Spike walked slowly through his bedroom.

He was a handsome man, 19 years of age. The age when people are just starting out in their lives.

He wore a pair of faded, holey blue jeans with a black leather belt, a Sid Vicious t-shirt and black combat boots. His long-fingered hands were decorated with silver rings; he wore a padlock necklace on a chain around his neck; his nails were painted black, the polish was chipped. White-blonde spiky hair shone in the light like a beacon. His soulful, dark blue eyes were kohl lined.

Sunlight streamed through the second-floor window. Millions of tiny dust motes danced in the golden shafts. He put his hand through one beam, disrupting the motes momentarily before they built back up again.

"Well, that's enough fun for one day," Spike drawled sarcastically.

Everything looked the same as always. Nothing different. Nothing changed. Nothing ever happened.

He crossed to the window and looked out at the jungle-like vegetation of the front yard and sighed. His eyes scanned the yard for the -- how many times had he looked at it? It had to have been at least a thousand times. He absently flicked at the tatty white drapes framing the broken window.

"This is what I'm reduced to..." Spike said sadly. "Watchin' a bloody garden for entertainment..."

He was so tired of this place. Why couldn't he just leave again? He couldn't remember. It was frustrating. He'd be about to remember something, something important, then it would slip through his grasp. Maybe he would try to leave...later. Right now, he just wanted to look out the window.

Would his cousin Darla call him downstairs for lunch soon? No...he remembered then. Darla was dead.

"I'm dead," Spike said to the empty room. "Everyone's dead."

That's right. He forgot that sometimes. He forgot that a lot, actually.

He knew that there were others like him in the house, disembodied spirits. He saw them sometimes, going from room to room, sad and pained expressions on their faces. They usually didn't seem to notice him. He would call out, desperate for someone to talk to, for some companionship, but they would continue on their way, not even stopping to glance at him. Some were raving, having gone mad long ago, but most just glided through the halls projecting pain and despair.

Weren't they lonely too? Didn't they want to talk to another person? Occasionally, one of the others would stop and look at him. They didn't seem to know what to make of him. They would whisper their words, making it difficult to carry on a conversation with them.

How long had he been here? Probably a long time. It felt like a bloody eternity.

He sighed again. He was so alone, so utterly alone. But...something told him to keep it together. Something would happen, something would come for him or to him. Whether it was good or bad, he didn't know. But something would happen...eventually. He just had to be patient and wait.

His body became increasingly more transparent until he faded away completely.

---

A week later…

Buffy Summers pulled up in front of the dilapidated house in her red jeep.

Buffy was 21-years-old and an aspiring artist. Art had always been a passion for her. Her mother Joyce had instilled a love of art in her from an early age. That was what she wanted to do with her life, and thanks to a good-sized inheritance from her late Aunt Prudence, she was free to follow her dream.

She quickly got out and looked at her new property. The house was run-down, the paint was peeling, the shutters were either gone all together or hanging on by a thread, and the grounds were overrun with vegetation.

But she smiled like she was looking at the Taj Mahal. When she Willow and Xander bought this place, they knew they'd have a major fixer-upper on their hands. That's what they wanted.

Buffy couldn't believe their luck. She remembered the day that they found this place. They were driving through the country on their way back to L.A. They had been looking for a place to buy together for a few months with no luck. All the places they'd seen didn't leap out at Buffy, didn't grab her. Willow and Xander were getting impatient, ready to take anything. But Buffy held firm.

Then she'd seen it from the road as they drove by. Buffy had scared the crap out of Xander by shouting for him to stop the car. They stopped and Buffy got out, walking quickly up to the open front gates. Willow and Xander joined her, staring at the old mansion.

Buffy had felt something click in her head when she set eyes on the place. This was their house. This was the house she had been waiting to see. Something about it called out to her. Buffy had seen this place before, in her dreams. Only in the dreams it was immaculate. She needed to make it look like that again. She felt driven.

The house was a Tudor-style mansion, built sometime in the early 1900's as a mission, according to the real estate agent, Warren Mears. He had been unenthusiastic and downright rude until Buffy told him they wanted the house. His face had lit up and he became very cordial and friendly. Willow had asked why such a big and formerly fancy place hadn't been sold in 25 years. Warren explained that the house needed so much work that less adventurous people were afraid to take it on, and he thought that they had the 'right stuff' to get the job done. He was clearly stroking their egos. The guy was a weasel, but Buffy was determined to buy that house.

Now, it was hers. Well, hers, Willow and Xander's. It was perfect. Buffy would have peace and quiet to paint and sculpt, Xander would be able to fix the place up with his carpentry skills and Willow could work on the computer software programs she was developing. And when it was all finished, they would have a beautiful mansion to call their own.

"This is gonna take awhile," Buffy said out loud. "But it's so going to be --"

She halted when she noticed some movement in an upstairs window. Buffy stepped into the overgrown front yard, squinting up at the window. Was someone in there? Whatever she had seen, or thought she'd seen, wasn't there anymore.

Buffy laughed nervously. "Take it easy. It was just the breeze blowing curtains around. No one's in there. If I'm going to spend the whole night here alone, I'd better get a helluva lot tougher."

She went back to the jeep to get her gear and some supplies out of the back.

---

Spike stood by the window, as he usually did at this time of day.

A jeep pulled up in front of the property. He cocked his head to the side. Not many people stopped here. It was pathetic that he was getting so excited about the new element in his day. His life (or afterlife) was so predictable and lonely that even a looky-loo who would probably just get right back in their car, made him happy.

A blonde woman got out of the jeep and approached the house. She looked pretty. That was nice. Spike rarely saw anything beautiful. He sighed, wishing he could say 'Hello' to her, and ask her not to leave.

The woman looked up at his window. Spike was startled at first. Could she see him? Some ghosty instinct told him to hide, not to let her see him. He moved away from the window, his phantom heart beating wildly in his chest. After a minute, he chanced another peek out at her. She was returning to her car.

Spike felt like crying. She was leaving and would never come back. No one ever did. But then...she was coming back! She had a big sleeping bag rolled up under one arm and carried a box in the other. She was going to come in the house. He could at least have the company of a warm, live soul for the night.

Spike wanted to be near her, to feel her life-force, and just to look at her. The closer she came to the house, the more lovely she became. She was beautiful. The sunlight played in her hair, making it look like spun gold. A memory tickled the back of his mind. There was something familiar about this woman...but he couldn’t remember what it was. Hopefully, it would come to him.

He wondered if the others would bother her tonight. He wouldn't want them to scare her off, he wanted this girl to stay as long as possible. Spike decided to run interference and keep the other ghosties away from her.

This was an unexpected treat for him and he intended to make the most of every second that the girl was here.

Buffy set to work immediately.

She opened all the windows on the first floor. The musty smell of decay was powerful and pungent in the house. The place had been closed up for 25 years so it was bound to be pretty bad. With that done, she went through the living room, looking under the sheets that covered the furniture. All of it was beautiful and it only needed to be cleaned and some of it re-upholstered. Buffy wondered why all of this had been left behind by the original owners. There seemed to have been an attempt at removing things from the house (there were some boxes piled with books and knick-knacks sitting on the floor), but most everything still seemed to be in place. Probably just as it had been when the house was abandoned. Thick layers of dust covered everything.

A big, ornate mirror hung above the marble fireplace. Buffy was polishing it. She knew that there were more immediate tasks that needed to be done, but the mirror was so pretty, she wanted to clean it up. After a lot of scrubbing and polishing, it was clean.

Buffy stood back and brushed some hair away from her damp forehead. She smiled at her reflection. She gasped when she saw a man standing a few feet behind her and spun around. No one was there. Buffy turned back to the mirror quickly but only saw herself. Her heart was beating thunderously. She put her hand over her chest and laughed at her own overactive imagination.

“Whoa, there I go again.” She looked back into the mirror. “I could have sworn...” She shook her head and went back to cleaning.

The man had seemed familiar somehow. Buffy had only caught a glimpse of him, but something was definitely familiar. She dispelled the wacky thoughts and concentrated on dusting.

---

Spike watched her as she cleaned in the living room. She was adorable and so petite; he wanted to scoop her up in his arms, if only he could.

The longer he watched her, the more that feeling he should be remembering something associated with her nagged at him.

‘What could it be? I couldn’t have seen her before...could I?’ Spike thought.

Then it came to him. He hadn’t seen her in person, but in dreams. Dreams that he’d had since he was a boy. In them, the pretty blonde girl would smile at him and hold his hand. As he got older, the dreams became increasingly more erotic and adult in nature. Spike recalled one that he’d had quite a few times where the two of them were in bed making love. He’d awakened soaked with sweat and other fluids after those.

Spike was elated at the realization that she was the one he‘d dreamed about. She truly and literally was the girl of his dreams... The problem was that he was dead now. Not much of a chance for any kind of future with her. He’d always had terrible timing, but this took the cake. He shook off the moroseness that threatened to overwhelm him, and attempted to just enjoy being around her.

Spike moved closer to her as she cleaned the mirror. He’d always liked that mirror too. It would be nice to see it shined up after so long.

Spike jumped when Buffy saw him in the mirror and spun around. He held his non-existent breath when she was facing him. Could she still see him? He felt disappointed when it was obvious that she didn’t. He knew he shouldn’t let her see him, but he wanted some interaction with another person so badly...especially his dream girl. But then again, he didn’t want to frighten her either. And the living were notoriously scared when they saw apparitions. He’d seen enough Abbott and Costello and 3 Stooges films to know that much.

Spike glumly left the room and went back to his bedroom, leaving his golden goddess alone for awhile.

---

Before evening came, Buffy went upstairs to stake out her bedroom. Since she was the one who found the place and was the first one here, she intended to claim the master bedroom.

But as she was passing another room, she stopped. She pushed open the door and peeked inside.

It was a spacious bedroom with a large oak bed against one wall and a long dresser with a giant mirror on the wall opposite the bed. Something about this particular room called to her.

Buffy walked in with her cleaning supplies and looked around. Plush, but very dusty, Persian rugs lay on the hardwood floor.

Buffy got on her knees and began rolling up the rugs to get them ready for cleaning and to fix a place on the floor for her sleeping bag. Her eyes went to the broken window. Was that the window that she thought she saw someone in? She stood up and looked out. Yep. This would have been the same window.

Buffy fingered the old tattered draperies. It must have been the drapes that she saw moving from a breeze.

In the back of her mind a tiny voice spoke up, ‘What if it was a ghost? Old places like these are always haunted...’

Out loud, she said, “Oh, there’s no such thing as ghosts...no such thing. That‘s just...silly kid‘s stuff.”

---

Spike had watched her for a while before wandering away again. He didn’t want her to accidentally get another glimpse of him and get scared again. As much as he craved her company, he resigned himself to keeping watch from a distance, just to make sure none of the others disturbed or frightened her.

“I wonder what her name is...probably something to do with moonlight -- soft and yielding...” Spike waxed poetic.

He sighed. She’d be gone in the morning. No one ever stayed. Then he’d be alone again. Maybe forever.

---

Buffy laid on top of her sleeping bag on the bedroom floor.

Her battery-powered lantern was glowing brightly next to her. The evening was hot and muggy, making her wish for air-conditioning or at least a fan. Hell, she’d settle for a cool breeze. And she really needed a shower after all the dusting she’d done that day.

Buffy was trying to go over the tasks she wanted to accomplish the next morning but her mind kept wandering. She couldn’t help but wonder about the bedroom. Whose room had it once been? It was a man, judging by the more deep and masculine colors present. She was anxious to explore the room and find out more about the former occupant by the things he had left behind. She’d found a tattered and faded Sex Pistols poster that had fallen behind the dresser. She couldn’t imagine someone who lived in a luxurious mansion being into punk rock. It had made her giggle.

What had the guy been like? She had a strange compulsion to find out.

Buffy squirmed a bit. She had been feeling kind of horny the whole trip up to the mansion. Since she was alone in the house tonight, she decided to take care of herself and help relieve some of the anxiety she had about being alone.

Buffy reached into her duffel bag and brought out ‘Old Faithful’, her trusty vibrator. Unlike the men she’d had in her life, ‘O.F.’ had never let her down. She slipped off her pajama bottoms and her panties then spread her legs.

---

Spike drifted into the bedroom, curious about the strange buzzing sound he heard from the hallway. He stared, dumbstruck, at the petite blonde as she masturbated.

He reacted much as a flesh and blood male would. He was turned on, very turned on. He floated closer to get a better look. Spike knew it wasn’t proper or polite to observe someone doing this, but he couldn’t help himself. It had been a long time since he’d even thought about sex. He was fascinated. It also brought back choice snippets of those dreams he’d had and he longed to touch her like he did in them.

Buffy groaned in frustration. It wasn’t working. For some reason, she just couldn’t ‘get there’. Suddenly, she felt a slight chill, which felt wonderful on her hot, sweaty skin. The lantern light began flickering.

“What the hell?” Buffy said in surprise.

Before the light could go out for good, Buffy sat up and dug into her duffel bag for a few fat pillar candles. She lit a few of them and sat them nearby on the floor just as the lantern went out.

Buffy still wanted -- needed -- to get off something fierce, so she laid back down and re-applied the vibrator to her pussy. A minute later, that quit working too.

“Goddammit!” Buffy cursed. “Stupid fucking batteries! I just changed the damn things! Radio Shack is on my shit list!”

She wanted to scream with sexual frustration. Tossing the vibrator back into her bag, she laid back down with her legs still spread wide. She spread her nether lips with her fingers -- as if she were waiting for someone to help her out.

Spike had never wanted to be alive or solid again more than he did right now. He felt the sexual need, his cock was painfully hard (well, it felt that way to him anyway), but he couldn’t do anything about it, or about helping the young beauty out...or could he? Would she want him to if he could? She was so lovely and she wanted release so bad... It didn’t occur to Spike that it was his presence that disrupted the power to her lantern and vibrator. In his highly excited state, he was unknowingly affecting the power sources.

He watched as she tilted her head back and rubbed up and down her spread lips lightly.

“Please...” Buffy said plaintively, not knowing why she was saying it.

‘Is she asking me to touch her? Does she know that I’m here on some level?’ Spike wondered.

He moved to her, kneeling down between her legs, gazing at her wide open sex. He reached out a hand slowly, touching her labia with a forefinger.

Buffy’s eyes shot wide open and she gasped at the coldness touching her mound. She looked down her body but didn’t see what could be making her feel it.

Spike smiled in delight and surprise. She had felt it. And he had felt her. He had to concentrate hard to make it happen but he had done it. It wasn’t a completely solid touch, his hand still tended to pass through her, but he was able to create some resistance, enough for them both to feel the contact. He wanted to weep at the feel of another person’s body after an eternity.

He looked at her face to gauge her enjoyment or fear. There was some fear, but she wasn’t jumping away or closing her legs, so he went back to touching her. He slid his fingers over and inside her labia and rubbed her clit while still watching her face for a sign that he should stop.

“Oh! OH! Yesss!” Buffy moaned as the phantom fingers explored her crevice.

She was afraid, but her excitement surpassed it. The sensations were incredible. It felt kind of like someone was sliding a piece of ice around her red-hot pussy.

Spike was breathing hard (he forgot that he didn’t need to). She was really enjoying it. He wondered if he’d be able to taste her. Taking his hand off of her, he bent forward.

Buffy groaned when the sensations stopped.

Spike stuck his tongue out and concentrated on making it solid. He leaned in and licked the inside of her slit from bottom to top in a quick stroke.

“Ahhhh!” Buffy’s body jerked. “Oh God!” she panted. “What was that?! And -- please let it happen again!”

Spike’s long-dead taste buds were bursting from her juices. He could taste her! Her flavor was sweet and rich, like the sweetest honey in the world. He couldn’t remember the last thing he’d tasted, but he was sure it wouldn’t have compared to this. Spike smirked then dived back into her honeypot for more. After dipping his tongue inside her a few times, he used a technique a friend of his had told him once, licking the alphabet.

Buffy gasped and panted as what felt like a tongue -- a long, cold, amazing tongue -- pleasured her. It stroked up, down, inside the lips and made circles around her clit. It would wriggle into her hole and thrust in and out rapidly before going back to stroking patterns over her clit that were making her dizzy with pleasure. It was crazy, it was weird, but it was also unbelievably, incredibly good. It was the most bizarre yet wonderful thing she’d ever experienced. Better than any ride at Disneyland, that’s for sure.

Buffy could feel the tongue moving on her, but it was almost unsubstantial, like it could easily go right through her pussy instead of lapping at it. She looked down again, still nothing there. But, boy, did she feel it!

‘It’s a ghost... I’m getting eaten out by a ghost!’ Buffy’s thoughts screamed.

But still, she held herself open for the invasion. She couldn’t stop if she wanted to, what he (it?) was doing felt far too good.

Spike tried sucking on her clit, but his lips couldn’t become firm enough. He settled for using his tongue only. He wanted to make her cum; she really appeared to need it. He tongued her harder and faster, flicking her nubbin rapidly. He was up to the letter ‘Q’ in the alphabet.

Buffy’s eyes rolled back as her orgasm crashed over her.

“Uhhnnnga! OH--OH GOD! YES!” She bucked her hips at the invisible tongue, looking down at herself.

She was spellbound by the way her clit was moving back and forth, seemingly on its own. Slowly, she began to come back down. The tongue was removed from her pussy. Buffy sat up and darted her eyes around.

“H-Hello?” Buffy said in a small voice. “Um... Hi...my name’s Buffy. Thanks for -- Wow -- for doing that... I guess that means you're a friendly ghost, right?” she asked hopefully with a nervous giggle. “Can...I see you? Will you let me? I won’t be afraid...”

Spike licked her juices from his lips and tried to speak to her.

Buffy thought she heard something, like leaves gently rustling in a breeze. Was he trying to talk to her?

“I can’t hear you...” Buffy said, trembling with excitement. “Can you try to talk louder?”

‘Bugger,’ Spike thought.

He’d used up too much energy giving her oral sex. He felt himself fading out. Promising himself he’d see her again before she left, he faded away.

As soon as Spike’s presence was gone, the lantern came back on and the vibrator started buzzing loudly inside of the duffel bag. Buffy jumped then reached in the bag to turn O.F. off. She wouldn’t be needing it tonight.

She pulled her pants back on and laid there, staring at the ceiling. Her mind was racing a mile a minute. Buffy had just received oral sex -- great oral sex -- from a spirit and had a helluva ‘poltergasm’ as a result. That fact alone was crazy enough by itself, but add to that the fact that she wanted it to happen again...and again...

Buffy knew she should be terrified, she should be running, screaming from this house... She didn’t know why she felt a kind of -- Trust? Bond? -- with the very friendly ghost. She knew instinctually that he wouldn’t harm her.

The next morning, Buffy explored the grounds a little.

There was a lot of work to be done out here, too. But it was going to be spectacular when they were finished. There were trees and wildflowers covering the ground: Lupines, Butterfly Plants, Palm, Oaks, Pines and Redwoods, as well as various fruit trees. They could pluck an apple off one of their own trees whenever they wanted. Maybe Buffy could even learn to make stuff like jam and apple sauce.

Buffy came across a large pond in the rear of the house. It was boggy and gross at the moment, but she could see how it would look once they worked on it. It would be so cool to sit out here and sketch it. Maybe they could get some ducks and frogs to live in it.

A white structure caught her eye. She moved through the thick grass towards it. She laughed happily when she saw it was a gazebo. She’d always wanted one of those. Now she had one. It only needed to be fixed up like the rest of the property and it would be good as new.

Buffy got the urge to look back at the house. Again, she thought she saw something or someone moving by one of the windows. A secret smile touched her lips. Was that her ghostly lover? She wanted to make ‘contact’ with him again, not just in a sexual way, but also to find out who he was. It was so exhilarating. After never really believing in the paranormal before, she was made a true believer last night. The afterlife was real. Ghosts were real. Buffy never thought that she’d have an experience like this. The best part was that this was her home too now. She and Casper (since he was obviously very friendly, and she didn’t know his name, Casper would have to suffice) could have many more nights together in the future.

Buffy had broken up with her last boyfriend, Riley Finn, a year ago. She got tired of his philandering ways and his condescending attitude. She hadn’t gone out on another date since. So last night Casper gave her the first orgasm she’d had in a long time that wasn’t caused by her own actions. She wanted to seek him out, but she needed to go into town to call Willow and find a place to take a shower first.

“Tonight. I hope you’ll talk to me tonight,” Buffy said, walking back to the house.

---

That evening, Buffy was settling onto her sleeping bag again after another day of back-breaking work.

Willow and Xander were going to be arriving tomorrow morning. A day later than they were supposed to, as some last minute stuff came up that couldn’t be avoided.

Buffy was pleased at the progress that she’d made today. She’d dragged the old mattresses out front and ordered three new ones while in town to be delivered in the morning. The living room was looking cleaner but she couldn’t wait until the electricity was turned on -- those carpets really needed hoovering. She’d begun to clear out the enormous kitchen, but Willow wanted to tackle that room when she arrived. She’d contracted a company to come and replace the broken windows which would cost a pretty penny, but she had the money for it thanks to dear Aunt Prudence. The electricians and plumbers would be coming out too within the week. Things were coming along nicely.

Buffy hadn’t seen or heard a peep from Casper after she got back from town. She decided to call him out again. She sat Indian-style on her sleeping bag and looked around the room.

“Hello? Are...you there? I want to talk to you,” Buffy said. “Hello?”

Buffy was disappointed. She had hoped to have another visit tonight.

Spike heard her calling and glided into the room.

She wanted to talk to him and she wasn’t afraid. He was chuffed to bits that she wanted him to come to her. He was feeling stronger today. He mused that drinking in her essence had given him more energy.

Goosebumps broke out on her skin at the sudden draft that accompanied his presence. Buffy rubbed her arms.

“Are...you here? Um...knock on something if you’re here.” Buffy tried to remember all the ghost movies she’d seen and how the people talked to the spirits.

Spike went to the large dresser and concentrated on making his hand more solid, then rapped on the top.

Buffy jumped slightly then laughed nervously, “Wow. Okay. Wow.”

She swallowed a lump in her throat. She was talking to him, sort of.

“You’re a...nice ghost, right?”

Spike smirked and knocked once on the dresser again.

Buffy smiled. “This is so cool! Um, you were the one that...was with me last night?” She blushed.

Knock.

“Why did you do...that to me? Oh, sorry...you can’t answer if it’s not ‘yes’ or ‘no’... Did you...like doing it?”

Spike gave the dresser an extra loud rap.

“Are you by the mirror?” Buffy asked, looking at the mirror on top of the dresser.

Knock.

Buffy stood up and walked slowly over. She could feel his presence strongly there.

“I can feel you. You’re...right around here, aren’t you?” Buffy waved her hands in the air in the general area where he stood.

Knock.

This was a lot more than Spike was used to, but he wanted more. He wanted her to be able to see him; he wanted to be able to talk to her.

Buffy’s eyes widened as a man-sized shape began to form in front of her. Spike slowly materialized. He was transparent; Buffy could see the room through his body, but she could see him.

“Oh... Oh God... I can see you!” Buffy smiled and gasped.

Spike looked down at himself and smiled, then looked back into her eyes. Her green eyes were wide and her smile was one of wonderment.

“You’re the Sex Pistols fan, obviously,” Buffy said, making out the words ’Sex Pistols’ on his t-shirt.

Her heart was thudding. Not only was she seeing her first ghost, but this particular ghost had gone down on her. He was not the usual type of guy she went out with in appearance at all. Somehow she always ended up with big, hulking, college-going, Sasquatch types (from what she could tell from his slightly blurry and translucent form he was about 5'10" and much slimmer). He kind of resembled the man in her dreams... She wished his features were more defined so that she could really see what he looked like.

“I wish I knew your name...” Buffy gazed into his transparent eyes.

Spike smiled and held up an index finger then put it to the dusty mirror. He wrote his name carefully.

“Spike?” Buffy giggled. “That’s your name?”

He nodded.

“That’s a nickname, right?”

He nodded and smiled. Then, wrote the name ‘William’ under ‘Spike’.

“William. I always liked that name,” Buffy said, still not totally believing that this was happening -- it was extraordinary. "It's a cute guy's name."

Spike pointed to the name ‘Spike’ then pointed to himself, indicating that’s the one he preferred.

Buffy nodded. “How did... How did you...you know...die?” Buffy asked gently.

Spike frowned. He sometimes forgot, but it came to him. The muscles of his face rippled with emotion at the remembrance. He made a few downward stabbing motions with his arm.

“Stabbed? You were stabbed?” Buffy asked sadly.

Spike nodded.

“Did they catch the guy?”

He shook his head ‘no’.

“I’m...I’m sorry...that must make it worse.” She didn’t know what to say.

He nodded.

“You live here?”

He smiled again and nodded.

“I do too. You don’t mind, do you? I’ve heard that ghosts don’t like it when living people move into their houses...”

Spike shook his head, letting her know that he didn‘t mind her being her in the least. His eyes drifted down her body. He wanted to touch her again.

Buffy noticed the way he was looking at her. She felt herself heating up.

“Do...you...ummm...want to do what you did last night...again?” She bit her lip.

A big smile stretched across his face as he nodded vigorously.

Buffy pulled her top over her head and shimmied out of her pants, then moved to the sleeping bag and lay on her back. She was breathing rapidly and looking intently at her supernatural lover.

Spike walked to her, his eyes raking over her nubile body. What he wouldn’t give to be alive again, to give her a good seeing to. He kneeled down again, looking into her eyes.

Buffy spread her legs for him. This wasn’t smart, it was crazy. She knew that. She just couldn’t help herself.

Tentatively, Spike tried touching her knee. He smiled when he was able to apply a light touch to her skin. It felt so smooth and warm.

Buffy shivered. His touch was cold, but not freezing. It felt so good in contrast to her hot flesh.

He put his other hand on the opposite knee and ran both his hands up to her waist.

“Ohhh--Yes! Touch me!” Buffy breathed.

Spike’s form started fading until he was barely there.

“No! Don’t go!” Buffy said in alarm.

Spike stroked her thighs as strongly as he could, to let her know he wasn’t vanishing. He was using up a lot of energy by touching her and he had to let his image fade if he wanted to continue. And he did want to continue.

“You’re still here...but I can’t see you anymore...”

Buffy moaned when she felt his hands drag up her torso to her breasts. She watched as he kneaded the soft mounds with invisible hands. She could feel his rings on her skin. Buffy gasped when his wet tongue licked one of her nipples.

Spike decided to try again to make his lips work. He put his mouth on her breast and sucked lightly. It worked. He moaned as he suckled at her, flicking the nipple with his tongue.

“Mmmmm--Oh! Ahhhh!” Buffy writhed.

Spike went to the other nipple, kissing and licking at it before sucking it up zealously. His hand slid between her thighs and rubbed her mound.

“Oh--Spike--God!” Buffy gasped in delight.

Her heat was scalding him in a good way, a very good way. He licked a lazy trail down her stomach to her groin. This time, he opened her lips himself. Spike enthusiastically began devouring her.

“Spike--Ahhhh--Ohhhh--Oh yeah!!” Buffy tried to put her hands in his hair, but her hands met only air.

Instead, she put her hands on her breasts to touch herself while he brought her off. Buffy wondered if she’d be able to do anything to him. She wanted to. She wanted to make him happy, to give him pleasure. Especially since he’d had such a tragic ending to his life. If anyone deserved a happy, it was someone who’d been murdered.

Spike was able to fuck her with his tongue while playing with her clit. It would be great if they could actually have sex, but that wasn’t possible. It would take too much of his energy. But he could give her this and he was enjoying it almost as much as she did.

He switched to fucking her with his fingers while sucking on her clit. He explored her hole with two fingers, searching for that elusive spot. Spike grinned when his fingers came into contact with a little bump inside her walls. He pushed on it slowly in a gentle rhythm while he tongued her clit.

Buffy’s back arched suddenly as she came hard, shouting his name. For the first time ever, she didn’t just cum, she actually ejaculated. Her fluids shot out of her forcefully. It felt so weird but oh-so-amazing. None of her flesh and blood boyfriends had ever given her head this good.

“SPIKE! YESYESYES! AHHH! OH--OH GOOD GOD!” Buffy thrashed her head from side to side, shaking and jerking her hips in the best orgasm that she‘d ever had.

It continued for several minutes, during which she grinned like a maniac and panted as she spasmed around his ghostly fingers.

He licked up her juices and stimulated her G-spot until he felt himself starting to fade again. His happiness at touching her and making her feel good, as well as reveling in the taste of her deliciousness, turned to sadness when he realized that he had to leave her now. He placed a worshipful kiss to her mons and was gone.

Buffy sat up, propped up on her elbows, still panting. “Spike?”

She couldn’t feel him anymore, his hands, tongue or his presence. She dropped back down and sighed heavily. That made two encounters of the sexual kind she’d had with him. And the second time he vanished afterwards. Already, she was looking forward to the next night.

Buffy was in love. She was in love with a ghost who could make her cum like a rocketship.

“My life just got a whole lot weirder...”

The next morning, Buffy woke up with a satisfied smile on her face.

She had been dreaming about her lover and the wonderfully wicked things he could do with his tongue and hands. She hoped that he would visit her again tonight.

There was a lot to be done this morning. With a sigh, she got up and stretched to begin her day.

After a few hours, Buffy took a break and went back up to the bedroom -- half-hoping that Spike would be there waiting for her. Regardless, she wanted to explore his room more to get an idea of who he had been.

Buffy dragged a big black steamer trunk out of the closet. There was a lock on it that she didn’t have the key for, so she abandoned it for the moment, going back into the closet. Most of the clothes were ruined, but there was a long leather duster coat that still looked good; it was surprisingly unsullied by time.

She took it out and fingered the soft leather. Although the temperature was in the 80s today, she just had to slip it on for a minute. Buffy pulled the coat closed and looked down at herself with a smile. He had worn this and it still smelled like him. She closed her eyes and inhaled: tobacco, leather and an amazingly stubborn clean and fresh smell. How had the scents lingered after what must have been a very, very long time?

Without taking off the coat, Buffy rummaged around some more. She found a guitar case and an amp. Inside the case was an ice-blue metallic electric guitar with ‘Fender’ written on it. She strummed it lightly.

A big box in the closet contained audio tapes and record albums. His musical tastes were all over the place: Beatles, The Sex Pistols, Cheap Trick, Queen, Jimi Hendrix, Atlanta Rhythm Section, Bob Seger, Miles Davis, John Lee Hooker, Led Zeppelin, Blue Oyster Cult (wasn't that a funny name for a band?), etc. A lot of the bands Buffy hadn’t even heard of. She’d make it a point to listen to some of them -- to experience the same things that her ghostly lover had.

There was also an old portable record player in the closet. Once the power to the house was turned on she wanted to see if it still worked.

In the nightstand Buffy found some of his other belongings: nail clippers, a pack of ancient-looking cigarettes and lighter, scissors, a bottle of black nail polish and tube of black eyeliner, rings, bracelets and necklaces, a key that probably went to the trunk, and ironically, a paperback copy of Stephen King's 'The Shining'. In the back of the drawer, Buffy found a leather-bound journal. She laid it on her lap and was about to open it when she stopped.

It would be invading his privacy to read it. She desperately wanted to know him, but she didn’t want to read his personal thoughts unless he said it was okay. Carefully, Buffy replaced the book in the drawer and closed it. She decided to leave the trunk closed for now, too.

“I hope he’s not mad that I was looking through his stuff...” Buffy worried her bottom lip between her teeth.

---

Willow and Xander pulled up around 10 a.m. in Xander’s truck.

Buffy bounded out of the house to greet them.

“Hey guys!” Buffy waved.

Willow climbed out of the car, rubbing her butt.

“Owww! My butt fell asleep, help!” Willow clenched her teeth and hissed.

“I’ll take care of that problem for ya, little lady,” Xander said, moving up behind her. “Bend over, I‘ll wake it up.”

“Ewww!” Willow giggled and smacked him on the arm. “Get away, you big perv!”

Buffy gave each of her friends a big hug.

“Sorry about being a day late, Buff. Were you okay here in the house by yourself?” Xander asked, looking at the house with trepidation.

The place creeped him out, but he didn’t want to seem like a big girly-man in front of his friends. There was no way in hell that he would spend the night alone in there.

“Yeah, it’s okay. I was...so busy with the cleaning and everything.” Buffy blushed a little, thinking about the other ways she had found to pass the time.

She couldn’t tell them about Spike. They’d think she was nuts and call the guys with the straitjackets and big butterfly nets.

“Oh, I’m so excited to get started!” Willow clapped her hands together. “This place is gonna rock when we get it all fixed up!”

“Yeah, sometime in the year 2525,” Xander said. “This place looks like the Munsters' house...only not as neat and tidy.”

“Thanks, Killjoy.” Buffy punched him lightly in the arm.

“Hey!” Xander rubbed his arm. “What is this? Whack-A-Xander day?”

“How about a little enthusiasm?” Buffy asked. “Would it kill you?”

“It might,” Xander joked. “You can never be too careful.”

“Come on guys, I’ll show you what I’ve done so far! And they delivered our mattresses this morning! Yay!” Buffy skipped up to the house.

“Wow, she’s a lot happier than I thought she’d be after we left her alone for two days,” Willow commented as she got some bags out of the truck.

“Yeah, I thought she’d be pissed.”

“She was pretty excited about the house. She really seems to love this place.” Willow started up the walkway.

“Don’t know how that’s possible....” Xander said. “This place...is just weird.”

---

Buffy, Xander and Willow sat at one end of the long dining room table finishing up their sandwiches.

It was fully dark outside. Their lanterns and some candles provided the only light. Xander had brought along a battery powered boombox for something to listen to. Currently, his ‘Hits of the 80s’ CD was playing.

Xander hummed and sang along in a bad British accent:

“We can dance if you wannu
We can leave your friends behind
Cause your friends don’t dance and if they don’t dance
Well they're no friends of mine --“

Buffy and Willow laughed. Willow put her hand to her face, trying not to spray Yoo-Hoo out her nose.

“Is that a slam against my singing?" Xander asked in mock-offense. “Didn't know I could get jiggy with it, did ya? I could perform for the crowned-heads of Europe with this golden throat of mine.”

“Do they still behead people? 'Cause I’m thinking that’s the reaction you’d get.” Buffy giggled.

Willow finally swallowed her drink with an effort. “I think they discontinued use of the guillotine, but they might bring the old girl back into service for Xander.”

“I don’t have to sit here and take this kind of abuse,” Xander said, not making a move to get up. “Wait, yes I do. It’s dark and scary everywhere else.”

“Oh, it’s not so bad,” Willow said, taking a bite of her sandwich.

There was a creaking noise.

Xander jumped. “What the fuck was that!?”

“Chill, Xan.” Willow munched. “Old houses make settling sounds like that all the time.”

Buffy was about to take a drink when she saw Spike enter the room. His form was still a bit dark and hazy, but she could see his smile. He smirked at her and waved. She smiled and was about to wave back when she caught herself. They probably couldn’t see him.

“Hey, what are you all blushy about?” Xander asked, looking at Buffy.

“Hmm? Blushy? I’m not...blushy.” Buffy ducked her head.

“You are too. See it, Wills?”

“Oh, leave her alone. Maybe she had a naughty thought...” Willow grinned.

“Cut it out!” Buffy said, rolling her eyes.

She did have a naughty thought. A very naughty thought. She imagined Spike, her phantom lover, under the table, touching her and putting his mouth on her while she sat talking with her friends.

Spike looked at Buffy, nodded, then turned to leave.

“No!” Buffy said without thinking -- she wanted him to stay.

Willow and Xander looked at her. “Huh?”

“Umm...I was saying no...because...I thought it was regular instead of diet,” Buffy said holding up her can of Coke.

Her friends wrinkled their foreheads but didn’t pursue the matter.

Spike turned back around and smiled, hooking his thumbs in his belt.

“Umm...can I ask you guys a question?” Buffy said timidly.

They nodded.

“What do you think...about ghosts? Do you think they’re real?”

Willow waved her hand dismissively. “Nope. There’s not one shred of scientific evidence to support the existence of ghosts.”

“That doesn’t mean they’re not real,” Buffy protested. “It just means that we don’t have...the right instruments and scientific dealies to detect them.”

“Buffster,” Xander said, “are you trying to make me piss my pants? Why the hell would you bring up ghosts in this house? At night, too!” He paused, a look of dread passing over his face. “Did...Did you see or hear something?”

“I, uh...thought I saw something, yeah...”

“It’s just your imagination,” Willow said coolly. “A place like this is bound to make you jumpy.”

“What did you see?” Xander asked nervously.

“Umm...a few times I thought I saw someone in one of the windows upstairs...”

“Oh shit...” Xander turned white and darted his eyes around the room. “Do you think this place is haunted?”

A scratching sound came from around the fireplace.

Xander gulped, turning his head slowly to look at the fireplace.

“That’s probably just some rats,” Willow said.

“Rats!? You ain’t helpin’, Wills!” Xander shivered. “Now we have ghosts AND rats! Perfect! They can work as a tag-team, the ghosts can scare us to death while the rats munch on our tender flesh!”

“We’ll get an exterminator, don’t worry.” Willow patted his hand.

“Shit...what if this place really is packed with spooks?” Xander said.

Spike sighed and shook his head. The poor kid wouldn’t last a week here.

“So, this thing you saw,” Willow asked Buffy, “what did it look like?”

“Well...I didn’t get a very good look. It was just kind of...a shape.”

Another spirit (this one was a small, blonde woman in a flowing, diaphanous white dress) floated into the room. Spike looked despondently at his fellow ghost and his eyes became wet with unshed tears. The lady ghost went to the fireplace then walked around the table past Xander.

Xander rubbed his arms vigorously. “It’s cold. You guys feel that?”

Willow shrugged. “So it’s a little drafty.”

“No, this is like -- you know how people say it’s colder when ghosts are around? The temperature drops an‘ shit...”

“Buffy, you scared the crap out of Xander with all that ghost-talk,” Willow said disapprovingly.

“Yeah, thanks, Buff. Why don’t you take one of the flashlights and hold it under your chin so you can tell us some more spooky tales.” Xander looked around anxiously.

The female spirit continued her circuit of the room and disappeared into the wall leading into the kitchen. Spike followed after her, passing through the wall.

“Sorry,” Buffy said looking at the point where the woman and Spike had vanished.

Buffy wondered who the woman was.

Buffy laid awake most of the night waiting for Spike to come. But he never did. She wanted to go into town and research the house, but there was just too much to do around here to spare a minute right now.

In the morning, Willow had to wake her up only after a few hours of sleep. The three friends worked most of the afternoon in the kitchen: scrubbing and cleaning the floors, cabinets and surfaces to get it ready for the new appliances being delivered in a few days.

"Don't you wish we could have one of those neat montages like they have on TV and the movies?" Xander asked, scrubbing the floor by the sink.

"Montages?" Buffy asked.

"Yeah, like when someone has a lot of studying or a lot work to do, they play a peppy, zippy song, something like oh let's say, 'Safety Dance'.” Buffy and Willow giggled. “The people are shown at different stages of progress, until they’re all done!”

“You're nutty, Xander,” Willow said with a smile. "I don't get you."

"Nobody gets me, baby. I'm like the wind," Xander said, doing an old-Elvis type kung fu move.

They giggled and continued to clean.

“Buff, when are the electricians coming?” Willow asked.

“A team of them are coming soon in a few days, a week tops. They’re going to be checking all the wiring and putting in a new fuse box... Which reminds me, we’re going to have to go downstairs to make sure the electricians have a clear path to the fuse box,” Buffy said.

“Downstairs? As in the basement?” Xander gulped and said in a Shaggy from 'Scooby Doo'-like voice.

“Yep.”

Xander shuddered. The basement was where the monsters lurked in all those movies. He really regretted watching so many creature features growing up right now.

“So, uh, who’s going to be the lucky one that goes down...there?” Xander asked.

“Well, you, obviously,” Buffy said scrubbing the floor.

“Me!” Xander squeaked. “Why is it obviously me?”

“Cause you’re a guy. Fuse boxes and stuff like that are your territory,” Willow explained.

“I know nothing about that stuff! Why do I have to do it?”

“Xander, relax,” Buffy said. “You don’t have to do it right now or anything, just within the next couple days.”

“Oh, that makes me feel SO much better...” Xander mumbled miserably.

Something horrible was creeping around down there, be it ghosts or rats or maybe even ghosts of rats, he was sure of it.

---

A few days passed.

The plumbers had come out and inspected some of the pipes. Unsurprisingly, they needed to replace the sinks, bathtubs, showerheads and much of the piping. The plumbers were waiting for the electricity to be turned on before going into basement so they could see what they were doing down there.

Willow had been especially giddy when they were cleaning the ballroom. Yes, they actually had a ballroom. They didn’t know what they’d possibly use it for, but they had one.

Xander worked outside a lot with the landscapers. They cleared out sections of overgrown foliage and grass and cut down a few trees. The lawns were looking more clean and less crowded everyday. The large pond was being un-mucked and restored too. Willow and Xander had both expressed their approval of stocking it with their own ducks and frogs.

In the evening, the friends went into town for some supplies and to take turns using the shower at a cheap motel. It would be absolute heaven when they got to use their own showers and tubs (not to mention the toilets!) at the house.

At 11 o’clock, they said their goodnights and went to their rooms. They were all exhausted from the last few days of work.

Buffy knew that she’d have a hard time falling asleep, despite how tired she was... She'd hold her usual vigil waiting for Spike to come.

---

Buffy laid on her new mattress, tossing and turning. It had been two hours since she’d given up on him coming. It was useless, she couldn’t sleep.

With a sigh, she turned on the lantern next to her bed. The electricity was supposed to be turned on next week, but until then they still had to make do with lanterns and candles.

Spike hadn’t come for three days. Why? Didn’t he like her anymore? Was something preventing him from visiting her? Did something happen to him? She was worried.

Buffy groaned, picked up her crossword puzzle from on top of her nightstand and tried to take her mind off of him.

A short time later, Spike entered the bedroom.

He smiled when he saw her. It seemed like an eternity since he’d last seen her. He approached the bed.

Buffy froze when she felt the tingles and draftiness that went along with Spike’s presence. She sat up and looked around.

“Spike? Is that you?” Buffy asked eagerly.

Spike materialized by the foot of the bed. He smirked, looking more opaque than he did last time. The details of his face and body were plainly visible although she could still see through him.

“Spike, I-I thought you weren’t coming back...” Buffy stared at him.

He was gorgeous: sculpted cheekbones, pouty lips, blue eyes the color of the sky, a scar cut through his left eyebrow. Buffy felt the strange urge to lick the eyebrow scar, as it was quite lickable-looking. He was wearing a long leather coat over his other clothes this time. The same coat that she’d found hanging in the closet.

Now that his facial features were fully formed, it hit Buffy like a ton of bricks. Spike didn‘t just resemble him, he was the man she’d seen in her dreams. The man that she’d silently longed for all these years.

“Why did you stay away so long?” Buffy asked dazedly.

Spike lips moved as he spoke to her. She could almost hear him.

“Can...you talk louder?” she asked.

He took a breath and concentrated on projecting his voice.

“I’ll try,” she heard him say in a low, soft voice.

“I heard you!” Buffy bounced on the bed. “I heard you that time!”

“How long have I been away?” Spike asked, excited to actually be talking to her.

“Three days.” Buffy pouted. “I-I thought that something happened to you...”

“Forgive me, luv. Time doesn’t have much meaning...for me.”

“You have an English accent? You’re from England?”

“Yes. I moved to the States a few years before...before I died.” He moved and sat on the end of the bed.

Buffy scooted closer to him; her eyes never stopped roaming over his face and body. She wanted to absorb everything about him, just in case he disappeared again.

“When did you... Did it happen?”

Spike thought for a moment. “July 5th, 1978. That was the date.”

“1978? You’ve been here all that time? Alone for 25 years?”

“25 years...” Spike looked off into the distance. “Is that how long it’s been? It seems a lot longer than that...but then again, it doesn’t seem possible...like it only happened yesterday. Does that make any sense?”

Buffy nodded, then said, “I’m sorry, Spike...it must be terrible. I wish I could make things better for you.”

He turned back to her and smiled. “You have, Buffy. I can’t tell you how lonely I was before you arrived. Seeing you, touching you...it’s more than I could have hoped for. You were the one that I was waiting for.”

“Waiting for?”

“Every time I felt complete despair, like I’d go mad with the loneliness and isolation, there was this feeling I had. Someone or something would come along to change my dreary existence. It was important that I hold onto my sanity until it came. But I had to wait for it. For you.”

“I...dreamed about you...” Buffy said, looking into his sparkling eyes.

Spike smirked. “Did you, now?” He assumed she meant last night.

“Yes. Before I came here. Since I was a kid, I’ve had these dreams on and off...I’d see your face."

Buffy didn't want to mention how sexual the dreams became when she matured. It was still a little embarrassing to admit to anyone, even him, in spite of what he had done to her on her sleeping bag.

"You’d smile and laugh... I remember how your eyes would crinkle up when you laughed, I loved that. I drew you over and over again, until my mom wigged out and demanded to know who this older man was that I was obsessed with." They chuckled. "If you want...I can show you some of the sketches... And when I was driving by this house, I had to stop. I’d seen it in my dreams too. Just the outside, though.”

“Hmmm. How odd,” Spike said, considering what she’d said.

Buffy giggled.

Spike looked back at her and smirked. He loved the tinkling sound of her laughter. “What is it, luv?”

“It’s just funny. A ghost saying something is odd. I mean, Hello?”

They chuckled again.

“You know what’s even odder?” Spike asked.

Buffy shook her head.

“I...dreamed about you, too. For a long time. You looked like you do now, you never aged even as I got older...”

“You--You did?” Buffy was stunned.

Spike grinned. “Yes, I never knew your name, but you would smile at me and hold my hand... The dreams were always pleasant. You’ve been special to me for so many years and I’ve only just met you...”

“We dreamed about each other...” Buffy said slowly. “What does it mean? Were we...meant...to meet? Like...fate?”

“I like to think so.” Spike smiled. “It’s a bit too much of a coincidence, don’t you think?”

Buffy nodded. Her mind was awhirl. This was all just too bizarre! Spike had dreamt of her, too?! If they were meant to be together...why did he have to be dead? God must have a really sick sense of humor.

“I see you’ve been cleaning,” Spike said, changing the subject. He indicated the trunk and guitar case that Buffy had removed from the closet.

“Umm...yeah... I hope you’re not mad.”

“No. Not mad. Far from it. You can do whatever you like with all of it...it’s not like I’m ever going to use it again,” Spike said with a sad smile. "It's your home now."

“I found a book marked ‘Journal’ in the drawer over there.” Buffy pointed to the nightstand. “I didn’t read it, though. I didn’t want to invade your privacy like that.”

Spike smiled. “It’s okay, pet. It would be nice for someone to know who I was. I didn’t have time to make any kind of mark on the world while I was alive. You can read it. I have to warn you though, most of it will put you to sleep. Better than warm milk.”

Spike knew she’d read about her dream-self in the Journal. He’d been very detailed in his descriptions of his dreams, most especially his sexual dreams. He wondered what she’d think about it.

Buffy giggled and breathed a sigh of relief. She really wanted to read his journal and get a better sense of him.

“Spike, who was that woman? The one that came into the dining room the other night?” Buffy asked.

He looked down, sorrow and pain written on his face. “She was my cousin. Darla. This was her house.”

“Oh,” Buffy said, wishing she could put her arms around him.

“She’d want you to take good care of it for her. She loved it...” Spike trailed off.

“I-I will,” Buffy promised. "I want to make it beautiful again."

She wanted to ask him more about Darla and the circumstances of their deaths, but he was so sad already that she didn’t want to make it worse. Her heart ached for him.

Spike met her eyes again. “Have you seen others like me here? Besides Darla.”

“No...but I’ve heard some stuff, I assumed it was you. Xander heard some things too. How many of them are there?”

“I don’t know...more than a few. Some of them aren’t very nice or pleasant looking.”

“You mean...they’re all gross and bloody?” Buffy shuddered, she couldn‘t stand the sight of blood.

“Yeah, some of them are. I’ll try to keep them from bothering you and your friends,” Spike said comfortingly. “This house has been around since the early 1900s, it’s collected its fair share of spirits in that time...like fireflies in a bottle. But I’ll do my best to look after you.”

“Thanks,” Buffy said, feeling warmer and wetter the longer he looked at her.

“Can I...touch you?” Spike asked timidly.

Buffy had many more questions about his life and death to ask, but she wanted him too much right now. The days that she hadn’t seen him or felt his ghostly hands on her body were torturous.

Buffy nodded and then pulled off her nightgown.

“Can...I see you too?” Buffy asked, breathing hard and lying down on her back.

Spike stood up and smirked. “I think so.”

He concentrated for a moment. His clothes dissolved from his body, leaving him standing there naked.

“That’s a time saver...” Buffy gawked.

Spike chuckled.

Buffy’s eyes looked him over from head to toe. He was a work of art, and she knew from art. She knew what her next sculpture would be. His body could have been chiseled from marble. It was muscular and defined, everything perfectly proportioned. She gulped when she looked at his semi-erect cock. It was beautiful too -- so big and thick. Her fingers twitched to take him in her hand and stroke him to full hardness.

Spike crawled up the bed towards her. Buffy was struck dumb by the sheer eroticism of his look and movements. He moved so fluidly and gracefully. He hovered above her, his eyes burning with lust.

“Can you...kiss me?” she asked breathlessly.

Without a word, he lowered his head and pressed his lips lightly on hers. They felt jolts of electricity when their lips touched. It was a sensation neither of them had ever felt before. They moaned and melted into the embrace. Spike wanted to deepen it even more, but he could tell that he was at his limits already. If he tried to become more solid, he might fade away from the strain. He noticed that he was getting stronger and becoming more solid every time he was with her. He also was becoming more cognizant, remembering his life and death with clarity. Maybe soon they could do even more than this together...

Spike moved his lips down her throat, kissing the side of her neck before moving onto her breasts.

Buffy wanted to hold him but her hands kept passing through his shoulders so she clutched at the sheets instead.

"I wish I could touch you too..." Buffy whispered. "I want to make you happy."

“You do, Buffy. God...you've made me so happy..." Spike sighed as he lightly suckled and fondled her tits.

"Ahhh -- I meant I want to put my mouth -- Uhhh -- on you! I want to run my tongue all over your body!" Buffy breathed.

"This is what we have...just enjoy this. Don't think about anything else. Don't want for more. Let's not be greedy."

"Ohhh--Yes--Ohhh!" Buffy watched him as he sucked and licked her hot skin.

"Mmmm, you taste so good, pet,” Spike moaned, licking down her stomach to her pussy.

“Ohhh--Spike!” Buffy said with a melty sigh.

---

Unable to sleep, Willow had snuck back down to do a little more work on the kitchen. After she was too tired to do anymore, she made her way back up to her room with her lantern.

As she was passing Buffy’s room, she stopped. There were strange sounds coming from inside. It sounded like Buffy was talking to someone and...moaning.

Willow put her ear to the door and listened.

“Mmmm--Ohhh! How do you do that? Ahhh!” Buffy exclaimed.

Willow furrowed her brows. It sounded like someone was in there with Buffy. Was it Xander? Willow knocked lightly on the door. The sounds stopped.

“Buffy? Everything okay?” Willow asked.

“Don’t come in! I’m f-fine!” Buffy stuttered.

“You sure?”

“Yes! Yeah, fine! Go back to bed, Willow.”

Willow shrugged and went to her bedroom.

---

“I’m fading, sorry, luv,” Spike apologized. “Wish I could stay longer.”

Buffy was panting from the glorious orgasm he’d just given her.

“Don’t...stay away so long...okay? I...missed you.”

Spike smiled. “I’ll try.”

He reached out and touched her face lightly then disappeared.

Buffy felt so sad when he left her. Why couldn’t he stay with her?

She wanted to find out more about him. When she had the time, she wanted to go into town and do some research on him and the house. That weasel real estate agent Warren hadn’t told them that anyone had been murdered here. Buffy would have wanted the house regardless, but Willow and Xander might have minded.

Buffy sighed in post-orgasmic bliss and slid under the sheet.

---

Buffy drifted off to sleep thinking of Spike. A vivid dream played out in her head:


June 2, 1978

Buffy found herself in the foyer of the mansion.

It was beautiful and fixed up just the way she envisioned it looking in its heyday, and how she wanted it to look when she was done with it. There were hand-painted murals on the cream-colored walls; the draperies were lace, velvet and silk; bas-relief moldings decorated the ceiling. It was breathtaking.

She was admiring the way the hardwood floors practically glowed when there was a knock on the front door.

Buffy was wondering if she should answer it when a blonde woman hurried past her and opened it. The woman was the living version of the one that came into the dining room that first night Willow and Xander were here. Spike’s cousin, Darla.

“William!” the blonde woman exclaimed when she opened the door.

“Hey, Darla. How’s tricks?” Spike said with a smirk.

He looked just as Buffy had seen him last, except with clothes on: ripped jeans, t-shirt with safety pins stuck randomly through it, heavy black combat boots.

Darla threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. It had been a year since she’d seen her baby cousin, who also happened to be her favorite relative. They were 12 years apart in age, but they always had a special bond.

“It’s good to see you. I’m so glad you decided to come out and stay with me.”

Spike picked up a few of his suitcases and entered the foyer. He whistled in appreciation.

“This is quite a place you have here, cousin. I can’t believe I’m going to be living in a posh place like this.”

“Well, get used to the good life, William.” Darla smiled.

“Spike. I like to be called Spike now.”

“Hmm, yes, I keep forgetting that. Uncle Rupert must be having fits.” Darla chuckled.

Some members of Darla’s staff went outside and began moving Spike’s big black trunk, guitar case and other bags into the house.

“Spike?” Buffy said. “Can either of you hear me?”

They ignored her. Buffy tried touching Spike's arm, but her hand passed through like water. She pulled her hand back. It was as if she were the ghost this time.

It was disorienting. Buffy was getting impressions from them, their emotions and thoughts. She wasn't getting everything -- just pieces here and there.

“Yeah, dad wasn’t crazy about the name thing or my appearance. Especially my appearance.” Spike laughed.

“When did these changes happen?” Darla asked. “I saw you last year at Christmas and you still had your glasses, tweed suit and curly brown hair.” She tousled his now spiky blond hair playfully. “I think you look great, by the way. Very dangerous and sexy. The girls must eat you up with a spoon.”

“Hey, watch the hair.” Spike smirked and ran a hand through his blond locks. “I decided on a change shortly after Christmas. And the girls pay me my fair share of attention now that I don‘t look like a total wanker. William is dead, viva la Spike!”

“I happen to love William. He better still be in there somewhere, you rogue.” Darla poked him in the stomach.

“Yeah, that git’s still in here. Don’t you worry. Can‘t get rid of ‘im.”

Darla was the only person who Spike really felt comfortable with. She never judged him or put pressure on him to be better or different than he was -- she accepted him. When he was little, Darla looked after him a lot; putting band-aids on scraped knees, reading to him, etc. And she had taken him to his first concert in 1972. They saw Led Zeppelin in L.A. while he was there on a visit and it was the highlight of his young life. Darla would always have a special place in his heart, for those reasons and many more.

“Come on, let’s get you settled into your bedroom.” Darla took his hand and led him to the staircase.

Buffy followed behind them. The cousins had very warm feelings for each other. They obviously had a close relationship. Nothing icky, just a strong familial love and bond.

“This is really weird... Why am I dreaming this? Did this really happen or is my mind making up the details?” Buffy wondered aloud.

Spike and Darla entered the bedroom.

“Wow, Dar!” Spike said. “This is bloody brilliant!”

Buffy stood in the doorway watching them with a smile.

Darla laughed as Spike ran around the room, checking everything out. Spike jumped on the bed and bounced up and down on his knees like a kid.

“Don’t break the bed, Will -- I mean, Spike.”

“This is really all mine? I can put up my own posters and stuff? You don't mind?”

“Yep, it's all yours,” Darla said. “Just don’t break all the furniture, Mr. Punk Rocker.”

“For you, I’ll give the breaking of the furniture a pass.” Spike bowed in deference.

They chuckled.

“Listen, I have to talk to the kitchen staff, so I’ll leave you to get acquainted with your room. You can take a nap or go exploring if you’d like. If you need something, you can ask Ethan, he's the head of the staff.” Darla turned to walk out.

“Darla?” Spike said.

“Hmmm?” She turned back to him.

“Thanks for having me. I’m really going to enjoy livin’ here. I have a good feeling about it.” Spike smiled.

“Me too. We‘re going to have a lot of fun.” Darla grinned.

---

Buffy woke up the next morning a bit disoriented. The dream had seemed so real. The colors were so vivid, the smells were so strong, the sounds were so crisp...

Why did she dream it? Why was she seeing it? Did Spike somehow send it to her? Or was the house itself doing this to her? She’d have to ask Spike the next time she saw him, which would be that night, she hoped.

Buffy sat on her bed twiddling her thumbs, waiting patiently (or trying to, anyway) for Spike to appear.

"Where are you?" she asked. "I need to see you."

While she waited, Buffy took the opportunity to look through Spike's journal. She still felt funny reading someone else's private thoughts, but he told her it was alright. Her curiosity about finding out who he was outweighed the ambivalence about intruding.

The thick leather-bound journal covered the last several years of his life in varying detail. William Randall Giles had been a sensitive, studious young man, who loved to read and write poetry and short stories. The other boys had picked on him a lot, he didn't have many friends. His mother died when he was 10, leaving his father Rupert to raise him. Rupert had been a good man, but a bit of a workaholic. William spent most of his time alone. He raved about his cousin, Darla, though. She was an angel to him, always kind and loving, more of a friend and confidant than merely a relation. She never judged him and made sure to make him feel important and loved. It was plain from his writings that he loved her more than anyone else. There were only a few entries after he came to live with her in June of 1978. Apparently, he was too distracted to keep up with it during that time. The last entry, July 1st, had him promising himself to try and make it a point to get back to journaling.

When William was 14, he met Cecily Adams. A young woman whose father was a high-powered attorney. There were a few love poems written to Cecily (obviously never sent) written in the book. Buffy could only make out a word or two here and there as the poems had been scribbled over in an almost vicious fashion. When she read further, she understood why. Cecily had brutally rebuffed William when he told her that he was in love with her. She didn't let the poor guy down easily either. Cecily had told him that he was 'beneath her', that his attentions made her sick and caused her embarrassment. On the pages that followed, young William poured his heart out; all the depression, grief and humiliation he felt were laid out on the pages. Buffy's heart went out to him.

She also read about the girl in his dreams, her. Buffy was taken aback by the descriptions of herself. He really did dream about her.

She read the entry from his 16th birthday; he had a highly erotic dream about her that night. Dream Girl had come to him at night, approaching his bed with her usual kind smile. Then she had slowly stripped for him while he laid in bed, watching her every move, afraid and excited at the same time. The dreams had never gone this far before. She climbed into bed with him and proceeded to make him a man (in his dreams anyway). He'd never had sex before, but his descriptions of the feelings and what he experienced seemed dead-on. Buffy felt a strange sense of pride that she (kind of) had been his first, just as her Dream Man (Spike) had been hers.

Early 1978 was when William made himself over into Spike. He was tired of always being the butt of jokes and letting people get over on him. He changed his image and let his inner-bad boy out. Spike attended youth dance clubs and started getting into punk rock. He was still too thoughtful and sensitive to truly live the lifestyle, but he had fun hanging out with people worlds apart from his usual crowd.

That day Buffy also opened up the trunk. There wasn't much inside: more clothes, some things that he'd kept belonging to his mother, some of the poems and stories that he'd written (Buffy wanted to read those), some photos of family and friends (photos of a young, smiling, dark-haired Spike with a man who must have been his father), etc. There was also a large stack of Playboys, including a copy of the very first issue with Marilyn Monroe. It was encased in plastic to preserve it. Buffy shook her head and smiled. He was a Marilyn fan, eh? If Spike didn't mind, maybe Xander would like to keep the magazines.

A half hour passed. Buffy was just about to give up for the night, when she felt the tingling sensation. Her skin prickled pleasantly, a shiver of arousal shook her body.

"Spike?"

Spike formed near the bed. He looked even more opaque than before. Buffy had to look closely to see through him.

"Hello, Buffy," he greeted her with a smile.

"Spike, I'm so happy that you're here! I was about to give up on you again." Buffy patted the bed next to her.

Spike moved and sat down near her. They looked into each other's eyes for a moment.

"I read your journal. I'm sorry you had such a hard life."

Spike smirked. "It's okay. That's all over and done with now. It's not like I was abused or had alcoholic parents or anything. I was just a giant git."

"I thought you sounded very cute, I would have talked to you. And I went through the trunk a little too..."

Spike raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.

She giggled, "I found your dirty magazines."

"Hey, they're not dirty," Spike protested with a smile. "A woman's body is a work of art."

"I agree. I'm not coming down on you or anything for having them. I'd be worried if you didn't have some kind of porn. Would you mind if I gave them to Xander, even the Marilyn issue?"

"Mmm, Marilyn," Spike sighed dreamily, then shook it off. "Um, no. You can give them to Xander if you'd like. I don't mind."

"I...read about me. I mean, the girl in your dreams." She blushed.

"You were right the first time, luv. It was you."

They glanced at each other like shy teenagers. Buffy wanted to talk more about the wet dreams, but there was the other dream that needed discussing.

"I have to talk to you about something else," Buffy said.

"Alright".

"Last night, after you left...I had a dream."

"Was it a bad dream?"

"No...it wasn't bad. It was just strange."

"What happened?" Spike couldn't resist touching her knee.

Buffy's skin was set ablaze by his cold touch. She burned for him. She took a breath to steady herself and push back her need for his body. It was important that she tell him the details of the dream before they could...relax.

"I dreamed I was in the past. I saw the house when it was all fixed up. I saw your cousin and you. You were moving in with her. And I knew the date somehow. It was June 2, 1978."

Spike's eyes widened. He looked away from her, trying to figure out what was going on. That was the date he had moved in. How could she know that?

"Spike? Is that the way it happened?"

"Yes...you saw it happen in the dream?" he asked with concern.

"Yeah, you two were all happy and bantering. You were telling her about how you changed your appearance since the last time you saw her, at Christmas. She was so pretty... She seemed nice."

"She was," Spike agreed and his jaw twitched. "Why would you dream about that?"

"I don't know. It was weird. I was in the dream but I couldn't talk to you or touch you. I could only listen and follow you around."

Spike was afraid. He was afraid that that dream was only the first in a series, culminating with that terrible night.

"It's okay, Spike," Buffy said, seeing his nervousness. "I'm not freaked out by it anymore. It was probably because I looked at your journal."

He nodded. The journal was most likely the reason, but he had a bad feeling. "Just tell me if you have another one like it, okay?"

Spike didn't want to frighten her unnecessarily by telling her his fears. It would be horrific if Buffy had to witness the whole sordid, bloody tale.

"Okay," she agreed. After a few moments, she looked up at him through her lashes. "Do you think...I can touch you tonight? I want to..."

"We can...give it a go. I'm not sure if I can get -- solid -- enough for very long..." he said, desperately wanting to be able to do it.

"Please. I'd like to try," Buffy said. “You’ve made me feel so good, I want to touch you, too.”

Spike stood up and faced her, then made his clothes dissolve off his body again.

"That is so cool..." Buffy smiled as her eyes roamed over his magnificent body. "You're so beautiful."

She noted that part of him seemed to be getting pretty ‘solid’. Her smile broadened. She studied his body with an artist’s eye, exploring every line, sharp curve and plane with her eyes, committing all of it to memory.

He ducked his head shyly. The way she was looking at him, every inch of him, was making him feel self-conscious. Buffy's tongue darted out to lick her lips as she locked gazes with him and slipped out of her yummy sushi pajamas.

"Can I touch you now?" she asked, her hand already starting toward him.

Spike nodded, then concentrated, harder than ever, on becoming as flesh. He wouldn't be able to maintain this state for very long. Hopefully it would be long enough.

They both sighed dreamily when Buffy's fingertips came into contact with his chest. She pushed gently against him. He wasn't totally firm but she could definitely work with this. As long as she didn't try to grip him too strongly.

Spike closed his eyes. This was the first time in 25 years that he'd felt the touch of another person. The heat from her fingers spread through his whole body.

Buffy kneeled on the bed and got closer to him, moving her hands gently up and down his chest and stomach. Her fingers skimmed the surface of his torso, touching him in veneration. Her passion grew by leaps and bounds.

"B-Buffy...I don't know how long I can keep this up for. I might disappear without warning...I hope that doesn't happen," Spike moaned as her hands slid over his hips and her lips touched the center of his chest.

"We'd better get started right away then..." Buffy said, taking his cock in her hand and stroking up and down.

It felt cool to the touch, throbbing and twitching in her hand. She lifted it up and out of the way, leaning in to kiss then lick at his scrotum.

Spike gasped and tilted his head back in pleasure. Buffy continued licking and sucking lightly on his balls, then slid her tongue up the underside of his shaft. She kept her movements and touches light, which was difficult considering how she wanted to ravish him.

Spike's fingers whispered through her blonde hair. She watched him while she laved his glans with her tongue. Her pussy ached at the blissful, enraptured expression he wore. She sucked and licked the head stronger, harder, her hand stroked the base in a twisting motion. It was like devouring a ghostly popsicle -- a delicious ghostly popsicle.

"Buffy--So good--Ahhh!" Spike's hips rocked slightly. He looked down at her. "Do...you want to try...having sex?" he panted.

Buffy released his organ from her mouth and hands. Never taking her eyes from his, she crawled backwards on the bed to the center, then laid on her back. Spike crawled onto the bed to her. He hovered above her and settled his body over hers. Her legs spread wide, opening herself to him.

Spike smiled, bending his head down to kiss her tenderly as he moved himself into position.

"I love you," Buffy said breathily as their lips brushed against each other.

Spike felt tears springing to his eyes. He never thought to hope that she would feel the same way about him. "Buffy...I love you too...so bloody much. I always have...I always will."

They crushed (with as much pressure as they could) their mouths together as he guided himself into her opening. He had been concerned that it wouldn't work, but it was working just fine. He put most of his energy into making his cock hard and solid for her.

They moaned as his cool staff sunk into her sweltering heat. They expected to hear the hiss of steam at the contrast in temperature. The only sounds were their sighs of feeling complete for the first time.

Buffy's hands slid up his arms to his neck, touching him like she would skim her hands along the surface of the water in the pond. She could feel him inside of and surrounding her totally. Never before had she known such peace and bliss. This was how she wanted to feel forever.

Spike slowly began moving inside of her, whispering his love and devotion in her ear.

"Yes--Spike--Yessss!" Buffy moaned.

He kissed the side of her face as he pumped into her gently. Buffy turned her face to recapture his lips, forgetting soft caresses for a moment, her lips passed into his before she remembered and pulled back. Her hands went into his hair, feeling its silky softness.

"Harder--Spike!" Buffy felt the orgasm building in her loins. "Ohhhh!"

Spike squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating on being inside of her and the unimaginable pleasure it brought. His hips moved faster. He felt an impending orgasm around the bend. He wondered what would happen? Would he cum? And if he did, would it be liquid or ghost cum? Only one way to find out...

They kept up the pace for several minutes until it was too much.

"Ohhh--Ohhh Spike!" Buffy groaned, rolling her hips. "Ahhhh--GOD--OH YES!" Her body began to shake, her hands roamed over the muscles of his back, her eyelids flapped.

"Buffy!" Spike grunted, feeling himself hurdling over the edge with her.

Buffy felt him spasming inside of her pussy, but she didn't feel the gush of warmth (or coolness, in his case) of his spunk. Still, it was the most exquisite feeling she'd ever had.

After their tremors began to subside, Spike lifted his head and smiled down on her, warming her like the heat of a thousand suns. Her fingers softly touched his face, tracing the lines of his cheekbones lovingly. He placed a gentle kiss to her lips.

"I love you, Buffy," he whispered.

"I love you, too." Her eyes slid closed.

Buffy opened her eyes again when she felt the slight weight of his body begin to lighten even more. He was becoming more transparent. She felt profound sadness that he'd have to leave her again.

"Sorry, luv," Spike apologized, still on top of her. "I'd never leave you again if I had a choice."

"I know." Buffy gave him a watery smile. "Please come back to me...as soon you can."

"I will." He leaned in and kissed her once more, then he was gone.

Buffy made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a sob as she slid her naked body under the sheet. She'd felt his cock inside of her right up until the second he disappeared, leaving her suddenly bereft. She was deliriously happy that they'd consummated their love. But they had a ton of obstacles in their way to happiness, the main one being his non-living, non-corporeal state. She touched two fingers to her lips. She could still feel the tingles from his kiss lingering.

Why did he have to be a ghost? Why did God do this to her? She was a good person, she never hurt anyone or kicked puppies. Why couldn't she be with the man she loved? Spike surely hadn't deserved his fate either. No one deserved to be stabbed to death. Why couldn't he be a flesh and blood human again?

Her thoughts slowed as sleep claimed her, and she began to dream...


Buffy was in the mansion's past again.

June 7th, 1978

The dining room table was set with three places. Darla and a man came in.

The man was tall with shoulder-length brown feathered hair and a high forehead. He had a smug, self-satisfied look on his face.

"So where's this cousin I've been hearing so much about?" he asked.

"He should be down soon," Darla said, sitting down at the head of the table.

"Darla, when can I move in, babe? I practically live here anyway, why not make it official?"

"Angel...I--"

"Evenin'," Spike said, strolling into the dining room.

"Hello, Spike." Darla brightened.

Spike went to her and bent down, giving her a kiss on the cheek. Angel's eyes narrowed slightly.

"This that Angel bloke?" Spike asked, looking over the brunette. "Nice hair, mate," Spike snickered.

"I hope for your sake, Darla, that you don't let Spike here talk to your high society friends like that," Angel said, staring Spike down.

"Boys, please." Darla wrung her hands. "Let's play nice, okay? Angel, this is my cousin Spike. Spike this is --"

"I'm her boyfriend," Angel finished.

Spike smiled tightly. "How nice."

Buffy wondered why the two men took an instant dislike to each other.

Spike took his seat. "So, what's on the menu, cuz?"

"Oh, you’ll love it! Tonight we're having --"

"We're having duck a l’orange," Angel finished her sentence again. "Lucy does a terrific job on that recipe."

"Would it kill you to let Darla finish her own bloody sentences, mate?" Spike asked, looking at Angel with steely eyes.

He didn’t like how dominating this man seemed to be towards Darla. Spike was getting a bad vibe from him.

"Listen, mate, I don't have --" Angel started getting red in the face.

"Angel! Spike! Please! Don't argue. I want you two to get along," Darla said anxiously. “Please make an effort, okay?”

Spike saw how distraught she was and swallowed his dislike of her boyfriend. He sat back and nodded.

"Sorry, Dar. Guess I'm just a bit cranky from hunger." He gave her an easy smile and put his hand over hers, squeezing it lightly.

Darla smiled back, breathing a little easier.

Angel's eyes narrowed suspiciously again. He didn't like another man touching his woman. Even if it was her cousin...

---

Buffy woke up. She blinked, processing the fact that she was back in reality. It was still the middle of the night.

She turned over on her other side to face the window, wishing Spike were here with her, holding her.

'What does it mean? Why am I seeing what happened back then? Am I supposed to do something with the information? I didn't read anything like that last dream in the journal... That Angel guy seems like trouble...'

Exhaustion caused her eyes to drift shut again. Another dream was queued up in her mind and ready to go...


Buffy was in the kitchen this time.

June 10, 1978

"Geez! I just had a dream, isn't one a night enough? Okay, now what?" Buffy said, wondering what the next chapter in this story would entail.

It was frustrating not being able to interact with Spike or anyone else. Buffy preferred taking action to sitting back and observing. But she had no choice where these dreams were concerned.

A tall, distinguished-looking man with salt and pepper hair was searching through the cabinets. A young boy, who appeared to be in his early teens, was sitting at the table engrossed in a book.

Spike entered and went to the refrigerator, getting a can of Tab. Buffy sighed at how delicious he looked wearing his ripped jeans and a tight blue t-shirt. His hair was all pointy.

"Hey, Ethan," Spike greeted the butler and took a sip from the can.

Ethan smiled. "Good afternoon, Spike. Sleep well?"

Spike nodded and ran a hand through his messy hair.

“I’m afraid you missed lunch, but I could fix you something if you’d like,” Ethan said.

Spike shook his head. “Nah, I'm good, mate." He looked at the young man, whose nose was buried in a book. "Who's the kid?" Spike asked.

"Oh, this is my nephew, Percy. He's going to be spending some time with us here. I'm looking after him for my brother," Ethan said. "Percy? Percy, I'm speaking to you."

The boy tore his eyes away from his book and looked at his uncle.

"What is it, Uncle?"

"Honestly, Percy, it's polite to respond to someone when they're speaking to you."

"Sorry, Uncle." Percy looked down, properly chastised.

"This is Spike. He's Miss Darla's cousin. He's from England as well."

Percy regarded Spike curiously. "You're Miss Darla's cousin?"

"Yeah."

"Why do you look like a street person then?" Percy asked innocently.

Buffy giggled. The kid was certainly honest and forthright.

"Percy! What sort of thing is that to say? I'm sorry, Spike... Percy's social graces need improvement." Ethan was embarrassed by his nephew's candor -- even if he did agree with his assessment.

Spike laughed, "Hey, it's all right. I do look unrefined. I like you, kid."

"I'm not a kid. I'm 14. You can't be much older than that yourself," Percy said haughtily.

Spike walked over to him. "Sorry, my mistake, mate. What are you readin' there?"

"It's a book about Jackson Pollock. Do you know his work?" Percy asked, expecting a 'no'.

Buffy walked over and looked over Percy's shoulder at the book. She admired Pollock's work, too.

"Yeah, some pretty revolutionary stuff," Spike nodded, looking at the book. "His paintings have an almost...physical kind of energy, don't they?"

Buffy looked at Spike, surprised but pleased. "You know about art? I didn't know that."

Percy's face lit up. "Yes! I always thought so. It reflected his own turbulent personality."

Percy was pleasantly surprised that Spike seemed to have a brain. The punk rock exterior had fooled him into thinking that Spike was all style and no substance. Maybe he would have someone to talk to during the summer besides his Uncle Ethan after all. Miss Darla was too pretty to talk to. Every time he tried to talk to her his face turned beet red.

Spike smiled at the younger man. Percy reminded Spike of himself at that age. Only instead of poetry and writing, it appeared that Percy's passion was art. Percy was small for his age, his hair was blonde, unruly and slightly curly, a pair of glasses were perched on his nose. Spike had to do a double-take when he first got a good look at the kid. They could have been brothers.

"Well put," Spike patted him on the back.

Spike resolved to make friends with the tow-headed kid. He remembered how much he wanted friends or just someone to talk to when he was younger.

"I was going to go up to my room and listen to some tunes. You wanna come?" Spike tried to live up to the bad-ass image he wanted to project, but dammit, he was a big softie when it came right down to it.

Percy just looked at him for a moment, as if he were trying to comprehend that someone wanted to spend time with him. Spike knew the feeling.

"Aww, that's so nice of you, Spike," Buffy said, smiling at his kindness.

"Yes...that would be...cool." Percy smiled.

Buffy followed Percy and Spike to his bedroom.

They sat on the floor while Spike got out his cardboard box full of albums and tapes. Percy dug into it enthusiastically, 'Oooh'ing and 'Aaah'ing at Spike's collection.

Spike put on his Blue Oyster Cult album and leaned back against the bed, nodding his head to the beat.

"Spike?" Percy asked.

"Yeah?"

"Why...are you being nice to me?"

"Cause I want to. You got a problem with that?" Spike smirked.

"No. I'm just surprised. I mean, look at you. You're cool. Why would you want to hang out with me?"

Spike sighed. "I didn't always look like this. I bet you're usually shy and keep to yourself, right?"

Percy shrugged noncommittally and started digging in the box again.

"And I bet someone like you, with your delicate bone structure, smaller frame and superior language skills, gets picked on and knocked about a lot."

"Are you going to arrive at anything resembling a point anytime soon? Or are you just trying to make me feel like shit?" Percy asked, the corners of his mouth twitched up into a smile.

Spike laughed boisterously, wiping tears from his eyes. Buffy laughed too.

"You've got a pair on you, Percy. Okay, my point is that I was just like you. I know what it's like to want to be included in things, just to have someone talk to you like you're a real person, an' not something that they scraped off their shoe. I thought it'd be nice to get to know you, you seem like a good bloke."

Percy smiled. "Thanks.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “I wonder what Uncle Ethan would do if I bleached my hair like yours..."

Spike laughed again, "Right after he killed me, you mean?"

Spike and Percy laughed.

Buffy's laughs dried up at the mention of killing. It was going to happen one of these times. She was going to be forced to see it in living color whether she liked it or not. She didn't think she'd be able to handle it. She was terrified.

Dark circles lined Buffy's eyes the next day. She hadn't gotten a lot of sleep lately; Spike's nocturnal visits and now the vivid dreams she was having had her going on practically no sleep. Still, she couldn't just sit back and rest while her friends did all the work. She tried to put on a happy face and do her part, after all, she was the one who insisted on taking on the house.

Buffy, Willow and Xander were working in the kitchen again. It was like one in a hotel; it was huge. Willow was especially happy with it, since she loved to bake. She promised them a big batch of chocolate chip cookies once everything was hooked up and in working order.

They were cleaning to the music on Xander's boombox. This time, he was playing his 'Dance Mix'. Deee-Lite's 'Groove is in the Heart' was playing.

Xander was groovin' and singing along again:

"The chills that you spill up my back
Keep me filled with satisfaction when we're done
Satisfaction of what's to come

I couldn't ask for another
No-No-No, I couldn't ask for another
I couldn’t ask --“

"XAN!" Willow interrupted him.

"What? I'm just gettin' my swerve on," Xander said with a boyish grin, wiggling his hips.

"Try a little more cleanin' and a little less swervin'," Willow waggled her finger at him, a small smile touched her lips. "We need to replace those tiles...get busy, mister.

"Xan, the electricians are coming the day after tomorrow," Buffy said off-handedly. "Why don't you go down to the basement and make sure there's a clear path to the box."

Xander paled, his mouth went dry. “I...don't want to."

Willow sighed. "Come on, Xander! What are you afraid of?"

"What am I afraid of, she asks... Where do I begin? There's...something down there. I can...tell," Xander said, looking fearfully at the door to the basement.

"Like what?" Willow asked, putting her hands on her narrow hips. "Bugs? Maybe some vermin?"

"Those things and much, much more, I'm sure," Xander said.

"Hey, Xander," Buffy attempted to bribe him, "I bet there's all kinds of neat things down there...bikes, perhaps bottles of wine, old toys... You can have whatever you find."

Xander seemed to consider this for a moment.

"And I'll bake a whole batch of cookies, just for you," Willow added more incentive.

His eyebrows raised and he licked his lips lightly. A whole batch of chocolate chip goodness all to himself was too tempting.

"Alright."

Buffy and Willow smiled triumphantly.

"But...if something kills me, I'm soooo going to haunt your asses," Xander said, trying to sound funny rather than scared out of his wits.

"Oh, you big baby!" Willow laughed. "I'll come down and help just as soon as I finish taking down this cabinet."

Xander picked up the biggest flashlight they had, a big yellow B&D with an extra wide beam. He took a shaky breath and opened the cellar door. He looked back at Willow and Buffy, but they were already back to work, not paying attention to him anymore.

'Shit...I have such a bad fucking feeling about this...'

Xander gulped and started down the stairs.

---

It was spooky as hell down there. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, Xander took one last look up at the door and the precious light before moving further into the cavernous basement.

Xander shone his flashlight all around. There were dozens of wine racks and kegs. He smiled, hoping that some of the stuff was still good. It would be great if they could find an expensive bottle of champagne to celebrate with when they finished the house.

Xander sang 'Groove Is In The Heart' under his breath to take his mind off of his fear. There were piles of junk scattered around the room. He was anxious to go through them and pluck out the treasures that he knew would be waiting, but that would wait until the power was turned on. There was no way he was going to spend any more time down here than he had to right now.

Xander exhaled in relief when he finally found the fuse box. There were only a few obstacles in the way, which he swiftly moved aside. It only took him a few minutes.

"There, that wasn't so bad," Xander laughed nervously then turned and started walking back to the stairs.

His flashlight went out.

He had to bite back the shriek that wanted to explode from his mouth. He frantically tried switching it back on, then hit it with his hand. It still wouldn't work.

"Okay--Okay! It's okay! I'll just...feel my way back," Xander said to himself, his heart going wild in his chest. "Just some...bad batteries...that's all..." He put his hands in front of him and went in the direction of the stairs, at least he hoped that he was going in the right direction.

He started to sing to himself in a tight, anxious voice, stuttering the lyrics:

"Your groove...I do d-deeply dig
No walls, only the br-bridge, my supperdish
My succotash wish
Singin', b-baby

I couldn't ask for --"

Xander stopped walking and singing when he heard what sounded like someone laughing. His eyes started from their sockets and shot around, searching the inky darkness of the cellar.

"Who...Who's there?" Xander's blood ran cold.

"Who's there?" a low, gravelly, rasping voice mocked him then giggled insanely.

"Oh fuck--oh fuck--oh fuck," Xander whispered, moving his feet again. The voice made his hair stand on end; his skin crawled like a thousand ants had descended on him at once.

A scraping, dragging sound came from in front of him. He stopped again, afraid he'd run into whoever -- or whatever -- it was.

"Willow! Buffy!" Xander yelled, his heart felt ready to explode from fright. "Guys! Come down! Hurry!"

"Shhhh!" the voice said, coming closer. "It's just you and me, beautiful. Leave those bitches up there where they belong..."

"What do you want?! Who are you?!" Xander walked clumsily backwards. "Leave me alone! Please!"

"Leave me alone! Pllleeeaaasseeeee!" its croaking voice mocked.

Xander felt something icy and clammy brush against his face. He screamed and flung himself backwards, waving his arms in front his face.

"BUFFY! WILLOW! HELP!!" Xander screamed, landing on his backside.

"They can't hear you," it chuckled gratingly, scraping the ground as it walked towards him. "No one will ever hear you again..."

Xander swung his flashlight in panic from side to side, hoping to hurt whatever it was that was after him. He screamed when he felt the icy fingers touch his cheek again. At that moment, his flashlight stuttered back to life. He could see what it was; he wished that he hadn't.

It was hideous, the stuff of nightmares: its skin was purplish-blue and flaking off of its face; its eyes were black, evil marbles; its purple lips were pulled back in a grin, revealing its rotten teeth; a black, sludge-like substance oozed from its mouth; its hands reached for him.

Xander's testicles shriveled up into his body as he let out a blood-curdling scream. "N-NOOOOO!"

Suddenly, the grotesque creature was flung away from him. Xander scrambled backwards, swinging the flashlight beam around to keep track of where it was.

Another person (thing?) stepped in front of him, facing the creature that had attacked him.

"Leave him be," the other said in a firm, accented voice.

Xander looked at the newcomer. He could almost see through him, like he was there but not all the way.

The attacker hissed. "This is MY place! You have no say here, boy!"

"Wrong. My cousin owned this place. You only worked here. I have the run of the house," the British specter said. "You know I can hurt you. I suggest you leave all of them alone."

"Go...Go into the light!" Xander yelled, remembering stuff from ghost movies.

The bleached blonde ghost looked at Xander over his shoulder. "There's no light for him, mate. He's stuck here, or it's off to the bad place for him."

The other one growled and advanced on Xander again. Just as Xander was ready to let another scream rip, the British ghost stepped between them and shoved the shuffling attacker away.

"I said leave him alone, pillock!" he snarled. "You couldn't be a good spook and just rattle some chains, you had to try to hurt him. Get the fuck out of here before I really get pissed."

It looked at Xander then back at the blonde ghost, making a decision. It wailed in rage and frustration then faded away to nothing.

Xander was breathing heavily, making him wonder if he was going to pass out. He quickly felt the front of his jeans to make sure he hadn't wet himself; he was happy (and surprised) to find that he was dry.

The helpful ghost walked over to Xander. "I'd offer you a hand, but..." He held up his hand, opening and closing his fist. "I'm not substantial enough for ya to grab onto."

"You...won't hurt me?"

"Nah. That's not my style, mate."

"Tha-Thanks...for... What was that thing!? What are...you?!" Xander asked, standing on his wobbly legs.

"It's gone now. And I think you can guess what I am. Have Buffy get a priest out here. That one could cause you problems, as you witnessed. I didn't know he was that strong or I would have warned her."

"Y-You... know Buffy?"

"Yeah...she's a nice chit..." Spike hoped Xander couldn't see the blush that was creeping up his face. "Hey, you should get back upstairs now. Come on, I'll lead the way." Spike turned around and walked slowly toward the stairs, checking behind him constantly to make sure that Xander was close.

Xander followed. "Why didn't they come help me when I was screaming my head off?" Xander asked angrily. He was deathly pale and his body trembled all over.

"The guy -- the thing -- that was after you made it so they couldn't hear. Not their fault. And they couldn't have guessed that something would jump you like that. Especially not Willow, her bein' a skeptic an' all."

"How do you know us?"

"I've lived here for a long time. I was curious about the new folks movin' in. I overheard you lot talking now and then."

Xander shivered. "I can't believe this is real...it's fucking crazy! I almost got killed by one ghost and got saved by another...whom I'm having a conversation with. Though I gotta say, you're a lot easier on the eyes than the other...guy," Xander fell back into joking to cover his real emotions.

Spike chuckled. "Yeah, sorry, mate. I know it must be a bit overwhelming for you. Something like this would've sent me packing when I was alive, too. And...here we are," Spike said, gesturing at the stairs.

The door had closed at some point.

"Go on," Spike said. "Remember about the priest. Have one come out and cleanse the basement."

Xander nodded and swallowed, his blood was still pumping furiously in his veins. He started up the stairs but stopped and turned back to Spike.

"What about you? Won't it get rid of you too?"

"No. This isn't my usual place. I just came down because I sensed that you were in trouble."

Xander gave him a weak, but grateful smile. "Where is your usual place?"

"Upstairs...the second floor mainly. I can't stay any longer... I used up a lot of juice fighting off Rufus." Spike started to get more transparent.

"Rufus?"

"Yeah, that was his name. Nasty bloke."

"Th-Thanks again..." Xander said then turned, walking quickly back up to world of the living.

---

There were many animated and heated discussions that afternoon following Xander's emergence from the cellar.

At first Willow hadn't believed Xander's harrowing tale. But Buffy confessed to 'knowing' Spike and having conversations with him, too. Willow didn't know what to think; her firmly held beliefs were hard to penetrate. No matter whether she believed him or not, Willow could see how frightened and shaken up Xander was. He wasn't joking around this time and Xander never lied to her.

Xander was still thoroughly shaken by his experience. A warm blanket was wrapped around him; he huddled under it. He could still feel that thing's icy fingers touching him.

Buffy was frightened that Xander had been attacked by one of the spirits, while at the same time bursting with love and pride for Spike. He had kept his word and saved Xander from...who knew what fate.

As per Spike's instructions, the three of them drove into town and talked to the local priest about their problem. They had expected him to be skeptical or dismissive. But when he heard where they lived, he merely nodded knowingly and said he'd be out first thing in the morning to bless the cellar and tell the spirits there to move on.


That evening, they were gathered in the living room. Several lanterns and candles lit up the room. All of them, even the still doubtful Willow, wanted to have as much light as possible.

"Can you call him?" Xander asked Buffy.

"He...can't always come. But I'll try," she replied. "Spike? Can you hear me?"

They waited in silence for a few minutes.

"Spike? Maybe he's feeling shy..." Buffy said.

"You guys realize how nuts this is, don't you?" Willow asked, fidgeting.

"You don't think we know?" Xander asked, his voice tight with tension. "A fucking ghost almost killed me today! I know exactly how nuts this is."

Spike could hear them calling and talking. He was still feeling a bit weak from his exertions that afternoon and there was the ghostly instinct to stay hidden from others. But he couldn't ignore Buffy. He drifted into the living room.

Buffy felt his presence before she saw his vague form. She broke out into a large smile.

"Spike! He's here!"

Willow and Xander stopped arguing and looked at Spike. Willow was speechless; her mouth opened and closed. Spike concentrated hard to appear more clearly to them.

"It's okay, Wills," Xander said taking her hand. "He's the one that helped me, he's not dangerous."

"Spike, thank you for helping Xander," Buffy said.

Spike smiled and nodded curtly, “It‘s s‘alright...”

"What... Who was that guy?" Xander asked.

"He was a caretaker here, in the 50s I think, a little before my time," Spike said, his voice soft. They had to strain a little to hear him. "Name was Rufus. He was pretty much as evil a bloke as they come. Did terrible things to people... I don't think you want me to go into detail."

Xander shuddered.

"He won't leave the basement, so no worries for tonight, yeah?" Spike said to Xander.

"Yes worries! Big, fat, hairy worries! I can't sleep with that thing running around!"

"You...can sleep with me," Willow said, then added, "Not in a sex way, so don't get any ideas," she tried to joke through her fear, hugging Xander.

"Why could that thing touch me?" Xander shook off the tremors that wanted to shake his body at the remembrance. "You couldn't touch me, so why was it able to?"

"I am a ghost, but I'm not an expert," Spike explained. "I don't know the why's or what for's. All I know is that for some reason, we're getting stronger. Not just me, the others are too. Maybe it has something to do with all of you moving in, maybe your energy is feeding us. Now, most of the others, you don't have to bat an eyelash about. They can't or wouldn't hurt you, they're harmless...but there are some like Rufus, down there, that are quite mad and brassed off. I'll keep 'em off of you as best I can."

"You can hurt them?" Buffy asked. "Xander said you shoved that thing around."

"Yeah, being ghosts, we're on the same plane of existence...they don't teach this shit in science classes... I can't kill them, obviously, but I can put a hurtin' on them, they know that. And they don't want to fight me, I fight dirty." Spike smirked.

"But it touched me. Can you touch people too?" Xander asked.

Spike and Buffy exchanged a flirty glance then looked away bashfully.

"Uh...yeah...sometimes," Spike answered.

Xander caught the glance. His eyes widened.

"Are -- Is -- Have you two..." he trailed off. "Holy shit...are you...involved?"

Buffy blushed furiously. The cat was out of the bag.

"Buffy? Are you and...Spike having a --" Willow struggled for an appropriate word.

"Don't wig out..." Buffy said. "We...We're...close..."

"Don't wig out?!" Xander said in disbelief. "You tell us you and a ghost are -- I don't even know what to call it -- and you don't think we should wig?"

"I know it's weird," Buffy protested. "But he's also the one who saved you today. He's a wonderful man...just a little...life-challenged."

Something clicked in Willow's mind and her eyes got bigger.

"Oh my god! That night I thought I heard you...with someone...it was him? You said 'Spike'... I didn't know what that meant at the time..."

"I'm so embarrassed." Buffy put her face in her hands.

"They're right to think it's strange, pet." Spike went over to her, wishing he had enough energy to touch her. "It is." His hand petted the air just above her head.

"Spike...are you sure the priest won't banish you, too?" Buffy asked nervously.

"Not a 100%, no. But you can't have dangerous ghosties roamin' around your house."

"A-fucking-men!" Xander said.

Buffy bit her lip. She couldn't take it if something happened to Spike.

"It's necessary, luv. Don't worry about me."

"I can't help it," Buffy said looking up at him with watery eyes. "I don't want anything to happen to you."

Spike laughed lightly. "I'm already dead, Buffy. That's pretty much as bad as it gets. I'll be fine."

"Okay...but you have to...stay far away from the priest tomorrow. And...I'll stay with you while Willow and Xander show him around."

"If that would make you feel better...okay." Spike smiled.

---

The next morning, the priest, Father Callahan, came out as promised.

A very jumpy Willow and Xander led him to all the spots that Spike had pointed out. The spots that the potentially dangerous spirits resided.

Meanwhile, Buffy sat on her bed with Spike. They talked about safe topics: music, art, etc. She showed him her sketches that she'd made of him over the years.

"That's a nice one," Spike said, pointing to a sketch. “Damn, I am a good lookin’ sonuvabitch, ain’t I?” Spike smirked, trying to get a laugh out of her.

She had colored the sketch in. In the sketch, his blue eyes sparkled with mischief, a sly smirk was on his face.

"Yeah, I...always liked that one too..." Buffy said absently.

Her hands were shaking slightly. She was still terrified that he would be yanked away from her.

“Luv," Spike made his hand solid and touched her lightly, "it'll be okay."

"I-I want to believe that, but --" Buffy looked into his eyes. "I don't know what I'd do without you... I love you."

Spike smiled broadly, his eyes twinkled. "I love you, too. God himself would have to come down here and drag me away by my hair to make me leave you, pet." He squeezed her hand. "Even then, I'd go kickin' and screamin'."

Buffy smiled back. "Can you hold me?"

"Let's see," Spike said, feeling a surge of energy run through his body.

Buffy put the sketches aside and slowly leaned into him, putting her head on his shoulder and her hand on his chest. Spike put his arms around her, using every bit of strength and will he had to become more substantial. There was enough resistance for the embrace.

Buffy sighed happily. "It feels so good...being in your arms. I want to stay here forever."

"Forever's a long time, pet." Spike's eyes slid closed at the sensation of having her pressed delicately against him.

“I gave the Playboys to Xander, he needed something to take his mind off of...what happened in the basement. To say he was pleased would be an understatement...” Buffy said, then giggled. “You should’ve seen his face when he saw the Marilyn issue -- like a kid on Christmas morning.”

“Nice to know they’re going to someone who’ll appreciate them.”

"Spike?"

"Hmmm?"

“I had more dreams about the house, about when you lived here. I had two of them in a row the other night.”

Spike swallowed. “What did you see?”

“In the first one, you and Darla were having dinner with her boyfriend, Angel. In the second one, you were talking to Ethan and Percy in the kitchen.”

Spike pulled away and looked at her, fear on his face. “You’re seeing it... You’re seeing what really happened.”

“Spike, tell me what happened. It’s becoming pretty clear that I’m going to see it eventually. I’d rather be prepared.”

Spike opened his mouth to respond, to begin to tell her what was in store for her, but the memories were wrenched away from him. He looked confused.

"What is it?" Buffy asked.

"I...can't remember... I knew it a minute ago. But it's gone now..." He got up and paced back and forth.

"Are you sure you just don't want to tell me?"

"Pet, I don't want to have to tell you, that's true. But you do have the right to know... I honestly can't recall..." He ran his hands through his hair.

"It's okay," Buffy soothed. "I'll go into town to the library after Father Callahan is finished. I want to read the newspaper accounts of what happened. You can tell me when you remember."

She knew that he might not remember before she had the dream. The last date had been awfully close to the day of the murders. Tonight was probably going to be the night.

"Come here," Buffy extended her hand to him.

Spike walked back to her and took her hand, kissing it gently.

For the next two hours, Buffy and Spike stayed close, talking about anything and everything. There was still a prevailing fear that Spike would be banished along with the other spirits. They were relieved when Xander came up and told them that the priest was done cleansing the 'hot spots'.

Assuring her that he was just leaving to rest and regain some energy, Spike disappeared. Buffy felt the same crushing loneliness she always felt when he left her.

Buffy sat in the town library looking through old newspapers for anything about the house.

The librarian named Jenny, an attractive, dark-haired woman in her 50's, approached her table with a few newspapers.

"Here," she said putting the stack down next to Buffy, "I was finally able to find the other ones you wanted. The ones right after the murders."

Buffy looked up and smiled. "Thank you. I really appreciate it."

"No problem." The librarian looked like she wanted to say something else then though better of it.

"Is...there something else?" Buffy asked.

"I was surprised when I heard that someone finally bought the old Lawson place. How‘s that...working out for you?"

“It’s been...interesting,” Buffy said carefully.

Jenny sat down across from Buffy and leaned in to speak to her quietly.

“Have there been any strange things in the house? I don’t like to spread gossip, but I heard that it’s haunted.”

“There’ve been some strange things, yes,” Buffy replied. “I wanted to find out about what happened there.”

“Oh, there have been lots of tragic things in that house. In the 50s there was a groundskeeper and handyman named Rufus Carter. He lured young boys into the basement and...well...you don’t want to know more about that. It was a huge scandal at the time. An angry mob put an end to his life.”

Buffy shuddered. That had to be the thing that assaulted Xander in the basement.

“Here,” Jenny said, pulling out the July 5th, 1978 edition of the town newspaper, and sliding it over to Buffy on the tabletop, “this will tell you about what happened as far as the ’Independence Day’ murders are concerned. They called it that despite the fact that it happened after midnight on the 5th... I guess it just had more of a ring to it.”

Buffy looked at the newspaper. The headline read:

"GRISLY MURDERS SHOCK TOWN"

Buffy looked back at her. "Did you live here when it happened?"

Jenny nodded. "It was terrible. Mrs. Lawson was such a lovely woman, so kind and pretty. She married old man Lawson and inherited everything from him when he passed away. Darla was her name, isn't that pretty? She and three other people were all killed in the house that night."

"They never caught who did it?" Buffy asked.

"No. They never formally charged anyone, believe it or not," Jenny whispered conspiratorially, looking around to make sure no one else was listening. "Very strange, a very rich and influential person was murdered and there wasn't a thorough investigation. Not that I make a habit of spreading rumors or gossip..."

"That is strange," Buffy said, frowning.

Poor Spike and the others. They hadn't even had the satisfaction of having their killer tried in court.

“There had to be some kind of massive cover-up,” Jenny whispered.

“What can you tell me about Angel O’Connor?” Buffy asked.

“Oh, yes. I remember him... He was Darla’s gentleman friend. Tall, dark and handsome. He moved away a few months after the incident. He lives in L.A. now as far as I know, running his father’s hotel business. Very rich and powerful...”

“Was he investigated?” Buffy wanted to know. “He seems to be the most likely one to have committed the crime.”

“I...think he was...briefly. But he was never a prime suspect, at least as far as the police were concerned... I wouldn’t go around asking people about this if I were you. The O’Connors still have a lot of pull here,” Jenny warned.

“You think he did it too, don’t you? Why wasn’t he arrested?”

“It’s not right, but money makes the world go ‘round, Buffy. We’ve seen it over and over again the last few decades. If you have enough power, fame or money you can literally get away with murder,” Jenny explained sadly. “He did it alright...everyone knows that, whether they say it or not.”

Jenny’s attention went to the counter, where another woman was waiting with a stack of books.

“I have to get back to work.” She stood up. “I’ll check back with you in a bit.”

“Thanks for your help,” Buffy said with a weak smile.

She felt sick. Everyone who was around back then thought Angel was guilty, but nothing had ever been done about it.

Buffy read the article:


Four people were found dead at Lawson Manor, early on the morning of July 5th. The cook, Lucy Juarez, found the bodies.

The bodies were identified as: The widow of Harold Lawson, Mrs. Darla Lawson, 31; her cousin William Giles, 19; the head of the household staff, Ethan Rayne, 52; and his nephew Percy Rayne, 14.

A police insider informed us that the bodies had been stabbed repeatedly and viciously. These are the worst acts of violence the town has seen since its founding, according to one source.

Police Chief John Kramer assures the public that no stone will be left unturned in the investigation and that he is supremely confident that the killer or killers will be caught soon.

Police are combing the residence and questioning the staff for evidence. Those who attended Mrs. Lawson’s 4th of July party are also being questioned.

There are no immediate suspects in the case.

We will report more on these heinous crimes as the information comes in.


Buffy put down the paper, her hands trembling.

Angel did it. But his family’s influence and money had made him exempt from punishment. Who knew how many other people he’d killed in the last 25 years. And why did he kill Ethan and Percy too? What could they possibly have done, in his eyes, to deserve death?

---

Buffy went back to the mansion to continue work. She informed Willow and Xander about what she’d found out at the library. They were shaken, but mostly pissed that the real estate agent didn’t see fit to tell them about what had happened there.

They could see how tired Buffy was and insisted that she go and lie down for awhile. Buffy had put up a weak protest but decided it wasn’t such a bad idea. The last several days had really taken it out of her.

She curled up on her bed and dropped off to sleep almost immediately. Another dream played out...


Buffy was in the living room. She took in her new surroundings and wondered what was going to happen this time.

June 28, 1978

Spike and Darla sat on the plush rose-colored couch eating popcorn and watching TV. Spike had his feet up on the coffee table (Darla gave up telling him not to), Darla was leaning back against him.

"I never watched so much TV before you got here, cousin dear." Darla smirked. "You're turning me into a junkie."

Spike chuckled, "Nobody said you had to watch, I'm not holding a gun to your head."

The show 'Starsky & Hutch' began.

"This show is bloody brilliant, it‘s my favorite," Spike said chewing on a piece of popcorn. "I have to get one of those cars..." Spike started bouncing and making 'wokitcha-wokitcha' sounds to go along with the funky theme song.

Darla giggled. "I like this show, too. You enjoy the violence and the car, while I can enjoy the gripping stories and, of course, the hot guys. Mmmm! That Starsky has the cutest butt! Just look at it! Makes you want to grab a handful."

"Ewww!" Spike gave her a mock-disgusted look. "Now you're gonna have me thinking about his ass."

"How about when we watched 'Charlie's Angels'? I had to endure an hour of gratuitous bikini wearing and jiggling breasts. I think I'm entitled to a little juicy man-butt watching."

Spike screwed up his face. Darla tickled his sides, making them both laugh.

"Cut it out! I'm trying to watch the bloody show!" Spike wriggled. "You're gonna make me spill the popcorn!"

"Well, isn't this…cozy," Angel said from the archway.

The giggling cousins stopped their horseplay and sat up.

"Angel," Darla smiled tentatively, "what are you doing here? I didn't think you were coming over tonight."

"Hmm...I decided to come see my favorite girl anyway. Sorry to interrupt your evening," Angel said, his eyes glittering.

"Oh, you're not interrupting," Darla insisted. "Would you like to join us?"

Spike grimaced. He wanted to actually enjoy his evening, Angel's presence was like a black cloud. There was no way Spike could relax with him around.

"I'm not in the mood to watch television. Come on, baby, let's take a walk." Angel held his hand out to Darla.

She looked at Spike's disappointed face then back to Angel. Darla really wanted to stay and watch the show but Angel rarely took no for an answer. She knew that if she said no, Angel might get angry. Then Spike would get angry. Then they might fight. So, in the interest of keeping peace, Darla took Angel's hand and stood up. Truthfully, she was quickly tiring of her boyfriend and his demanding nature.

"We'll watch together next week. Okay, Spike?" she asked him.

Spike shrugged. "'Kay."

He wanted to argue. He wanted to tell her not to let that wanker tell her what to do...but he bit his tongue.

"We're just going to take a stroll," Darla said.

Angel grinned. "See you later, Spike."

Darla and Angel walked out. Spike looked after them for a moment and shook his head. Darla could have her pick of men. Why was she settling for that obnoxious, overbearing, Keith Partridge wannabe? He could counsel his cousin, but her love life wasn't really his business. Spike focused his attention back on the TV.

Buffy looked at him sadly. The date of the murders was approaching fast. Her next dream could be the one...


Another dream started almost seamlessly, disorienting her with the sudden change in surroundings...


Buffy spun around when she found herself out on the rear lawn.

July 4, 1978

It was evening. There were red, white and blue streamers, colored lights and lanterns decorated the lawn. At least 50 people were sitting at tables chatting amongst themselves. Everyone was in good spirits.

Spike and Percy came into view. They were wearing shorts and soccer shirts and Percy carried the ball. They were laughing and a bit sweaty. They had been playing a game of night soccer on the west lawn with the help of floodlights.

"I kicked your ass!" Spike pushed at him good-naturedly.

"Bollocks!" Percy said, pushing back. He'd obviously picked up a few words from hanging around Spike. "It was like you were standing still, I --"

"Hi, guys," Darla said walking up to them. "Have a good game?" She smiled sweetly.

Percy immediately turned red and looked away shyly. "Yes, Miss Darla," he said in small voice.

Spike smirked. "Percy, could you get us something to drink. I'm parched," he asked, giving the love-struck boy an escape.

"Sure!" Percy said, racing away.

Darla chuckled, "He's adorable. Ethan said Percy doesn't have an easy time making friends."

"He's a good kid," Spike said, drying himself off with the towel around his neck. "He's fun to hang out with, once you bring him out of his shell."

"You were quite the little turtle yourself, weren't you?" Darla nudged him with a grin.

"Yeah." Spike smiled.

Ethan approached them.

"They're going to start the fireworks in a few minutes, Miss."

"Good. Thanks, Ethan," Darla said. "Everyone was getting a little restless."

Ethan turned to Spike. "Spike, I wanted to thank you again for keeping Percy company."

"Oh...that's not necessary. He's a good kid, you know?" Spike said. “Everyone doesn’t have to keep thanking me for hanging out with him. I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t like him.”

"Well, he thinks the world of you. Every other word out of his mouth is 'Spike thinks this' and 'Spike does that'." Ethan grinned. "He's a bit too fond of your hair though. Please try to disabuse him of the notion that he'd 'look cool' with his hair styled like yours."

Spike and Darla laughed.

"I think he's pretty cool, too. And I'll do my best talkin' him out of the hair style."

"Please do," Ethan chuckled. "I have to see to some of the guests, if there's nothing you need?"

"No, we're fine, thanks Ethan." Darla put her hand on his arm and squeezed lightly.

With a nod, Ethan went towards where the guests were seated.

Spike and Darla began to stroll further down the lawn together. Buffy followed after them.

"Angel didn't come?" Spike asked. He was happy that the lumbering lummox wasn't here, but he had to make an effort for Darla's sake.

"No," Darla said with disappointment, then after a beat, "I'm going to end it with him."

"You are?" Spike tried to hide his glee. "I...thought you liked him?"

"I did -- I still do...sometimes. He's just getting...I don't know...more possessive, more controlling and jealous. He actually shook me by the shoulders the other night..."

Spike stopped, his face screwing up in anger. "What?! You didn't tell me that! That bastard! I'll fucking --"

"Spike, please! Don't do anything! That's why I didn't tell you. I was afraid you'd do something rash."

"Bloody right, I'll do something rash! I'll kick that prick's ass! Who does he think he fucking is, putting his sodding hands on you?!" Spike's hands formed tight fists, his nails dug into his palms.

"No, Spike! I just want it to be over. Don't make things worse. Please!"

Spike could see she'd be pissed if he did what he wanted to -- what the situation called for. But...he didn't want to upset her. Once again, he swallowed his feelings and made an effort to calm down.

"Okay...okay, I'll...I won't do anything," Spike said slowly. Then he looked at her, his eyes deadly serious, "But if he touches you again...I'll kill him."

Darla touched his face gently. "He won't touch me again. But...it's good to know I have you. Someone who wants to protect me with no ulterior motives." She smiled. "I love you."

Spike melted. He couldn't be pissed when she looked at him so sweetly.

"Love you too, cuz."

"Even though you're all sweaty, I just have to give you a big hug," Darla laughed then put her arms around him. "I'm so grateful that you're here, Spike."

Spike put his arms around her and hugged her tightly, closing his eyes. The thought of Angel putting his ham-hands on Darla made him shake with rage. She was a woman and a petite woman, at that. How dare Angel touch her in anger.

"You want me to be there when you give him his walkin' papers?" Spike asked.

"No. I'd like to do it privately," Darla said worriedly. "But...you can be nearby...if that would make you feel better."

"It would."

The sound of the fireworks going off interrupted them. Still hugging loosely, they turned their faces up to the sky and watched the colorful explosions with childlike expressions of wonder. The partygoers 'Oooh'ed and 'Aaah'ed' at the display.

Buffy stood next to the cousins and watched too, amazed again at how real these dreams were. She could even smell the acrid odor of the gunpowder in the air.

"You Yanks know how to throw a party, I'll give you that," Spike said, holding Darla tighter for a moment.

Unseen by the others, Angel watched them from a distance. He gnashed his teeth, his eyes were beady and narrowed to slits. Something snapped in his mind at seeing Darla and Spike embracing. He had known that Spike was up to no good, he knew it...

"I'll put an end to that... I'll make them wish they hadn't fucked with me. I'll teach them a very valuable lesson."

Angel turned and walked back to the house. Planning.

---

Buffy woke up to the sound of knocking on her door.

“Buffy?” Willow called. “Xander brought back some hamburgers for dinner. Are you getting up?”

Buffy rubbed her eyes. “Yeah, I’ll be down...”

She sat up, thinking about what she’d seen in the dreams. If only she could warn them about what was coming. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t even spare herself the ordeal of watching it happen. The next dream was going to be the big one.

And there was nothing she could do to prevent it.

That night, Spike came to Buffy again. They laid on the bed together while he petted and stroked her face and body. Buffy was tied up in knots and shaking with anxiety. She didn’t want to sleep again. If she did, she’d see it. She’d have the murder dream.

“I’m sorry, pet,” Spike said with a rough voice. “If I could spare you this...I would.”

“I know. It’s not your fault... Someone or something wants me to see all of it for some reason.” She kissed him lightly.

“What if I’m doing it? What if unconsciously, I’m sending these dreams to you...”

“Stop it. Don‘t blame yourself,” she soothed.

They settled back into silence.

“You still don’t remember everything?” Buffy asked.

“No. I only remember...the pain...and the emotions of it...not the details.” Spike closed his eyes, feeling the grief, terror and pain of that night.

Despite her best efforts, Buffy’s eyes slid closed. Her breathing became steadier as she fell asleep. Spike watched her face, wondering if he should try to keep her awake. But she’d dream it eventually, if not tonight. Perhaps it was best to let it happen rather than have her be a nervous wreck.

Spike cursed himself when he felt his body begin to fade. He wanted to stay with her, to be here with her when she woke up. Before he vanished, he ran his fingertips over her cheek and gave her a sweet kiss.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, luv. Be strong,” he whispered, then was gone.

---

Buffy was in Spike's bedroom of the past again. She could sense that it was the same evening as the last dream.

July 5, 1978

"Oh...Oh, no..." Buffy whispered, realizing that it was coming. It was the date that the murders happened. Her blood turned to ice water in her veins.

Spike was lying on his back in bed looking at the ceiling, wearing only his jeans and a pair of big headphones over his ears. He was listening to his stereo silently. Buffy wanted to touch him and talk to him and warn him about what was going to occur, but she knew she couldn't interact with him in the dreams. She'd tried.

It was 1:35 AM.

"Spike, I wish I could change what's going to happen," Buffy said. "I want to yell at you to run, to get away from here... I wish --"

There were a series of ear-piercing screams from downstairs, both male and female.

Buffy gasped and jumped.

"OH GOD!" she cried. "It's starting! Spike! Oh, please get out of here!"

Spike didn't hear anything with the headphones on. He continued to lie there, oblivious to the ghastly crimes being committed downstairs.

He nodded his head and shook his foot slightly to the beat pounding in his ears. When Darla told him that Angel had roughed her up, Spike had wanted to find him and beat the shit out of him, and he still did. But out of consideration for his cousin's wishes, he'd try and behave himself. One thing was for sure, if the pillock tried laying his hands on her again, he'd pay.

Buffy squeezed her eyes shut and put her hands over her ears to drown out the screams. "Make it stop! Please, God! Make it stop!"

One of the screams stopped, leaving two people yelling and pleading for their lives. Then it was down to one voice, a female voice, Darla's.

"PLEASE! NO! NOOOOO!" Darla's muffled cry came from downstairs.

After a few minutes, Spike sighed and removed the headphones, intending on trying to get some sleep.

Spike sat up abruptly, his head whipped towards the door when the screeching assaulted his ears.

"Darla!? Darla!" he yelled, jumping off the bed and racing out the door. His heart was thudding painfully in his chest, afraid of what it was that could be making her shriek like that.

Buffy ran after him, tears streaming down her face.

Darla was stumbling up the steps, pulling herself upwards holding onto the banister. She was bleeding from the nose and mouth.

"He's crazy, Spike!" she screamed hysterically, her eyes were huge, her puffed and bleeding face streaked with tears. “He--He killed Ethan and Percy! Oh God! THEY'RE DEAD!”

Spike ran to her halfway down the stairs and pulled her against him.

"Darla! What happened?!" Spike panicked, his brain locked up. His attention was attracted to a figure standing below them on the landing.

Angel stood at the bottom of the stairs with a 12" butcher knife in his hand and a demented grin. Blood dripped thickly off the knife onto the carpet.

Buffy looked down to the foyer and gasped, putting her hand over her mouth and looking away sharply.

Spike stared at Angel in shock as he held his weeping and bloody cousin. Spike’s eyes then went to the foyer, to the prone forms of Ethan and young Percy, his friend. Ethan was lying half in and half out of the living room, Percy's body lay by the front door, bloody finger marks trailed down the white door, as if he had been trying to claw his way through it. Blood was everywhere. Their throats had been cut, their shirt fronts were soaked with blood.

"You crazy bastard...“ Spike muttered in disbelief, his vision blurred with a flood of tears, his stomach rolled at the grisly scene. “You--You murdered them?!“

“That’s right, I did kill them...” Angel said. “And guess who’s next?” He grinned.

Spike looked away from the bodies and down at his bleeding, whimpering cousin.

“WHY?!” Spike roared in fear and fury.

“They thought they could get away with screwing my woman behind my back!” Angel snarled. “NO ONE makes a fool of Angel O’Connor! NO ONE!”

“You’re insane! They never touched her! Percy was only 14 fucking years old! He was just a kid! He never had a chance to --“ Spike's voice broke into a sob as his face crumbled. "You bastard! Oh God! This...can't be happening..." Darla clutched at Spike and bawled. “I'll fucking kill you for this! I‘ll kill you!" Spike yelled, his face contorted with rage.

"Come and get me, boyo," Angel beckoned to him. "On second thought, I'll come to you..." Angel started mounting the stairs, his hand gripping the knife tighter.

Darla started screaming again. Spike started backing up the steps, watching Angel getting closer. The insane glint in his eyes and the toothy grin on his face were off-putting to say the least.

"You're crazy..." Spike whispered.

Angel barked with laughter. "Am I? Crazy like a fox maybe. You think I can't see what's going on right under my nose, you fucking punk!?"

"What are you talking about?" Spike said in confusion, still inching his way up the stairs.

"You and Darla. I know you're fucking her, too! You‘ve been sticking it to her ever since you got here!" Angel bared his teeth.

"What?! She's my bloody cousin! NOTHING like that is going on!"

"Likely story, mate," Angel sneered. "I've seen it! I've seen the way you two look at each other, I've seen you kiss her, I've seen the touches, I've seen you hug her just a little longer than you had to! You don‘t think I saw it, but I did! She‘s mine!"

"Angel, please! Don't do this! Please stop!" Darla pled with him.

"Shut up, whore!" Angel screamed.

"Don't call her that, pillock!"

"Aww, you don't like me calling your whore a whore? Too fucking bad."

"That's why you beat her?! That’s why you killed two innocent people?! Because you think we're all having sex with her?! What kind of bloody man are you?!"

"The kind that doesn’t take any shit. You're not going to be so pretty when I'm through with you, Spike. I'm going to carve you up into little -- tiny -- pieces," Angel's smile broadened as he made slashing movements in the air with the knife.

Angel started walking more quickly up towards them. Spike knew it was useless to try and talk the nutter down anymore, he was completely around the bend. Spike started running back to his room, pulling Darla with him. Buffy ran in the room right before Spike and Darla got in and he slammed the door shut.

Angel threw his body against the door to force it open, but Spike and Darla leaned heavily against it. Spike turned the lock.

Darla screamed and cried, "No, Angel! Please!"

"Let me in, you BITCH!" He hurled himself into the door. "I'll slit your fucking throat!"

"That's not giving us any incentive, you bloody bastard! Go to Hell! The cops are going to be here any minute!" Spike lied, but prayed that someone had called before the carnage began.

Poor Ethan and Percy. They hadn’t done anything to anyone, they didn’t deserve the deaths they’d gotten, they didn't deserve the fate that had been cruelly thrust upon them. Percy was only a kid... Spike fought to maintain his composure. The pain, grief and rage he felt rose up like the bile in his throat. He had to keep a cool head for Darla’s sake, he couldn’t fall apart. Not now.

Spike looked around frantically for something to use against the large, insane man with the knife.

Buffy stood near the window with her hands over her face, crying. This was how it had happened. This was how he had died. She didn't want to have to see this, she couldn't watch this. Buffy pinched the skin of her arms as hard as she could to wake herself up, the skin turned white between her shaking fingers.

But it didn't work. She was still here.

"Climb out the window or something! He's going to get in!" Buffy shouted in panic.

The tension and stress of the moment made her forget that she couldn't change what happened here, only observe.

All of the sudden, the banging on the door stopped. Spike put his ear to the door and listened to Angel's footfalls move away.

"I think he's leaving," Spike whispered, hoping that Angel got afraid of being caught and decided to hoof it.

"Don't unlock the door!" Buffy cried. "He didn‘t leave!"

Darla broke down in tears. "I'm so sorry, Spike. I'm so sorry you had to get involved in this!"

Spike hugged her. "It's okay. Shhh. I won't let him touch you again, I promise. I'll kill him first." He kissed her forehead.

"He killed them...he murdered them right in front of me. It all happened so quickly... I'm...so scared..." Darla whimpered.

It had started with Angel coming into the living room unannounced. Darla had risen from the couch only to be smacked down again. He accused her of sleeping with every man she'd ever said hello to and continued to beat her.

Ethan was in the kitchen with Percy (still cleaning up from the party) when her screams attracted their attention. They had rushed in and dragged Angel away from her. Angel shook their hands off and stalked away into the kitchen. They were helping Darla and asking if she needed an ambulance when Angel came back out with the knife. The three victims backed out of the room into the foyer, then Angel had attacked. Ethan was the first to die, then Percy. Fresh tears sprang from Darla's eyes.

"It's alright, Dar. Don't cry. We'll wait here ‘til we're sure he's gone, then we'll get you to the hospital and call the police." Spike stroked her back.

He couldn't help but blame himself. If he hadn't had those earphones on...maybe he could have done something. Maybe he could have incapacitated Angel before he had a chance to hurt anyone. Now it was too late -- far too late.

"C'mon." Spike helped her away from the door and over to the bed.

Darla sat down then curled up on her side. Spike picked up his t-shirt from the floor and gently tried to wipe away the blood on her mouth.

"Is your nose broken?" Spike asked, controlling his temper. He wanted to tear Angel limb from limb.

"I...don't know. I don't think so..."

"Try to apply pressure to stop the bleeding. It's going to be okay, Dar," Spike said with far more confidence than he felt. He handed her the shirt as he brushed her hair gently back from her face with his fingers.

There was a rattling sound coming from the door.

Their heads whipped towards the sound.

"The key! Oh God! He has the key!" Darla cried.

Spike sprinted to the door just as it was opening. He pushed against it with his whole body to force it closed again, gritting his teeth with the strain. But Angel's murderous rage and larger body proved too much for him. With a triumphant yell, Angel threw the door open. Spike was slammed hard between the door and the wall, the back of his head bounced hard against the wall, stunning him for a few precious moments. Angel stormed in, heading for Darla on the bed.

Darla and Buffy screamed.

Spike pushed the door off of him and ran at Angel, grabbing at his arm and punching him in the kidneys. Angel was so pumped up that he barely felt the blonde's powerful punches, but it was enough to annoy him.

Angel turned around and punched Spike repeatedly in the face, breaking his nose and splitting his lip, so that blood gushed down his face. Spike stumbled back, stunned momentarily. He bumped hard into the dresser and the mirror banged off the wall. Angel went to the bed and grabbed Darla's arm, dragging her off the bed. She screamed and twisted in his grasp, hitting and scratching ineffectually at him. He hauled back and punched her hard in the face with the knife curled tightly in his fist. Her head rocked back from the force of the blow; her body sagged to the floor next to the bed.

"Bastard!" Spike bellowed, recovering from the vicious blows he'd received and charging at him again.

He grabbed Angel's arm that wielded the knife, trying to twist it behind him. Angel shoved him away and wheeled on him.

"I'm going to kill you, boy." Angel grinned. "I'm going to gut you like a pig."

Spike came back swinging, connecting several times with Angel's face. Angel grunted and lurched backwards into the nightstand. Spike rushed him and tried to pry the knife out of his hand.

Buffy's hands were joined together under her chin in prayer as tears ran down her cheeks. She knew how this would end, no matter how well Spike seemed to be doing. She couldn’t look away.

Angel yelled and beat Spike back brutally. Darla was trying to stand up, using the bed to help her stand.

"Angel, please! Please STOP!" Darla begged. "I'll do whatever you want! I'll marry you, I'll give you everything! I'll do anything!" But it was too late for any of that.

Angel and Spike struggled in the middle of the room. Angel shook his arm free, swung it backwards in an arc then rammed it into Spike's midsection, sending the knife plunging into his body. The blade was so long that it broke through the skin of his back.

(More screams)

Spike's eyes were wide as he clawed at Angel's shoulders. He was in shock from the incredible, burning pain and the fact that he'd actually been run-through. Somehow, he never believed that it could happen. He thought he'd get the knife away from Angel before something like this could happen -- just like on TV and in the movies.

Angel smiled and punched the knife brutally through him twice more, making Spike shout in agony. He pulled back to look Spike in the eyes.

"I told you I'd kill you. Don't look so surprised," Angel laughed wickedly, then twisted the knife. “I believe I said something about gutting you like a pig...”

Spike shrieked again, his eyes fluttered, blood sprayed out of his mouth in a fountain. His weak fingers closed around and tugged at the neck of Angel's shirt. Angel jerked the knife upwards inside Spike’s body. The sound of his flesh ripping and his screams filled the room.

Angel shoved him away forcefully. Spike’s back hit against the dresser then he fell forward on his face. He groaned and clutched at his torn flesh, his frantic mind told him that he had to keep his insides from spilling out. His bright blue eyes were wide, his face was in a rictis of agony.

Buffy was weeping and sobbing freely. She kneeled down by his head, her fingers fluttered around his face.

“Oh, Spike! This is so horrible -- Oh God -- I don’t want to be here!” Buffy cried.

“Darla...” Spike grunted, blood pouring from his mouth.

Angel was trying to drag Darla off the bed again. She was staring at Spike in shock and horror, watching as the pool of blood spread beneath him.

“Noooo! NOOOO! Spike!” Darla struggled and scratched at Angel. “You sonuvabitch! You bastard!” She bared her teeth and tore at him like a wild animal. “You killed him! YOU KILLED HIM!”

Angel punched her again, sending her flying back onto the bed. Totally enraged and quite insane, he straddled her waist and raised the knife high into the air.

“I’ll teach you to make a fool of me, you BITCH!”

“NO!” Spike croaked, reaching a shaking, blood-covered hand out weakly towards the bed.

The knife plunged down into Darla’s chest. She screamed and gasped. Angel’s face was a grinning mask of pure evil as he plunged the blade into her over and over again. After the first 10 stabs, Darla’s struggles stopped, but he kept stabbing anyway.

Buffy buried her face in her hands and screamed shrilly. She couldn’t wake up from this nightmare.

Spike shut his eyes, helpless sobs wracked his body. He hadn’t been able to save her, he hadn’t been strong or fast enough to protect her like he promised he would.

Finally, Angel stopped and stood up, wiping blood from his face. He was breathing heavily from exertion as he looked at Darla’s twitching body for a few moments. Then he looked at where Spike lay on the floor and smiled again.

“Guess I’ll be taking a little trip...don’t want to go to jail. What’s the matter, mate? You get to die with your whore. Isn’t that romantic? Here…”

Angel took Darla’s limp body from the bed and threw it down near Spike. She landed with her head turned towards him, her face slack and lifeless.

“You two can have one last cuddle to carry you over to the afterlife. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get a little traveling money and be on my way.”

Angel hurried out of the room. The rage was wearing off and he was beginning to panic. The enormity of what he’d just done was sinking into his brain. His only thought was of escape.

Spike looked into Darla’s wide, unseeing eyes. He moved one blood-covered, shaking hand to her face and clumsily stroked her cheek, leaving streaks of his blood there.

“I’m...sorry...” he whispered to his dead cousin.

Spike’s breathing became more labored. He gasped and clutched at his stomach.

“Oh God...it...hurts....” he gurgled, aspirating blood.

His eyes dimmed and his body drooped, one last drawn-out, rasping breath rattled out of him.

Buffy was hysterical.

“Spike! Oh God! Oh God!” She rocked back and forth, hugging herself while she stared into his dull, lifeless eyes.

Even as a spirit, his eyes held more life than they did at this moment. Buffy thought of the dead baby bird she’d found in her backyard when she was 8 -- that’s how it’s eyes looked.

The pool of blood from Darla and Spike’s bodies spread further. Buffy could feel it seeping into the fabric of her jeans as she kneeled by Spike’s inert form.

If she didn’t wake up soon she was going to go insane. Buffy put her hands over her face and shrieked.

---

“Buffy! Buffy, wake up!” Willow shook her by the shoulders.

“Spike!” Buffy shouted, starting awake and bolting upright in bed.

“Buffy, you were having a nightmare. You were yelling. Are you okay?” Willow asked, her face worried and drawn.

Xander stood by the foot of the bed looking similarly concerned. Buffy’s screams had scared him to death.

Buffy looked around her, her face wet with tears. She touched her hand to her forehead. Her body was covered with sweat and she was trembling badly.

“Oh God! It was horrible -- It was horrible!” Buffy sat up and grabbed a pillow, hugging it against her. "So much blood...so much..." She rocked back and forth.

“Buffy, what happened?” Willow sat next to her and rubbed her back. Xander went to her other side, not knowing what to do for her.

“The d-dream...the nightmare...I saw it...I saw Spike and Darla murdered by Angel,” Buffy hiccupped.

“Oh, Buffy...I’m sorry...” Willow tried to comfort her.

“It’s over now,” Xander said, patting her leg. “It’s okay now.”

Willow handed Buffy a tissue to blow her nose. Buffy sniffled and wiped her wet face.

“It was terrible...I knew it was going to be bad, b-but not like that. Everything was so real. The screams...the blood...” Buffy looked around. “Where’s Spike?” She needed to see him so badly.

“He wasn’t here when we came in,” Willow said. “I’m sure he’d be here if he could.”

“I know,” Buffy sobbed. “That murderer is still free, still alive and...doing God knows what. Maybe that’s why I was made to see all of it...maybe I’m supposed to make sure he gets put behind bars where he belongs...” The wheels were turning in her head.

“Whoa, Buff,” Xander said nervously. “I don’t want you getting involved with this. That guy’s obviously a cold-blooded killer.”

“I am involved, Xander. It was personal before, but now...now that I’ve seen what happened with my own eyes. .. He has to be punished for what he did,” Buffy said, squaring her shoulders, feeling driven.

“I don’t think Spike would want you to put yourself in danger,” Xander tried to talk her out of it.

“That’s why we won’t tell him. He might overhear us, but unless he finds out that way, I want it to remain between us.” Buffy looked into their faces. “Alright?”

“I don’t like the sound of this either, Buffy,” Willow said, “But...I’ll help if I can.”

Xander swallowed his fear at the thought of tracking down a ruthless killer, then nodded. “I’ll...help too.”

“Thanks,” Buffy said gratefully, tears still leaking from her eyes. “We can’t let Angel get away with it.”

She shivered when the images from the nightmare flashed before her eyes.

Willow and Xander stayed with Buffy for the rest of the night. She didn’t want to be alone. They began to formulate a plan to finally bring Angel to justice.

2 months passed…

Spike was horrified that Buffy had to witness the carnage of that fateful evening in 1978, firsthand. From then on, he used every bit of strength he had to remain with her through the night.

Buffy’s dreams about the past stopped, although she still had nightmares where she relived the murders over and over again. She’d wake up crying and yelling, but Spike would be there to comfort her and tell her that he was with her. It made it easier for her though she couldn’t hold him tightly the way she wanted to.

Xander still had nightmares about the thing in the basement. It was gone now, banished by the priest, but the memory would stay with him forever.

A lot of work was accomplished on the house in those months. The living room was livable again; the kitchen was pristine; the lawns were still being manicured, but they looked 100% better already; the pond was fresh and stocked with fish, ducks and a frog or two; and even though there were more important rooms to renovate, the ballroom was fixed up, too. The hardwood floors gleamed; the deep-red wall paper was restored; crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. It was like something out of a fairy tale. Xander insisted on hanging a glittering ball in the middle of the room. When the lights were turned down low, thousands of little patches of light filled and drifted throughout the room from the ball.

The three friends couldn’t wait to invite the townspeople up for the re-christening of the house. If they wanted to come, that is. This place had a lot of baggage as far as the town was concerned. Still, a big party was going to be held when everything was finished.

The best part of the last few months had been the power and plumbing being in working order. They had a celebration with a bottle of wine from the cellar when the power was turned on. It was a huge relief for all of them.

Spike would only leave Buffy’s side in the morning, and they’d always part with a soft kiss. Then it was on to the day’s work for her while he went wherever it was that he went to regenerate his energy.

When she was sure he wasn’t around, Buffy would start discussing the Angel situation. Willow tracked Liam ‘Angel’ O’Connor down on her laptop. He did indeed live in L.A., running his father’s hotel business. He was now 50-years-old and married with no children. From all appearances, he was a normal (but very rich) man. But they knew different. He was a heartless killer. No one could do what he’d done and be ‘normal’.

They came up with a plan. And it was time to put it into action.

---

“Okay, we ready?” Buffy asked, her voice wavering with excitement and fear.

“Yep, let’s do it,” Willow said.

Xander gulped and nodded.

He still didn’t like this at all, but Buffy was determined. Spike and the others that were killed did deserve to have justice. Xander just wished that it wasn’t relying on them to serve it up.

Buffy dialed the number and waited.

“Hello, Angel Enterprises, this is Cordelia speaking. How may I help you?”

“Yes, hello,” Buffy said, keeping her voice calm. “I’d like to speak to Mr. O’Connor, please.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“Um, no...but he’s going to want to talk to me.”

“May I have your name?”

“Can you give him a message?” Buffy asked.

“Alright...”

“Tell him -- Tell him that I was at the mansion on July 5, 1978. I saw what happened. Can you give him the message right now?”

“I’m...afraid Mr. O’Connor is in a meeting at the moment.”

“Okay, make sure you give him the message. I’ll call back at 4:00.”

“What’s your name?” the secretary asked.

Buffy hung up, and took several deep breaths.

“They wouldn’t put me through to him,” she explained.

“Buffy, are you sure we shouldn’t just tell the cops?” Xander asked. “We’re waaaay out of our league here...”

“The cops are in on the cover-up, it could be even more dangerous if we went to them.”

“Nice town...” Xander said sarcastically.

“It is a nice town. The problem is the people controlling it,” Buffy said, taking a drink of water.

“You did good, Buffy,” Willow reassured her. “You sounded very authoritative.”

“I’m all shaky inside,” Buffy said, laughing nervously.

They all looked at the clock on the mantle, 1:30. Only two and a half hours to go before she called back.

---

Angel kicked back at his desk, lighting up a cigar in victory. He was going to acquire a smaller hotel chain and expand the business even further. Life was good.

He leaned over and pressed the intercom button. “Any messages, Cordelia?” He puffed out a cloud of thick smoke.

“Yes, sir.”

“Bring them in, would you?”

“Right away,” Cordelia signed off.

She entered the office a few moments later and approached his desk.

“You had a call from Hal Page, he wants to get together for a round of golf in the morning.” Cordelia laid the messages out on the desk. “Another call from Bernadette Palmer about the new hotel you’re building in Tampa... And there was one more.”

Angel looked at her expectantly. “Well?”

“I wouldn’t even bring it to you, but...it was strange. A woman called. She wouldn’t give me her name. She said," Cordelia referred to the message slip in her hand, “She said, quote, ’Tell him that I was at the mansion July 5, 1978. I saw what happened.’” Cordelia looked back at him. “Does that make any sense to you?”

Angel’s heart clenched, the muscles of his jaw worked. He leaned over and snatched the paper from her hands and looked at it. Cordelia blinked at his abruptness.

“She didn’t give her name?” he asked, still looking at the paper.

“No. She said that she was going to call back at 4 o’clock. Should...I put her through?”

“Yes. Put her through. She...might be an old friend of mine.” He forced a smile onto his face. “A friend who was fond of games like this.”

“Oh, alright, then...” Cordelia said. Something was bothering her about the way he looked. He was trying to cover, but the message seemed to freak him out.

---

Angel waited, watching the clock. It was impossible...no one could have been there. The house was empty that night. He didn’t know what kind of game this woman was playing, but she’d be sorry -- very sorry.

A minute after 4, his phone lit up. He took a calming breath and picked up the phone.

“Yes?”

“Angel O’Connor?” Buffy asked.

“Yes. I don’t go by that name so much anymore, though. You’re the one who called earlier?”

“Yes, that was me. You got the message then?”

“Indeed I did. What’s this about?”

“I think you know what it’s about. Don’t play dumb. I know what you did.”

“What is it that I’m supposed to have done?” Angel said haughtily.

“You murdered them. Spike, Darla, Ethan and Percy -- you murdered them in cold blood.”

“You’re insane,” Angel said calmly. “You don’t know a thing.”

“Would you like me to give you some details?” Buffy asked, her voice quavering slightly. “How about...what you said to Spike when you were stabbing him to death?”

Angel remained silent.

Buffy continued, “You said, ‘I told you I’d kill you, don’t look so surprised.’” Buffy had to cover her mouth to muffle a sob. “Before you left, you said you were going to get some traveling money and be on your way.”

Angel thought he was going to vomit. No one could know that! No one that wasn’t there.

“Do you believe me now?” Buffy asked.

“What do you want?” he asked in a low, dangerous tone.

“I’ll keep this information to myself... If you play ball.”

“Blackmail?” Angel laughed mirthlessly. “You don’t have a shred of proof that what you’re saying is true.”

“Yes, but I could make things very difficult for you. I could contact some news organizations, I could tell them all about it. Who knows? Maybe one ambitious journalist will get interested in the story and do a little investigating on their own. I could --“

“Alright!” Angel yelled. He took a breath, then continued more evenly, “Alright. I’ll ‘play ball’ as you put it. But not over the phone. I want to do this face-to-face.”

“Good. I’m glad you’re seeing things my way,” Buffy said, trying to sound like a character from a spy movie. “Do you know Phil’s Diner?” Buffy had picked an eatery in downtown L.A. for the meeting. It was well-lit and safe.

“Yes,” Angel said after a moment.

“I’ll meet you there tomorrow night at 8 o’clock in the evening. We’ll talk terms then.”

Buffy hung up.

Angel ended the call and pressed another button on the phone.

“Yes, Mr. O’Connor?” a male voice asked.

“Were you able to trace the call?”

“Yes, sir. It’s an address in Sunnydale, California.”

Angel considered that. “Very good. Send it up to me right away. And,“ he added, his voice grave, “you will speak of this with no one. Do you understand?”

“Y-Yes, sir. I understand.”

Angel ended the call and sat back again. “You’re going to get a lot more than you bargained for... No one fucks with my life.” He fingered his silver letter opener.

---

That night the skies began clouding up, a storm was just on the horizon.

“You sure you don’t want to come with, Buffster?” Xander asked pulling on his jacket.

“Nah, I want to stay here and wait for Spike.”

“Okay, but I still feel funny leaving you all alone,” Willow said.

“I’m not alone. Spike will show up soon.” Buffy smiled. “Now go on, you knuckleheads. You’re going to miss the start of the movie.”

Xander gave her a kiss on the cheek and held out his arm for Willow. “Ready, Milady?”

She giggled and looped her arm through his. “Let’s motor. See ya in a few hours, Buffy.”

“Have a good time! And bring me back some Raisinets!” Buffy called after them.

---

Buffy sat on the couch in the living room going over her plan again and again.

She would go to meet Angel at the diner tomorrow at 8. Willow and Xander would be waiting outside just in case she needed them. Willow had put together a listening and recording device that Buffy could wear concealed in her clothing. Buffy would bait Angel into confessing to the crimes. Then they’d have proof to present to the proper authorities, ones that weren’t in the O’Connor’s pocket.

Buffy was scared shitless, but she had to do it. Since the dreams, she became more and more sure of the fact that she was the one meant to expose Angel. Buffy had seen Darla, Percy and Ethan’s ghosts every now and then. Sadness and despair radiating from them. She had to do it for them too.

The storm was getting louder and closer. A particularly loud crack of thunder made her jump.

“Spike?” Buffy called out to him. “It’d be nice if you chose now to show up...the storm’s making me jumpy.”

The lights went out. “Oh, shit,” Buffy cursed. “Great, that's what I needed.”

She got up and walked slowly to the armoire where they kept a flashlight. She clicked on the flashlight, feeling a little better already.

A small noise came from the kitchen. It sounded like a pot being knocked over. Her heart thudded.

“It’s okay...some of the ghosts like to make noise sometimes...they won’t hurt you,” Buffy told herself.

A shape appeared in the archway.

Buffy shone the light on it, hoping that it was Spike.

Angel squinted. “Hello, there. Miss Summers, is it?”

She froze in terror.

“You seem to be having a little problem with the power.” Angel smiled, shielding his eyes from the flashlight's beam.

“How--How did you --“

“Find you?” he chuckled. “You’re pretty new at the blackmail business, eh? I had the call traced and -- voila! I had your address in my hands.” Angel walked towards her, studying her in the faint light from the flashlight. “You can’t be more than 25 years old. Were you bluffing? You weren’t here at all, were you?”

Buffy backed up into the armoire.

“That’s a real shame,” Angel chuckled and shook his head. “You had me going! I don’t know how you know what you know, but I can’t allow you to live...you understand that, I’m sure.”

“Get...Get away from me!” Buffy said, her voice rising.

“Afraid I can’t do that, honey. You want to play with the big boys? You pay the price.” Angel pulled a gun out of his pocket. “Guns are so much easier, just point and shoot. I don’t have to get messy this time.”

Terror clouded her face. “NO!” she shouted.

In the blink of an eye, she clicked off the flashlight and dove to the side. Angel fired, missing her. Buffy landed on the floor and scrambled away. She grunted with pain when her shin came in contact with the magazine rack.

Angel whipped towards the sound and fired again, missing her by just a fraction of an inch. Buffy screamed, feeling the bullet whiz by her head. She took a hold of the brass magazine rack and hefted it, then swung it in an arc towards him with a roar. Her aim was better than his.

The rack struck him in the chest. He grunted and stumbled backwards, the gun tumbled out of his hand to the floor -- getting lost in the darkness. Buffy ran as fast as she could to the front door. If she could make it to her car she could use her spare key hidden under the floor mat to get away.

She opened the door. Angel caught up with her, slamming his body into her and the door, forcing it closed again. Buffy screamed and struggled against him.

“You little BITCH!” Angel spat.

“Leave me alone!” Buffy screamed and twisted in his grasp.

Angel turned her around and slammed her repeatedly against the door by her shoulders. Buffy grunted with each blow. Then his large hands were gripping her neck, squeezing harder and harder. Buffy gasped for air and scratched at his arms. Her knee came up swiftly to connect with his groin. Angel cursed and loosened his hold enough for her to get free and shove him away.

In a blind panic, she ran up the stairs to her room, gulping in oxygen. Buffy held her bruised throat, feeling her way along the wall.

Angel recovered, more angry than ever. He took the steps as quickly as his swollen balls would allow.

Buffy made it to her room and slammed the door, then locked it. She put her back against it and slid down slightly. Tears ran from her eyes.

“SPIKE!” she croaked. “Please help me!”

Angel’s body began battering the door. Buffy sobbed and braced her legs and back against the door.

“I live with people!” Buffy yelled, her throat still raw and on fire. “They’ll be home soon!”

Angel paused for only a second before resuming his assault on the door. “Then I’ll just have to kill them, too!”

Buffy shrieked when she heard and felt the lock break. With all of her might, she tried keeping it closed. But, just as it happened in the past, Angel was too strong and irate to keep out. She jumped away from the door, running to the window. She didn’t even get it open before he was upon her.

Angel tossed her away from the window, and she landed on her back by the bed. He jumped on her, pinning her down with his larger frame. Buffy screamed and kicked her legs frantically. Angel snarled and struck her hard across the face.

“SHUT UP BITCH!” He shook her. “How did you find out?! How do you know what happened?!”

“Get off of her!”

Angel turned towards the voice. He recognized that voice even after all these years. A bolt of lightning illuminated the room long enough for him to see him.

“You...it...can’t be...” Angel paled.

Spike was standing a few feet away from them.

“I said, GET AWAY FROM HER!” Spike advanced on him.

Angel released Buffy and skittered backwards across the floor. Buffy rolled away and climbed over the bed, putting distance between her and the other human.

“Buffy, are you alright, luv?!” Spike panicked.

Buffy nodded and sobbed.

“You’re dead! I know you’re dead!” Angel said in disbelief.

Spike leveled his gaze back on his killer. “Yeah, I’m dead. And you’re gonna be too. You shouldn’t have come back here, pillock. You shouldn’t have touched her.”

Angel backed against the wall and slowly slid up to a standing position.

“You’re...a ghost?” Angel noticed that he could see through him slightly.

“Thanks to you,” Spike said getting closer.

“Ghosts can’t...can’t touch people.” Angel tried calming himself. “You can’t hurt me.”

Spike growled and lunged at him, unfortunately his fists passed through Angel like a strong breeze. Angel gasped at first then laughed crazily.

“You can’t hurt me!”

Spike grit his teeth and kept swinging unsuccessfully.

Angel’s eyes went to Buffy’s huddled form against the far wall. “But I can hurt her.” He looked back at Spike, an evil grin spreading on his face. “You get to watch while I kill another one of your whores.” Angel started for Buffy.

“Buffy! RUN!” Spike shouted.

She cried out and tried to leave, but Angel was faster. His hands wrapped back around her throat, choking her from behind.

“NO!” Spike cried.

He looked around in a panic. Taking a breath and trying to put aside his wild emotions, he concentrated on making his left hand solid. Then he picked up the lamp from the bedside table and moved quickly over to the struggling humans. He raised it over his head and, with a shout, smashed it down on the back of Angel’s neck. The glass lamp exploded on contact.

Angel yelled and released Buffy again. He dropped to his knees; Buffy collapsed to the floor as well.

“Buffy, get out of here! Please, luv! Hurry!” Spike shouted.

Buffy crawled along the carpet towards the door. She had very little energy left, as she had almost passed out. Her throat was on fire, she pulled in rasping breaths. The electricity came back on when she got to the threshold.

Standing there in the doorway were Darla, Percy and Ethan. They were looking past her at Angel, their faces grim. She felt them pass over and through her into the room.

Angel’s eyes widened further. He crawled backwards, holding the back of his head.

“Hello, lover,” Darla’s voice whispered.

Angel shook his head. “No...”

“Remember us?” Darla asked, raising a delicate eyebrow.

“What do you want!?” Angel panicked.

They laughed.

“What do we want? What do you think we want?”

Spike smiled and joined the other spirits. “Darla, you can talk?”

“Now I can.” She turned and smiled at her cousin then reached out her hand and stroked his face. “His presence, our murderer's presence here, made us strong enough to do this.”

Spike looked over at Buffy, who was sitting up and holding her neck, but she gave him a small, nervous smile and a nod to let him know that she was okay. He looked back at Darla.

“You guys were giving me a complex not talkin’ to me for 25 years. It’s good to see all of you.”

Percy smiled, "Sorry Spike. I would've said hello if I could have. I was in a kind of...bubble. Not aware of anyone else."

Ethan and Darla nodded, that had been their experience as well.

As the ghosts greeted each other, Angel moved along the wall to the window, preparing to climb out and jump off the roof if necessary.

"Stop him," Darla said coolly.

"How?" Spike asked.

"You can manipulate objects, you're the strongest one of us. Make sure he doesn't leave." Darla smiled then turned to Buffy. "You should go downstairs. We have...business...to finalize here. Call the police if you can. Tell them that you were attacked, minus the details about us of course, and that your attacker is upstairs."

Buffy nodded and slowly stood up. She took one last look at Angel and the apparitions closing in around him before she closed the door.

The spirits walked toward Angel.

“G-Get away from me! You can’t hurt me!” Angel yelled.

“Can’t we?” Spike asked, raising an eyebrow.

He picked up a hardcover book with ease. He didn’t even have to concentrate. Spike hurled it at Angel, hitting him in the forehead. Angel yelled and slapped a hand to his forehead. Spike didn’t give him time to recover. He threw more objects (everything he could get his hands on) at the cowering man.

Angel screamed with his arms over his face, “Leave me alone!”

The ghosts were only a few steps away now.

“I don’t think so, mate,” Spike said menacingly. “You’re going to pay.”

Angel wept hysterically, on the edge of madness. He looked up at them and shivered. They now looked like they had the last time he’d seen them, bloody. The knife wounds he’d inflicted on them were fresh and gaping, their clothes were soaked with blood.

Spike touched the tip of his index finger to Angel’s forehead. Angel screamed and batted Spike’s hand away frantically. A grin lit up Spike’s ghostly countenance.

“Well, looks like I can touch you. Why don’t the rest of you give it a go?” he asked the others. "It's fun!"

They laughed and began touching their cold, dead hands to Angel’s face.

He shrieked, twisting away from them, “AARRGHH! NOOOO! GET AWAY!”

He looked to the window, that was the only way out. Angel ran at full speed toward the closed window, dived through and out.

“No fair,” Darla pouted.

The phantoms gathered around the window and looked out. Angel’s dead body was laying on the front lawn; he’d broken his neck when he fell.

“I wanted him to suffer more,” she said.

“That woulda been nice,” Spike agreed. “But it’s done now... It’s finally over.”

“Yes, quite right, Spike,” Ethan said. “He’ll have plenty of suffering where he’s going, anyway.”

Percy smiled. "Red hot pokers up the jacksie for all eternity? Couldn't happen to a nicer chap."

The ghosts chuckled. Spike put his arm around Percy. They all enjoyed the view a while longer.


As soon as the door had shut, Buffy heard a series of loud thuds and screams of pain from Angel. She went quickly downstairs and called the police, not wanting to contemplate what was going on in there.

The police and an ambulance came quickly to the house. The police found Angel's body on the front lawn, the gun gripped in his hand. Spike had put it there to make sure everyone knew who the aggressor was.

Willow and Xander had arrived home, shaken and concerned. But Buffy felt incredible relief. Her throat hurt like hell, but it was over. She'd heard the loud scream from Angel, followed by the tinkling of glass.

Buffy was taken to the hospital to make sure there was nothing seriously wrong. There was only bruising and swelling around her throat and her lip was cut, other than that she was fine. No permanent damage had been done, thankfully.

The following week was filled with statements to police and reporters hungry for the story. Buffy was told that she was obviously the victim and no charges would be brought against her.


Buffy was worried. She hadn't seen Spike since the night Angel attacked her. Every night she waited for him to appear, only to drift off to sleep after several hours.

One night, Buffy was wandering around the ballroom, thinking about him and how wonderful it would be to dance with him here. Suddenly the lights went low, the glittering ball cast diamonds of light in the room. She looked around for who had done it. A delighted smile lit her face when she saw Spike standing a few feet away.

"Hello, cutie." Spike smirked.

"Spike!" Buffy went to him. "I was so worried. Why did you --"

Spike held up a finger and pressed it lightly to her lips. He looked at her with love in his eyes.

"Want to dance?" he asked.

Buffy smiled and nodded, wondering if they could.

"Check this out, just like the Fonz." Spike curled his tongue behind his teeth and snapped his fingers.

The beginning of 'Into the Mystic' by Van Morrison began playing over the speakers, filling the room with the strains of the guitar. Buffy giggled and put her arms up around his neck, being careful not to rest them there, lest they pass through him again.

Spike enfolded her in his arms, he was solid enough to hold her gently. They closed their eyes as they swayed.

We were born before the wind
Also younger than the sun
Ere the bonnie boat was won as we sailed into the mystic

"I missed you," Buffy whispered.

Spike swallowed a lump in his throat. "I missed you too, pet. I'm so...relieved that you're okay."

"I am. I'm fine. He didn't hurt me that bad."

"Let's not talk about him...or anything right now," Spike said softly. "I just want to enjoy this."

Buffy sighed and leaned into him as much as possible.

Hark, now hear the sailors cry
Smell the sea and feel the sky
Let your soul and spirit fly into the mystic

And when that fog horn blows I will be coming home
And when that fog horn blows I want to hear it
I don't have to fear it

I want to rock your gypsy soul
Just like way back in the days of old
Then magnificently we will float into the mystic

"I never want to be apart from you again," Buffy said, brushing her fingertips over the back of his neck.

Spike didn't respond, just kept dancing slowly.

And when that fog horn blows you know I will be coming home
And when that fog horn whistle blows I got to hear it
I don't have to fear it

I want to rock your gypsy soul
Just like way back in the days of old
And together we will float into the mystic
Come on, girl...

As the music faded. Spike pulled back to look in her eyes.

"I love you, Buffy."

"I love you, too," she replied.

There was a sadness in his eyes that she didn't like.

"What's wrong?" Buffy asked.

"I have to go," Spike said thickly.

"Wh-What do you mean?"

"The others went through already... I'm the last one. They're calling for me."

"I still don't know what you're saying!" But part of her did. His death was avenged, everyone knew what had happened at Lawson Manor that night. There was no more secrecy, no more cover-ups. Justice had been served.

A brilliant light illuminated the ballroom in the form of a portal. Buffy and Spike looked into it. A female shape walked to the edge and held out her hand. It was Darla, smiling beatifically at Spike.

"It's time, Spike. Come home," Darla said, her voice gentle and soft.

"No... No, don't go..." Buffy mumbled, her eyes filling with tears.

Spike looked back at her, his eyes wet as well. "It's not my choice. I have to go."

"But..." Buffy sobbed. The right thing to do was to let him go without a big weepy display, she knew it. She hated it...but she knew it. Spike deserved to rest and be at peace after so many years of wandering.

"I'll always love you," Spike said, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "Be happy, pet. Live for both of us...as long as one of us is living, it‘s okay."

Spike backed away from her towards the portal. He was surrounded by the heavenly light, looking more beautiful than he ever had. Her vision blurred, fat tears rolled down her face.

"I love you!" Buffy wept.

Spike entered the portal, reaching out to take Darla's offered hand, then kissing her on the cheek.

Spike looked to her one last time. "I love you, too," he said with a bittersweet smile.

Part of Spike was grateful that he'd finally be able to 'rest in peace,’ to go on to his ultimate reward. But a bigger part wanted nothing more than to stay with his love. The fact remained, he didn't have a choice. The light, the peace and tranquility, drew him in like a magnet.

"I'll..." Buffy sobbed, "never forget you."

"Goodbye, pet. Take care of yourself."

Darla turned and led Spike further into the portal. Their forms began getting smaller as they moved inwards. Buffy saw others, and she was able to make out the forms of: Percy, Ethan, Spike's mother and father (she had seen their pictures in his trunk) and other people she didn't know. She felt an enormous amount of love and joy coming from them.

Then as quickly as it came, the portal disappeared, closing in on itself with a *whoosh*.

Buffy sank to her knees and lowered her head. Xander and Willow (who had been watching in dumbstruck amazement, attracted by the brilliant light of the portal coming from the ballroom) rushed to her side.

"Buffy, are you okay?" Willow asked.

"He's gone," Buffy said in despair, her voice cracking. "I've lost him forever..."

16 years later...





Willow walked down to the pond with the mail in her hand and balancing her baby, Ben, on her hip. She smiled as she approached Buffy.



“Hey, there. How’s the painting coming?” Willow asked.



Buffy stopped and sighed. “It’s coming.”



She put her brush back on the easel and wiped her hands on her jeans.



They both had aged a bit in the last few years. But the years had been very kind. Buffy’s hair was still blonde, now hanging down to her waist. She usually wore it in a long braid or in a tight bun at the back of her head. Willow went the opposite way and had cut her hair short, in a pixie-ish style.



“Is it time for lunch already?” Buffy asked.



“No, not yet. I just wanted to bring you your mail since Ben and I were taking a little walk. Weren’t we?” Willow poked her son’s chubby belly, making him giggle. "My little Dough Boy."



Buffy smiled.



Willow had met a sweet guy named Oz 10 years ago. He was an eccentric but sweet and loyal musician who performed at the clubs in town. The two redheads had hit it off immediately. Then, there came Tara. She was a psychologist who had an office in town. Willow had hit it off with her too, discovering, much to her and everyone else’s surprise, that she was bisexual. Oz and Tara had both moved in with them. They were a cute couple + 1. Two years ago, Willow had gotten pregnant with their first child, little Ben.



Buffy was very happy for her friends, but couldn’t help the twinge of jealousy she felt that she had been denied the love of her life and her own chance for happiness. There were no babies in store for her, or any men for that matter. After Spike left she never had the desire to see anyone else. If she couldn’t have him, she’d go without. She was now 37, and it was doubtful she would ever have children of her own. But she did enjoy playing with and helping take care of Ben, as well as Xander and his wife Anya’s little one, Jadzia.



Xander and Anya had met 8 years ago. She was a beautiful and brassy shopkeeper in town and had captured Xander’s heart almost right from the start. They dated for 4 years before Xander got the nerve to propose. They were married on the property in a wedding bash that had the town buzzing for years. Jadzia was born a year later.



Buffy took the mail from Willow and thumbed through it.



“Well, Ben and I are gonna continue our walk. I’ll come get you when lunch is ready... I still think we should get one of those triangles and ring it when it’s mealtime,” Willow said over her shoulder as she walked away.



Buffy pulled one envelope out of the stack. The return address was a Michael Wyndham-Price in Bath, England. She didn’t know that name and she didn’t know anyone who lived there.



Curious, she opened it and unfolded the letter.



It read:





Dear Buffy,



I know, you must be thinking, ‘Who the devil is Michael Wyndham-Price?’. It’s a long story and you’ll very probably find it hard to believe. So, please, do me a favor? Read this letter through completely before making up your mind.



Don’t ask me how. Don’t ask me why. But it’s me, pet.



Spike.



Or William Giles, as I was known originally.



It’s incredible isn’t it? I was reincarnated. I never really believed in that stuff before. Then again, I didn’t believe in ghosts until I became one either.



I would have contacted you sooner, but I’ve only just started remembering details over the last few months. The moment I remembered you, I wanted to find you. I don’t even know if you still live in the old place. I didn’t know where else to begin searching for you. I pray that this letter reaches you, and finds you well.



I miss you. I still love you with every fibre of my being. I know that you might have a husband and a houseful of kids, but I had to contact you. I’m sorry if I’m interfering with your life.



Here is my email address: spike19@monstermail.com



Please let me know if you received the letter at the very least. And I’ll do everything I can to prove I am who I say I am.



That’s all I can think of to say right now. Just know that I’m here and waiting in anticipation for your reply.



Love Always,



Spike





Buffy stared at the letter and reread it three times before it sunk into her brain.



Was it possible? Could Spike be back among the living?



Without another thought, Buffy raced back to the house and up to her bedroom. She’d taken another bedroom after everything that happened. She just couldn’t stay in the room that she’d seen Spike and Darla murdered in.



Buffy sat at her computer and went into her mail program.



She began to type, her fingers flying over the keyboard:





To: Michael Wyndham-Price

Address: spike19@monstermail.com



I received your letter today.



I’m skeptical. I’ll need some proof before I’ll let myself believe it’s true.



Let me say this, if this is a joke, it’s a very cruel and sick one.



Do you know how to use Monster.com’s chat? My chat name is buffster.



I’d rather communicate with you in real time than by email. I’ll be waiting online.



Buffy





Buffy sent the email and sat back, releasing an unsteady breath. Despite what she’d said, she was terribly excited that it might be true. If it was...her prayers will have been answered. She rubbed her stomach to soothe the nausea caused my her extreme excitement. Her heart skipped a beat when there was a beep from her computer.



He was online.



With a shaky hand she opened up the chat window.





spike19: Buffy?



buffster: Yes





Buffy wanted to try to remain cool-headed and a little aloof.





spike19: I can’t believe I’m actually talking to you again! Well, sort of...God I’ve missed you!



buffster: I need proof





Buffy was shaking, both dreading and waiting with anticipation. Holding her breath, she waited for the next words to pop up on the screen.





spike19: Okay, what can I do? Ask me something



buffster: Spike had a guitar. What was the color, brand and year?





Yes, she could prove if this was a sick, twisted prank by asking him questions. Questions that no one could possibly know, except her Spike.





spike19: It was an ice-blue metallic 1962 Fender. I’ll throw in an extra fact. Your handle ‘buffster’ is one of the many nicknames Xander called you





"Oh my God..." Buffy said, stunned at his accurate responses. "No," she shook her head, "I need more. Please...God...Let it be him... Please..."



But it couldn't be him... It was impossible. It was totally crazy. Then again...things were pretty weird back in the day too. If she could meet, have incredible sex with, and fall in love with a ghost...Wrapping her mind around a little reincarnation shouldn't be too hard.



Buffy had become so used to the idea of him being gone; forever unattainable to her. She'd accepted the fact that she would remain alone until one day, she would join him on the other side. It was rattling her to her core to think that being with him was actually possible. Oh, if it were him...



She typed another question.





buffster: What was Spike’s favorite tv show?



spike19: Starsky & Hutch. I loved that car. It was a toss up between that or Charlie‘s Angels. The last one is for obvious reasons lol





Buffy's breath caught in her throat. It became more difficult to type the correct letters on the keyboard. Her fingers were trembling badly. Every new answer from him was like an electric shock to her long dormant heart.



She kept typing questions as the truth slowly seeped in and took hold in her brain.





buffster: How did Spike tell me his name the first time we communicated?



spike19: I wrote it in the dust on the mirror in the bedroom. Then I wrote 'William' under that





"Oh... Oh God..." Buffy was having trouble breathing. "Oh please...please..." She needed it to be him.



There was one more answer that she needed to make her truly believe and accept that this stranger was the man that she loved beyond all reason.





buffster: What song did we dance to the night you left?





Her heart raced, pounding erratically in her chest, making her put her hand over her heart to steady it. If he knew the song...





spike19: Van Morrison's 'Into the Mystic'





Buffy burst into tears. "Spike! Oh God!"



She sobbed, trying to type through blurry eyes.





buffster: Is it really you?



spike19: Yes luv. It’s me. Do you believe me?



buffster: You answered everything right but I’m afraid to. If this turns out to be a trick I don’t know if I’ll be able to take it.





It was true. If this was just some clever, heartless imposter, it would take her years to undo the damage he'd caused...if it would be possible at all. Buffy thought she might just jump off of the roof and end the pain forever. But her heart and her head told her, it was true. It was her Spike.





spike19: It’s not a trick I swear it. It's really me. I have to know, do you have someone special in your life?



buffster: No. I’ve never gotten over you



spike19: Oh Buffy I’m sorry you’ve been alone. But I’m happy that you’re free. I feel so selfish



buffster: I need to see you. Can you come back to the mansion? Do you even want to come back here?





To see him, to touch him, to love him like she'd wanted to for 16 long years; she was sick with the intense longing she felt. She would throw her arms around him and never let go.





spike19: It will be difficult, but I’ll try



buffster: Why is it difficult? Because of the bad memories?





If he needed it, she would move out of the house. Buffy would do anything to be with him again.





spike19: No nothing like that. I meant that my parents will try to stop me. They’ve been a bloody nightmare since I’ve been recovering my memories! I’ve had to pretend I’m ‘all better’ so that they wouldn’t send me to an institution





Buffy furrowed her brows in confusion.





buffster: Parents?



spike19: Yes. Their names are Wesley and Winifred. They're not so bad. They try to do the right thing. They just think I'm bug-shagging crazy



buffster: Wait. How old are you?



spike19: 16





"Holy shit...oh shit," Buffy said, smacking her forehead then dragging her hand slowly down her face. She felt numb.





spike19: Buffy? I know it’s young, but that’s only chronological age. We love each other. It doesn’t matter. Actually I’m much older than you, considering I lived for 19 years, was dead for 25, and now I’ve lived 16 more years. I've racked up a lot of time on Earth



buffster: I'm such an idiot, I was so excited that it didn't even occur to me that you had to be so young. I can’t be with a child. I could be thrown in jail!



spike19: I’m NOT a child! Buffy I love you. Please don’t turn me away because of my age. I'll get older



buffster: I don’t know what to do. I still love you so much. But your parents would have me arrested in a heartbeat. You know that.





Buffy cried in frustration. First, he had to be a ghost when she met him. Then, he was taken away from her. Now, he was alive and whole, but he was 16 frickin' years old! God must really, really hate her. But she loved Spike. She would always love him and want him. They could work something out...somehow.





buffster: Spike?



spike19: You're right, they would make trouble for us. And you probably would feel like a deviant for having a 16 year old boyfriend. Am I right?



buffster: Yeah, I'd feel pretty strange. I don't know what to do Spike





The thoughts of an underage boyfriend made her very uneasy. But it was Spike, returned to her by some extraordinary means. There was no way she could stay away from him or turn him away. Buffy was so confused.





spike19: We'll bide our time then. I hate having to wait any longer. I'm going crazy with wanting to see you. We can try waiting until I'm a legal adult in the US. I don't know if I can do it...



buffster: I want to see you too. But you're right. And you know the problem with you getting older? I will too. I'm 37, Spike





37 and 16, her mind boggled at the difference. She'd be a pervert. A skanky old broad taking up with some young fuzzy-faced hottie.





spike19: So you'll be like one of those Hollywood movie stars with the young boy-toy hanging on her

arm ; )





Buffy laughed. He did have a strange sense of humor. Well...maybe it wouldn't be so bad. To be with the man that she loved, she'd risk the pointed, disapproving glances of others. She'd risk being ostracized, she'd risk anything. She'd deal with it.





buffster: Okay, so we wait...Can we at least talk until then?



spike19: Yes absolutely! But not on the phone. My parents would ask too many questions. There are programmes for the internet where you can talk to someone and actually hear their voice. I'll look into that and let you know what I find. Could you send me a picture of yourself?





Buffy balked. She looked good, but she was suddenly very self-conscious. Would he be shocked at her aged appearance? She touched her face. Her slight laugh lines and crow's feet seemed as deep and craggy as the Grand Fucking Canyon.





buffster: You know what I look like



spike19: I haven't seen you in ages pet. I want to see you



buffster: I'm older. I don't look like I did when I was 21



spike19: I'm sure you look fantastic. Please I want to see you





Buffy sighed, relenting. There was only one way to find out how he'd react to her looks. She was dying to see what he looked like now too.





buffster: Okay. I'll try to find a good one to send you. I have no idea what you look like now. You're a different person, on the outside anyway



spike19: Actually--believe it or not--I look a lot like I did before. I don't know how or why. I even bleached my hair again. My dad had a fit, just like my first dad Rupert did lol



spike19: I have to go luv. My mum is calling me



buffster: God this is all so bizarre! Will you contact me later?





Buffy's heart was pounding loudly in her ears again. Part of her believed that she shouldn't let him go -- if she ended the conversation, she might never hear from him again... He might be taken from her again. She shook her head. She had to have some kind of faith that he had been given back to her, for keeps this time. She calmed herself, shaking off the sudden almost overpowering fear.





spike19: Yes. Tonight around 10, my time. I have to go now, she's coming upstairs. I love you!





Buffy smiled brightly, her eyes welling once more. He loved her. After all this time, after everything they'd been through, after all the time they'd been separated -- he still loved her too.





buffster: I love you too Spike

---

Buffy and Spike communicated on the computer and he sent her the occasional letter. She couldn't send him one for fear that his parents would intercept it.



Buffy had been surprised by the picture he sent her. He did look almost exactly like she remembered him, except younger. The same voice (only a bit higher pitched), cheekbones, lips and best of all -- those eyes. She could get lost forever in those eyes. Spike had raved about the picture of herself she sent him. Saying that she was even more beautiful than she was before, that she'd aged like a fine wine. Buffy joked that she was more like a moldy hunk of cheese.





Years passed.…



The years passed excruciatingly slowly for them. Talking to each other was wonderful but it increased the longing to see and touch the other even more.



Buffy felt like a giant pervert for it (both because he was so young, and that she was masturbating at her computer), but they had engaged in cybersex several times. They both became proficient at typing one-handed. It was better when they used the talking program, they had both hands free and could hear each other moaning.



It was coming up on Spike/Michael's 18th birthday.



He was going to come to her then. He could legally move to the States on his own and they could finally be together. They'd fallen even more in love with each other over the almost 2 year period of separation they'd endured, waiting for him to 'grow up'.

---

Buffy was sitting by the pond, her favorite spot to think and do some sketching. Dragonflies swooped down, skimming the surface of the water; bullfrogs croaked; crickets chirped; the Mama duck led her ducklings in a line through the water at the far end of the pond. Near the pond's edge stood a statue that Buffy had spent years creating: a statue in the likeness of Spike. It bore a strong resemblance to Michelangelo's David, just like the real Spike. He was her Adonis. The pond area was peaceful and serene, and Buffy needed that peace.



She was as nervous as she'd ever been. Spike's birthday was tomorrow. He'd be coming to join her soon after. Her anticipation of finally getting what she'd craved all these years was driving her crazy.



'Stop it. Just try to relax. Don't think about it for a while... I'm going to be a mess by the time he gets here next week,' Buffy thought.



"Hello, cutie."



Buffy turned towards the voice that she knew so well.



"Spike?" Buffy said, astonished.



"Hope you don't mind me coming early." Spike shot her a cocky grin.



He was dressed in a pair of black jeans, a black t-shirt with a lived-in brown leather jacket over top and combat boots. His hair was slicked back instead of askew.



Buffy slowly stood, a delirious smile spread across her face.



"No, I don't mind...but...you're not 18 yet. How did you get your parents to let you come to the States?"



"Told 'em that I'd leave anyway. By the time the coppers caught up with me, I'd be 18 and there'd be nothing they could do about it. I wanted to spend my birthday with you, pet."



They walked toward each other, feeling both excited and afraid to touch. They stopped within inches of each other, just gazing and drinking in the other's appearance.



As one, they quickly closed the distance and threw their arms around each other, kissing desperately.



"God, Buffy! Missed you so bloody much!" Spike breathed, kissing her lips and cheeks.



"Mmmm! Missed you too!" Buffy gasped into his mouth.



They started getting a little carried away, rubbing against each other and pulling at clothes. Somehow Buffy was able to regain her senses and pulled back.



"We...have to...stop that," Buffy panted. "There are...kids around here."



Spike looked around. "Oh, right... Willow & Xander's little ones..." Spike breathed deeply to get some control back.



Their touches became more gentle as they just held onto each other and enjoyed the feeling of being together. Spike brushed his lips over her cheek.



"I can't believe you're really here," Buffy said softly, her eyes closed. His lips were so soft and pillowy.



"I can't believe I'm really here either. You don't know how many times I dreamed of this very thing."



"Me too," Buffy said. Then she looked down, self-consciously. "I'm so much older than you. I'm 39...how can a young, strapping buck like you still want me?"



Spike put two fingers under her chin and brought her face up to his. He looked at her with eyes full of love and devotion.



"You're beautiful. I meant it when I said you were more beautiful than ever. Time has only perfected you. But I'd be with you if you looked like Quasi-bloody-modo. I love who you are, inside and out, eyeballs to entrails. I love everything about you. I don't care about your age or any of that rot. I love you, Buffy Summers."



Buffy felt like a giddy teenager herself at this moment. She was mesmerized by his eyes and the passion in them for her.



She smiled coyly with tears of joy in her eyes. "You know...you're going to have to take care of a little old lady someday."



"I'll make her the happiest little old lady on Earth, and the envy of all her blue-haired friends at the beauty parlor. That's a promise." Spike smirked then kissed her passionately.



They laughed when he lifted her up and swung her around in a circle. He lowered her back down, letting her body slide down his and relishing the feeling. They kissed again.

---

Buffy introduced Spike/Michael to everyone. She'd already informed the others about the extraordinary situation a long time ago, so they weren't surprised. But it was still quite a shock for Willow and Xander to see him in the flesh.



Buffy took her friends aside at one point and asked them if she and Spike could have more privacy tonight. They understood completely and would make sure that no one would bother the two of them and the kids would be wearing earplugs to bed. Xander made a comment about the sexual tension going off like an atom bomb when they finally got together.



Buffy had replied, "You have NO idea!"



Willow and Xander thought it was weird on so many levels: Buffy with an 18-year-old guy; the fact that the 18-year-old knew them and talked about things that happened 18 years ago, and that he looked exactly like he had so long ago, even though he was a different person biologically. But weird had been the order of the day since they'd moved into the house. They shrugged it off, just being happy that Buffy was happy. She'd been alone and in mourning for him for so long. In his presence, she was like the old, vibrant Buffy again. There was a sparkle in her eyes that hadn't been there for a long time.

---

Later that evening…



Spike sat on Buffy's bed, waiting for her to come back.



He fidgeted nervously. He'd never had sex in this body before and it had been a long time since they'd been together. The last time he hadn't even been alive, just a ghost who could become solid for a short time. Saving himself for Buffy was something he didn't even need to consider. After he remembered his past life (and unlife as a ghost) there was no room in his heart for another woman. He was filled with and consumed by thoughts of her and her alone.



Buffy had been gone for a while, he was beginning to wonder if she was coming back when he heard her opening the door.



"Close your eyes," Buffy said through the crack in the door.



"What?" Spike smiled.



"Close your eyes, I said! I have a surprise!"



"Okay," he smirked and put his hands over his eyes, "they're closed."



Buffy grinned and came in with a chocolate cake, courtesy of Jadzia's Easy Bake Oven (actually her daddy, Xander, loved using it too). A lit candle was stuck in the top. Buffy had finished it just in time. The grandfather clock downstairs started chiming the hour, midnight.



Buffy walked over to the bed and sat down beside a smiling Spike. She'd also taken the opportunity to gussy herself up a bit: she had fixed her hair, applied a little makeup and changed into a black lace teddy, which was covered by her black silk bathrobe at the moment. She didn't want to walk around the house like that.



"Open your eyes!" Buffy said, holding the cake in front of her.



Spike took his hands away from his eyes and looked at the cake. He laughed.



"You think of everything, luv."



"Make a wish." Buffy smiled.



Spike looked into her eyes. "I have everything I want....but...okay, I got one."



He closed his eyes and wished hard then blew out the candle.



They chuckled.



"That's a neat little cake you made." Spike grinned.



"Easy Bake Oven," Buffy said scooping out a little chocolate icing on her finger and sucking it off.



Spike's eyes turned dark and stormy within a matter of seconds. She noticed the animalistic lust in his eyes and face. She immediately became horny as hell. Buffy smiled seductively and dipped her finger back in the chocolate icing and held it up to his mouth.



"Wanna taste?" she asked.



Spike licked her finger then sucked it lightly into his mouth. He caressed her digit with his tongue as he gazed into her hooded eyes.



They groaned.



Buffy pulled her finger slowly from his mouth. "Good?" she breathed.



"Very. I'd like to have some more..." Spike's voice was low and husky.



"How's it feel to be 18?" Buffy asked, scooping up some more icing.



"So far? It's the best birthday ever. Much better than my first 18th birthday."



"I haven't even given you your present yet," Buffy purred, smearing some icing on his bottom lip.



His tongue swept along his lip, licking up the icing. It was almost too much for Buffy to take. Her body was quaking with excitement. She decided to get things moving along, she didn't know how long she could last before she just jumped him. She briefly wondered if she was celibate long enough to have become a virgin again... Do hymens grow back?



Buffy put the cake on the nightstand and stood up. She went over to the CD player and hit play. 'I Want You (She's so Heavy) by the Beatles started playing. She loved this song; the emotion in it was insistent and raw, and right to the point, fitting her mood perfectly. She had taken a shine to Spike's music over the years.



Buffy sashayed back to the bed, smiling down on his upturned, adoring face. She untied her robe and let it drop down her arms to the floor. She stood before him in her teddy. Buffy knew that her body looked good, even better than it had looked in her younger days. She hit the Stairmaster and took kickboxing a few times a week. Her ass and tits were still defying gravity; her body was still toned and tight. By the awed look on his face, he thought she looked just fine too.



I want you, I want you so bad

I want you, I want you so bad

It's driving me mad, it's driving me mad



"Do you want to make love, Spike?" Buffy asked. "If you don't, we can --"



"NO! I mean...I do want to...very much." Spike blushed a little at not being able to think straight and at the mighty redwood that had popped up in his pants.



Buffy moved to stand between his knees; she caressed his face and ran her fingers through his hair.



I want you, I want you so bad, babe

I want you, I want you so bad

It's driving me mad, it's driving me mad



"I have to confess...I'm really nervous," Buffy said with a smile.



"Me too," Spike said, gazing up at her.



"This is your first time, in this body, and it's my first time in...well, since you -- ghost-you. I hardly remember how," Buffy laughed lightly.



Spike smiled and ran his hands up her smooth thighs and around her back to fondle her tight butt. "Like riding a bike, yeah?"



They both drew in unsteady breaths.



I want you, I want you so bad, babe

I want you, I want you so bad

It's driving me mad, it's driving me mad



I want you, I want you so bad

I want you, I want you so bad

It's driving me mad, it's driving me mad



Buffy stood back and indicated that he should stand up. When he stood she moved back to him, pulling his t-shirt out of his jeans and lifting it over his head. His chest was smooth and muscular. She ran her hands over his torso while she kissed his neck. His skin was so warm and soft.



She's so heavy

Heavy, heavy, heavy



Buffy's hand slid to his waist, undoing his belt and unzipping his jeans. His hands ran up and down her sides. She pushed his jeans past his ass. One of her hands caressed his firm ass while the other drifted back around to the front and wrapped around his stiff dick. Spike inhaled sharply; he'd been dying to feel her touch for so long. Her hand glided up and down for a few moments before she let go.



"Lie down," Buffy said, kissing him tenderly on the lips.



Spike pushed himself backwards to lie on the bed; his chest rose and fell rapidly. Buffy climbed on and molded her body to his, capturing his sweet lips in kiss after kiss.



She's so heavy

She's so heavy, heavy, heavy



I want you, I want you so bad

I want you, I want you so bad

It's driving me mad, it's driving me mad



I want you, you know I want you so bad, babe

I want you, you know I want you so bad

It's driving me mad, it's driving me mad yeah



She's so...



During the instrumental last part of the song, they made out like sex-crazed teens (which one of them was). Their hands didn't spare any patch of skin on the other's body; they touched and fondled the other's flesh madly.



Spike smiled against Buffy's lips as the next song started. It was 'Into the Mystic'.



"I thought we should dance to this one again." Buffy bent down and kissed him quickly, sucking on his lower lip and nibbling at it.



Spike groaned with desire.



Buffy pulled away from him and stood back up next to the bed. Taking charge was helping her to relax and feel more confident. Buffy dragged her hands up her body, his eyes fixed on her hands, following them, the tip of his tongue swept back and forth between his lips. Her hands went up into her hair and released it from the bun. She shook her head slightly, her golden tresses tumbled down over her back and shoulders.



Spike thought he might cum just from seeing that, it was so erotic. He drew in a few deep breaths, staring at her with barely contained desire.



Buffy smiled and pulled at his jeans, tugging them down and off of his legs.



"No underwear, huh?" She lifted an eyebrow.



Spike smirked. "Not as handy as the dissolving clothes bit I used to do. But it saves time."



"Mmmm, that it does..." Buffy winked at him and crawled up the bed.



She straddled his slim hips, running her hands slowly over the hills and valleys of his body. Buffy was savoring the moment; sitting atop him like this, his hot flesh hard and solid under her. There would be no holding back or being careful not to pass through him this time.



Spike was breathing harder underneath her. "Buffy, please...I'm going to bloody burst if --" Spike panted.



Buffy silenced him by dropping down and covering his mouth with hers, kissing him with blind passion. He whimpered and put his arms around her, running them over her back. Buffy sat up and pushed the straps of her teddy down over her shoulders. Spike's hands ran up her arms and pulled the straps down further, exposing her breasts.



Spike sat up and kissed her chest while caressing her lower back with his hands. Buffy ran her fingers through his hair while he devoured her tits like a starving man would a juicy steak. She pulled back and, taking his face in her hands, crushed their lips together again.



"Want you!" Spike exclaimed into her mouth.



Buffy could feel his urgency, both in his passionate kisses and the way his cock throbbed between their bodies. She didn't want to wait anymore either. She gently pushed off of him to stand, then quickly removed her lingerie.



"God, Buffy...you're so beautiful, pet," Spike said breathlessly, looking at her body with glassy eyes. "This is real, isn't it? I'm not going to wake up like I did so many bloody times?"



Buffy's smile stretched across her face as she took her place back on top of him. Her fingers rubbed over his nipples.



"You'll wake up in the morning...with me." She took his rigid cock in her hand and admired it for a moment before raising herself up and beginning the long, delicious descent.



They breathed heavily, Spike clutched at her thighs. Buffy fought to keep her eyes open to watch his face as she sank down on him, her lids kept wanting to flutter closed. Finally, she was sitting flush against his pelvis. She sat there for a few seconds, not moving.



Spike was having trouble remembering how to breathe. The sight of Buffy above him, her long, blonde hair shining in the dim light; her face a portrait of pleasure; her body so firm and perfect; her pussy so tight he thought his cock would strangle. He struggled not to cum; she would be so disappointed if it was over this soon. He mentally slapped himself, trying to get some control over his body.



Buffy gyrated her hips, almost doing him in, then began moving up and down slowly. She hadn't had sex in a very long time and it was difficult not to go for it full throttle. But they'd been waiting an eternity to make love, she wanted it to last as long as they both could stand it.



After only a few minutes, the need and longing did become too much. They both wanted it, hard and fast. Gentleness and taking their time could wait.



"Ohhh--Oh Spike!" Buffy panted, rising and falling on him with vigor.



"Buffy--Pet--Ahhh!"



Buffy pressed their chests together while she continued grinding down on him. They kissed ravenously. Spike turned them over and raised up on his hands to look at her while he pumped harder and faster into her heat. Buffy's legs wrapped around his waist, urging him to thrust deeper and harder.



"Love you!" Spike breathed, pumping his hips furiously.



"Uhhhh! Love -- you -- too! OHHH!"



Spike lowered himself and slid his hand between them to finger her clit to bring her over with him.



"Spike! Unnngghaa! YESYESOHGODYES!" Buffy yelled, her inner-muscles began spasming around his cock.



Spike's eyes rolled back as he too began to cum, shooting into her forcefully. "Ahhh--Buffffy!"



Their bodies jerked and twitched, their moans and cries of pleasure echoed in the room.



Spike rolled onto his back, a huge grin on his face, his breathing beginning to return to normal. Buffy wore a matching grin; she turned on her side and caressed his tight, young body while placing tender kisses to his neck and chest.



"Mmmm, Spike, that was so good...so wonderful..."



"Mmmhmmm," Spike agreed. "God...it was better than I ever imagined."



"Happy Birthday, baby," Buffy giggled then kissed him.



His eyes snapped open. “Buffy, we...didn't use anything. No protection. I --"



"Shhh," Buffy brushed her lips over his, "it's okay. I don't mind if I get pregnant." She looked deeply into his eyes. "I love you. I'd love to have your baby."



"You...would?"



Buffy nodded and smiled. "I’m not a spring chicken and I might not have a lot of time left to have a baby. And you’re the man I want to be with for the rest of my life... Let's let whatever happens happen. That is unless you'd rather we be careful...it's okay if you do."



"No...I-I'd like to have a baby too...with you." Spike touched her face gently, his fingers stroking her cheek. "I'm actually 62 years old if you count all the time I've been around... I wouldn't mind starting a family." He smiled. "I hope we get some time just for the two of us for awhile. But I wouldn't be opposed to it if you found yourself 'in the family way'."



They were silent for a few moments in thought.



"Buffy?"



"Hmmm?" She looked up at him.



"Will you marry me, luv? I want to be with you for the rest of my life too. There could never be anyone else."



Buffy propped herself on an elbow. "Are...you sure? You don't have to ask me --"



"No, I'm sure. I even have a ring in my luggage... I gave it a lot of thought. If I weren't non-corporeal, I would've asked you 18 years ago." Spike smiled.



Her face lit up. "Yes! Yes, I'll marry you, Spike."



Spike hugged her tightly and kissed her passionately. "I love you so much, pet. Thank you for saying yes."



"There couldn't be any other answer," Buffy said kissing him again, slowly and languorously this time.



Her hand slid down his body, her fingers wrapping around his slick cock and stroking it lovingly. She giggled when she felt it jump and begin hardening again.



“Mmmm, I think I could get used to this younger man/older woman thing. You still gonna love me when I'm old and wrinkly?” she said, kissing him softly.



Spike smiled and growled lightly, pushing her over onto her back again to answer her question with his body instead of words.

---

In the next room, Xander laid in bed, wide awake. He'd tried not to listen, he really had... But he had heard their moans and exclamations. And -- Sweet Fancy Moses! -- they were doing it again! Xander looked at the clock, only 5 minutes had passed. Damn, that kid could recover fast. Xander was hard as a rock. If only Anya weren’t asleep...



Anya rolled over and put her hand on his chest. He looked down at her to find that she was awake too. She licked her lips sensuously and rubbed her calf up and down his leg. Xander grinned and rolled over on top of her and proceeded to ravish her.



Afterwards, Anya thought how advantageous having Buffy and her young lover in the next room would be in the years to come. There was nothing like hearing other people getting off to get one in the mood, unless you were watching too. But she didn’t think the two blondes would go for that...

2 months later, Buffy and Spike were married on the rear lawn in the gazebo by Tara.

Tara was a Wiccan High Priestess, licensed by the state to perform marriage ceremonies. There was no one else they would have rather had marry them. The Handfasting was witnessed by all of their friends, family and many of the townspeople. Spike's parents, Wesley and Winifred, had protested the marriage at first, but when they came to meet Buffy, they couldn't deny the love in her eyes for their son. They still didn't like the age difference, but they wanted to stay in Spike's life. It would only serve to alienate their son and keep them from any future grandchildren to harp on the subject.

It was the biggest party that the town of Sunnydale had ever seen.

Spike and Buffy danced in the ballroom to -- you guessed it -- 'Into the Mystic', as their first dance as a married couple.

"I can't wait to get out of here and give my wife a good 'seein' to'," Spike whispered against her ear.

Buffy laughed, "I'm looking forward to that myself. Do I get to 'see to you' as well?" she asked with a coy smile.

"I bloody well hope so." He smiled and kissed her lightly.

Other couples joined them on the dance floor.

"People were starting to wonder about me; a woman of a certain age, never been married..." Buffy smiled.

"Mmm, I'm glad I could make an honest woman of you, Mrs. Summers-Wyndham-Price... Are you sure you want all those hyphens in your name, pet?" he joked.

"Yep, I love me some hyphens. Makes me sound classy," she joked back.

"You are classy, pet." He spun her around and brought her back against his body.

They danced for a few moments in silence, their cheeks touching.

"I never thought we'd get to do this..." Buffy said softly. "I dreamed of it so many times... I always woke up so sad, so depressed..."

Spike caressed her face and tilted her chin up to look into her eyes. "No more sadness. No more being depressed. We have everything we've always wanted."

"It still seems like a beautiful dream...too good to be true," Buffy said, gazing into his clear blue eyes. "But even if it is a dream, I don't want to wake up this time."

"It's not a dream, Buffy. We really did get married not an hour ago, we really are dancing our first dance as a married couple, and," he brushed his lips over her ear, "I really am going to scoop you up in my arms, take you upstairs and make love to you all night...as soon as we do the cake thing and pose for a few snaps, of course..."

Buffy sighed and smiled. "All night? Think you can live up to that promise? I'm going to hold you to that."

"You do that. You won't be disappointed."

"Mmmm, I'm sure I won't be...shouldn't we save a little something for Jamaica though?" Buffy teased.

"I've got tons of energy, pet. You know that. If you hadn't deflowered me the night we reunited, we could have made an event of that for the honeymoon."

Buffy smirked and playfully smacked his shoulder.

"Sounds like there's a good chance of having a little Buffy or Spike Jr. with all the hot lovin' we're going to be indulging in..."

"Who knows? Maybe we will..." Spike kissed her cheek gently. "If it's meant to happen, it's meant to happen. Fate has a way of working its will...or so I've noticed."

Buffy put her arms around her husband and rested her head on his shoulder.

She sighed happily. "Yeah, fate is funny that way..."


10 months later, a perfect, beautiful, blonde baby girl was born to Spike and Buffy. They named her Darla.


THE END