could’ve ruled the underworld. He didn’t. He stayed. He helped. He fought. He kept his promise.

“Mom?” Annie called softly as she came back into the shower area, a towel was twisted up around her long, wet hair like a turban and another wrapped around her body. “Mom? Are you okay?” she asked gently as she walked closer to Buffy.

Buffy tried to sniff back her tears, clear her throat, and swallow the anguish back as she nodded. “I’m … fine,” she stammered, her voice cracking. She was clearly lying.

Annie went down onto her knees next to her mother, soaking the towels around her body as she laid a comforting hand on Buffy's shoulder. “It’ll be alright, Mama,” Annie offered solemnly.

Buffy squeezed her eyes closed, but couldn’t stop the sob that escaped her throat even as she tried to nod her agreement. She didn’t want her daughter to see her like this. She needed to stay strong for her.

“It’ll be alright,” Annie repeated. “Spike’ll help us get home,” the girl assured her as she wrapped her arm further around Buffy’s shoulders.

Buffy nodded again but couldn’t force any words past the lump in her throat. She should be the one saying that to Annie. She should be the one comforting her daughter, not the other way around. As they sat on the cool floor of the shower, Buffy drew her girl into a tight hug. The Slayer’s tears continued to fall, mixing with the water that poured over them and flowing like so many raindrops down the drain and out to the ocean.

“I love you, baby,” Buffy finally choked out. “Love you so much.”

“I love you too, Mama. Please don’t cry.”

**~**

When they emerged from the locker room, Spike was waiting for them in the hallway. He pushed off the wall where he'd been leaning and regarded Buffy – she’d been crying, he knew. Her red-rimmed, swollen eyes would’ve given it away, even if he couldn’t smell the salty tears still on her skin. A knife twisted in his chest; he never wanted to be the source of her tears and he was sure that he was, at least partly.



He swallowed and cleared his throat. “I … uhhh … thought you might want t’ see Dawn before supper,” he offered, his voice gentle.

Buffy gave him a small smile and nodded. “Sure. Let’s do that.”

Dawn had the largest room by far, despite the fact that she’d never awoken after going into shock nearly ten years ago. The room was clean, hospital clean, and smelled of Lysol and ammonia, two of Buffy’s favorite scents … not. There was a television, the first Buffy had seen, on the wall at the foot of the bed. An episode of 'Star Trek: The Next Generation' played on it, the volume low, just barely audible. Buffy realized it was from a DVD player, not a TV signal they were picking up. There was a small cot off to one side; Buffy thought it was perhaps for a nurse, but then realized it was more likely Spike’s.

Dawn’s skin was pasty-grey. If not for the even rise and fall of her chest, she would’ve looked dead. They had been forced to cut her hair short; it was simply too hard to keep it detangled and clean otherwise. It looked dull, brittle, and lifeless, not the shiny, bouncing, silky tresses she’d had before. Despite the small feeding tube running into her nose, she looked thin to Buffy; Dawn had never been heavy, but now she looked gaunt, her muscles atrophied. There were special boots on her feet that kept her ankles bent as if she were standing. Spike explained it was to keep her ankles from freezing straight and her toes from curling unnaturally; this way, when she did wake up, she would be able to stand properly. Her caretaker took the boots off each day and worked her ankles, feet, and knees, making sure they all kept some range of motion.  

Buffy stepped closer and laid her hand on Dawn’s shoulder. Spike held Annie back a couple of feet to give Buffy a little space. The girl from the Wish-World that had helped her, the only one that actually believed her, came back to Buffy’s mind and she smiled despite the moisture pooling in her eyes again. Despite Dawn leaving her alone after Buffy had killed Hallie, a human at the time, Buffy was sure that she would have never even gotten out of the crazy ward at Bedlam if it hadn’t been for her sister. Dawn had been brave and smart. She’d shown a ton of moxy and risked everything to help Buffy; Buffy wanted to find a way to return the favor.

“Dawn?” Buffy ventured softly. “Dawnie? It’s Buffy … I’m here. Can you hear me? Dawnie?”



But Dawn didn’t flinch or move, not a muscle twitched, her breathing didn’t change. Nothing happened.

Spike’s heart fell. He was so hopeful that having Buffy back would bring the Niblett out of it. If she could just hear Buffy’s voice, feel her sister’s touch, the girl would wake up. He thought God had finally tossed him a small crumb for his years of sacrifice for the greater good, but no. Apparently the Biggest Bad’s twisted sense of humor was still firmly intact.

Buffy turned to Spike and gave him an apologetic look as she shook her head slightly. Spike nodded and dropped his eyes to the floor. He would have to face facts. Dawn wasn’t going to wake up. For all intents and purposes, he’d been protecting a corpse for ten years … a breathing corpse.

“Can I … try?” Annie offered shyly. She was really curious to see this girl that was like her – the Key. Since she’d first been able to understand the ramifications of her Keyness, she’d always felt a little bit like a freak because of it. She couldn’t tell anyone about it or talk about it outside of her family; not even her best friend Janice knew. Now, here was someone that was just like her – it was practically a miracle. She felt an immediate kindredness towards Dawn and wished more than anything that she could talk to her.

“Sure, honey,” Buffy agreed, taking a step back.

Annie stepped up and studied Dawn’s face, then gently brushed back a few strands of short, brunette hair from the other girl’s forehead. Buffy’s sister looked so fragile that it made Annie afraid to touch her too hard lest she bruise. The comatose girl’s skin was so pale that Annie could see the blue blood vessels running like lines on a roadmap just under the surface. There was no movement from Dawn other than the steady rise and fall of her chest with slow, shallow breaths.

“Hi,” Annie whispered to her. “I’m Annie. The monks made me too … I’m a Key, just like you.”

Annie watched for any signs of comprehension on Dawn’s face, but didn’t see any. She forged ahead. “My mom died fighting Glory just like your sister did … but Dad and aunt Willow brought her back. I don’t really remember ‘cos I was just little, but Dad always tells me the story so it’s almost like I remember.

“Spike really loves you and would really love you to wake up,” Annie continued. “If you woke up, he wouldn’t be so sad and … my mom’s here. It would almost be like having your sister back … it would be like she came back to life, like my mom did.”

Annie stopped and waited. She brushed her fingertips lightly across Dawn’s cheek, but still nothing happened.

“I’d really love you to wake up too,” Annie admitted at last. “I wish I could talk to you.”

Annie finally sighed and turned around dejectedly. “I guess she doesn’t want to talk,” she told the adults who were standing behind her waiting.



“It’s ok, honey – it was nice of you to try,” Buffy assured her daughter, pulling her into a hug.

**~**

After spending another fifteen minutes with the comatose girl, Spike, Buffy, and Annie emerged from Dawn’s room. In the hallway Spike announced, “Here come your mates … Glinda and Harris,” tilting his head towards the approaching couple.

Buffy looked down the hallway in the direction he indicated and furrowed her brow. She quickly looked the other way, but there was no one there, so she looked back.

A pair of what looked like gladiators strode deliberately towards them. The man had long, wavy, dark brown hair pulled back from his face into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. His face was stern and his features chiseled. There was a firm set to his jaw and his face was bisected by an angry scar that ran from his right temple down to his lips, which were nothing more than a thin, hard line. His brown eyes looked old and calloused, as if they’d seen too many horrors in their life. Although not as tall as Riley, Xander’s body was just as cut, and the muscles of his arms bulged against the once-red, now faded to auburn, t-shirt he wore under an army-green flack-jacket. A cross-bow rested against his back within easy reach, the strap slung across his chest. Near his right hand on his belt he had a stun gun, on his left side there was a scabbard with a stake. In his left hand he carried a heavy, double-headed axe. It swung dangerously close to his leg, but he didn’t seem to notice the danger. His walk was purposeful; there was no meandering or light joviality to it. He appeared to be a warrior on a mission.

The woman with him was just a little shorter than Xander. Her light brown hair had been cut in a bob and hung barely to her shoulders. If she’d been taller, Buffy would’ve thought her an Amazon woman. The muscles of her arms, although not nearly as large as Xander’s, were equally defined, and her body was lean and hard. She was, in a word, svelte. Her large, blue eyes seemed to be in constant motion, as if scanning the landscape for danger. Her features held no scars, but there was a haunted appearance to her, giving the impression that, like Xander, Tara had seen too many horrors in her life. It appeared that she wore just a flack-jacket on top, but Buffy realized she had a white ribbed tank top on under it when they got closer. Tara had a sword strapped across her back, the hilt within easy reach above her left shoulder. The end of the sword’s sheath tapped on something metal that Buffy couldn’t see at the back of her belt and made a metallic ‘tinging’ sound with every step. Like Xander, Tara had a wooden stake in a scabbard and a stun gun strapped to her belt. Despite her shorter legs, her stride matched his purposeful pace step for step.

They both wore army-green fatigue pants and heavy black boots, but unlike Riley, their steps were light and nearly silent, even in the safety of the base camp. Without vampire strength, they had learned to rely on cunning and stealth to survive the years they’d spent battling the demons.

“Spike, we’ve got some problems …” Xander started as the two warriors approached the trio in the hallway. “Something’s up with the Reds, they’re…” Xander stopped midsentence as he looked at the person standing next to Spike.

His eyes narrowed as he studied Buffy’s face, then looked down her body slowly, as if looking for clues to her identity, and finally looked back at her face. “When did Warren fix the Bot? I thought we were out of parts… We could’ve used her today – the damn Reds tried to burn down The House. We took a few out, but it’s nearly destroyed. We radioed in, but Andrew said you were out.”

“I know about the bloody house, I was in it,” Spike informed him. “Not the Bot, Harris – it’s Buffy; flesh and bone.”



“What are you talking about, Spike? Did you get a hold of some of those funny mushrooms again? You know what they do to you,” Xander started with a scolding tone.

Spike’s brows shot up as he drew back his fist and punched Xander hard in the mouth. Buffy’s eyes went wide and she backed up a step, pulling Annie with her. To her surprise, Xander didn’t react or retaliate; he just wiped the blood from his lip and looked at Spike like nothing had happened.

“Not the Bot,” Spike stated again, his voice firm. “This is Buffy – not our Buffy, o’ course, but one that’s dropped in on us for a bit of a 'oliday. Brought ‘er daughter with her – Anne Joyce.”

Xander turned his eyes back to Buffy, finally noticing the girl that was now behind the Slayer. “You’re what’s got the Reds all crazy,” he realized. “The scent of a Slayer. Great, just what we need,” he groaned, throwing his hands in the air in frustration.

Buffy furrowed her brow. That was it? That was her big ‘welcome back from the dead’ from the man that had been one of her best friends since high school?

“Yeah,” Spike confirmed. “Get cleaned up – you can brief me over supper.”

“Right,” Xander agreed and turned to leave.

Buffy stuck her hand out and grabbed his arm. “Xander, it’s me – it’s really Buffy,” she offered.



Xander nodded. “Yeah, I get it,” he told her coldly before pulling free and heading down the hallway.

Buffy turned her eyes to Tara. “Tara, I …”

There seemed to a slight softening in the white witch’s blue eyes. A flicker of emotion that Buffy couldn’t identify darted over the witch’s face, but then was quickly replaced with a mask of indifference. “Don’t worry about him, he’s just cranky. He gets that way when the demons start getting antsy,” Tara advised. There was no stuttering to her words, just a calm confidence as she explained Xander’s actions.

“Or when the bloody sun doesn’t shine,” Spike added tersely.

Tara shrugged her agreement of Spike’s assessment, an almost-smile briefly touched just the corners of her mouth.

“See you at supper, then,” Tara ducked her head and excused herself, then hurried to catch up with Xander.

“What’s wrong with them?” Buffy asked Spike when they were out of earshot.



“I told you before, Buffy, the people here aren’t the people you knew. Don’t expect them to be. None of us.”

“Are they … together?”

Spike snorted harshly. “They ‘aven’t changed that much. Leopards don’t change their spots, Slayer. Misery just loves company, I reckon … they fight together – that's the long and short of it.”

Buffy nodded sadly and looked down the hall in the direction they’d gone. She watched Xander enter one room and Tara another. They were both alone. Just like Spike, they’d both lost the people they’d loved and all they were left with were faded memories to keep them company.

**~**

Buffy and Annie sat in silence as they ate supper in the cafeteria. The large room was empty save for the core leaders, the other inhabitants of the base camp having eaten earlier. Spike sat at the head of the table with Riley to his right and Xander to his left. Tara sat next to Xander and Warren next to Riley. Annie and Buffy shared the other end of the table from Spike, which she understood was normally Oz’s place when he was ‘in camp’.

She and Annie practically inhaled the spaghetti and meat sauce that was the main course … well, the only course. They were both starving after having nothing but a couple of cans of vegetables to sustain them over the last twenty-four hours. Buffy watched as everyone at the table related their experiences and observations of the day, not so much to the other members of the team, but mainly to Spike. It was clear he was the leader of this band of misfits, and apparently he led with an iron fist, as he’d demonstrated when Xander questioned his lucidity earlier.

Buffy tried to follow what they were talking about, but there were so many demon names that she didn’t understand and names of places that she didn’t know, that she really couldn’t keep up. She did realize that most everyone called the Jacks ‘Reds’ – except Spike who now called them ‘Jacks’, causing a bit of confusion for a few minutes. The gist of it, she realized, was that her presence here had incited the Jacks, the giant vampire bats, which, thankfully everyone just called ‘bats’, and the Turok-Han, which the group often called the ‘Big Uglies’. Apparently all the demons in town were now looking for her in earnest.  

“It’s only a matter of time before they track the Slayer here,” Xander was advising Spike. “We need to get her back to wherever she came from before they figure it out.”

“Not sure how easy that’s gonna be t’ do. The portal’s apparently ‘bout twenty feet over Bob’s pit at ground zero. Gonna have to build a platform … a ladder or somethin’ to get them back up there,” Spike informed Xander.

“Ummm …” Buffy interrupted, raising her hand. “Who’s Bob?”

Spike turned his eyes from Xander down the table to look at her. “The overgrown ant lion … Bob the Bug.”

“You … named the demon bug?” Buffy asked incredulously. “He almost killed us!”



Spike shrugged. “Consider ‘im an ally – as long as you aren’t daft enough t’ fall in, he’s no threat. Taken out a good number ‘o demons over the years, he has. We don’t mess with 'im, he don’t mess with us. Works out brilliantly.”

“Oh,” was the only thing Buffy could think to say to that, still slightly taken aback by the fact that they had named the bug.

“Is the portal still open?” Warren wondered. He made Buffy’s skin crawl. He hadn’t changed at all. He still looked like the geeky, weasel-y jerk that killed both his girlfriend, Katrina, and Tara in the other dimension. Buffy had no problem not trusting him.

“No, it closed on its own when they popped through,” Spike answered him.

“How will they re-open it?” Warren continued, looking down the table at Buffy while they talked about her like she wasn’t even there.

“Hello! ‘They’ are right here! Annie’s …” she began to answer his question, but Spike cut her off.

“They’ve got a way – it’s none of your concern,” Spike stated unequivocally, narrowing his eyes at Buffy and silently telling her to ‘shut her gob’ about Annie. Trust no one.

“Great … so we have to build another tower while fighting off the bats, the Reds, and the Big Uglies. Another day in paradise,” Xander actually quipped, although the tone of his voice was flat, holding no humor at all.

“Uhhh … could the Slayer say something?” Buffy questioned and all eyes turned to her. “Maybe, instead of trying to get rid of me, you could use me to kill the bad guys. I am the Slayer, after all, it’s kind of a thing I do.”

“Oh, right,” Spike spoke up. “Like you killed ‘em yesterday? Seems to me I had to save your ass from being eaten.”

Buffy harrumphed and crossed her arms over her chest. “I didn’t have any weapons then. I didn’t know the rules had changed and you had to poke the Jacks in the eye to dust them. I’m still the Slayer and, as I recall, I kicked your skinny ass pretty handily,” she retorted haughtily.

Everyone drew in a breath and held it as they looked back at Spike with wide eyes.

“Would you excuse us a mo'?  Need a word with the Slayer,” Spike’s voice rumbled deeply and everyone but Buffy and Annie jumped up from the table and cleared the room as if someone had yelled ‘Fire!’



Spike stood up slowly and stalked down to the end of the table where Buffy and Annie sat. He leaned down, putting one hand on the table in front of her and one on the back of Buffy’s chair. “You’re new here and you don’t know the rules, so I’m gonna let this one slide, Slayer. But don’t ever … ever talk to me like that again, ya got it? It took a bloody long time for me to gain their respect and when you’re long gone, off skipping through a flowery meadow with your sweet little blondie bear, I’ll still be here, fighting – keeping m’ promise.”

“You’ve changed,” Buffy informed him, meeting his gaze defiantly.

“Told ya that before, Slayer.”

Maybe Spike didn’t understand her statement – she didn’t mean he’d changed since before she died, she meant he’d changed in just the last couple of hours. He’d changed since he’d told her the story of Riley’s demise and admitted their … relationship. Was that the reason for his change or was it because she couldn’t wake Dawn up?

Buffy’s heart grew cold under his gaze. He seemed to be stabbing icicles into her soul with the frostiness that had formed in his normally warm eyes. An involuntarily shiver ran through her. “Why?” she asked as she searched his eyes for some hint of the teasing and protective Spike that had been with her and Annie the last twenty-four hours.

“Private party?” came a voice from the doorway, interrupting them, and Spike stood up, never taking his stern gaze off Buffy.

“No, c’mon in – bring the other gits with ya,” Spike addressed the voice without looking.

When the blond vamp finally moved back to his place at the head of the table, the others were coming back through the door. The new voice, she realized, was Oz.

Out of habit, Oz headed to his spot at the end of the table, but stopped short when he realized someone was already sitting there. He stared at Buffy a moment, then at Annie. His nose seemed to twitch, as if he were picking their scent out of the air, but his stoic expression never changed. His appearance hadn’t changed much either; his red hair was longer, shaggier and he had a thin beard covering his face. He wore a bright teal bowling shirt and loose-fitting jeans over a pair of black Converse All-Stars – he looked like he was just getting in from playing a gig at the Bronze.

“It’s really Buffy,” Xander offered.

“Yeah, I pretty much get that,” Oz replied dryly as he turned his attention to the empty table next to them and pulled another chair over.

Without any other question about where Buffy had come from or why she was here, Oz turned and addressed Spike. “Octopussy’s back,” Oz stated, as if that was the most natural thing in the world to say.

Spike nodded. “Just one?”



“Looks like. Going for the Olga Maersk this time.”

Spike nodded thoughtfully, steepling his fingers and resting his chin on them. Buffy thought he looked like a broody Angel when he did that, but resisted the urge to say so lest she provoke another scolding.

“Going after the food supply. Smart,” he finally offered before looking at Tara.

“Think you can mojo it away again, Glinda?”

Tara shrugged. “Should be able to.”

“Brilliant. We’ll go tomorrow, then,” Spike summarized as he began to stand up and adjourn the meeting, it had been a long day.

“Got more,” Oz stopped him.

Spike settled back into his chair and looked at the smaller man expectantly.

“Reds are trying to conjure something, not sure what. Demon conjuring never ends well,” Oz related.

“Where?” Spike asked.

“Mexican Reefer, aft starboard hold,” Oz supplied and Spike nodded again as if Oz had actually spoken the Queen’s English.

“We’ll check it out at the same time then. Be ready at noon,” he told the group standing up and heading out of the room without another word, Riley following behind him like a puppy.

“Hey,” Oz offered belatedly to Buffy as if she was someone he saw every day.



“Hey,” she replied. Taking the risk of sounding like a naïve ten year old, she asked, “What’s a Mexican reefer?”

“A ship.”

“Oh … why do you call it that? Do you store your stash on it or something?”

“That’s its name – big letters on the back, kinda in the middle,” Oz explained, holding his hands up as if to frame the name in the middle.

“Oh. Interesting name. Well, that’s a good policy then … calling things by their actual names like that so everyone can understand.”

Oz shrugged noncommittally. “Well, we tried using totally different names for things, but it didn’t really work out.”

Buffy nodded. “What are the demons trying to conjure?”

Oz shook his head. “Dunno.”

“Have they conjured things before?” she wondered.

“Yeah.”

“And it never ends well…” Buffy supplied.

“Never,” Oz agreed.

Buffy sighed. Talking to Oz was like talking to a dictionary with all but one page ripped out.

“Buffy?” Tara interrupted their tantalizing, in-depth conversation.

“Yeah?” Buffy turned her eyes to the woman.

“Spike asked me to get you and Annie a room … you’re probably tired.”

Buffy smiled and nodded. “Not sure that ‘tired’ begins to define it,” she agreed, standing up stiffly and grabbing Annie’s hand.

“Breakfast is at seven … but if you miss it you can get something from the pantry. I think there’re pickled beets and … oh, green beans in there,” Tara offered, waving a hand towards a door that, handily, said ‘Pantry’ on it.

“Two of our favorites,” Buffy quipped with fake enthusiasm.

“We’re running kinda low on the canned goods,” Tara offered as explanation. “Maybe we can get more tomorrow after we take care of these problems down at the docks.”

“What’s an Octopussy?” Buffy asked as she followed Tara to their room.

“It’s a big demon that looks like an octopus. The guys just like to say ‘Octopussy’ … they’re perpetually twelve,” Tara explained rolling her eyes.

“Big as in … like a submarine big?” Buffy asked as bells started blaring in her brain.

“Yeah, I guess. It’s pretty big.”

“And you ‘mojo it away’? Where do you mojo them away to?” Buffy wondered, although she was starting to think she knew.

“Not sure … Willow had a spell she’d come up with to try on Glory. It was supposed to send her to another dimension and get her out of our hair. She never had a chance to finish it or try it, though. I tweaked it a little and use it for the really big demons that we can’t fight.”

“To get them out of your hair,” Buffy added. “And … what? Drop them into someone else’s? That could give someone a really bad hair day.”

Tara shrugged. “I don’t think they really go to another dimension, I don’t have the power that Willow did. I think they just get dropped over by Japan or something. The Japanese should appreciate them. They’re used to having their cities destroyed by giant monsters – haven’t you ever seen ‘Godzilla’ or ‘Rodan’?”

Buffy rolled her eyes. This girl wasn’t the Tara she knew. For one thing, the Tara she knew wouldn’t use magic without knowing the consequences. Spike’s words rang in her ears, They’ve changed. We all have.

“You think? You don’t know?” Buffy asked more harshly than she intended.

“Hey – I’m helping here,” Tara defended. “I didn’t give up and commit suicide by taking a nose dive off the tower like some people!”

“What?!” Buffy exclaimed as she stopped and turned to face the white witch. “Is that what you think she did? Is that what everyone here thinks?”



“Well, it’s true, isn’t it? You saw the portal opening, all the demons pouring in, and you just didn’t want to deal. I saw it myself just before the tower fell on me, you just jumped off the gangplank.”

“No! No! That’s not what happened at all! I … she … Buffy jumped into the portal to close it,” Buffy defended. “I did it to save you all!” she added, tired of trying to find the right pronoun to use for someone that was her, but not.

Tara snorted softly. “Yeah, well … good work with that,” she sniffed derisively and turned on her heel, leaving Buffy and Annie standing in front of what was apparently, their room: directly across the hall from Spike and Riley’s.

**~**

“What’s wrong with everyone?” Annie asked as they ducked past the heavy quilt that hung over the opening and into their room.

Buffy shook her head and sighed. “They … they’ve been through a lot,” she told her daughter. “They aren’t the same as the people we know. We just need to try and get home – soon.”

“Even dad … I mean, Spike, is being all mean. He wasn’t like that earlier,” Annie pointed out. “He didn’t talk to me at all … and he never said ‘luv’ or ‘pet’ one time since we came in this place.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what’s got him all bad-moody,” Buffy admitted with a frown.



“I never heard Dad talk to you like that before … I mean he was so …” Annie’s voice trailed off as she tried to figure out what it was that was different. She’d heard her parents fight before, of course, but today at dinner it was somehow different.

“Cold,” Buffy provided, knowing exactly what Annie was talking about.

Annie shrugged. “Yeah,” she agreed.

Buffy let out a long breath. “I don’t know – I’m too tired now to try and figure it out. Let’s get some sleep, ok – tomorrow’s another day.”

“Can I ask you one more thing?” Annie pressed on.

“Sure, honey.”

“Is Spike … ummm … is he like … gay?”

Buffy took a deep breath in through her mouth and blew it out through her nose trying to figure out how to answer that question. “No.” It was a cop-out. It was all she could manage in her exhaustion. She hoped Annie would drop it.

“So …. he’s just friends with that Riley guy?” Annie continued in earnest, her look was doubtful.

Buffy sighed. “No … not exactly.”

“I don’t understand. I don’t think Spike loves him. He never says nice things to him. And, isn’t Spike supposed to be just like Dad? Dad’s not gay,” she asserted. “Plus – he loved Buffy … so …”

“It’s complicated, honey. They … He …” Buffy stammered, unsure what to tell her, then repeated, “It’s complicated.”

Annie scrunched her face up in frustration. “I’m not eleven anymore,” she asserted in annoyance.

“I know that. I know you’re old enough to understand – I just wish I was old enough to explain it to you,” Buffy admitted, rubbing tiredly at her eyes.

Annie gave her a disbelieving look.

“He … Ok, ummm … Riley’s a vampire,” Buffy tried again. “And so is Spike. And so they … paired up. They have … something in common and so ...” Buffy stopped and sighed. “Honey, I think he was just lonely, and in this world Riley is the one person he feels like he has some kind of connection with. Spike’s not gay … he’s just … I guess … open-minded.”

“He’s bi?” Annie asked, surprising Buffy. “Is Dad bi, too?!” Annie continued, her voice growing strained, as her brain whirled with that possibility.



“Where did you learn that?” Buffy asked her daughter, ignoring the second question completely.

Anne shrugged. “I’m twelve. I hear things.”

“Yes you do,” Buffy agreed with a slight groan. “Can we go to sleep now? I’m really tired.”

It didn’t escape Annie’s notice that her mom hadn’t answered her question about her dad. That fact, in and of itself, was an answer. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. It was weird enough to think about your parents having sex, but to think about something like that? To think about them having sex with someone else? Someone else of the same gender? It was all, well … very squicky.

How did two people of the same gender have sex, exactly? Her mom hadn’t covered that in ‘the talk’ and Anya’s book hadn’t shown that, either. Of course, her mom forgot the cramps thing in ‘the talk’ too. Annie was starting to think they needed another talk.

Finally realizing she would get no more information from her mom on this subject, Annie nodded. Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, “If Buffy was here, he wouldn’t be with Riley. He still loves her. He told me so.”

Buffy nodded sadly. “Yeah, that’s probably true.”

**~**

Buffy noted that Spike had put her scythe, which she’d left in his room earlier, atop the empty dresser in this room. She picked it up and looked under it, sort of hoping for a little note or something from him, but was disappointed to find nothing. She rolled her eyes at her own childish expectation – he wasn’t her Spike; he was Riley’s. Of course he wouldn’t be leaving little notes to, for example, tell her why he was acting like an ass or apologize to her or ask her to meet him somewhere so they could talk in private. Nevertheless, she felt a distinct feeling of loss. She missed the Spike that had been with them on Revello and on the trip to and from the vineyard and wished he'd come back.

Not finding any pajamas or even any other clothes in the room, the two took off their shoes and jeans and climbed into the one double bed in their shirts and undies. Buffy lay on her back, Annie cuddled up next to her and the girl fell asleep almost immediately. Buffy wasn’t so lucky. The day’s events kept rolling around in her brain as she tried to figure out what made Spike change so drastically. She thought about Spike’s story about turning Riley, her argument with him about it – maybe that was it. Then there was his admission of being lovers with the turned soldier; that was still a bit freaky for Buffy. Although she and Spike rarely talked about his time with Angelus, Dru, and Darla, the little he had said led her to believe he and Angelus had had sex more than once. But Riley? Spike loathed Riley. Of course, Spike loathed Angel, too.



Buffy begged her brain to stop. She needed rest; there was no telling what tomorrow would bring and she needed to be sharp. Just as her brain began to quiet and her eyes closed she heard the unmistakable sound of Spike moaning her name. Her eyes shot open and she looked around their room, but she and Annie were alone. Then she heard it again along with the equally unmistakable sound of love-making.

“Oh God…” she muttered as the volume of the moans and grunts and sounds of flesh slapping against flesh increased. She could hear her name being uttered, moaned, growled, not just by Spike but by Riley too, as the tempo of the slapping flesh quickened and the guttural groans grew louder.



Buffy covered her ears with her hands and closed her eyes, but all she saw when she did that was Spike and Riley … naked, together, flesh on flesh. She opened them again in a flash and concentrated on looking at a clock that sat on a table near the bed. It was the only light she could see in the dark of the room. The last thing she expected tonight was them going all Brokeback Mountain on her. It was one thing to be told they were lovers, quite another to experience it like this. She began to hum, trying anything to get the sound of the two men, who, according to Spike, both saw her when they closed their eyes, out of her brain. Unfortunately, the only song that came to mind for her to hum was ‘I Touch Myself’. This was sooo not working.

Buffy heard Spike’s roar of release and felt her own panties dampen and her channel begin to throb just from the sound. She was infuriated with herself for letting him get to her that way and tears of frustration stung her eyes. She tried to tell herself that it was only a natural response to hearing what sounded like her husband when he was with her; she was Pavlov’s dog … or, apparently, Spike’s dog. It wasn’t like she was cheating on her husband or lusting after some other man, she assured herself; her lust was for her husband. That sounded good until she reminded herself that it wasn’t her husband across the hall having sex with Riley. She gave up trying to tell herself anything, she was just getting more confused about the whole thing.

She no sooner took her hands away from her ears than the groans and growls started anew.  The sounds of violent, slurping kisses then what she knew was a sloppy wet, passionate blow-job made their way to her ears as both men moaned in pleasure. She could hear Spike murmuring her name again, his voice a low, rich purr over Riley's moans, and wished to whatever passed for God in this dimension to just make it stop.

“Please stop…” Buffy begged the empty room as she tried to get the unbidden visual of the two vamps out of her mind. She hadn't actually realized she'd spoken aloud.

“What?” Annie called sleepily and Buffy nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Nothing, honey – go back to sleep now,” Buffy cooed as she prayed that Annie didn’t wake up enough to actually focus on the sounds coming from across the hall. She was twelve, after all, as she herself had informed Buffy earlier: she heard things.

Buffy leaned her head down near Annie’s ear and began to softly sing to her, as she tried to get her daughter back to sleep and cover up the sounds which were now growing louder again. She needed a different song than the one running around in her head … she dug deep and finally found it.

“♫ Early one morning, just as the sun was rising, I heard a maid sing in the valley below: ‘Oh don't deceive me, Oh never leave me, How could you use a poor maiden so?’♫”

**~**

Three hours and thirteen minutes later the sounds finally stopped filtering into her brain and body from across the hall. Buffy could’ve told you how many seconds, too, if the clock on the bedside table had displayed them. She’d never thought she’d miss the ear-splitting sounds of silence that she’d endured the previous night, but during those three hours and thirteen minutes she would’ve given her soul for it.

At nearly two am, Buffy finally, thankfully, fell asleep…



Buffy was swimming in an ocean of crystal-clear water – she was under the water, but could breathe fine as she twirled, dove, and ascended as if she was flying weightlessly. She felt like a mermaid – without the scaly, annoying tail, as the water skimmed over her bare skin and caressed her body with its silky fingers. When she turned around, Spike was with her and she laughed in delight as he chased her in the warm water. They passed colorful coral and darted in and out of brightly-lit caves with the glee of children. Spike’s alabaster skin shone in the reflected light of the sun above them like the luster of a perfect pearl; his muscles rippled when he moved, drawing Buffy’s fingers like magnets.

Buffy let her hands and fingers drift lazily across Spike’s back as he swam back and forth below her. She was reminded of a trip to Sea World and the dolphin petting area. Their skin was just as smooth as silk and Spike’s felt the same way under her palms … although she didn’t have to buy any little dead fish to feed Spike to make him come up to be petted. That was a plus. Spike turned over and began swimming on his back as Buffy’s hands roamed over the hard muscles of his chest and down his body, following the ‘V’ that formed under his navel and raking lightly over his erection.

Spike moaned in pleasure as he swam back and forth effortlessly in the warm, clear water. The lovely sea creature poured bliss over him with her touch, and he drank it in greedily. She was magnificent. Her hair fanned out in the waves like a golden waterfall, ebbing and flowing all around her beautiful face. Her touch was so light, he could barely tell it from the water washing over him. But where she touched him his skin tingled as if she were made of magic and was transferring it to him through her fingertips.

Spike suddenly lunged up towards her and captured her lips in a passionate kiss as he wrapped his arms around her. His hands roamed up and down her body, from her firm, bare butt, over the swell of her hips and up to the supple roundness of her breasts as he ravaged her lips with his. The pair twirled in the sparkling water as sunlight poured down on them from high above, filtering through the waves and creating ripples of light and shadow on their bare flesh.



“So wet you are,” Spike murmured to her as his finger slid between her pussy lips, probing her soft, slick folds gently.

Buffy moaned in pleasure when he touched her aching, throbbing pussy. So hungry for him … ravenous, craving his cock, longing for him to fill her. His finger slipped into her – no, not enough. His thumb found her clit and teased it with the touch of a ghost – no, not enough. More. She needed more.

Suddenly Spike pulled away, gave her a teasing smirk, and began to swim down away from her. No – don’t go! Buffy dove after him, her whole body undulated powerfully as she cut through the water. Spike darted into a wide, dark cave. She followed. The passage narrowed and then brightened; it wasn’t a cave, it was a hallway … smooth and sterile. White floors, white ceiling, white walls. Then she lost him. She was in a maze of colorful quilts and blankets and curtains that hung from nothing within the white cave, still under the water, still swimming and breathing. Where did he go?

Then, there he was, looking out from behind one of the blankets, smiling at her, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief and desire. Buffy pulled the blanket down and dropped it onto the white floor as she started towards him, but then stopped short. There wasn’t one but two Spikes waiting for her behind the blanket.

They swam around her like sprites as she stood on the blanket and watched, transfixed by them – seemingly identical in every way. Then they began darting in closer, touching her, raking their ghostly fingers over her back, her legs, her stomach, her breasts. She moaned and raised her arms up, opening herself to them. Yes, touch me. And they did. Lips and hands, magical fingers and gentle palms touched her seemingly everywhere at once and she exploded in the ecstasy of it.



Her body arched and shuddered as the two Spikes made love to her skin: kissing, licking, biting, nibbling, pinching, caressing, pulling, stroking. Their mouths and lips were soft and sweet as they both roamed over her, inch by glorious inch, their teeth hard and unforgiving as they nibbled and bit at her soft flesh. Their hands at times gentle and loving, at other times rough and brutal – it all combined into a beautiful symphony of rapture.

Buffy was flying. Flying in a sea of passion and yearning and these two kept her soaring higher and higher as they built her hunger and desire for them past anything she’d felt before.

“Take me!” she screamed at them finally, unable to wait another second for the feel of Spike’s hard manhood pressing into her.

“Take us both, kitten,” Spike murmured into her ear. “I want to feel him inside you, pumping you, ravishing you. Want to see the pleasure of him on your face… I want his cum filling you.”

And Buffy wanted nothing less. “Yes,” she accepted eagerly, breathlessly before capturing his lips with hers. She stroked his cock roughly with her hand and it hardened even more under her touch.

The Spike that had spoken pulled her down onto the blanket at their feet with him, which didn’t so much seem to be on a hard floor as floating in the water, which still surrounded them. With practiced ease, Buffy mounted him and guided Spike’s rock-hard erection into her yearning pussy. She gasped in pleasure as he entered her, his manhood stretching her and filling her with utter bliss.



She moaned deeply as he circled her nipples delicately with his fingers, sending chill bumps racing over her skin. Then silent-Spike was behind her, pressing her body forward, lowering himself down to their level. Buffy shuddered in anticipation as he slid his cock down her crack, pausing at her puckered hole before gently pushing in.

“Oh God…” was the only thought that formed in her mind or crossed her lips as she felt them both begin to move inside her. She locked her eyes with the Spike that was below her, she could see the ecstasy he was feeling reflected in his face. Passion and desire sparkled in his blue eyes as he looked up into hers and seeing that lifted her own pleasure even higher.

The Spike behind her gathered a handful of her flowing hair into one hand and pulled her head back, forcing her back to arch and lifting her ass up higher to him. The Spike below her dug his fingers painfully into her hips and pulled her back down to his level. For a moment the two fought for control – one pulling her up, the other pulling her down even as they both pumped their cocks into her. Buffy cried out from the pain and pleasure they were inflicting on her body, a dizzying combination that sent her senses reeling. She at once wanted it to stop and wanted it to continue – how high could they take her with it?

After few moments the two men seemed to find peace with each other and the painful tugging and fighting over her body eased. She was at once disappointed and relieved.

Buffy looked back down at the Spike below her. He was watching her with an adoration she’d seen in his eyes many times, but this time there was something more – she couldn’t put her finger on it – it was almost a look of worship, if she had to put a word to it.

“Can you feel him?” she asked softly, hoping he could feel a small amount of what she could. It was beyond anything she’d ever felt before.

The Spike beneath her smiled, a look of wonderment spreading over his features as he bit down on his bottom lip with his teeth and nodded. “Yeah, kitten … bloody brilliant, it is. Feel him movin’ in ya … God, Buffy … fucking amazin’.”

And Buffy agreed … amazing…

They had done this before with a vibrator taking the place of one of the Spikes, of course, but this … this was completely different. The feeling of not just their cocks inside her, but their hard bodies rubbing against her took it to a whole other level. The feel of their flesh against hers, their moans, how they both now called her name … it was astonishing, incredible … absolutely breathtaking. Buffy could feel the waves of euphoria building inside her, lifting her up again. She began soaring higher and higher as they both pumped into her harder and faster.

The two Spikes made love to her even as they made love to each other within her. Each could feel the other when they moved, each strived to pleasure the other as much as they were pleasuring Buffy. It was a surreal feeling, as if they were making love to two people at once.

Buffy rode the waves of rapture they were creating in her, letting them set the pace, simply surrendering to her two lovers and getting lost in the sound of their cries, their pleasured moans, and murmured endearments. On some level, she knew this was a dream … nothing more than that. She knew if Freud were here, he’d say it was her subconscious dealing with the three hours and thirteen minutes of male bonding she’d been subjected to. But another part of her, the primal woman inside, was more than happy to give into it, go with it … let it engulf her. After three hours and thirteen minutes of torture, she deserved this gift. She chose to be engulfed.

As her lovers’ tempos rose, so did their cries. The murmured endearments became streaming exclamations to her, to God … to the devil himself. The control they’d been maintaining faltered and they drove into her with unrestrained passion, brutality, and wanton desire. Buffy could hear and feel and see their demons rising up as the pleasure became overwhelming and she let them take her with them – flying through the blazing fires of hell before rising to the billowing sumptuousness of heaven.

The Spike behind her was pulling on her hair again, holding her with it as you’d hold the mane of a wild horse at a gallop, and she tilted her head back to ease the pressure on her scalp. Then the lover below was pulling, twisting, and groping her breasts and nipples roughly, his fingers digging into her supple flesh, and bolts of pleasurable pain shot through her as they carried her closer and closer to nirvana.

“More! Harder!” she demanded of them – she wanted everything they could give her. Every ounce of passion, every drop of desire, every pleasure, every pain they could inflict, she wanted in that moment. She dug her nails into Spike’s shoulders, drawing blood. He responded by slamming into her harder, driving his cock deeper, his pubic bone jarring her clit violently with every fevered thrust.

Buffy felt like they were spinning and spiraling out of control – turning and twisting, burning and freezing, flying then sailing and she couldn’t contain it one more second. Her body tensed between them, her pussy walls tightening painfully around one lover, her ass clenching around the other, as her orgasm exploded and crashed through her body like a runaway train. It was a violent and powerful collision as the pain and the pleasure ran headlong into each other, crushing all sense of time and space and sending her hurtling skyward. Her head snapped back further as her back arched and her soul-piercing scream sent large ripples out through the clear water that surrounded them, washing over her lovers like liquid fire.

Both Spikes roared loud and long as their cum shot into her, their cocks throbbed and pulsed, separated only by the thin veil of their lover’s flesh between them. It seemed impossible that they could actually feel the other’s cum surging into her, filling her, but they could, somehow they could, and it lifted both men even higher than they’d ever been before.

Buffy’s body milked them as she shuddered and quivered around them, over them, under them … surrounding them with her feral passion and darkest, most savage desires. Never before had they known such a woman; she was at once an animal, a visceral, dark creature of the night, and a goddess, a golden nymph, bathed in shimmering sunlight. She was everything to them … their one true love, their one true match in all the world – in all the universe.

Buffy slumped down onto the Spike below her, spent, satiated … dizzy from the heights and power of her orgasm. He wrapped his arms around her as the three of them turned gently over to the side and began floating lazily in the clear water. The lovers were still intertwined, their cocks still buried deep inside her, limbs meshing, tangling around each other. Their spendings dripped from her, covering them both with the juices of the other as well as her own slick honey. Buffy sighed and closed her eyes as strong arms literally engulfed her from all sides, as hard bodies surrounded her in a protective shroud. Safe. Peaceful. Floating secure in the embrace of her lovers. Home.



**~**

{{  Click here to hear S&M by Rhianna on YouTube  }}

Na na na na
Come on, Na na na na
Come on,Na na na na na
Come on,Na na na na
 
Come on, come on, come on
Na na na na
Come on, Na na na na
Come on,Na na na na na
Come on,Na na na na
Come on, come on, come on
Na na na na
 
Feels so good being bad (Oh oh oh oh oh)
There's no way I'm turning back (Oh oh oh oh oh)
Now the pain is my pleasure cause nothing could measure (Oh oh oh oh oh)
 
Love is great, love is fine (Oh oh oh oh oh)
Outta box, outta line (Oh oh oh oh oh)
The affliction of the feeling leaves me wanting more (Oh oh oh oh oh)
 
Cause I may be bad, but I'm perfectly good at it
Sex in the air, I don't care, I love the smell of it
Sticks and stones may break my bones
But chains and whips excite me
 
Cause I may be bad, but I'm perfectly good at it
Sex in the air, I don't care, I love the smell of it
Sticks and stones may break my bones
But chains and whips excite me
 
Na na na na
Come on, come on, come on
I like it-like it
Come on, come on, come on
I like it-like it
Come on, come on, come on
I like it-like it (Na na na)
Come on, come on, come on
I like it-like it
 
Love is great, love is fine (Oh oh oh oh oh)
Outta box, outta line (Oh oh oh oh oh)
The affliction of the feeling leaves me wanting more (Oh oh oh oh oh)
 
Cause I may be bad, but I'm perfectly good at it
Sex in the air, I don't care, I love the smell of it
 
Sticks and stones may break my bones
But chains and whips excite me
 
Na na na na
Come on, come on, come on
I like it-like it
Come on, come on, come on
I like it-like it (Na na na)
Come on, come on, come on
I like it-like it
Come on, come on, come on
I like it-like it
 
S-S-S & M-M-M
S-S-S & M-M-M
 
Oh, I love the feeling you bring to me, oh, you turn me on
It's exactly what I've been yearning for, give it to me strong
And meet me in my boudoir make my body say ah-ah-ah
 
I like it-like it
 
Cause I may be bad, but I'm perfectly good at it
Sex in the air, I don't care, I love the smell of it
Sticks and stones may break my bones
But chains and whips excite me
 
Cause I may be bad, but I'm perfectly good at it
Sex in the air, I don't care, I love the smell of it
Sticks and stones may break my bones
But chains and whips excite me
 
Na na na na
Come on, come on, come on
I like it-like it
Come on, come on, come on
I like it-like it (Na na na)
Come on, come on, come on
I like it-like it
Come on, come on, come on
I like it-like it
 
S-S-S & M-M-M
S-S-S & M-M-M
S-S-S & M-M-M
S-S-S & M-M-M

Early morning hours next day, Sunday, April 17th, 2011, Gift-less Dimension:

Spike woke in the cold, strong arms of his lover, as he’d done for the last ten years, but this time was different. The dream he’d had of a wild, wanton, passionate Buffy warmed him from the inside out. She filled his dreams and fantasies often over the years, that wasn’t so unusual, but this dream was so different from the others that it almost frightened him. She was more than he’d ever before imagined she could be – a dark princess, a passionate lover, an animal. Was it her proximity that had brought on the crazed and brutal dream of her making love not only to him, but his twin? Was her presence here enough to take him to a place that he had never ventured before? Spike shuddered at the memory of the dream and stroked his cock – hard again despite the hours of sex he’d had with Riley earlier.

Spike’s mind wandered as his hand fondled and caressed his erection, swirling the slick pearl of pre-cum around the head with his thumb. Riley had been summarily pissed off when Spike got back to base with Buffy the previous day. There was unveiled jealousy in the red eyes of his childe, his lover, and Spike didn’t like it one bit. He did not belong to Riley; Riley belonged to him.  Spike gave Finn more leeway than most, as long as it was done in private, but that didn’t make him happy about his lover’s tirade …

Yesterday within minutes of returning to base:

“What the hell is going on, Spike?” Riley demanded after Spike ushered him into one of the few private offices that hadn’t been turned into a storage room. Spike closed the door, leaving the Slayer and her daughter in the hall outside. “Where have you been? Who the hell is that out in the hall?” Finn fired off at him angrily, his red, demon eyes flaring brightly. “And what in God’s name happened to your hair!?”



Spike took a deep breath to try and stay calm before answering him. “It’s Buffy and her daughter … not our Buffy, mind you – another one. Just as annoying and bossy, but from a different dimension,” Spike began to explain.

“How … what … when …” Finn stammered in frustration.

“They fell in a portal and ended up 'ere – wasn’t on purpose. She knows where the portal is; we just need to suss out how to get them back through it. It’s over that bloody bug pit at ground zero,” Spike told Riley. “Bob tried to eat them. Reckon he found the Slayer a might too gristly for his liking.”

Riley ignored Spike’s attempt to lighten the mood. “When?” he asked, searching Spike’s face for some hope that his sire hadn’t spent the whole night with … her.

Spike planted his hands on his hips and faced his childe. Finn was upset – ok, he got that, but he really didn’t like the insinuation behind the one-word question. “Yesterday. I found ‘em at the altar and tracked ‘em to the house.”

“And you’ve been with her ever since then?” Riley’s voice rose in pitch until he sounded like a petulant child. “You cut and bleached your hair for her! All this time I was worried about you and you’ve been playing house with her?” Finn shot back with no veil at all to the accusation in his voice.


“OI! Where I go, what I do, and who the bloody hell I do it with are my business,” Spike growled, moving a step closer to him. Riley towered over his sire physically, but still backed up a step when Spike moved in.



Riley swallowed back his anger and jealousy, then asked, “Why are they here?” The question was full of suspicion. “She’s here for you, isn’t she?”

“Noooo,” Spike droned. “I told ya, they fell in a portal … this ain’t a holiday hotspot or the bloody Dating Game,” Spike retorted sarcastically.

“What are you going to … do with her?”

Spike sucked in an exasperated breath and huffed it out loudly. “Told ya, find a way to get ‘em back through the portal … send ‘em ‘ome.”

“Are you … going with her?”

“Nooo,” Spike spoke slowly, as if Finn didn’t have all his faculties.

“The Reds are in an uproar. It’s because of her, isn’t it?” Riley questioned, eyeing the door as if he could see Buffy and Annie out in the hall.

“Reckon so.”

“Spike! She’s gonna get us killed! Just toss them out of here! When the Reds figure out where she is, they’re gonna launch an all-out assault!” Finn advised adamantly. “If the different clans find a common goal that can motivate them to work together, we’re done for. And I’m thinking a Slayer in the mix is a damn good goal to make them pool their resources.”

Spike’s brow’s shot up in surprise at his childe. “Toss Buffy and the girl out? Kill them then? That’s what you want me t’ do?”



“Yes! She doesn’t belong here! She’s not our responsibility!” Finn began, trying to stay calm, but his emotions got the better of him. His words started coming out fast and hot as his anger and frustration boiled over. “Can’t you remember how she treated us? Both of us! That bitch used us for what she wanted and tossed us away when we weren’t convenient anymore! It was nothing but take, take, take with her! And now what? All’s forgiven? You’re just gonna pick up where you left off, being her pet vampire? Stealing her undies and panting around her like a pathetic fool, waiting for her to toss you a crumb?”

Riley desired her, just as Spike did, but at the same time she was a threat to him. While she was dead, she was a beautiful fantasy for them both; now that she was flesh and bone, in Riley’s eyes, she was a competitor for Spike’s attention. He needed Spike to get rid of her. Then they could settle back into what had become a comfortable routine of strikes and parries between their small group of ‘freedom fighters’ and the hordes of demons that infested Sunnydale. Riley liked comfortable routines. They had been ingrained in him since an early age on his parents’ farm and drilled into every cell in his body in the Army. He abhorred change, and the Slayer being here was sure to bring about change. Riley held no illusions; Buffy was his sire’s one true desire, just as she had been his at one time. If Spike chose her, where would that leave the half-breed vamp? Out in the cold, Riley concluded quickly.

“She’ll ruin everything!” he continued. “She’s here to take what little we have left! It’s her or us, Spike,” Finn told him pleadingly, moving forward one tentative step towards his sire. “You have to give her to the Reds … it’s the only way to keep the community safe. It’s for the greater good!”


When Finn got within arm’s reach, Spike swung an iron fist at his face. The blond’s knuckles battered Finn’s jaw, rocking the larger demon’s head to the side and sending a geyser of blood spraying across the room and painting the far wall with a splattering of crimson. Finn dropped down to one knee as his head spun from the impact. He wiped at the blood that covered his mouth and closed his eyes to try and get the floor to stop tilting.

Spike bent over him, his mouth right next to his childe’s ear. Spike’s voice was a threatening growl that rumbled from deep within him. “Nothing happens to those girls. Nothing! I’m in bloody charge here, not you. Never forget who made you. You belong to me. I do not belong to you. Am I makin’ myself clear?”


Riley nodded as he licked the blood off his lips, his eyes glued down on the floor.



Spike stood back up and ran a hand through his curls then began stalking away from his childe. Spike’s anger seethed just below the surface; it was starting to get the better of him. He had to get away from Finn before he did something rash that he couldn’t undo.

“She’ll be the end of you.” Riley’s voice quavered, it was barely a whisper.

“Then so be it,” Spike replied, his voice just as low but determined, steadfast. He opened the door and stepped out, leaving Riley alone in the empty office.

**~**

Spike didn’t love Finn; in fact, as Buffy herself pointed out, he hated him. But that didn’t matter – Spike wasn’t looking for someone to love. His heart belonged to one person and that person was gone, or had been until the previous day. Spike used Riley for what he needed – a strong fighter, someone to help protect Dawn and the others, a second in command whom he could count on to follow his orders to the letter without argument or question, and, truth be told, a whipping boy. Just as he’d used Harmony to strike out against all of womankind after Dru left him broken and alone in the world, he used Riley the same way since Buffy ‘left’. There was no romance or tenderness in their relationship; it certainly wasn’t about love – a lot of it was about pain. How much Spike could inflict and how much Riley could take, and, when Spike chose, vice versa.

Pain was the thing that reminded Spike that he was alive … or undead, at any rate. Physical pain took his mind off the guilt, off the emotional scars that surrounded his heart, off his inability to save Buffy. Even ten years later, those wounds burnt inside him as if the red-hot brand of failure had just been pressed against his unbeating heart. It seared him every day with the knowledge that, when she needed him most, he’d let her down. He’d killed two Slayers in his unlife, defeated untold vamps and demons over the last century, but one little Reptilian Demon bested him without breaking a proverbial sweat. Pathetic.

Spike had let himself get caught up in the joy of Buffy for a few wondrous hours the previous day, but Riley had been right about one thing – she couldn’t stay. And for that truth, Riley paid dearly last night.  Spike took the frustration, anger, and guilt that had built up over the years and aimed it directly at his whipping boy.  Somehow it became Riley’s fault that she had come back to tear the painful scabs off his wounded heart, and it was his fault that she couldn’t stay to help heal them again.

Spike realized quickly he had to close down emotionally, keep the Slayer at arm’s length. He needed to treat her with the cool detachment he used with the other fighters under his command. He couldn’t let his heart fall into that trap again. He honestly wasn’t sure how many times it could be ripped apart, torn from his chest, and he’d still survive. He needed to protect himself, shield his heart; he still had a mission to do: keep Dawn safe. He’d given his word to a lady.

He would never toss Buffy out on her own into a world in which she had no capacity to survive, but he vowed that he would get her back to her home – soon. He wasn’t sure how long he could keep his heart in the deep freeze and the fluttering in his chest from returning. But, he knew, if he let it warm to her again, it would only bleed a deeper shade of misery when she inevitably left and went back to her fairy tale life – a life that Spike could only touch in his dreams now and for the rest of eternity.

Now, as Spike lay in the bed next to Riley, he closed his eyes and tried to fall back into that dream he’d been in before. He longed to feel the water washing over him, to feel Buffy’s flesh hot against his; he tried to hear that scream of rapture even as he tugged her hair violently and rode her to oblivion. Spike’s hips jerked and he pumped his cock faster and harder, squeezing painfully around his girth just as Buffy had done. Spike’s growl rumbled through his body as his cum shot up, covering his flat, hard stomach and chest in powerful bursts of desire.

“Buffy…love you so bloody much,” he moaned to his dream lover as he found his release, his eyes still clamped shut as a vision of her as a beautiful mermaid swam through his mind.

**~**

Buffy opened her eyes and her gaze was drawn immediately towards the quilt that hung over their door. Her eyes met Spike’s across the short distance, as if her gaze had been pulled by a magnet directly to his. He was leaning against the wall just inside the quilted entryway, watching her as she slept. She’d actually been only half-asleep, still caught up in the pleasure of the erotic dream she’d had. She’d been trying to lure her mind back there, but wasn’t having any luck. Buffy suddenly realized that her hand was in a very NC-17 place under the soft fabric of her panties and she jerked her hand away from her wet mound, still keeping her eyes locked on Spike’s. Even with the sheet covering her, she knew it was quite evident what she’d been doing in her sleep.

She expected a smirk, or for him to run his tongue across his teeth, a lewd remark perhaps or a cocked brow at the very least. He did none of those things. His expression was unreadable – and she knew all of Spike’s expressions, but this was something she wasn’t sure she’d seen before. Guarded, veiled – whatever he was thinking wasn’t reflected in his eyes or his body language. Then it dawned on her … cold. His expression was cold indifference.

“Spike…” Buffy started softly, sitting up. She needed to find out what had changed since the previous day.



Spike pushed off the wall at his back and turned to leave. “Patrol leaves in an hour. If you want t’ play ‘Slayer’ and go, ya better get a move on,” he offered flatly over his shoulder. Then he pushed the quilt back and stepped out into the harsh white light of the hallway and he was gone.

Buffy shivered. Not from the temperature in the room, which was actually warm, but from the deep freeze he was directing at her. What had made him change so drastically in such a short time? Yesterday at the house on Revello and then later on the trip to the vineyard he was anything but indifferent. He cried, he laughed, he teased, he quipped, he made fun of her; he was even angry for a time as he told her to trust no one – heck, at first he’d even tried to kill her – but there was no indifference.

Buffy looked at the clock. 11:01am it read. They’d slept past breakfast by a long shot. Buffy pulled on her jeans and shoes and woke Annie and they went out in search of the bathroom and canned green beans.

“Can I go with you?” Annie asked as they headed towards the cafeteria.

“You are with me,” Buffy pointed out.

“No, I mean later, on patrol,” Annie clarified.

“No. You’re too young; it’s too dangerous. You just stay here and wait for me.”

“But, Mom … I don’t like it here. I don’t want to stay here alone. I want to stay with you,” Annie pleaded.

“No. End of discussion,” Buffy stated flatly as they entered the large pantry that held the canned goods.

In the back of the pantry, pushed far to the back of the bottom shelf, Annie found a can of yams – waaay better than green beans. Now all they needed was a can opener. Out in the cafeteria Buffy literally ran into Riley as she came out of the storeroom.

“Oh! Sorry!” Buffy apologized before she'd even realized who she'd bumped into. Wow, had he always been that tall or had he actually grown as a vampire?

Riley only looked at her with disdain then turned to continue his original trek. Buffy thought it looked like he was limping slightly, but didn’t dwell on it.


“Ummm … could you tell me where the can openers are?” Buffy asked, ignoring his obvious displeasure with her, and holding up the cans: one of yams and and one of green beans.

Riley stopped, turned around sharply, and glared at her a moment. After apparently coming to some decision, he took one long stride back towards them, grabbing first one, then the other can from her hands, bringing up his demon and swiftly opening both cans for her.

He handed them back without a word, turning on his heel and moving away again. He was definitely limping, and she noticed he was holding one side of his ribcage, as if he had bruised or cracked ribs.



“Aren’t you handy? Kinda like a Swiss Army knife on legs,” Buffy muttered, rolling her eyes.

She sat the cans down on the closest table and went in search of a fork or spoon or something. By the time she got back, Annie had lost patience as was just picking up one of the soft yams from the can with her fingers and dangling it over her mouth. At the same time, Spike strode into the cafeteria in search of Riley, who had disappeared on him. He was supposed to be checking with the kitchen manger to see if there were any special requests for them to try and retrieve from the ship's hold. How that could take fifteen minutes, Spike didn’t know.

Just before Annie dropped the yam into her mouth, Spike reached the table where she and Buffy were sitting. In that instant, an unusual smell met his nostrils. He looked at the girl and the can she was eating from, and lashed out immediately, knocking the can and the vegetable in her hand to the floor.

“Hey!” Buffy yelled as Annie backed up in fear and surprise. The girl fell over backwards as she tried to slide her chair away faster than its feet would go on the tile floor.

“What the hell, Spike?” Buffy demanded as she moved over to help her daughter up and make sure she was alright.

“It’s spoiled, Slayer! Botulism,” Spike explained. “Can’t you see the bloody bottom bulged out? Ain’t you got one lick a sense between them pretty little ears?”



Buffy looked at the empty can that now lay on the floor with wide eyes. The bottom was bulged out; it never even occurred to her. She’d heard of that before, but had never seen it, not once in her whole life.

“Oh, God …” Buffy muttered looking at Annie. “Did you eat any of it?”

Annie shook her head ‘no’ as she looked from the mess on the floor to Spike and then to her mother. “What is it?”

“Poison’s what it is. A bloody bacteria that’d ruin your day, no doubt – someone like you, platelet size, might kill ya’,” Spike explained tersely.

Annie made an ‘eeek’ face and assured her mom, “I didn’t eat any.”

“Riley…” Buffy growled as she looked around in the direction he went.

“He didn’t put it in there, Slayer – just old, spoilt rations,” Spike pointed out.

“No, but he opened the can for me. He would’ve known it was in there, just like you did,” Buffy asserted as she started towards the door he went through.

Spike caught her before she was halfway there. “Not your place, Slayer,” he informed her flatly.

“What?! Are you kidding me? It’s my daughter he almost killed! I think that makes it my place to kick his glowy, red ass!” Buffy argued.

Spike shook his head sternly. “You may be used t’ being in charge where you come from, but you ain’t here – I am. Go sit the hell down and eat. We leave in thirty minutes, get your gear and be ready. Don’t have any flak jackets that’ll fit the girl, she’ll just have to wear the smallest one we got.”

“What? Annie’s not coming on a patrol down to the docks and into a fight with who-knows-what!” Buffy contended.

Spike raised his brows. “Where do you suppose she’s gonna stay, then?”

“Here – in our room …”

“Ya know, you aren’t the brightest bloody bulb in the box, are ya, Slayer? Do the words ‘trust no one’ have any meanin’ to you at all? There’re near-abouts thirty people down here, I reckon. I don’t pretend t’ know most of ‘em, don’t care to. Do you figure they all survived and made it to us due to their sparklin’ personalities and kind hearts?” Spike queried harshly. “You gonna leave your little girl here alone with ‘em? You might not’ve noticed, but there ain’t a lock on your door, Slayer.”

“Oh, I noticed, Spike,” Buffy spat back at him. “You think she’d be safer facing red-eyed demons and giant bats than staying here?” Buffy questioned angrily.



“She’ll be with five of the strongest fighters there are … plus you,” he told her, adding the last words as if they were an afterthought. “Here, she’ll be alone. You do the bloody math,” Spike asserted, turning on his heel and heading away, following Riley’s scent towards the door to the kitchen.

Buffy huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, stomping one foot down for good measure as he stormed away from her. “Fucking know-it-all vampire…” she grumbled. “‘You do the bloody math’,” she sneered, mocking him, as she started back towards Annie. Well, at least the indifference was gone … now he was just being plain ole snarky and rude.

“Here,” Buffy began, pushing the can of green beans towards her daughter, “…eat this. I guess you get to go on patrol.”

Annie ducked her head, letting her hair fall over her face, as a satisfied smile spread over her lips.

**~**

Buffy and Annie stood in the door of the cafeteria as Buffy tried to figure out just where she was supposed to go to ‘gear up’. Thankfully, the one normal person in the whole place came out of a room just down the hallway and started walking towards them.

“Oz!” Buffy called with relief. “Where am I supposed to ‘gear up’?”

“The armory,” he answered as he kept walking.

Buffy and Annie fell into step behind him.

“Right. The armory,” Buffy confirmed. “Ummmm … where’s the armory?”


“Downstairs.”

“Right … I don’t suppose that’s where you’re going, is it?” Buffy asked hopefully.

Oz stopped and seemed to be pondering that question a moment. “If I say ‘yes’ … then would that mean that is where I’m heading or not? Those positive negatives always get me.”



“Can you take us to the armory?” Buffy asked simply.

Oz gave her a curt nod. “That I can answer with confidence. Yes.”

**~**

The armory was a large, fenced-in space in the huge ‘fish-bowl’, common area of the old Initiative complex. Tara and Xander were already there and ‘geared up’. Tara found a small flak jacket for Annie to wear and tightened it on her as well as she could, then she took Buffy inside to let her pick out weapons. Weapons! Shoot! She had to go back to her room and get the scythe! Buffy got ‘geared up,’ then headed back to their room to retrieve her weapon. She also had a stun gun and a stake on her belt, along with a flak jacket of her own.

She left Annie there, admonishing her, “Don’t talk to strangers … don’t talk to people you know, either – just don’t talk to anyone. Stay here until I get back. Don’t move.”

Oz came up next to the girl as Buffy sprinted away. “So, what’s your name?”

“I’m not supposed to talk to anyone,” Annie replied sheepishly.

“Then why are you talking to me?” Oz questioned.

Annie frowned. “So I could tell you why I wasn’t talking to you.”

Oz nodded. “Makes sense.”

“Right then,” Spike started as he walked up to the assembled group and raked his eyes over them swiftly. He stopped when he got to Annie. “Why doesn’t the girl have a gun or a stake … somethin'?”



“Buffy said ‘no’,” Tara offered.

“Buffy?! Is Buffy in bloody charge 'ere? Get the girl a soddin’ stun gun and a stake!” Spike ordered.

Annie fidgeted with the flak jacket, shifting nervously from foot to foot – she knew her mom was not gonna be happy with this. Spike bent down so he could look into her eyes. “You ever stake a vamp, Platelet?”

Annie shook her head ‘no’.

“Right then, time you learned, innit?” Spike questioned as he stood up and waved Riley over.

Annie shrugged but didn’t say anything.

“See this here? Red eyes?” Spike asked and Annie looked up at Riley, then back to Spike and nodded. Tara handed Spike the stake she’d gotten for Annie. “You right-handed?” he asked the girl.

Annie worried her bottom lip with her teeth anxiously and nodded in reply.

“That’s brilliant then. You see one ‘a these Reds and the stake goes in the left eye – just straight across with your right hand, see, like this.” Spike pushed Riley down onto his knees in front of Annie, put the stake in her right hand, and guided it up in front of Riley’s left eye. “Jab in hard, as hard as you can, yeah? Aim right for the center of the red… Got it?”

Annie nodded as her eyes darted from Riley to Spike to the stake he had put in her hand.

“Now this … this’ll put ‘em down for ya’ – easier to stake when they’re down, yeah?” Spike continued, taking the stun gun from Tara. Spike removed the stake from Annie’s hand and replaced it with the stun gun. “Go for the chest or the balls ... either one‘ll knock ‘em down,” Spike explained, covering her hand with his as Annie held the stun gun.

A blush rose up her cheeks as Annie’s eyes dropped to Riley’s crotch, then darted back up to stare at his chest.

“Pull the trigger, get a feel for it,” he advised.

Annie did as he said, pulling the trigger with her forefinger. The power of it crackled loudly and blue bolts of electricity jumped back and forth on the end of the gun.


“Good – now, ya do that and just…” Spike shoved her hand forward into Riley’s chest. The vamp shuddered and convulsed then fell backwards onto the hard concrete. “See?” Spike offered with a smile, “Humpty Dumpty falls down.”



“What the hell is going on?” Buffy demanded as she walked up and saw the last of the lesson.

Spike stood up and addressed Tara. “Get her properly geared up,” he told the white witch, cocking his head at Annie and ignoring Buffy.

“What are you doing?” Buffy demanded again.

“You’re late, Slayer,” Spike addressed her, ignoring her objections and questions. “Noon means bloody noon. The big hand and the little hand are both pointing up to the big twelve at the top.”

“Get that shit off my daughter,” Buffy growled at him.

“No. She’s goin’ on patrol; she needs to be able to protect herself,” Spike retorted angrily.

“You said there were five strong fighters going that could protect her,” Buffy reminded him. “And me,” she added sarcastically.

“Yeah, and what if there are six nasties? It’s time you both grew up. This is war. There’s no bloody age limit. There’s no mark on the wall at the start of the line that stays you must be this tall to ride,” Spike quipped tersely, holding his hand out about an inch taller than Annie. “If you don’t want ‘er to go, then you can bloody well stay here with ‘er and knit booties,” Spike informed her. “Some of us have a job t’ do.”



“When did you get to be such an ass, Spike?” Buffy questioned, barely able to keep her anger in check.

“When I got put in charge o’ keeping these people alive,” Spike shot back before turning on his heel and striding towards the sewer entrance, his duster billowing out behind him as he went.

“Get 'im up and let’s go,” he ordered no one in particular as he strode away.

Xander and Oz helped Riley back to his feet and they all started following Spike. Buffy looked at Annie, now wearing a flak jacket with a stake and a stun gun strapped to a belt at her waist. She narrowed her eyes angrily, glaring daggers at Spike’s back as he continued walking, the others right behind him.

Buffy rolled her eyes to the ceiling and blew out a loud breath. Her brain told her to take the gear off and just take Annie and go back to their room and wait. Her instinct, her inner-Slayer, urged her to go with the group. This was her Calling. This is what she did. She could help them. Maybe she could make a difference. Maybe her being with them could keep someone from dying today.

Buffy suddenly knew what an addiction felt like. She’d never smoked or took drugs or drank to extreme; she’d never been hooked on anything but chocolate … and, ok, maybe Spike. But at this moment her ‘addiction’ to being a Slayer was overpowering her good sense. She fought the overwhelming feeling of need that demanded she go with the fighters. It was irrational; it was crazy to take Annie on a patrol in a world full of demons, she admonished herself. She didn’t even take Annie on patrol at home.

“It’s ok, Mom … I can do it,” Annie assured her, effectively driving a stake into the heart of Buffy’s internal debate and reducing it to dust.

Buffy sighed heavily as her compulsion to help rejoiced in victory.

“Don’t do anything unless you have no choice – defend yourself, don’t … don’t pick a fight,” Buffy advised sternly. “Stay next to me or Spike – no one else.”

Annie nodded her agreement, her face suitably serious, and she and Buffy ran to catch up with the others.

**~**

Because ‘mojoing’ a big sea monster away would leave Tara too weak to fight afterwards, the group’s first stop was the Mexican Reefer and the Jacks that Oz reported were trying to summon something. Buffy finally figured out the name of the ship – it was a refrigerated cargo ship, a ‘reefer’, out of … where else? Mexico. After making it through the sewers to the docks and running into nothing more than a few of those big rat demons, Buffy was feeling a little more confident in her choice to come and bring Annie. That changed as they got closer to the ship, however.



With Spike and Riley in the lead, the group skulked around in the darkest shadows along the sides of old canneries, warehouses, and defunct import/export businesses, working their way to the wharf where the Mexican Reefer was moored. With annoying frequency, either one or the other of the leaders would hold up a fist as they went, and everyone, except Buffy and Annie, would immediately freeze in their tracks, even if that meant one foot was up in the air. It was like a game of ‘Stop! and Go!’ that Buffy used to play in elementary school, only no one told her beforehand the rules of the game. After a couple of scornful glares from Spike when she and Annie didn’t stop immediately on his hand signal, the two newcomers figured it out. Buffy hoped she got a chance to get near Spike during this outing … she so wanted to punch him in nose. She hadn’t had such an overwhelming desire to do that in a really long time.

Spike and Riley took out several of the vampire sentries that were patrolling near the target ship – Buffy was actually impressed. They took them out silently and quickly, Spike by slicing their heads off with the blessed sword, and Riley by simply slipping up behind them and twisting and ripping their heads off with his bare hands. Despite being subordinate to Spike, Riley, she figured out quickly, was not only larger, but actually much stronger, apparently from being half Jack O’ Lantern vamp. Buffy also noticed that Riley had a cut lip and a large bruise on his right cheek that he hadn’t had earlier when he’d opened the cans for her. Apparently they were wounds inflicted as punishment by Spike, despite the fact that he could rip Spike’s head off with little effort.

As they got closer to the ship, there was a wide expanse of open ground they had to cover to get to the gangplank. Riley and Xander shifted to the back of the group as everyone started to move across the unprotected ground. The two men in back drew expanding batons from their boots and held them at the ready. The weapons reminded Buffy of the batons that the guards in the dungeon used, but these were tipped with sharp wooden stakes on one end. Buffy and Annie followed the others, ducking down as low as they could as they ran in the perpetual twilight across the wide wharf towards the ship.

Suddenly, she heard the unmistakable flapping of a giant bat’s wings and she turned just in time to see Xander embed his wood-tipped baton in the large beast’s heart. Except for a short squeal of surprised pain from the bat and the ‘whoosh’ as it turned into dust, there was no sound. No one made any remarks: no quips, no congratulations, no exclamations of surprise or jubilation. Everyone, including Xander, simply kept moving as if that was the most natural thing in the world – something that happened every day. Buffy supposed it probably was.

The group finally made it to the gangway. Moving silently, they filed up to the deck of the large ship. Once on the deck, Oz took point, being more familiar with the layout than the others. The whole team worked seamlessly as a unit without saying a single word. Hand signals helped, but mostly it was just intuition from years of fighting together that had honed them into one cohesive, efficient, and deadly unit.

Oz moved slowly down the deck towards the entryway that led to the hold at the back of the ship. He’d been on all the ships docked here hundreds of times over the years. He knew their layout, where the best hiding places were, and what cargo was on each one. He’d shown up in Sunnydale about a month after the demons took over. News of the infestation of ‘gangs on PCP’ in the area had spread first through California, then the nation, the world, and finally to the remote village where he was living with the monks in Tibet as he continued to work on harnessing and controlling his inner wolf.

He’d tried to call Willow, then Buffy, and the Magic Box, but got nothing but ‘out of service’ messages. By the time he’d gotten here, the ‘gang infestation’ had spread at least to L.A. to the north and Palo Verde to the east … he didn’t know how far it had gone to the south. The government was mobilizing the National Guard and evacuating people from the path of the ‘crazed drug-addicts’; whether they had succeeded in containing the demons, no one here knew. Some people had attempted the perilous journey to escape, but, as Spike told Buffy, no one ever came back, so they didn’t know if they had made it or had simply been killed. All communications to the outside world had been cut off long ago, no phone lines or cable lines … they couldn’t even get in any radio or TV signals.


Oz had lucked out when he’d arrived, going straight to the Magic Box. He found Xander and Spike there gathering all the weapons and magical supplies to bring back to their new base camp under the university campus. He’d never really cared for living in the old Initiative, however. Memories of the torture he’d faced there when they’d captured him as a werewolf tended to haunt him, so he made his own way. Then, as now, he stayed mostly around the docks where food was plentiful and there were lots of secure places to hide inside the large ships. He’d check in from time to time with the group and let them know if he saw things that needed their attention.  Oz did have one of the shortwave radios the group used, and Spike could reach him if there was some kind of mission the wolf could help with.



During the years he spent as a solitary man, Oz had mastered the ability to control his inner demon. He could now call on the wolf pretty much at will, regardless of the moon, and was able to keep his human side in control of the monster. That had gotten him out of many a tight scrape with the Reds and the other lesser demons that had once been here.

When the Turok-Han started pouring out of the Hellmouth, he, as the wolf, and Spike, with Buffy’s blessed sword, were the only two that could actually defeat any of the uber-vamps with any real regularity. Luckily, the Reds saw the Turok-Han as a threat to their domain and the two vampire species set to killing each other off, saving the Scoobies the trouble. Unfortunately, neither side completely succeeded in their mission to wipe the other out. But, the numbers were thinned considerably, as were the populations of the lesser demons who got caught in the crossfire.

Buffy watched as Oz led them along the deck, hugging the bulkhead of the hold as he went. At a break in the bulkhead, he paused a moment, then signaled for Spike to come forward. With nothing more than brief hand signals, Spike nodded his understanding and stood at the ready with his sword drawn back. Within just a few seconds, one of the tall, wiry vampires stepped out from the break in the wall, which Buffy assumed was a passageway leading deeper into the ship, and Spike decapitated it with one swift and silent blow. The head and body collapsed, bursting into red glittery dust before either part hit the ground.

Satisfied, Oz moved on, past that passageway and all the way to the back of the ship, and the others followed. Near the aft, starboard hold, Oz again signaled with his hands in sort of a circular motion that Buffy took to mean they should split up and circle the room they were about to enter. She kept Annie in front of her, Xander was still behind her, and Riley was behind him. In front of Annie was Tara, then Spike, with Oz, of course, in the lead.

Oz opened the door slowly, trying to minimize the creaking from the rusty hinges, and each warrior stepped into the breach. Spike went to right, Tara to the left, Buffy guided Annie right, following Spike, Xander left, Riley right, and finally Oz stepped in last and went to the left. The group kept low, ducking behind crates that had once held some kind of refrigerated cargo – it smelled like rotten oranges … dried, rotten oranges. Buffy figured it could be worse. Buffy stole a peek over one of the crates and saw that the cargo hold was quite deep. Someone – the vampires, she assumed, had arranged all the crates in a large circle, piling one atop the other to form an amphitheater of sorts. It reminded her of the large lecture halls at the college. It would require leaping about four feet down at a time, but one could actually descend down the crates like tall stairs to the floor at the bottom. Of course, for the tall, long-limbed vampires, those steps were probably just about right.  


Buffy ducked back down and kept moving, following Spike with Annie in front of her until Spike held up a closed fist – stop. Buffy froze; so did Annie. Buffy held up her closed fist and Riley stopped as well. She watched as Spike found a place where he could stay low but look between two crates to see the floor below, and Buffy did the same. Down in the very bottom of the hold, where the teacher would be if it were a lecture hall, was a group of the glowy-eyed vampires. Some were sitting at a table; others were standing nearby.  One seemed to be holding the attention of all the others as she worked on some papers in front of her. She went from a book, to a scroll, then wrote something down on yet another piece of paper while the others watched with curiosity.



Annie sidled in next to Buffy so she could see too, and the group of warriors watched the proceedings, each trying to figure out just exactly what the vamps were doing. They didn’t seem to be casting spells or conjuring anything like Oz had assumed … although they could be researching a spell which they would use later. It reminded Buffy of the old days in the library. Willow and Giles would be researching and the rest of them would be watching, or pretending like they were researching, while they waited for Willow and Giles to find the answer; at least, that’s what Buffy did.

“Oh my God,” Annie whispered as her eyes went wide with a sudden epiphany.

Buffy wrapped a hand over her daughter’s mouth and held her breath, but it was too late … the vamps had heard her. Their scarlet eyes looked up from the bookish vamp and locked directly on Buffy and Annie. Buffy didn’t move, she didn’t let Annie move; neither of them breathed. It didn’t matter, they’d definitely heard her – several of them were starting this way.

Continued .... too long to fit in one chapter

“Bloody hell…” she heard Spike moan as he stood up and climbed up on the crate he’d been behind, drawing their attention. “Right then, who wants t’ die today?” he taunted them as he leapt down to the next crate with a grace and agility that gave Buffy pause.



She shook herself out of her Spike-trance and climbed up as he had done, as all the warriors were now doing. “Quiet. Stay down. Do not move,” she admonished Annie sternly and the girl nodded guiltily as she plastered one hand over her mouth.


The tall vamps raced up the crates like they were nothing. One of them threw her head back and let out a shrill battle cry, which Buffy assumed was meant to draw more of the creatures from elsewhere in the ship. She cringed – she didn’t want to leave Annie alone there, but she’d rather fight the demons further away from her daughter, less chance of Annie being discovered or hurt.

With one last glance back at her daughter, Buffy leapt down one, then two, then three crates, drawing her scythe back as she went. The first vamp that reached her was met with a deadly accurate swing of her weapon, which severed its head cleanly from its shoulders. Even before the red sparkling dust could settle there was another one there. She could see from her peripheral vision that Spike and Riley were also engaged with two or three of the tall, extraordinarily strong vamps. Where had they all come from so quickly? Then Buffy realized they were emerging from the crates themselves. Her heart sank. There had to be … hundreds of crates in here. Did they all have a vamp sleeping inside?

Buffy kicked one vamp that was standing on the crate below her in the jaw. She finally had the height advantage if she could keep them at least one step below her. Even as that one stumbled backwards and tumbled down the tall, make-shift stairs, another one lunged at her. Buffy swung, but missed its neck, severing one arm and embedding the scythe into its ribcage. She tugged hard to free her weapon, but the vamp grabbed the handle of the scythe with its other hand to keep her from pulling it back. She was afraid that she’d lost it – and without that she knew she stood little chance against these Otherworldly demons. Poking sharp sticks through the heart of a vamp was one thing, but to try and get it into their eye seemed ridiculously impossible.

Buffy’s mind raced and she suddenly remembered the stun gun on her hip. She held onto the handle of the scythe with one hand, refusing to let go, and un-holstered the gun. She let the vamp pull her towards it, bringing the weapon up at the last moment and jamming the gun, with electricity jumping wildly on the end, into the Red’s chest.

The vamp shuddered and dropped to its knees in pain. Buffy yanked the scythe out of its torso and swung at its neck. It disintegrated with a hollow sighing sound and sparkling dust settled atop the crate it had been on. The glittery dust from that vamp had scarcely settled before three more were there. They were a little more wary now, but they were coming all the same. She holstered the gun again and held the scythe with both hands, her timing needed to be perfect. She waited. They each put one foot on the crate just below her and then they all three leapt as one, springing off their lower legs and sailing towards her. She swung hard in a wide arc, catching two of them cleanly in the neck and decapitating them. The third was hit in the shoulder, but fell onto the crate that she was standing on and Buffy drew back and came down on its neck with a savage blow.

Spike had worked his way over to her as he fought. He could see she was tiring, as were the other warriors. There were too many Reds for them to defeat. “Let’s go! Get out!” he screamed at her and the rest of them. He retreated back up to the top walkway that ran around the perimeter of the hold, grabbed Annie’s arm, and began dragging her out of the mêlée.


“No!” Annie yelled at him. “The book!” she exclaimed, pointing to the now abandoned table far below. “It’s the key to the Gem of Amarra! The scroll must be the decoder ring!” she told him hurriedly.

Spike’s brow furrowed and he looked down at the table. “The Gem of …” he muttered to himself before looking back at Annie. “Are you sure?”



“Yes! We have the same book at home, but not the scroll!” Annie assured him even as he swung his sword at the neck of an approaching vamp and dusted it.

“Finn!” Spike yelled at Riley, who was about ten feet away and engaged with several of the vamps. “Get everyone out!”


Riley didn’t acknowledge him, but Spike knew that he heard and would follow his order. Putting Annie back in her hiding place, he jumped up on the crates then back down to where the Slayer was still battling. “Get the girl and get out. Go back to base!” he ordered her as he took over fighting the vamps she’d been warring against.

“What about you?” Buffy questioned as she continued to swing the scythe at the necks of the approaching Reds.

“Can you ever do one blasted thing I say without questioning my bloody orders?” he huffed as he dusted another vamp.

“Maybe if you let someone in on your idiotic plans they wouldn’t blow up in your face so much!” Buffy shot back as the pair continued fighting the seemingly never-ending horde.

“My plans wouldn’t blow up if you would just do as I bloody well say!” he insisted. “Never had a problem with my plans ‘til you came back and mucked them up!”

“Oh, excuse me, Mr. Hitler! I didn’t mean to question your supreme authority!”

“Herr,” Spike corrected her.

“Hair?  There’s something in my hair?” she questioned, using one hand to run through her hair, even as the other fighters retreated from the large room and back out onto the deck.

Spike rolled his eyes, both warriors still swinging at the approaching vamps, injuring them, dusting them, or knocking them back down the stairs as they came within range. “Hitler wasn’t a bloody mister, Slayer – Herr Hitler! Did you attend high school at any point in your life? I know you were there for the parent-teacher night, but I mean actual lectures.”

“Very funny, Spike. I never took German … I took Spanish! Maybe I should call you Señor Franco instead.”

“Generalíssimo Franco,” Spike countered with a smirk.

“Yeah, well, Generalissimo Francisco Franco is still valiantly holding on in his fight to remain dead!” Buffy quipped. “You on the other hand, are perilously close to getting on my last nerve and becoming un-undead.”

Spike gawped at her a moment, surprised she’d gotten his classic Saturday Night Live reference … from back when SNL was actually classic. He recovered quickly, though, turning back to the fight with the charging demons.


“And here we are back where we started this dance, where you threaten to dust me but never can quite get ‘round to it,” Spike shot back as he swung his blade and decapitated two of the approaching demons with one blow. “Better time management, pet, that’s what you need.”

“Who the hell died and made you the fucking king of the world?” Buffy retorted through clenched teeth as she continued swinging her weapon at the red-eyed vamps.



“You,” Spike informed her as he took a swipe at another vamp’s neck.

Suddenly more vamps attacked at once than the two could defend against. Two of the demons got past the swinging weapons of the warriors and knocked Buffy to the ground. One of the powerful demons tried to dig its long, talon-like nails into her chest in an effort to exhume her still-beating heart. Luckily for her, the beast’s nails couldn’t pierce the flak jacket. Buffy struck it in the jaw with her fist and its head jerked slightly to the left, then its bright red lips curled into a cruel smile.

“Sssslayer…” it hissed as it dropped its mouth down towrds her neck.

Buffy struggled under it as she raised the scythe and prepared to swing down on the vamp, hoping that she could stop the powerful weapon before it cut into her own flesh. Before Buffy could swing, though, the vamp froze, its face contorted in pain, then burst into bright red glittery particles of dust which settled down and stuck to her damp skin.

“Wow, you could bottle this stuff and sell it as booty dust,” she quipped as she jumped back to her feet just as Spike drew his sword away and turned back to the still-approaching army of vamps.

“Get the bloody hell out, Slayer!” Spike insisted again. “I’ll be right behind ya.”

“No! You’ll be right with me – c’mon, Spike! Let’s go!” Buffy retorted.

“Bloody fucking hell, woman! I’d forgotten what a bloody bossy bitch you are! Can you do one soddin’ thing I say? Get the girl and go!”

Just then Annie started screaming. Some vamps had finally realized that they could come around from the other direction and surround the two remaining warriors. “Annie!” Buffy cried as she left Spike’s side and leapt with more power than she knew she had left in her up from crate to crate until she reached the top where Annie was hiding.


There were three vamps surrounding the girl. Annie was holding them at bay with the stun gun, its electricity crackling a warning the vamps understood perfectly as she swung it back and forth in an arc at them. Buffy dove at the tall, red-eyed demons, but only managed to knock two of them away from Annie. The Slayer tumbled down onto the ground with the two large vamps, all three rolling to a stop against the wall of the hold a few feet away.



Before Buffy could find where she’d dropped the scythe or get to her feet, she was being hauled up by the nape of her neck like a kitten. The large male vampire held her up to his eye level and studied her like she was a bug, tilting his elongated head this way, then that.

“Put me down you overgrown beanstalk!” Buffy demanded as she kicked hard at the demon’s nether regions with her booted foot.

The vamp grunted slightly, but didn’t drop her. “Sssslayer…” he hissed at her and Buffy rolled her eyes.

“Do you all have lisps? Do they not have speech therapists where you come from?” she wondered as she pulled the stake from the scabbard at her side and stabbed the vamp in the eye … the wrong eye.

The creature screeched in pain and clutched at the stake with his free hand, but his grip never loosened on Buffy’s neck.

“Damn it…” Buffy muttered as she pulled the stake out and jabbed it in the other eye.

Finally she was dropped, covered again by a dusting of red glitter. But of course, it wasn’t over. The other vamp that she’d knocked down, a tall female dressed in a ridiculously small, ‘UC Sunnydale’ cheerleader uniform, was ready and waiting. The barely-dressed cheerleader hit the Slayer with an iron fist, sending Buffy flying into the air and hurtling backwards. She landed on the hard floor ten feet away with a bone-crunching thud. Buffy shook her head to clear the ringing in her ears and the stars that flashed in front of her eyes. Even through the pain that was shooting through her, she could hear Annie screaming again.

Buffy stumbled back to her feet, her eyes scanning the ground for the scythe, as she retrieved the stun gun from its holster at her side. The cheerleader-vamp that had thrown her took two long strides towards Buffy, her arm cocked back, ready to strike again. Buffy summoned her determination and jabbed the gun against the vamp’s bare midriff, ducking the vamp’s fist, and pulled the trigger. The large female crumpled down as her body convulsed with the voltage. Buffy sprinted past the downed demon back towards Annie, who was now shrieking uncontrollably.

The male vamp in front of the girl slapped the stun gun from her hand, sending it skittering across the floor and out of reach. The demon, who apparently fancied itself a flower-child, wearing a tie-dyed t-shirt over too-short blue jeans, picked the screaming and struggling girl up with one hand. The Woodstock-reject began to laugh gleefully just as Buffy reached them and tackled him around the hips, sending all three of them tumbling onto the ground and crashing against the wooden crates. The hippie struck out at Buffy, whipping her head to the side with a savage blow as she struggled to get Annie back behind her. Before she could recover from that strike, the lovechild hit her again, just as she got Annie pushed out of the way.

Buffy’s head was spinning and for a moment she wondered if it was still attached to her body or if it was actually rolling across the floor like a bowling ball. The hippie-vamp knocked the stunned Slayer onto her back and straddled her with its body. Buffy flailed wildly and tried to kick it off, but it was too strong and she was too disoriented and weary. She hit up at it with her fists, but her blows were ineffectual against the larger, stronger, and fresher adversary; she was nothing more than an annoyance to it.

The vamp could smell victory. He threw his head back and let out a shrill (and apparently trademarked) war cry announcing his triumph over the Slayer. When the flower-child looked back down, preparing to drink from the one and only Slayer he had ever met, he suddenly gasped in shock. His ghoulish features glittered in the air, hanging there momentarily before giving way to gravity. Buffy choked on the dust she inhaled as she tried to sit up and waved a hand in front of her face to disburse the crimson motes so she could breathe. She expected to see Spike standing above her smirking, but what she saw instead was Annie. And she wasn’t smirking. She was terrified.

Her daughter clutched the stake tightly in her right hand, just as Spike had shown her, and had jabbed with all her strength into the vamp’s left eye when he'd dropped his gaze back down from the ceiling. Annie now looked like she was about to pass out, throw up, or both, her eyes wide with fear, her chest heaving with shallow, labored breaths. Buffy shook the cobwebs out of her brain and scrambled to her feet. Pulling Annie with her, she retrieved the stun gun the vamp had knocked from her daughter’s hand, as well as her scythe, and then turned to look for Spike.

He was all the way on the other side of the ‘arena’. The book and scroll that had been on the table were tucked under one arm as he fought towards the exit on the other side of the ship with the other. More vamps were scampering up towards Buffy and Annie. There was no way she could get by them and make it over to help him.

“Let’s go,” Buffy commanded. She started dragging Annie by one hand as she held the scythe at the ready with the other.

“But Spike!” Annie objected, her eyes drawn to the platinum hair on the other side of the hold, which was easily visible even in the low light.

“He’ll be ok. He said to go, we need to go!” Buffy argued, pulling her along faster. Then they were out the door and on the deck. She couldn’t see any of the others – they must’ve followed orders and left the ship, gone back to base. She started down the deck towards the gangplank, moving as quickly as her throbbing head would allow as she dragged her daughter behind.



Just as they got to that passageway that bisected the deck, several of the tall Jacks stepped out, blocking their path. Buffy swung at one, dusting it, but the rest didn’t seem to even notice or care as they started towards the humans. Buffy began to back up, turning quickly to check for an escape route, when more of the Otherworld vamps came up from behind, trapping her and Annie between them. The demons’ eyes glowed bright scarlet in the low light; it was beyond creepy and, with so many of them so close, the whole area looked like it was bathed in a fine layer of blood.

Buffy quickly looked over the edge – it was a good twenty foot drop to the dark water below and who knew what was in the water? It might be their only option though.

“Damn it…” Buffy murmured as she backed Annie up against the open railing of the ship and let go of her daughter's hand so she could hold the scythe with both hands, ready to strike.

“Take your stun gun,” Buffy directed her and Annie pulled the gun from the waistband of Buffy’s jeans where she’d stuck it when she picked it up.

“Annie, if anything happens to me, you’re gonna have to jump, ok? Jump feet first, hold your nose, then swim to the beach and find somewhere to hide. Spike will find you … ok? Someone will find you… don’t come out until someone you know comes to get you,” Buffy instructed.

“No, Mama … I don’t…” Annie began, looking down at the black water. It looked a million miles away.

“Do not argue with me! Do as I say!” Buffy commanded as she swung the scythe at the first vamp to come within reach then, out of habit, stabbed the stake into the chest of one coming from the other side
.

The vamp shrieked in pain, but didn’t dust. When it yelled, all the vamps on the deck descended on her at once. Buffy went down in a heap as fists and feet hit and kicked at her mercilessly.

“JUMP!” she yelled at Annie as she tried to get back up, punching and jabbing with the scythe at the feet and legs of her attackers.

A steel-toed boot connected with Buffy’s chin, then another with her temple. Her head rocked on her shoulders and bright lights flashed in her field of vision. She couldn’t tell if Annie had jumped or if she was still there; she couldn’t see anything but feet kicking at her between bursts of stars exploding in front of her eyes from the pain.

She tried to stand, to get over the railing to jump herself, but the whole world seemed to be spinning and tilting. She could feel bones snapping in her ribs, her back, and her face as the vamps continued to punish her with a gleeful brutality.

“Annie …” she murmured, her voice barely audible, “…jump.”



Then one last boot crashed violently down on her forehead, cracking her skull, and the stars stopped exploding, everything stopped hurting, the world stopped spinning as a dark shroud began to descend over her. Buffy fought to stay conscious and rolled away from the vamps who were now gloating over their prize, all of them screaming that shrill war cry announcing their victory.

As she rolled towards the side of the ship, she hit something solid that was blocking her path. She pushed harder, but it didn’t move; she pushed even harder, unable to focus on what it even was. Finally, whatever was blocking her disappeared. She flattened her body as she dragged herself on her stomach, headfirst, under the bottom rung of the railing and slid her torso over the edge and against the side of the ship. One of the vamps grabbed her foot, trying to thwart her escape. Buffy kicked as hard as she could as she struggled to get away. She could feel herself starting to be pulled back up onto the deck and, at the last moment, her boot slid off her foot, freeing her. The Slayer tumbled head over heels towards the black water below.


Buffy’s only thought as she fell was to hold onto the scythe and she grasped it with both hands, holding it against her chest as she plummeted towards the abyss of dark water. She hit with a violent slap that drove the air from her lungs and then she felt herself sinking. She tried to swim, to get back to the surface, but her limbs suddenly felt leaden and refused to cooperate. She took an involuntary breath, sucking the salty water into her lungs, then began to choke under the water, pulling more of the liquid in.

The darkness she’d been fighting now engulfed her under the waves. Her mind drifted with the current, lingering on the thing she worried about most – Annie … Had she jumped? Did she make it to the beach? Please let her be alright. Please let Spike find her… please…

**~**
{{  Click here to hear King of Anything - Sara Bareilles on YouTube  }}


Oh (oh oh oh)
Oh (oh oh oh)
Oh (oh oh oh)
Oh (oh oh oh)

Keep drinkin' coffee
Stare me down across the table
While I look outside

So many things I'd say if only I were able
But I just keep quiet
And count the cars that pass by

You've got opinions, man
We're all entitled to 'em
But I never asked

So let me thank you for time
And try to not waste any more of mine
Get out of here fast

I hate to break it you babe
But I'm not drowning
There's no one here to save

Who cares if you disagree
You are not me
Who made you king of anything
So you dare tell me who to be
Who died
And made you ing of anything

Oh (oh oh oh)
Oh (oh oh oh)
Oh (oh oh oh)
Oh (oh oh oh)

You sound so innocent
All full of good intent
You swear you know best

But you expect me to
Jump up on board with you
And ride off into your delusional sunset

I'm not the one who's lost
With no direction, oh
But you'll never see

You're so busy makin' maps
With my name on them in all caps
You've got the talkin' down, just not the listening

And who cares if you disagree
You are not me
Who made you king of anything
So you dare tell me who to be
Who died
And made you king of anything

All my life
I've tried
To make everybody happy while I
Just hurt
And hide
Waitin' for someone to tell me it's my turn to decide

Oh (oh oh oh)
Oh (oh oh oh)
Oh (oh oh oh)
Oh (oh oh oh)

Who cares if you disagree
You are not me
Who made you king of anything
So you dare tell me who to be
Who died
And made you king of anything

Who cares if you disagree
You are not me
Who made you king of anything
So you dare tell me who to be
Who died
And made you king of anything

Let me hold your crown, babe
Oh oh
Ah

Early morning hours next day, Monday, April 18th, 2011, Gift-less Dimension:

As Buffy sank deeper under the dark, salty water her skin began to tingle with what felt like cool suckling kisses all over her skin. She opened her eyes and was suddenly in the bright clear water from her dream. She looked around … was she, in fact, dreaming? Hallucinating? Or perhaps she’d died and now was in some kind of water heaven. She wasn’t sure. Her two Spikes were there, caressing her, kissing her, sucking hungrily at her skin as she floated in the warm water. Red welts raised everywhere their mouths touched her skin, but it didn’t matter – they were here. Buffy reached out and touched them. She traced her fingers lightly over their soft skin and hard muscles as they swam around her. Despite the stinging, bruising kisses they were leaving on her flesh, she felt safe with them. Surely they wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

**~**

Spike dragged Buffy, who was still clinging tightly to the scythe, out of the water. He hauled her up the curving staircase, which was carved out of the wall of the cave, to the landing above. He’d used this cave, whose entrance was often completely submerged by the ocean tides, more than once to escape the Jacks. They had a deathly fear of the water – he didn’t know why, it wasn’t like they could drown. Or maybe it wasn’t the water so much as the demonic leeches and giant sea monsters that lived in it that they feared. Whatever it was, they were loath to follow anyone into the water, which was good. On the other hand, the leeches and other nasties that lived in the water could be a problem.




Spike laid Buffy down on her side and pulled the scythe from her grip, setting it on the ground behind him. Water poured from her mouth and lungs in one long gush of liquid. “C’mon, you bloody stubborn bint … breathe!” Spike admonished her as he pressed a fist against her stomach and more water sprayed from her throat and nose. Finally, she began coughing violently, expelling the rest of the salty sea water from her lungs, and taking deep gulps of air.

Satisfied that she wasn’t as dead as she appeared, Spike began ripping the giant leeches from their skin. The parasites started off as small blood-suckers only about half an inch wide by an inch or so long, but they were veracious feeders. They could suck enough blood to easily bulge to the size of a large man’s hand in short order; enough on you and you could be sucked dry in a matter of minutes.

“Couldn’t just leave when I told ya, could you? Noooo!” Spike ranted as he worked. “Had to try and be the big fucking hero, didn’t ya? Got a newsflash for ya, Slayer – I been doing just fine without the likes o’ you, don’t need a soddin’ sitter!”

Spike pulled the ones he could see from Buffy’s arms, neck, and face, then quickly stripped his clothes. He frantically pulled the hungry creatures, whose skin was a bruise-purple color and slimy, as if covered in snot, off his own body. They made a sickly sucking noise when ripped off and left blackened, bloody welts behind. Each wound continued to bleed freely due to the decoagulant they injected with their razor-sharp, fang-like teeth.



“Jumping into the soddin’ water – that was a stroke of bloody brilliance!” he continued to rant as he kept yanking the blood-suckers off. “I pity the bloody Spike you’re married to. He must be bald now from pulling his soddin’ hair out. Piece o’ work, you are, Slayer.  I’m bloody well glad I didn’t get handed the fate o’ being married to the likes of a bossy, barmy bitch like you!”

He could feel some on his back, and struggled but couldn’t reach them with his hands. He used his sword to stab down and pry them off, then crushed them beneath his boot. They actually squealed a high-pitched cry when their fat bodies popped and exploded from the pressure. Red blood from their victims and oily, black entrails squirted from their engorged bellies, covering the floor and walls around them with a slick coating of demon guts that smelled rather like a mixture of rotten eggs, fecal material, blood, and viscera – kind of like a slaughterhouse … with rotten eggs served on the side.

When he was sure he had them all off himself, he began pulling Buffy’s clothes off and checking her for any that had slithered down under her shirt or the waistband of her jeans or up her legs. Spike tried to stay angry at her, telling himself he was glad she wasn’t his bloody Slayer. He worked hard to keep his mind focused on the task at hand, although it wasn’t easy with her lying naked in front of him, especially when he found one of the nasty creatures attached to her breast.

He couldn’t help but let his eyes wander over her body. Her golden skin, now covered in bloody, purple-black welts, glistened with the dampness of the sea. Her breasts, perfectly round, were firm yet supple under his fingers as he pried the blood-sucker off. Her nipples were a delicate shade of dusty-pink, her mound, a neatly trimmed snatch of dark curls. In life she looked very much like the mermaid that had mesmerized him and his twin the previous night. Her ass was just as round and firm as the one he’d ...

Spike cleared his throat and shook his head, trying to clear the memory of that dream as he turned her over to check her backside. Sure that he’d gotten all the leeches off her skin, he turned her again, laying her down on her back. Her blood was running in watery, red rivers down her skin and pooling on the hard, cold stone floor below her. Under the bruises from the beating she’d taken from the Reds, her face had grown pale … in fact her whole body now seemed to have a sickly grey pallor to it. She was losing too much blood. He had to stop the bleeding if she was going to stand any chance of surviving.

“And you talk about my bloody plans!” he huffed. “Bloody brilliant you are, Slayer. Why don’t we go for a soddin’ swim with the big, ugly, blood-sucking leeches?” he mocked. “Went nearly a full day without trying t’ die, you did … must be a soddin’ record!”

There was only one thing that could counteract the thinning properties of the leeches’ venom … only one thing he knew of, anyway. Buffy may stake him for it later, but now it was possibly her only chance. Spike took a deep breath as he summoned his courage and fought to keep his demon under control. Without the chip he had no bridle. There was nothing stopping the demon from hurting instead of helping; nothing but his own will – and his compass, which was now lying naked and bleeding on the ground before him.

He dropped his mouth deliberately to the worst of the wounds, one on her upper thigh near her femoral artery, and pressed his tongue against it firmly.

Bloody hell… His mind swirled and strained against the demon. Not counting the small bit she’d dripped onto his lips two nights ago, his demon hadn’t had even a drop of human blood, let alone Slayer blood, in many long years. It had been more years than Spike could even count at the moment as he sealed her wound with the healing balm of his saliva and moved to the next … and the next, and the next. His eyes flashed gold and he pushed the demon back again and again as he worked. Fighting his own inner monster seemed even more exhausting than fighting the Reds. His demon was persistent, insistent, and unrelenting.

When he got to the wound on her breast he tensed and steeled himself before dropping his lips against her hot skin. Her soft flesh gave and dipped with the pressure of his lips and tongue against her; it was almost more than he could stand. He tried to think of something else … anything else. The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain. The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog. Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers. The early bird might get the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese.

Spike gasped and pulled back, shaking his head in an effort to keep his demon down. He breathed the stale air of the cave deep into his useless lungs, then let it back out with a slow hiss as he calmed his shaky nerves.

Only one more wound to tend to. ‘One more’ made it sound so simple – anyone can do practically anything one more time … right?

The final wound, on her neck, made Spike’s whole body quiver. His hands shook and he clenched his fists tightly as he dropped his mouth to it. Blood pulsed beneath his lips – hot, spicy, sweet Slayer blood. It was right there. Only a thin layer of golden skin separated that fountain of preternatural hemoglobin from his tongue … and the skin was already scared with his own mark. He could feel her pulse under his lips; it seemed to vibrate his whole being. He could feel the ridges of his scar under his tongue; it would be so easy to pierce it with his fangs – to add his own mark atop her husband’s. He could taste the thinned blood from the wound as it coated his mouth; it made him imagine the rapture of the rich, Slayer blood that flowed in the artery just beyond the wound.

His demon could feel, taste, and imagine all these things, as well.

The demon within him growled deeply. Spike could feel it pressing its way to the surface, breaking through the will of the man. Spike struggled against it, but was losing … badly. He could feel it coming as surely as you can feel a tornado coming as it churns unhindered across the prairie. He finally pushed back away from Buffy, landing on his ass on the hard floor. He scrambled like a startled crab, moving further away from the downed Slayer, as his demon continued to rage against the ponce that had thwarted its fun.



Spike’s chest heaved with unneeded breath as he tried to regain control of himself – of his demon. He closed his eyes to try and block at least one of the overwhelming sensory perceptions from the monster within. But even behind his closed lids he could see Buffy lying in front of him, her body just as beautiful as he’d imagined it would be.

Just one taste, the demon begged the man. But it wasn’t blood it hungered for now. Her sweet blood, even tainted with the leeches’ venom, still lingered on his lips and tongue. No, what the demon desired was the nectar of this woman that it had dreamt about for so long. He’d been assailed by the aroma of it that morning as he watched her sleeping. He’d fought the urge then to replace her hand with his tongue, to taste her juices. The girl sleeping in the bed next to her was perhaps the only thing that gave the man strength to deny the demon his desire.

There was no girl here now. There was just Buffy – unconscious. She wouldn’t even know if he just took a nip … one touch of his tongue to her pussy, one flick of it into her heat. Spike kept his eyes clamped shut and a vision of her spreading her legs and inviting him into her jumped to the forefront of his mind. He could see her smiling at him, beckoning him to her, welcoming his affections.

Just as she’d done on that last night before the battle with Glory, when she invited him into her home past the vamp barrier, in his vision she was trusting him,  treating him like a man, not a monster. His throbbing cock, powered by the Slayer blood he’d consumed, jerked and bobbed demanding release, urging him forward for just one taste. She’d never know …

Tears welled in his eyes – that was the rub, wasn’t it? She’d never know … because if she did know, she’d never invite him into her. She wasn’t his. She’d never be his. She’d never love him. He’d told her as much that last day and she didn’t deny it. This wasn’t his Buffy … whoever she was, she wasn’t his because his Slayer would never love him. She’d told him so on more than one occasion. ‘It wouldn't be you, Spike. It would never be you. You’re beneath me.’

Spike took several deep breaths and let them out slowly as he finally felt the demon recede back behind the veil of the man, and he opened his eyes once again.

In front of him Buffy shuddered and shivered, her teeth clattered together, and she curled into a ball on her side trying to find some warmth. The rocky floor at their feet was cold and it was drawing what little body heat she had left out of her. Spike’s erection faded in an instant as worry for her replaced his warped desires and self-pity. Spike jumped up and went looking for some dry blankets, towels, or rugs left by the previous occupants of the hideaway to cover her with.

The room at the very end of the hall still had a couch in it and he found some throw rugs in the other rooms. He carried her down to the room with the couch, laid her down on it, and covered her with the rugs. He thought about starting a small fire for warmth, but there was nowhere for the smoke to go in the small room … that wouldn’t do.

“Spike?” Buffy murmured and he thought she’d awoken, but her eyes were still closed as she shivered uncontrollably even under the heavy rugs.

Spike knelt next to her, cursing his cold body for not having any warmth to give her. He brushed some stray hair from her face and leaned in close to her. “Right here, luv,” he assured her.

“Cold…” she muttered, trying to curl into a ball under the rugs for warmth. “Hold me.”

Spike sighed and shook his head. He’d only draw more heat from her if he held her, but oh, God how he wanted to comply with her plea. Her lips had a blue tinge to them now and her whole body continued to shudder and shake.

Buffy turned and cuddled against the back of the couch, tucking her head under the rugs. “Spike, please … cold,” she called again and his resolve crumbled. He spooned his naked body against her back, wrapping an arm over her, but stayed on top of the rugs. At least here his worthless, cold flesh could hold the dry covers against her body and provide a small extra bit of insulation against the cool, damp air of the room.

Buffy sighed.

The fluttering beneath Spike’s breast that he’d been fighting returned with a vengeance.

**~**

As the two Spikes swam around her, ice crystals began to form in the clear water. Buffy shivered and swam upwards, her two companions following behind her. When her face broke the surface of the water, a cold wind blew snowflakes against her flesh and her teeth began to chatter as she turned in a circle trying to find her way back to the warm waters she’d been in before.

“Spike?” she called out as she turned, not sure where they had gone.

“Right here, luv,” came a deep voice from behind her.

As she turned back around, a large iceberg floated up next to her; Spike was standing atop it. He held a hand out and pulled her up out of the water to join him.

Buffy’s shivering intensified out of the water as the freezing wind whipped around her wet body. “Cold,” she murmured as she leaned against him. “Hold me.”

Spike wrapped his arms around her and tried to shield her from the wind, but it was whirling around in circles, licking her body with icy fingers. Her teeth chattered and her whole body shook and trembled as she tried to press harder against him. Then the other Spike was standing next to them. Buffy turned and gave him a shivering smile as she reached a hand out to him.

“Spike, please … cold,” she invited him to join them, holding her freezing hand out towards him.

He tilted his head and considered her a moment. Some emotion she couldn’t quite pin down flashed across his face – confusion? Perhaps he was just cold too, because the look faded in an instant and was replaced with a smirky smile. He stepped up behind her and gathered her in his arms, resting his head against the back of hers. The other Spike held her from the front and leaned his forehead against hers. Buffy sighed and closed her eyes as the chill eased and the wind finally died. They wouldn’t let anything happen to her; they’d keep her warm and safe. She didn’t have to be the strong one now. It was a relief to just let them be her protectors for a while.



**~**

Spike’s eyes closed as he lay against her, the heavy rugs separating their damp, naked bodies. The day had been exhausting in every way: from the hour he spent watching Buffy sleeping that morning, to Riley’s uncharacteristic defiance of his orders that no harm was to come to either of the newcomers. Riley feigned ignorance of the poison in the can of yams the girl had almost eaten when Spike confronted him in the kitchen; that earned Riley a beatdown. Then there was Buffy’s rant about not wanting the Platelet to go on patrol and then not wanting her armed. The fight with the Reds might’ve actually been the least exhausting thing he did today, that was until he discovered Buffy on the deck being beaten unmercifully by the large, red-eyed vamps. The coup de grace, however, had been the horror of seeing the Slayer slip over the edge and fall into the water.

His only consolation was that he’d been able to get there in time to stop the Platelet from jumping too. The girl had been bravely fighting the demons with her stun gun, trying to get them off her mother, when he made it to them on the deck. Spike dropped the book and scroll and jumped into the fray, but couldn’t stop Buffy from slipping off the ship and falling into the water. Catching them by surprise from behind, he’d been able to dust several of the Reds before they even turned to fight. When he looked up, Oz was there; he’d come back when Spike and Buffy hadn’t come out of the hold. The wolf helped him take out the last few and drive the ones back that were still pouring out of the make-shift amphitheater in the hold of the ship.

The girl was terrified beyond words, but her brave attempt to help her mother made his heart swell with pride. A bitty-Buffy, there was no doubt. Spike looked over the edge to the dark water below – Buffy hadn’t made it back to the surface. He cursed himself for letting her try to make it out alone; he should’ve been there for her instead of retrieving that damn book!

“OZ!” Spike called. “Take the girl and go!”

Oz turned away from the vamps who had stopped several feet away from the snapping and snarling beast. Their kind had faced him before – and lost; they weren’t fools. The wolf looked at Spike and Annie and growled his understanding.



Spike picked up the book and the scroll from where he’d dropped them and knelt down in front of the frightened girl who still held the stun gun in her hands, the electricity still jumping on the end of it. He reached above the stun gun and gently took it from her hand. “Ok now, Platelet, listen careful,” he began as calmly as he could. “We’re gonna tuck these inside your flak jacket, yeah?” he began as he loosened the Velcro on her vest and stuffed the book and scroll down inside, then tightened it back up securely.

“You’re gonna get a ride of a lifetime now – see the big puppy?” Spike asked, waving a hand at the werewolf who had been backing up slowly towards them but still keeping the vamps at bay with vicious growls and swipes of his powerful claws.

Annie’s eyes darted to the ‘big puppy’ and back to Spike’s and she nodded. “I’m gonna put you on his back and you’re gonna hold onto his fur like your life depends on it, yeah? He’ll get ya back to base.”

“Mom…” Annie muttered looking behind her at the water.

“I’ll get your mum – no worries, yeah? But you have to do this for me. Can you do it?” Spike cajoled.

Annie looked at Oz again, her eyes wide with fear, her heart felt like it was going to explode any moment it was racing so fast in her chest. Blood ran in rivulets from cuts and scratches on her face and her tears mixed with it, making streaks through the red glittery dust that covered her skin. “You’ll get Mom?” she asked again, turning her eyes back to Spike.

“Yeah… I’ll get ‘er.”

“You promise?”



Spike bit his bottom lip. For what little his word was worth, he promised her, and she finally nodded her assent.

Spike lifted her up and set her down on Oz’s powerful back. Annie wrapped her legs around his ribcage then leaned forward so her body was against his neck like she was riding a racehorse. She clutched onto his long fur with both hands, wrapping it around her small palms as tightly as she could.

As Annie got situated, Spike leaned in near Oz’s ear. “Protect ‘er with your life,” he whispered to the wolf. Spike knew he would. When he saw Annie was ready, he shouted, “GO!” to Oz.

The werewolf bounded away, down the deck towards the gangplank, knocking the Reds out of his way with powerful claws as he went. The vampires screamed as they were knocked into the water below. They had a deathly fear of the water that Spike had never quite understood; the sea monsters weren’t normally this close to shore and the leeches were but a minor annoyance to a vampire of their size.  He also didn’t understand why they chose to live on the ships, being so afraid of the water and all. Of course, no one had ever actually accused the Reds of being the smartest of the demons from the Otherworld, simply the strongest and most ruthless.

When Spike was sure that Oz had made it off the ship and the vamps were not pursuing him, he leapt over the edge into the dark water below, intent on keeping his promise to the girl.

**~**

“Mmmmm….” Buffy moaned as a bright sun shone down on them and the cold wind was replaced by a soft warm breeze. The water that had been lapping angrily against the edge of the iceberg turned into soft waves that broke gently against a white, sandy beach. She was finally warm.



She opened her eyes and dropped a soft kiss on Spike’s lips, his arms still wrapped around her where he’d been protecting her from the cold. He lifted his head and gazed into her eyes as if he hadn’t seen her for years.

“Tell me you love me,” Spike whispered against her lips.

“You know I love you,” Buffy murmured to him as she leaned in for another kiss.

“Say it again…”

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” Buffy repeated to him in earnest.

“Say, ‘I love you, Spike’,” he requested, his eyes dancing with joy.

Buffy smiled and touched her hand softly to the side of his face. “I love you, Spike.”

Then she felt the Spike at her back begin to kiss her neck, lifting her long, silky hair to the side as he searched for the spot behind her ear that drove her crazy.

“Mmmmm…” she moaned again as their cool hands roamed over her now warm body. Spike’s tongue delved into her mouth, teasing and tasting her. The other Spike’s lips and tongue found the spot he’d been searching for and began to nibble against the heated skin of her neck, sending goose-pimples racing over her body and tingling her loins.

Buffy lifted one hand back over her shoulder and entwined her fingers that Spike’s hair, freeing his curls from their gel prison, as he continued to tease the sensitive spot behind her ear with his lips and tongue.

“Want to taste you,” the Spike in front of her admitted almost shyly.

“Then taste,” Buffy offered, tilting her head to the side to expose her neck to him.

“No … not that,” he clarified as he dipped a finger between her pussy lips. Buffy moaned as he swirled his finger slowly around between her folds, grazing her clit and teasing her pulsing hole. He pulled his glistening finger out and up to his lips, then he closed his eyes and inhaled the perfume of Buffy deep into his lungs. Buffy watched as he wrapped his lips around his slick digit and moaned in pleasure as her nectar filled his senses with the power and passion of her.

“Then taste,” Buffy offered again, a coy smile playing on her lips and her eyes sparkling like diamonds.

Buffy pushed on his shoulders, pressing him back onto the soft sand of the beach and she moved down with him. The now curly-haired Spike that was at her back moaned his displeasure when she moved away. She turned her head to look back at him and motioned for him to follow.

With one Spike on his back on the warm sand, Buffy crawled up his body and positioned her wet pussy over his mouth. He grabbed her hips and pulled her down against his face, his tongue diving into her ferociously, as if he’d been starving for this for years. Buffy’s back arched and her body quivered as he licked roughly along her slit, then flicked his tongue against her clit before circling it slowly and starting back down towards her throbbing hole. Her whole body shuddered as he delved into her, fucking her with that magical tongue and she moaned his name with more passion than Spike had ever imagined she could.

Buffy reached a hand out towards the curly-haired Spike and pulled him around in front of her. His cock bobbed and jumped as he watched, enthralled, as his counterpart lapped at her juices. Her beautiful body, bathed in the sunlight, now glistened with a thin sheen of perspiration. Her breasts bounced and swayed with every movement and drew his hands to them like magnets.



Buffy couldn’t stop the moans that rolled out of her throat as curly-Spike touched her tits. He circled her hard nipples delicately with his fingers and sent more chill bumps racing over her skin. Her sugar walls constricted around the other Spike’s tongue as a small orgasm washed over her like the warm breeze that blew from the blue water at her back.

Curly-Spike’s cock was right in front of her and she had to have it. She caught the pearl of pre-cum with her tongue just before it began to drip off the engorged head and he moaned his approval. Buffy pulled him to her, her hands on his slim hips, and circled the mushroom head with her tongue before slowly and gently dropping her mouth over his cock. As the Spike below swirled his tongue within her, she lowered her mouth over her other lover’s manhood. She ticked her tongue back and forth over his hardness, matching the rhythm of Spike’s ministrations to her pussy.

Buffy was in heaven. Two absolutely fantastic lovers who wanted nothing more than to make love to her, who knew what she needed, what she desired, how to take her to the highest heights. She’d had some kinky dreams before and Spike had an imagination that wouldn’t quit, but having two Spikes – that was a new one, and one she hoped would keep repeating! She couldn’t quite figure out where they’d come from – neither was actually ‘her’ Spike, of that she was fairly certain. She’d tried to reach him in a dream the last couple of nights and had no luck at all. Unlike Limbo, the bond, apparently, could not transcend ‘normal’ dimensions. She didn’t know what made Limbo special, but she didn’t know that much about dimensions, really. After thinking about it, she realized that the lack of ‘crossover’ would normally be a good thing because much confusion would ensue if all the Spikes and Buffys across all the dimensions were linked with the bond – but in this case, it sucked.

Her lovers moaned her name in stereo, filling her senses with the wonder of their deep, rumbling voices as each of the three endeavored to give as much pleasure as they received. Buffy let go of Spike’s hips and used her hands to fondle his balls lightly, she could feel them tighten even more as she ran her fingers over his sac, back to his taint, teasing him as she began sucking down on his cock harder.

The lover beneath her was teasing her clit with his nose as he slammed his tongue into her hole hard and fast, he wanted her cum, she knew. Just a little more … she just needed a little more. As if he read her mind, he slid one hand from her hip, over the swell of her ass and pressed a finger into her puckered hole.

Buffy cried out around curly-Spike’s cock and slammed down on him harder, taking him deeper, swallowing the head of his cock with each thrust he made into her mouth. Autonomic tears welled in her eyes as he pumped deeper and deeper into her throat, but she didn’t stop him, she simply swallowed faster with every stroke. Yes, she wanted more. She wanted everything they could give her.

Her orgasm began to spread up from her loins; she could feel it rising in her as the two men fucked her and sucked and lapped at her juices. She wanted Spike’s cum in her mouth – wanted to taste him just as badly as he wanted to taste her. She dug the fingernails of one hand into his ass, drawing blood. She sucked down even harder on his cock and she was rewarded with an anguished cry of pleasure and his cum shooting into her as her own orgasm reached the top of her head and began to crash back over her.

Curly-Spike roared his release, his jizz shooting hard and fast into her eager mouth and she swallowed greedily. Her body quivered and her pussy tightened around Spike’s tongue, buried deep in her channel, and he was rewarded with her sweet nectar pouring down over his mouth and face.

She couldn’t breathe past Curly-Spike’s cock. Her heart thudded in her chest and she thought she might pass out, but the lack of oxygen actually heightened the power of her orgasm and sent her spinning on a dizzying carousel of bliss. Finally spent, Curly-Spike’s cock softened between her lips and Buffy gulped air greedily. She licked every drop of cum from his shaft, swirling her tongue round and round its softening length, savoring the feel of it, the taste of him in her mouth. He dropped to his knees in front of her, unable to stay upright another second, and captured her lips with his in a violent, almost angry, kiss. He devoured the cum that clung to her lips, kissing and licking his essence from her salty skin.

Then, just as she started back down from the ride, the Spike below her lifted her up off his face by the hips and pushed her back, down his body, to his neglected cock. Buffy guided him to her dripping slit and he thrust up and entered her in one powerful move. Her back arched and she thought she might topple over as he slammed his cock up into her harder and faster.

“Yes! God, Spike! Yes! Fuck me … Fuck me!” she screamed at him and he did. Suddenly she was flipped over onto her back and he was powering into her even harder, his pubic bone crashing against her clit and sending thousands of electrical shocks out to every part of her body.

“Cum for me, Buffy … give me everything,” he demanded of her, wanting to feel the exquisite pain of her pussy clenching around him in ecstasy, pulling him into her, holding him prisoner within her hot, tight walls.



Buffy dug into his back and shoulders with her nails as she matched his fervor stroke for stroke. They pulled back and slammed together violently as his cock threatened to tear her in two and she threatened to crush him with her passion.

Spike could feel his cum boiling, rising, shooting out, filling her, and he roared with the absolute unbridled fury of her. As his cock throbbed and pulsed in her, another orgasm crashed through her body and propelled them both up and up and up. Up to the top of a magnificent rollercoaster that then roared down, around curves and loops, making them both weightless as it flew faster and faster turning them upside down and inside out with the supreme pleasure of it.

The scream that finally escaped her throat was that of a creature Spike never knew existed, even in his wildest fantasies. She was a powerful, passionate lover who matched his desires more perfectly than anyone they’d ever known. He hungered for her always; it was a craving he knew he would never be able to satisfy. He would always and forever desire more, and having her like this only made him feel that more strongly.

Spike collapsed down atop her. Out of pure habit, his lungs struggled for unneeded air as every muscle in his body seemed to turn to jelly. Buffy wrapped her arms around his back and held him to her as her own lungs burned for more oxygen. Spike finally rolled off her and onto the warm sand beneath them and Buffy lay on her side, cuddled against him. Curly-Spike moved up behind her. He spooned against her back, laying a strong arm over her waist and settling his hand atop the other Spike’s flat stomach.

Buffy sighed again. She was back where she had started, surrounded by their love, their hard bodies protecting her from all dangers. The sound of the waves lapping softly against the shore near them lulled her back to sleep in their arms. She felt safe in their strong arms. Here she didn’t have to always be the Slayer; she could just be Buffy.

**~**

Buffy moaned and moved a hand to touch her head, which was spinning, but not in the good way it had been in the dream. She felt the familiar weight of Spike against her back and she took a deep, shuddering breath and let it out slowly. She tried to remember what happened and figure out which memories were dreams and which were real. It all seemed real, the two Spikes on the beach seemed real, so did the red-eyed vampires … one certainly wasn’t. I vote for the red-eyed Jacks being the dream…

“Spike?” she called softly, praying to anyone who would listen for some mundane explanation for her hallucinations – like she got hit on the head and didn’t actually jump into a portal to save Annie … Annie!

Buffy suddenly jumped up, knocking Spike onto the floor as she looked around for her daughter. “Annie!” she cried, throwing the rugs off her as Spike tried to hold onto that wonderful dream one minute longer. The hysterical Slayer wasn’t making that easy.

“Spike!” Buffy yelled again, not seeing her daughter anywhere. “Where’s Annie!? Spike, damn it, wake up!” she demanded, grabbing him by the shoulders and physically shaking him awake. “Where’s Annie?!”

“No worries…” he moaned as his eyes fluttered open and he looked up at her. Panic replaced the peaceful joy she’d had in her eyes in his dream and he knew he was awake. Dream Buffy was a lot more …

“Oh my God!” Buffy exclaimed, just noticing that she was naked – and so was he. “What the hell did you do!? Where’s Annie!? Where are we? What the hell’s going on, Spike!?” she fired off at him as she grabbed one of the rugs and held it up in front of her body.

Spike was still lying on his back where she’d knocked him and he slowly raised up onto his elbows and looked at her, rolling his eyes. Dream Buffy was a lot less modest, for one thing.



“Saved your sorry ass,” he informed her with a smirk, making no move to cover himself.

“Where’s Annie?”

“Back at base … she’s fine. Oz took ‘er,” Spike assured her.

“She … are you sure? She’s ok – did she jump?”

“Noooo … thank the stars she’s got more sense than her barmy mum,” Spike replied sarcastically as he slowly stood up facing her.

“She didn’t jump? I told her to jump! What was she thinking!? Was she hurt?”

“A couple o’ scratches – she’s fine. Brave little bit ya got there, Slayer,” Spike told her sincerely.

“Why can’t anyone do what I fucking say? ‘Jump!’ Is that so hard to understand?” Buffy ranted.

“Welcome to my world, Slayer,” Spike lamented, cocking a brow at her. “If someone woulda left when I bloody well told them to … someone wouldn’t’ve had to jump in the water with the soddin’ leeches and someone else wouldn’t have had to jump in to save someone’s sorry ass.”

“Oh, shut up,” Buffy growled at him. “Wait! What? Leeches?”

Spike held out his arms, displaying all the dark purple bruises on his body for her. Buffy looked down at her own body as she held the rug up in front of her. “Oh! Gross! Leeches!? Jesus Christ, is there nothing in this world that isn’t infested with disgusting blood-sucking demons?”

Spike looked down at his body, spreading his arms out again as if to say ‘here’, then looked back up at her, indicating the non-disgusting blood-sucker standing right in front of her.



Buffy rolled her eyes. “Get over yourself, Spike. I’ve seen it before … and apparently now, we’re even.”

“Well … not sure that makes us even, Slayer. I mean, apparently you’ve had the pleasure of this tight, hot little body but I, on the other hand…”

“That’s not happening,” Buffy informed him decisively.

Spike shrugged. “Can’t blame a bloke for tryin’.”

“I’d think something was wrong if you didn’t, Spike,” Buffy assured him, rolling her eyes again. “Did the leeches eat our clothes too?”

Spike snorted. “Nooo … they were wet and cold. Left ‘em out on the landing. Maybe I can build a fire out there t’ dry ‘em with. If you stay here I don’t think the smoke’ll be too bad.”

“Why can’t we just, you know, put them on and go back to base?”

“Didn’t know you fancied another swim with the leeches, pet,” Spike explained. “Entrance to the cave’s flooded, gotta wait for low tide … probably be a few hours.”

Buffy sighed and shook her head as she looked around at the familiar office – Mr. Shark’s place. “Belong to a friend of yours?” she asked waving an arm out.

Spike shrugged. “Business acquaintance at one time. Long gone now, along with everything else that could get the bloody hell outta this godforsaken place.”

Buffy nodded solemnly. Spike started past her to go see about building a fire to dry their clothes and she stopped him by laying a hand on his arm. His eyes met hers and the emerald eyes of the woman of his dreams looked softly back at him.

“Thanks,” she offered sincerely.



Spike shrugged but then nodded before turning away and heading down the hall to the landing to tend to their cold and wet clothes.

Buffy sat down on the couch and closed her eyes. Apparently worlds with two Spikes on warm beaches didn’t actually exist. It was just her luck that worlds with super strong, NBA all-star, Jack O’ Lantern vamps did.

**~**

After a few minutes, Spike came back in. He had his wet jeans back on although he’d left his t-shirt, duster and boots out y the fire he’d built using furniture from some of the rooms in Mr. Shark’s abandoned lair.

He dropped down into a chair off to the side of the couch where Buffy was sitting, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes. Despite the sleep he’d gotten, he still felt exhausted. Of course, the dreams he had didn’t help in the rest department any – they seemed so real. Dreams of warm beaches and a Slayer with more passion, and more of a dark side, than he’d ever imagined before, left him yearning for more.

Buffy opened her eyes and looked at him. He had been taking her on an emotional roller coaster ride since she’d gotten here. She never knew which Spike she’d meet next – teasing and smirky, regretful and emotional, cold and distant, or bossy and insufferable. He seemed to change his mood more often than he changed his socks.

She wanted to talk to him about it, but honestly didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want him to retreat into that cold and distant mood he’d had after they’d gotten to base. Even though she told herself over and over that he was not her Spike, it didn’t matter. When he treated her like that, it hurt. When he was ‘large and in charge,’ it aggravated the shit out of her, at times pushing buttons she didn’t even know she had. Regretful and emotional she knew – she knew how to deal with that, how to assure William’s tender heart. Teasing and smirky wasn’t a problem, she could banter with Spike and give back as good as she got. She wondered how many more personalities he had hidden in there. Sybil had nothing on this Spike, of this she was certain.

“You might as well just say it, Slayer.” Spike spoke without opening his eyes or moving anything but his lips.

“Say what?” Buffy asked innocently.

“Whatever’s rambling around in that pretty little head o’ yours.”

“Why do you think anything’s rambling around?” she asked with a frown. Add the ‘Annoying Kreskin’ to the list of Spike personalities.

“Vampire senses. I can hear the little hamster runnin’ on the wheel … squeak, squeak … bloody annoying, it is,” Spike replied, still not opening his eyes, his head resting against the high back of the chair. “Oughta oil that thing once in a while, Slayer.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. And Spike the comedian steps into the limelight.

“Ok, fine … since you brought it up,” Buffy began. “What’s with the multiple personalities?”

Spike opened one eye and looked at her. “Beg pardon?”

“Well, let’s see … we had the Spike that tried to kill me, then the Spike that saved me, then the Spike that helped me, the Spike that cleaned my wounds and the Spike that stood guard all night while I slept. Then there was the regretful Spike, the forlorn guilt-ridden Spike, the smirky Spike, sexy Spike, fatherly Spike … uhhh … Oh, Generalíssimo Spike, cold and distant Spike … have I missed any?”

“I’m complicated, what can I say, luv?” Spike smirked, finally opening his other heavy eyelid. “And, for the record, I think I like ‘King Spike’ better than Generalíssimo. Got a certain flair, don’t ya think? Maybe I could get a crown … or a tiara. Do you think I’d look good in a tiara, luv?”

And there was that annoying, button-pushing Spike … pushing Buffy’s annoyance button. How can you have a serious conversation with a man talking about tiaras? I mean – it’s just not possible. Buffy stared daggers at him but he didn’t notice since he had closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the chair again.

“I know what you’re doing,” she informed him.

“Do ya now? Bloody good on ya, Slayer. Sussed out the sleeping bit from the closed eyes, did ya? Musta given that little hamster some extra kibbles t’day.”

Buffy felt like her eyes were gonna roll out of her head. She suddenly needed a drink … in fact, a lot of drinks wouldn’t hurt. He was making her crazy with his barrier of glib remarks. She got up and went over to the wall next to the now empty fish tank and found the latch for the secret door that concealed Mr. Shark’s wet bar. Spike pretended not to notice her, but followed her movements under the veil of his thick lashes.

Buffy sighed when she opened the bar – one fancy bottle of tequila was all that remained. Well, that would just have to do. She preferred her tequila in Margaritas, but back to the beggars and choosers way of life. She grabbed a whiskey tumbler and sat back down on the couch with her prize.



“Bloody hell … how’d you know that was there?” Spike exclaimed when he saw what she’d found – looking from the now empty bar to the bottle in her hand.

Buffy smirked. “Musta been those extra kibbles I fed my hamster today,” she replied sarcastically as she poured some of the amber liquid into the glass and downed it in a gulp. It burned all the way down and warmed her from the inside out. She poured another one.



“Didn’t Joyce ever teach you the golden bloody rule?” Spike questioned as he sat forward in his seat.

Buffy raised her brows. “Finders keepers, losers weepers?”

“Share and share alike,” Spike provided as he got up and retrieved another glass from the bar.

“I’m relatively sure that’s not the golden rule,” Buffy argued, downing another shot.

“Yeah, well … my kingdom, my soddin’ rules,” Spike continued as he held his glass out for her to fill.

“Is it your mission in life to make me crazy?” Buffy wondered as she grudgingly poured a splash in the bottom of his glass. Spike used his finger to tip the bottle further when she started to pull it back and filled his glass to the top.

“Not sure, pet – how would I know when I’d succeeded?”

“There’d be little hamster droppings coming out of my ears.”

“Sexy as hell that’d be, Slayer,” Spike assured her sarcastically as he downed his full glass of tequila in three long swallows and held it back out for her to refill.



Buffy poured his glass full again. “Almost as sexy as sitting in a cave with a welcome mat for clothes getting drunk on a shark’s tequila with an obnoxious vampire set on world domination through the golden … hic … rule.”

Spike looked at the rug she was still holding over her front and only then noticed that it was, indeed, a welcome mat. He laughed and sat back down in his chair with his refilled drink. “Bloody poetic, that.”

Buffy sniffed. “Yeah, if yuura hooker,” she agreed, her words already slurring. Had she actually eaten anything today? She couldn’t recall.

“Do you have any bloody idea how much I love you, Slayer?” Spike asked out of the blue, his voice deadly serious. He sat forward to look her in the eyes, to judge her reaction.



Buffy sobered immediately. She chewed her bottom lip and nodded solemnly. “I’m sorry, Spike … I’m sorry I can’t be …”

“I know that. Don’t you think I bloody well know that? You make me crazy – havin’ you so bloody close, close enough to touch but knowing I can never touch you. Seeing that girl, Anne Joyce … she called me dad … lookin’ into m’ own eyes. You got any idea what that does t’ me?”

Tears welled in Buffy’s eyes and she nodded although she really didn’t think she could imagine how hard that would be. She had a home to go back to – a Spike to go back to; he had nothing. When she was gone, he’d just have Riley – a little cold comfort, someone to take his frustrations out on, but no one to love.

Spike snorted derisively and downed his drink. “And you gotta ask ‘bout bloody multiple personalities? I’m dying just being next to you. Buffy … I can’t … can’t get lost in ya, luv. If I do, I’ll never …” Spike let his voice trail off as he stared at the empty glass in his hand, unable to even look at her.

Finally he summoned the courage to meet her eyes. The pain in his blue eyes tore at her heart and she wished she could do something to take it away, not just in this moment, but permanently. “I got a promise to keep to a lady, pet. When you’re gone, I’ll still have that mission. I can’t get lost in you, can’t … can’t turn into a bloody ponce and forget that you aren’t mine.

“So, yeah … I gotta keep you away, can’t let you worm your way under m’ bloody skin and drive me crazier than I already am. I already dream of you every bloody night,” Spike admitted, holding his glass out for a refill.

Buffy tilted the bottle and filled his glass as she blinked back her tears. She knew the feeling … or at least part of what he was feeling. She’d felt it before in the Wish World; she knew the desperation and depression and anger and guilt and longing first-hand. Buffy took a deep breath and nodded her understanding of the cold shoulder he’d given her. He was just trying to protect what little was left of his heart; she would have probably done the same, or even worse, in his position.

“So … I guess what you’re saying is, I get under your skin like … ringworm. I get how that would be … unpleasant,” she offered sympathetically looking down at her empty glass.



Spike snorted and took another sip of his tequila. “More like bloody jock itch, you are, Slayer.

“Here’s t’ you and tequila, luv – ya both make me bug-shaggin’ crazy,” Spike toasted, lifting his glass towards her. He didn’t wait for her to join him before lifting his glass to his lips and throwing back the rest of the amber liquid in one gulp as he drank to his own toast.

**~**

{{  Click here to hear You and Tequila, Kenny Chesney & Grace Potter  on YouTube  }}


Baby, here I am again, kicking dust in the canyon wind
Waitin' for that sun to go down
Made it up Mulholland Drive, hell-bent on getting high
High above the lights of town

You and tequila make me crazy
Run like poison in my blood
One more night could kill me, baby
One is one too many, and one more is never enough

For 30 days and 30 nights, been putting up a real good fight
There were times I thought you'd win
It's so easy to forget, the bitter taste morning left
Swore I wouldn't go back there again

You and tequila make me crazy
Run like poison in my blood
One more night could kill me, baby
One is one too many, one more is never enough

When it comes to you, oh the damage I could do
It's always your favorite sins, that do you in

You and tequila make me crazy
Run like poison in my blood
One more night could kill me, baby
One is one too many, one more is never enough

Never enough

(Next day) Thursday, April 21st, 2011, 10am:

Buffy woke slowly as a low painful moan escaped her throat. Her head was fuzzy, groggy; there was a heavy fog pervading everything. Her mind was unable to focus on any one thought with any clarity. She reached a hand up to touch her head, just to make sure it was actually still attached to her body. Unfortunately, it was. She blinked her eyes slowly, squinting against the florescent light of the hospital as she struggled to sit up. She was surprised to find she was in a chair, not strapped down like a patient in the mental ward.




She leaned forward in the chair and dropped her head into her hands as the fog began to clear. Suddenly, the reality of everything came tumbling back to the forefront of her bleary mind. Annie … God, my baby girl!

Buffy had never been able to tell Spike about Annie in the dream. Well, that’s not entirely true; she did tell him, but he never understood what she was saying. He only spoke of afternoon tea and his mother wanting to meet her and how Miss Nellie had finally found the mix for hot chocolate just for the occasion, just for Buffy.

Buffy sighed heavily and scratched at the bare skin of her arms. It itched like a wound itched when it was healing – residual from the dream, she supposed.

“Well, you are alive,” Xander called a little too brightly as he came in the room with two cups of steaming coffee.

Buffy looked up finally, taking stock of where they were. Her breath caught in her throat when she realized they were in Annie’s room. Her daughter lay sleeping in the bed just a couple of feet away. The blanket covering her outlined her girlish frame and Buffy’s eyes drifted down from her angelic face to the spot just past her hips where the blanket went slack, then flat. Tears welled in Buffy’s eyes and her chin began to quiver with a fresh wave of anguish.



Xander sat down in the chair next to hers and handed her one of the coffees. “I convinced them not to re-admit you. Told them they’d save themselves a lot of paperwork ‘cos you’d just check yourself back out when you woke up. Was I right?”

Buffy finally dragged her eyes away from Annie and looked at him. It took a minute for his words to work their way through the residual tendrils of fog in her brain, but she finally nodded and took a sip of the coffee.

“Has she woken up yet?” Buffy asked. Her voice sounded like it was coming from somewhere far, far away.

“A couple of times, but not, you know, really fully awake,” Xander explained. “Just enough to ask for you or Spike … then she’d drift back off.”

Buffy nodded again and looked back at her sleeping daughter – her ballerina, and she bit down on her bottom lip until she tasted blood. “What do I do now?” Buffy whispered, licking the wound on her lip to try and seal it.

“What you always do, Buff. You keep going. You love her and you give her everything you have to give, and you make it alright,” Xander advised.



Buffy snorted a harsh, sarcastic laugh. “Nothing is going to make this alright,” she asserted in a low, rough tone. “What do I even say to her?”

“You say that you love her.”

Buffy shook her head. “I love her so much that I can’t even protect her from…”

“Mama?” Annie called, her voice gravely and hoarse from disuse.

Buffy stood and quickly handed her coffee back to Xander, then moved up next to Annie. She smoothed her daughter’s hair back from her face and dropped a soft kiss on her forehead. “I’m here baby, I’m right here,” she assured her. Buffy could tell Annie’s fever was nearly gone, which was a good sign, at least. Buffy leaned down and hugged the girl’s shoulders, resting her cheek next to her daughter’s.

“Mama…my legs hurt so much,” Annie croaked, her voice still rough and groggy, as she reached down with her hand to try and touch the offending limbs.

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry,” Buffy moaned, pulling back to look into her eyes. Buffy had no idea what to say to her. How do you tell someone … tell a child of all people, that they don’t have their legs any longer?

“What’s the matter?” Annie asked, finally coming fully awake and seeing the distress in her mother’s eyes. “Is it … Dad? Did something happen to Dad?” she asked with growing alarm.

Buffy shook her head, then nodded, then shook it again, completely confusing the girl. “Your dad,” Buffy blew out a breath. “He’s still …” Buffy hesitated and tried to think. “He’s not here, but he’s okay,” she finally managed. “That’s not … that’s not what’s wrong, baby. Annie, honey … I just, I don’t know how to say this. I just … I’d do anything to change it.”

“Mom, what is it? You’re scaring me,” Annie told her, as tears of worry welled in her big blue eyes, matching the tears that glistened in Buffy’s.

“The doctors,” Buffy began again. “They … Honey, the infection from the bats was too bad. It … they … I … oh, fuck,” Buffy swore as she tried to breathe. She needed to think of something to tell her daughter to soften this. Something that would make it feel like her whole life hadn’t just come to an end. Because at that moment, Buffy felt very much like it had.



“Mama?”

Buffy swallowed back her tears and took a deep breath. “Annie, the doctors couldn’t save your legs. To save your life, they had to … they had to amputate them.”

Annie looked at her with confusion, shaking her head slowly from side to side as if to get the words to make sense – because they made no sense whatsoever. She could feel her legs – they hurt. The wounds from the bats still hurt … she knew it as well as she knew her own name. Annie slowly pulled the blanket up and looked down under the covers. There was a jagged disconnect in her mind – her eyes were telling her one thing, but her nerve-endings were telling her something completely different.

“I … but … I don’t … I don’t understand,” Annie stammered as the tears that had welled in her eyes began to slide down her face. “They … they hurt. It must be a trick – it’s some kind of magic, right? A trick … an evil trick!” she asserted, looking up at her mother. “The bats … must’ve been … magic or something!”

Buffy shook her head slowly, biting down on her already bleeding lip. “I’m so, so, sorry, Annie. It’s not … it’s real, it’s not a trick.”

“But – they hurt!” Annie protested vehemently as she reached a hand down to prove that her legs were actually there but just invisible. Her hand was met with nothing but empty space just a few inches below her hips. They’d left just enough to allow for prosthetics to fit onto the nubs and nothing more.

Xander stepped up next to Buffy. “It’s called phantom pain and, according to the doctor, it’s pretty common,” he offered. “It should go away on its own, but if it doesn’t they have some therapies to relieve it.”



Annie just stared at him, unbelieving, jaw hanging open, like a forgotten barn door, for several long moments.

“I don’t want it to go away! I want my legs back!” she insisted finally, anger rising in her voice while the tears continued to stream down her face. “Just … just give them back! I can live with the pain; just tell them to give me my legs back!”

Buffy’s attempt at staying calm collapsed completely. She began to sob uncontrollably and dropped down to her knees next to Annie’s bed.

“They can’t, honey – they were too infected and the infection was spreading too fast,” Xander offered solemnly as he laid an arm over Buffy’s trembling shoulders.

Annie shook her head and tried to breathe. It felt like all the air had been taken out of the room suddenly as her tears fell in torrents down her face. “But … that’s not fair! I …didn’t do anything wrong! I … was brave and … Mom said Dad would be proud and… Bitty-Buffy and … I don’t understand! Why!?” Annie began to hyperventilate as she looked back down at her legs … or what used to be her legs. “It’s not fair!” she repeated, finally dropping the blanket and covering her face with her hands as her sobs continued in earnest.

“God, Annie – I’m so sorry,” Buffy cried as she pushed herself back up and drew the distraught girl into a hug.



“Why, Mama? Why? What did I do wrong?” Annie asked, over and over again as she clung to Buffy. Annie’s tears seemed to come straight from her heart. She could tell because of how much her chest hurt, like something was in there squeezing her tears up right from the bottom of her soul.

“Nothing – you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not you, baby,” Buffy tried to assure her. It’s me – it’s my fault, she added silently.

“Am I … am I a bad person? Is that why? Am I being punished ‘cos I opened the portal?” Annie continued, trying to find reason in an unreasonable situation. “I didn’t mean to! Tell them, Mama! Tell them I didn’t mean to! Please … please tell them to give me my legs back,” she begged.

“It’s not you, Annie. It’s not your fault. You’re not bad. You’re beautiful and perfect and brave … it’s not you,” Buffy continued to assure her.

“I’m so sorry,” Buffy chanted over and over again as she rocked her daughter against her and wished with all her might that she could take her pain away. She should be the one laying there in that bed, not Annie. She should’ve protected her and she didn’t. Her daughter’s life had just been shattered into a million shards of misery and Buffy had been drinking a bottle of Tequila with Spike in Mr. Shark’s cave at the time. She was the Slayer. She should’ve been with Annie where she could’ve protected her.

Great job. Just a fucking great job, Slayer.

**~**


After a long while, Annie finally fell back into an exhausted, restless sleep and Xander insisted that Buffy go home for a little while. “Get a shower, get some clean clothes … you’ll feel better,” he told her.

Buffy rolled her eyes. That was like pissing on a forest fire to put it out. Xander gave her his keys, promising to stay with Annie in case she woke up. Buffy finally agreed to leave her daughter’s side but promised to be back quickly.

On the way home, she racked her mind, trying to find a solution to this – some way to give Annie back what she’d lost. Wolfram & Hart was the first thing that came to mind. She knew they had the … technology or magic or whatever it was to fix things like this: they’d fixed Angel’s severed hands. What would they want in return? They’d taken money from Angel to cure Cordy, but she wondered if Angel had promised them more than that. He’d never tell her if he did. Well, there was one way to find out – she could call Lilah Morgan and ask. How much was her daughter’s future worth? What wasn’t it worth?

When she got to the mansion, Tara was on the phone with Willow. Buffy could hear the white witch telling her wife about the boat that Wes and Giles had hired, which included a captain and crew, to take over the hunt for Spike. The Coast Guard and Navy were calling off their rescue mission at dusk tonight. It had been a full week today. It was SOP to stop the search for missing persons after seven days. Apparently there was no room for exceptions in ‘Standard Operating Procedure’.

Buffy laid Spike’s duster and the scroll from the other dimension down on the research table where Tara sat. Buffy picked MacKenzie up out of her bassinette, which was next to Tara, and nuzzled the baby’s small face. She smelled so … normal. Like ‘baby’: sugar and spice and everything nice … like everything was fine. Buffy closed her eyes and just inhaled, trying to transport herself back to a time when everything really was fine. It didn’t work. She sighed as she gave the cooing redhead a kiss on the tip of her nose, then sat down with her at the research table across from the white witch.

“Buffy’s here,” Tara announced into the phone, then, after a beat she handed it to Buffy. “Willow…” she explained as Buffy took the phone from her hand.

“Any luck talking them into letting us use one of the AUVs as bait, Wills?” Buffy asked, shifting the baby to cradle her with one arm. She knew the answer before she asked, just from the look on Tara’s face, but she had to ask anyway.

“Buffy! Oh goddess, we were so worried about you! I’m so sorry about Annie! Tara told me what happened. I wish I could give you a hug, I’m so sorry,” Willow gushed.

Buffy bit the gash in her bottom lip, drawing more blood, and nodded. She fought to keep from collapsing in another fit of sobs and guilt-ridden self-loathing, which would do no one any good now. “Thanks,” she said quietly as she swallowed back her tears. “Any luck with Spike?” she asked again.

Willow sighed heavily into the phone. “No … they aren’t budging on the AUV. I don’t understand why my magic won’t work on that damn thing.”

“The creature was transported here by Tara,” Buffy began, drawing a confused look from the witch sitting across from her. “Not your Tara … not our Tara,” Buffy clarified quickly. “Tara from another dimension, from the dimension Annie and I …” Buffy choked back a sob and cleared her throat.



“She said it was a spell that you had created to try and send Glory away to another dimension. She tweaked it to try and send the largest demons away from Sunnydale. She didn’t think she had the power to actually send them to another dimension. She thought she was sending them to Japan.” Buffy laughed humorlessly and rubbed at her aching head and swollen eyes as she cradled the phone on her shoulder.



Maybe it was just static on the line, but Buffy thought she could hear Willow thinking through the phone. To the Slayer it kinda sounded like that little clicking and popping noise her computer made when she was searching for a document. It figured Willow’s brain would make that same noise.

Finally, Willow asked, “She didn’t say how she tweaked it, though, huh?”

Buffy shook her head. “No,” Buffy confirmed. “Did you write a spell like that?”

Willow huffed a breath into the phone. “I thought about it, but never actually got to the writing part of the assignment.”

Buffy sighed. “Do you think … I mean, maybe you could tell Tara what your ideas were and maybe she could think about what she’d do to tweak them to work on big Otherwordly demons and then maybe …” Buffy sighed again, afraid she was just rambling and making no sense.

“Yeah, we can try that,” Willow agreed, surprising Buffy by apparently following her logic. “If we can figure out what Tara would’ve tweaked in those spells, maybe we can figure out how to get magic to work on the creature.

“Ok, let me talk to Tara again,” Willow requested as her mind whirled like the disk drive on Buffy’s computer, retrieving the needed spells from her ‘random access memory’.

“A couple more things,” Buffy stopped her. “I have a scroll here from the other dimension – Annie says it’s the key to that book about creating a Gem of Amarra.”

“Really? Oh wow, that’s awesome!” Willow started enthusiastically before thinking about what Annie, and Buffy, had paid for it. “I mean … uhh…”

“It’s ok, Wills. She was pretty stoked about it too … at least … before…” Buffy’s voice trailed off.

“Right. I’m so sorry, Buffy,” Willow repeated, the sorrow evident in her voice. “Just … have Giles put it in the safe at the Council building, the one with the magical wards. We don’t want anything to happen to it. I’ll get back on it after we find Spike.”

“Ok,” Buffy agreed. She fingered the ornate silver case that held the scroll and kept the precious parchment inside safe, still cradling the phone against her shoulder and the baby in her other arm.



“The other thing is … Bess’ idea about luring it into a cave or something with an AUV,” Buffy began. “Do you really think that will work?”

Willow cleared her throat and Buffy heard some rustling over the phone. “I don’t know,” Willow admitted. “But they won’t even give us a chance to try it.”

“Could we … borrow one and try it on our own?” Buffy posed.

“Borrow without permission, you mean,” Willow clarified. “I don’t know. And I don’t know how to keep the whole Third Fleet from coming down on us if we do.”

“Ok – new idea,” Buffy actually brightened a little when a light bulb flickered dimly in her exhausted brain. “You know that sun you guys created to fight The First? Can’t you conjure something like that, not fiery, but big and white … like a giant, white octopus lure and magically dangle it in front of the thing’s big red eyes and use that for bait?” Buffy looked at Tara as she spoke to Willow. She could see the wheels turning behind the witch’s expressive blue eyes.

“Ummmm …” Willow thought. “Maybe … if we could get close enough to it and …” Willow blew out a breath. The clicking and popping noise on the phone line got louder. “Yeah …” she finally said, her voice sounding more optimistic. “Yeah, I know just the spell! Let me talk to Tara … but, yeah. If that new boat can get us fairly close, I think I can do it.”

Buffy blew out a slightly relieved breath. “Great. That’s great, Will. Is Bess nearby?”

“Yeah … sure. Hang on.”

“Mom?” Bess’ voice came on the phone after a few moments. “How’s Annie?” she asked hesitantly.

Buffy sighed heavily. “She’s alive … it … we’ll … It’s gonna take time to…” Buffy didn’t know what she was trying to say. It would take time to get over? How would Annie ever ‘get over’ that? “It’ll just take time,” she finally choked out, leaving it at that.

“Bess, we have a plan to lure the demon like you wanted,” Buffy told her. “Please be careful. Don’t do anything stupid because you feel like this was your fault, because it wasn’t. Spike wanted to be there just as much as you did, okay? And we’ll find a way to get him back, I swear. I don’t want to lose you too. Spike would never forgive himself – I’d never forgive myself … okay?”

Bess nodded on the other end of the phone. “Okay. I’ll be careful,” Bess promised. “Tell Annie I love her.”

“I will. We love you too, Bess.”

“Thanks, Mom – I’m really so sorry.”

“It’s going around,” Buffy admitted sadly.

“Oh, Willow wants to talk to Tara,” Bess reminded Buffy.

“Right – please be careful now, ok?” Buffy told her one last time.

“It’s my middle name.”

**~**

While Tara was on the phone with Willow, Buffy went up to get her shower. She’d call Lilah later, when she was alone. She didn’t need any reproachful looks or worried objections and warnings about getting in bed with the devil from the witch just then. While Buffy was in the shower, Tara stuck her head in and said she needed to go to the Council building. She needed to check on some spell books that hadn’t been scanned yet, ones Willow thought she would’ve used to create her send-Glory-the-hell-away spell with. She was taking the scroll and MacKenzie with her and would get Giles or Wes to put the artifact up in the safe. She promised she’d be back by the time the other kids got home from school.



After using all the hot water, Buffy finally got out of the shower. She rubbed the fog away from a spot on the mirror and looked at herself sullenly. She looked as horrible as she felt. Dark circles framed red, swollen eyelids and bloodshot eyes. Deep worry lines formed around her mouth and on her brow. She tried to stretch and rub her face to make them go away, but they weren’t budging. Her cheeks looked gaunt, like she hadn’t eaten anything in a week. She looked like she’d aged twenty years in just the last few days. So much for the whole immortal, young forever thing, she thought bitterly, rolling her eyes. She sighed, resigned, and plodded down the hall to the master bedroom, leaving a trail of wet footprints and water droplets in her wake.

Buffy pulled out a pair of jeans and under garments, then looked for the sleeveless, split-shoulder brown shirt with the dark peach colored flowers running around the bodice that Annie always liked. She dug through all her drawers and the closet, searching for it, but couldn’t find it. Was it in the laundry? She couldn’t remember wearing it lately; of course, ‘lately’ was kind of a vague time frame what with the inter-dimensional travel and unconsciousness and all.



Buffy became frantic about finding that shirt. Annie liked it so well, it just seemed like the most important thing in the world at that moment to find it and have it on when she went back to the hospital. Buffy cursed her infernal and seemingly never-ending wardrobe as she emptied drawer after drawer of clothes and then started on the closet, tossing dresses and slacks and blouses out into a huge pile on the floor in search of the one that she wanted – that she needed. Nothing was in her control, it seemed – not even her clothes.

Exhausted and defeated, unable to find it, Buffy finally threw herself onto their bed, hugging Spike’s pillow to her and burying her face into it as she sobbed. All she wanted was one thing to go right – one little thing. She couldn’t even find the one shirt that she knew Annie would like. It wasn’t much, but was something that might bring a small smile to daughter’s lips for a split second – that’s all Buffy wanted, but she couldn’t even do that.

She breathed in the essence of Spike from his pillow. The scent of the sandalwood from the ‘Stud-Bubbles’ soap that Anya had gotten him hooked on mingled with a hint of well-worn leather. Under that, a sprinkling of Tabasco layered over the indomitable, coppery aroma of blood. Buffy’s sobs came harder – she felt like her whole world was unraveling and she was powerless to stop it.

She knew the twins needed her to be here for them when they got home from school, needed her to be strong for them. But the prospect of facing them, of seeing the worry and sadness and fear in their eyes for their sister and father just made her want to run away and hide. How was she supposed to do this? How could she be strong for them, be the adult, the parent, when all she wanted was to curl into a little ball and make everything go away?

Buffy’s sobs finally waned and exhaustion overtook her as she hugged Spike’s pillow tightly to her chest, her face buried in it as if she could breathe him back into their bed. Before too long, she’d fallen into a restless sleep.



Buffy no longer screamed or even flinched when she found herself immersed in the acid-bile of the sea monster in her sleep. The physical pain was actually a welcome relief to the gut-wrenching mental anguish that filled her waking hours, and this time was no different. She was submerged in the deep, gurgling pool of putrid, rotten-fish-flavored bile and it burned her skin just like fire. In a minute she’d will herself up to Spike’s ledge and lay with him, but right now, she just wanted to drown in the pain of the acid eating her skin.

She closed her eyes and just floated as the water and bile around her ebbed and flowed in its constant motion of life. For a few precious moments the only thing she could think about was how much it hurt. There was no room in her mind to worry about anything else but the constant pain that engulfed her body. Buffy’s flesh sizzled and burned, large holes were eaten into her skin as the sea monster’s bile tried in vain to consume her.

She unexpectedly bumped into something large and solid floating in the dark agony and she opened her eyes on reflex, despite knowing that it was too dark here to see anything.

“Hello, luv,” Spike greeted her amiably, reaching out a hand to touch the raw flesh of her cheek.

“Spike?” Buffy questioned, slightly confused by him being down here.

“‘Course, pet – who else?”

 “What are you doing down here?” she wondered, reaching out a hand of her own to touch him.

“Come t’ see you, kitten.”

Buffy furrowed her brow, wishing she could actually see him. “What about … tea and chocolate and lemon curd?”

She could feel him shrug under her hand. “Could do if that’s what ya want, pet. Thought we’d have a bit of the rough and tumble though. Whaddya say?” he suggested with a low rumble.

“Are you sure…?” Buffy wondered, moving closer to him. “You’re … ok?”

“Right as rain, luv,” Spike assured her, pulling her into his arms and finding her lips with his.

His body felt rough, chapped, covered in sores and scabs, as did his lips against hers. She knew her body must feel the same to him, but it felt so good to be in his arms and have him lucid that she didn’t care. The glorious pain of the acid coupled with his arms encircling her and his mouth on hers was a miracle in the midst of utter despair.

“God, Spike … I love you so much,” she murmured against his harsh and brittle lips. She knew she needed to tell him about Annie and talk to him about going to Wolfram & Hart. She needed to tell him about everything that had happened to them now, while he was lucid; but right this moment her only desire was to be engulfed by him. She wrapped her legs around his waist as the two of them swayed with the movement of the sea monster, completely submerged in the burning liquid.

Buffy guided his cock into her as she plunged her hips down, taking him deep inside her. The normally smooth, soft skin of his erection was rough with scabs and scars and it scraped painfully against her raw, tender opening. She gasped at the new sensation of pain as he began moving against her. His cock was abrasive, like coarse sandpaper, and it scratched and cut deeply into her sensitive skin with every thrust.

“Yes, Spike … God yes … hurt me …” she begged him leaning back and arching her back, raising her breasts to him.

And Spike did as she demanded. He bit down on her raw and bleeding nipple and Buffy shrieked in pain as he pounded into her even harder, slamming his rod into her with wild abandon. Her whole body convulsed and trembled and she screamed out, her voice echoing in the cavernous stomach of the beast, as she came in a shower of painful ecstasy. Her pussy walls tightened around his pulsing cock, swallowing his cum, milking him for every drop, as he roared his own release only moments later.

Buffy clung to him tightly with arms and legs. She closed her eyes and hung on as if she’d surely drown if she released him. Her head dropped to Spike’s shoulder as she struggled to get her breath back, taking deep, ragged breaths of the putrid air.

“Such a little slut you are … so easily fooled.” It wasn’t Spike’s voice.

Buffy’s eyes flashed open widely as she drew back. Riley Finn’s red eyes glowed brightly in the dark and his cruel, mocking laugh cut Buffy to the core. Before she could react or pull away, he sank his fangs into her neck, completely covering Spike’s scar with his own mark.

“Nooooooo!” Buffy screamed and tried to extricate herself from the super-strong vamp’s grip. She kicked and punched and thrashed wildly against him, sending waves of the acidic bile crashing out in all directions. She landed a solid kick in the center of his stomach and pushed with every ounce of strength she had to get away from him. A huge chunk of her flesh ripped out of her neck when she finally pulled free from his fangs. Buffy screamed again as the pain from the acid was overshadowed ten-fold by the pain of her tearing flesh.

Buffy tumbled off the bed and crashed against the open drawers of her dresser, smashing two of them, on her way to the floor. Suddenly wide awake, she instinctively picked up a piece of the broken wood and scrambled back away from … from what? She looked around, her eyes wide with fear and revulsion; there was no one there. She pressed her hand to her neck and pulled it away to look – no blood. She crouched, quivering and trembling in terror and disgust on the floor, her back pressed against the door of their room. Buffy scratched savagely at her skin with the jagged wood and her fingernails – it was crawling and itching and burning and dirty.



Suddenly, she jumped up and fled the bedroom, running down the hall to the bathroom and jumping under the spray of the shower before the water even got warm. She scrubbed and dug and scratched wildly at her skin, trying to get the stink of Riley Finn off. She used all of Spike’s soap, lathering and rinsing over and over again, trying to replace the stench of her deceit with the comfort of her husband’s love, but it wasn’t working. She could smell betrayal all over her – it seemed embedded in her blood, in her soul.

“Why!? What the hell is wrong with you!?” she screamed at herself as she finally crumpled down onto the floor of the shower.

Buffy didn’t know how long she sat there trying to get the water to wash away her sins. She continued to scratch idly at her skin, not even feeling the pain she was inflicting or noticing the blood that ran across the tiles and down the drain with the water. She looked up when the water shut off. Tara was there. She had a towel and was wrapping it around Buffy’s shivering form. Buffy let the witch lead her out of the bathroom and down the hall to her room. Tara was talking quietly, but the words had no meaning to Buffy. The Slayer couldn’t focus on them long enough to put whole thoughts together.  She was too exhausted, too disgusted with herself to even try to hear what Tara was saying.

Tara put Buffy into the bed and covered her up with the sheet and quilt. Even though the house was warm, Buffy was shivering and trembling uncontrollably. The Slayer curled up in a small ball in the center of the bed, wrapping the covers around herself tightly, even covering her head. She thought Tara had left, but then she was there again. Her big blue eyes shone with compassion and worry as she helped Buffy sit up. Then the psychologist was holding out a pill and a glass of water towards Buffy. Buffy heard the word ‘sleep’ and she took the pill and put it in her mouth, lodged it between her lip and teeth, and then swallowed some water. Tara laid her back down, covered her back up, and Buffy spit the pill out before Tara even closed the door again.

No sleep … no sleep … no sleep, Buffy chanted to herself as she scratched at her skin and shivered from the chill in her soul.

**~**

{{  Click here to hear Why by Annie Lennox on YouTube  }}


How many times do I have to try to tell you
That I'm sorry for the things I've done
But when I start to try to tell you
That's when you have to tell me
Hey... this kind of trouble's only just begun
I tell myself too many times
Why don't you ever learn to keep your big mouth shut
That's why it hurts so bad to hear the words
That keep on falling from your mouth
Falling from your mouth
Falling from your mouth
Tell me...
Why
Why

I may be mad
I may be blind
I may be viciously unkind
But I can still read what you're thinking
And I've heard is said too many times
That you'd be better off
Besides...
Why can't you see this boat is sinking
(this boat is sinking this boat is sinking)
Let's go down to the water's edge
And we can cast away those doubts
Some things are better left unsaid
But they still turn me inside out
Turning inside out turning inside out
Tell me...
Why
Tell me...
Why

This is the book I never read
These are the words I never said
This is the path I'll never tread
These are the dreams I'll dream instead
This is the joy that's seldom shared
These are the tears...
The tears we shed
This is the fear
This is the dread
These are the contents of my head
And these are the years that we have spent
And this is what they represent
And this is how I feel
Do you know how I feel?
'cause i don't think you know how I feel
I don't think you know what I feel
I don't think you know what I feel
You don't know what I feel