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A/N - This story got completely stuck sometime last year, I always wanted to finish it but I had no ispiration at all for how to do it. Then Propechy and warmth took over my life and I never got back to it.

Then slaymesofty emailed me just to ask if I was ever going to finished it and Bang! the ending appeared as if by magic in my mind. Special thanks to her then and as always to the wonderful April who finds time in her hectic life to make my prose readable. xxxxx

So finally, after a long hiatus, on with the yarn

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She felt power tugging at her through the comforting cocoon of sleep. His power, dark and seductive, enticing her body into wakefulness. The other, too: that deeper well of resonating power, its ancient thrum a siren call to her slayer spirit.

She stared uselessly into the darkness. Letting her spider senses do what her eyes could not, she located him in the shadows near the door. "Hello, Spike," she greeted with a tired sigh.

"Buffy." His voice was low, barely more than a whisper, but filled with uncompromising determination. "Time to get up, pet. There's work to do."

She sat up and flicked on the bedside lamp, bathing the room in soft golden light. She let her eyes trail over him, taking in the tension of his body, the tightness in his jaw that betrayed the anger he felt. Not with her, though; with them. He held the scythe loosely at his side. He must have been to Revello, must know what they had done. "I don't think so, Spike." She leant back against the headboard, arms crossed over her chest defensively.

He shook his head. "Ah-ah, none of that, Slayer," he cajoled. "Get your skinny arse outta bed. We got ourselves a world to save."

She sighed and shook her head. "Tell it to Faith." Her words lacked the venom she herself had expected.

He frowned. "Well, I would, but…" He raised the scythe, showing it to her before laying it on the dressing table. "The nice lady who gave me this little beauty was very clear on keeping it away from the unworthy. Now, Faith's a nice enough bird, but she's on my side of worthy I reckon."

There was an unmistakable affection in his tone, a sort of upside-down respect. She snorted, an insipid jealousy nudging half-heartedly at her heart. "You been there tonight?"

"Yeah." He picked up on it, leering at her slightly as she swung her legs off the bed. "Me and your evil twin had a right good time of it killing an ugly. Gotta admit, the girl’s got spunk. Sassy, too."

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Typical Faith, always wants to play with my toys." She shook her head. "So, what, stealing my life isn't enough? She wants you, too?"

In any other situation he would have called her on her slip, asked if he was hers, taunted her for her jealousy, maybe wound her up with some lascivious comment about the dark slayer’s assets. But now was not the time. "Not exactly, pet," he told her seriously. "Matter of fact, she's none too happy about your little role reversal. She's not stupid, luv. She knows they need you, even if the others don't get it yet."

Buffy didn’t answer, just gave a loud unconvinced humph and buried her head in her hands. She really wanted him to go. She was still so tired. She couldn't go back, couldn't fight the Scoobies and the First and him. She just wanted to rest a little longer, like maybe forever.

"Ouch!" Something hard hit her in the side of the head. She raised a hand just in time to catch the second projectile. "Spike," she groused, throwing her boot on the ground between her feet.

"Come on, come on." His body virtually buzzed with an energy that was more than just demonic power, it was him. Spike—a powder keg of nervous tension. He always had energy to burn, was always ready for the next fight. How could it be that even after a century, youthful enthusiasm bubbled freely from him while she felt so lethargic, so jaded, so very old?

He was looking at her expectantly, his face open, almost hopeful. He wore his patented Buffy-can-do-it face, complete faith in her shining from his eyes.

She felt annoyance begin to break through the cotton wool numbness she had felt since Dawn had kissed her goodbye. "What do you want me to do, Spike?" she bit out, standing up and gesturing angrily with her arms. "They chose, okay. They chose Faith. End. Of. Story." She stepped away, turning her back on him, and clenched her jaw against the violent onslaught of feeling. She didn't want to feel, she just wanted to rest.

She heard him snort derisively, could almost see his sneer. "Pathetic," he accused disgustedly. "Just bloody pathetic."

"Go away, Spike," she hissed, keeping her back to him. God, why wouldn't he just go? It was over; there was nothing she could do now.

"Don't think so, luv." His hand came down heavily on her shoulder, spinning her round roughly. "You want me to leave, you're just gonna have to make me."

She squared her shoulders and tilted her head to the side. If that's how he wanted to play it. "Fine." She backhanded him hard across the face, making him stumble to the side. Pressing her advantage, she swung a hook kick at the back of his lowered head, sending him sprawling forward. She descended on him, coming to straddle his waist just as he rolled on to his back, raising her fist to strike. One punch, hard on his left temple, whipped his head to the side. A second connected with the right side of his jaw, sending a small spray of blood onto the carpet. She drew back again and stopped abruptly.

'That's it, lay it all on me. That's my girl.' The memory was so vivid, their positions so similar—him sprawled beneath her, willingly accepting whatever she chose to dish out; her angrily laying her pain and fear on him, comforting her broken spirit with the feel of his perfect skin breaking under her fists. 'That was real. I won't forget it.' She brought her hand down, open palmed and gentle, to catch his chin and turn his face so she could look into his ice blue eyes.

"I'm sorry," she murmured softly, and she was. Not just for the bruise already beginning to colour one of his defined cheekbones, but also for the others, for all the hundreds of times she’d bruised him, inside and out.

His eyes held hers quizzically as his hand came up to mirror hers, softly cupping her check as she ran her thumb gently over the discolouration of his. "Shh, pet," he crooned softly when her eyes began to glisten with gathering tears. "Now's not the time. Like I said, there's work to do."

She stood up and turned away from him again, her shoulders slumping tiredly. She didn't want to go to work; she just wanted to stay here, in this eerily quiet house, in this room and let the world pass her by, for better or for worse. "Spike, I don't think—"

"Don't think." She hadn't heard him move, but suddenly he was behind her, so close she had to close her eyes against the desire to lean back into his arms. His hands reached past her, lifting the scythe and pressing the smooth handle into her hands. His breath was cool against her ear as she opened her eyes to look at the weapon lying in her upturned hands. "Feel."

For a moment she thought to resist, to push the scythe away, but she couldn't. She felt its power seep through the skin of her palms, making her blood thrum expectantly in her veins. Instinctively, she closed her fingers around the smooth cool shaft and let her eyes fall shut.

Images assaulted her, flashing across the screen of her mind: ancient past, present, future, and all the times in between blurring with roller coaster speed in her mind’s eye. She gasped and opened her eyes, gaze fixing on the point in the shadowed mirror where his eyes should have looked back. "We have to go to the vineyard."

She spun out of his arms, gathering up her coat and shoes. "Back to the vineyard?" She glanced up from where she'd sat down on the bed, hurriedly pulling on her boots, to catch his wary look. "With its small army of bringers and Billy the unkillable preacher man?" He gave her a small, doubtful smile. "Er, just you and me?"

She hadn't expected it from him. He wasn't supposed to question her. He never questioned her. Her pendulum conviction faltered for a second, then he grinned and rubbed his hands together with childlike relish. "Right-ho then." His eyes danced with expectation. "Stop by the crypt on the way, though. I've got a 2 ft broad sword I've been dying to try out."

She let out a nervous bark of laughter. Yeah, just the two of them, into the lion's den. Just as it should be.

………………………………………………………

"So," he whispered, as the vineyard loomed before them in the predawn blackness. "How'd you come up with this suicidal plan anyway?"

"It's not my plan," she told him distractedly, eyes scanning the area for a way in. The main entrance didn't hold much appeal after their last visit.

"Um, pet?" He put his hand on her arm, getting her attention. "Not your plan? You didn't get it from the fairies, did ya? 'Cos trust me, those little bastards aren't the most reliable sods in the world."

She didn't smile; it was at best a weak attempt at gallows humour. "From here." She held up the scythe. "Come on."

She moved ahead of him, rounding the group of buildings to the left. Behind her, she heard him muttering that he was cursed to 'fall for bloody crazy birds.' She grinned, his grumbling affection somehow comforting in the face of this kamikaze mission.

A side door, shabby and unused. Perfect. They moved as one, low and stealthy across the open ground. The door opened with a noisy creak that froze them both. She didn't bother straining her ears for the telltale sounds that they'd been heard. Instead, she watched his face; he'd know long before she did anyway. And besides, it gave her a moment to study his face. His eyes were unfocused, concentration centred on his sharp hearing, body held utterly still—dead man still. Then his eyes brightened in the darkness and met hers. A slight shake of his head and she knew they'd been lucky.

They were lucky inside, too, going unchallenged until they reached a heavy door deep in the caves. "There," she indicated with a flick of her head. There was a small gap above the door, a perfect spy hole. Wordlessly, he put out his hands and she stepped deftly into his cupped palms so that he could hoist her high enough to peer into the sealed room.

"Jackpot," she whispered when he'd let her slide intimately down his body to the ground. "Caleb and about a dozen bringers." She didn't step back from the loose circle of his arms; the closeness was too natural, too comforting, to be surrendered. "Looks like the bringers are trying to cut something outta the rock."

"Plan?" His voice was little more than a breath but he was so close she had no trouble hearing him. So close it only took the slightest of movements to bring her lips up next to his.

"Whatever they're digging for, it's gotta be important." She tipped her head slightly to the side, drifting closer so that with every word she breathed into his mouth, lips moving just scant millimetres from his.

"Charge in there and nick it, then?" It was a pretence, this talking, a distraction letting them creep unnoticed into each other's space.

"Yeah." Her lips brushed over his with the word in a whispered touch.

His eyes flicked between her lips and eyes, indecision clear on his face. Then with a deep breath he took her shoulders firmly in his hands. "Oh, fuck it." And his mouth was on hers, needy and hungry, and she kissed him back in kind, arms reaching up to cling desperately around his neck.

They separated eventually with reluctant slowness, eyes locked, breathing coming in shallow pants. "Spike." Such a relief it was, letting his name tumble low and intimate from her lips, and she knew what would come next. Her own name on his, said in that soft, worshipful whisper she'd missed so much. She held her breath in anticipation as his eyes clouded with love and desire and a hundred other things that made her feel like a most beautiful creature in the entire world.

His lips parted almost in slow motion and she felt a smile touch her own mouth, ready to welcome his devotion. "Buffy!" The loud, jarring sound was like a thunderclap against ears that had been preparing for a whisper, making her start and jerk away from her vampire's embrace at just the same instant he too leapt, scolded, out of her arms.

"Buffy?" As one, they looked towards the interruption just as Angel rounded the corner, eyes flashing with panicked worry. "Oh, thank God, Buffy. Are you okay?"

"We're fine, Angel," she whispered harshly, annoyance at his untimely interruption making her glower angrily at him. "But we won't be if you keep bellowing like that."

It didn't escape his notice that Buffy had said, "We're fine," or that she'd seemed more irritated than pleased to see her erstwhile soulmate. Still, he was what he was, and insecurity was par for the course when it came to his grand sire. "Yeah, Angelus." His own whisper was all disdain and challenge. "Very covert. Good job we're not trying to do anything sneaky ain't it?"

"Spike." The slayer took advantage of Angel's obvious confusion at realising her companion's identity to try and put off the inevitable confrontation. She gave him a hard, reprimanding look and turned back to Angel.

"Hi, Angel," she greeted, a little more cordially this time. "Want to help us kick some demon ass?"

"Buffy?" The dark vampire’s eyes had fixed suspiciously on Spike now. "What is he—"

"He's here. He's helping. End of story." She cut him off impatiently. "Accept it and help us or turn around and go back to LA."

She couldn't let herself look at Spike, but she heard his surprised intake of breath and she could feel his eyes, questioning and grateful, burning into her. "Ha," she thought triumphantly. "Didn't expect that now, did ya, Blondie?"

"On three then?" he asked, sotto voce.

"Wait, Buffy…" Angel tried to interject.

But she was already counting, eyes locked on Spike's, body humming with anticipation. "One." She matched the vicious glee of his grin. "Two." Her eyes twinkled with violent relish and he nodded, a perfect shared moment of understanding. "Three!" And with that they were bursting through the door and into the lion’s den, Angel trailing in their wake.



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A/N huge apologies to anyone who was reading this and now has no clue whats going on after such a long break. I will get this finished no and the updates shouldn't be too few and far between.





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