Out of the Shadows by Aurora

1. Chapter One- The Encroaching Darkness by Aurora

2. Chapter Two-Admissions by Aurora

3. Chapter Three- Never Let a Girl Watch You Sleep by Aurora

4. Chapter Four- Letting Them In by Aurora

5. Chapter Five- The Message by Aurora

6. Chapter Six- Dealing With It by Aurora

7. Chapter Seven-Reflection by Aurora

8. Chapter Eight-Lies Buffy Told Me by Aurora

9. Chapter Nine-The Last to Know by Aurora

10. Chapter Ten-Fix You by Aurora

11. Chapter Eleven- Inner Demons by Aurora

12. Chapter Twelve-Nothing Ever Stays in the Past by Aurora

13. Chapter Thirteen-If You Don't Know, I'm Not Going to Tell You by Aurora

14. Chapter Fourteen-Bed Therapy by Aurora

15. Chapter Fifteen-The Other Side of the Coin by Aurora

16. Chapter Sixteen-A Certain Amount of Connecting by Aurora

17. Chapter Seventeen- Eye Opener by Aurora

18. Chapter Eighteen-Would You Lie with Me and Just Forget the World? by Aurora

19. Chapter Nineteen: Forgive… Even If You Can’t Forget by Aurora

20. Chapter Twenty: The Terrified Elephant in the Room by Aurora

21. Chapter Twenty-One: A Slayer’s Hamartia by Aurora

22. Chapter 22 by Aurora

Chapter One- The Encroaching Darkness by Aurora
Chapter One: The Encroaching Darkness

Through some unknown portal, in some mysterious dimension, Buffy stood before three ancient shamans, chained to the rock face of a cold dim cave.

“What is this?” she inquired, as she came to and discovered her imprisonment.

In their primordial dialect, each one of the mystics responded. “We are at the beginning,” one said stoically.

“The source of your strength. The well of the slayer’s power,” said another.

“This is why we have brought you here,” finished the third.

“I thought I brought me here,” Buffy replied, confusion etched plainly on her face, which quickly morphed into annoyance. “Look…listen, you guys. I’m already the Slayer; bursting with power. I really don’t need anymore.”

“The first Slayer did not talk so much,” one shaman commented as Buffy struggled with the chains. Suddenly the three men began to stomp their staffs against the ground, creating an ominous pounding that resembled the beating of war drums. The beat intensified, sustained by two men, while a third approached the Slayer with a closed wooden box. Placing it on the ground before her, he slowly slid off the lid. “Here lies your truest strength,” he said, stepping away from the open vessel.

“The energy of the demon. Its spirit.”

“Its heart.”

Shocked, Buffy stared at the box. “This is how you…?”

“Created the Slayer? Yes,” one mystic answered her unfinished question.

Slowly, a black mist rose from the box, free from its confinements, remaining for the moment suspended above its former prison. Scared, Buffy frantically tried to follow its erratic movements, unsure of what was to happen, what the shamans intended to do with this demon spirit.

The drums continued to beat and the essence continued to dance in the air above her. “It must become one with you.”

“No!” Buffy refused, still struggling with her bindings.

“This will make you ready for the fight,” one shaman declared, in the hopes that she would cooperate.

“By making me less human?” she retorted, obviously unhappy about the catch to this offering of power.

“This is how it was then. How it must be now.”

“This is all there is,” one of the men warned. In their minds, there was no alternative to defeating the First.

And with that, the mist descended upon Buffy, assaulting every inch of her, consuming her entirely. Screaming, she tried to push it away; refusing to accept the supposed gift she was being offered. Pulling at the chains, the slayer glared at the men watching her. “Make this stop.”

“This is what you came for,” one said, again without any hint of emotion.

“No, this isn’t the way!” she declared angrily.

“Do not fight this.”

The blackness was upon her again, invading her very being. Buffy couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, couldn’t breathe. It was like walking into the abyss, like drowning in dark waters where your lungs are about to burst but all you can think about in your last seconds is that you’ve gone blind. She was becoming petrified at the idea that this thing would take her over from the inside.

“No! Stop! Please, stop! I don’t want this! This isn’t the way!” Buffy screamed, struggling against the chains as she tried to flee from the demonic mist. But it was relentless and no amount of refusing and denial could stop it from consuming her. She would become one with it.

As the last bit of the essence entered her, Buffy collapsed face down on the ground. The inside of the cave began to spin, the emotionless faces of the men who did this to her started to blur into one another. But their eyes remained transfixed upon the slayer and she felt as though their gazes burned right through to her very core. Nausea took hold of her. Grabbing her side she sprawled out on the ground, clinging to it as everything around her spiraled out of control. Buffy shut her eyes and surrendered to the power.




********


The blinding light emitted by the portal filled the living room, touching everything and everyone within it. Shaking in Xander’s arms, Willow tried to calm herself down; too frightened by her actions to consider the ramifications of using Anya and, especially Kennedy as human energy boosters. Hauling the enormous, yet dead demon, Spike flung it into the awaiting portal anticipating the exchange and Buffy’s return. Before the portal closed, they found Buffy face down on the living room floor, unconscious.

“Buffy!” Dawn yelled, afraid that her sister was dead. Kneeling beside her and realizing she was alive, she turned to the group. “She’s alive, but she’s out cold.”

“We better get her upstairs,” Xander said. “I think we should all call it a night.”

Without instruction or hesitation, Spike knelt down and scooped the unresponsive Buffy in his arms and made his way upstairs, with Dawn trailing quietly behind him. Xander opted to stay downstairs with Anya when Willow had finally calmed down. The potential slayer and witch soon followed up the stairs.

“Hey,” Willow called out once they reached the upstairs hallway. “You okay? You’ve been kinda quite since…”

“You sucked the life out of me?” Kennedy asked, finishing Willow’s question.

“Yeah. Since then,” she solemnly confirmed. “Look, it’s important that you know what I am. What I’m like when I’m like that.”

“I thought it would be, I don’t know, cool somehow. It just hurt,” Kennedy replied, looking as though she was still in pain.

“Yeah, I’m really sorry. Just, you were the most powerful person nearby and well…that’s how it works. That’s how I work,” Willow stated sadly.

“I got that. You told me… I’ll see you in the morning,” Kennedy responded, turning into her room and closing the door on her girlfriend.

Needing a distraction, Willow headed to Buffy’s room where no doubt Spike and Dawn were. She found them both there, as she had expected. The Slayer had been dressed in her pajamas and was tucked into bed, just as unconscious as she had been when she had returned.

“Still out?” Willow asked, genuinely concerned.

Dawn looked up at the witch and nodded, “She hasn’t even made a single sound. I just hope she wakes up soon,” Dawn choked, her lip quivering, still a little shook up from seeing her sister so powerless.

“She will, Nibblet,” Spike said in an effort to comfort her while his eyes never left Buffy’s sleeping form. Though she was never out of his sight, Spike did not sit by her as Dawn did, but kept his vigil in one of the room’s corners. Unfortunately, by keeping his eyes on the Slayer he never noticed Dawn’s big doe eyes gleaming with tears.

“You called me Nibblet,” she stated, matter-of-factly.

Pulled out of his concentrated observance of Buffy, he glanced over to Dawn, which upon setting his eyes on her face, almost made his heart beat again. Her response to his long unused nickname for her and the sentiment behind it slowly sunk in. “Yeah, guess I did.”

Staying seated in the chair next to Buffy’s bed, Dawn didn’t move, but every emotion crossed her face. She suddenly became very aware that Spike and Willow were watching her, making her turn her gaze down to the floor as a tiny smile spread over her lips. “I guess you really are back. God, I didn’t think I’d miss your annoying nick names so much,” Dawn said, with a slight touch of melancholy.

Thrown by her sudden and unexpected affirmation, a tense Spike gradually relaxed when she lifted her head again and smiled at him.

Before he could respond, Dawn started to speak. “I get that you want us to see you the way we once did; Big Bad attitude and all. But if… if you want me to see you the way I once did, you gotta promise me something. You gotta not do anything to make me hate you again. Cuz, it really sucks not being able to talk to you and last year was just horrible and I don’t know if I can go through that again,” Dawn slightly rambled, staring at the floor. “So, don’t screw it up. I don’t want to hate you anymore,” she finished, lifting her eyes up to meet his, wishing to see how he responded.

Gazing down into her bright blue eyes, Spike melted and guilt ripped his insides into a million shreds. “I promise. Never again, Bit,” he croaked, not wanting to go all weepy in front of the girls. After all, he had a newly restored Big Bad persona to maintain.

After a few seconds, Dawn nodded, assured by his sincerity before turning her attention back to her sister. Spike looked at Willow, who smiled at him with a reassuring look of acceptance. Taking in an unnecessary breathe in hopes of easing his nerves, he slowly inched closer to the Slayer’s bed, but stopped dead in his tracks when she began to violently thrash.

“Buffy?!” Dawn called out to her sister.

She didn’t answer, her entire body convulsed and arched off the bed. It was like watching an exorcism, but for all they knew, she wasn’t possessed. Soundlessly she continued to thrash around and those that loved her stood there, unsure of what to do. It was eerie. Her face was set in a painful grimace, but she didn’t even make a whimper, as though it was too agonizing to scream. All that could be heard was the loud squeak of mattress springs giving in to the force of Buffy’s spasms. It ended as quickly as it started with the deafening sound of silence filing the room once again. Wide-open eyes stricken with terror stared up at the group before her. “Buffy, luv?” Spike peered down, scared of what the portal might have done to her.

Willow made her way towards her friend and knelt by her bed. Taking her trembling hand, she began to speak to her. “Buffy, you’re safe and home. Dawn and Spike and I, we’re here. You’re safe.”

Her chest had been heaving the moment since she had awakened and slowly it stilled into a steady rhythm of breaths. Emotion returning to her eyes, she appeared to recognize those around her. “What happened?” she asked.

Spike, Dawn and Willow all exchanged worried glances. “We were hoping you could tell us,” Dawn said, giving her sister an encouraging smile, though the knot in her stomach was still churning. Buffy made herself sit up, in obvious pain; she accepted Willow’s assistance in propping her up with pillows. Letting out a sigh that was a mixture of exhaustion and relief, she stared up at those around her.

“I was there, with those shadow men, the ones who created the first Slayer.”

“Did they tell you how to defeat the First?” Willow inquired, praying the dangerous and potentially relationship-damaging use of her magic had not been in vain.

Buffy looked at the three, eyes once again glazed over. “Before I passed out, I think they sent me a vision or something. I saw what the First is hiding beneath that seal.” She paused, uncertain of how to tell them.

“What Buffy? What did you see?” Willow prodded.

“I saw that we might not win this,” Buffy answered, tears streaming down her face. “An army of hell doesn’t even begin to describe.”

Her words had left them all stunned. If Buffy believed she couldn’t defeat it, that this was going to be the end, then what did that leave them? Spike was the first to break the silence. “Best you get to sleep, luv.” It was all he said. It was all that he could say. Curling into her comforter Buffy watched as they left the room, only allowing sleep to take over when she finally felt too tired to be petrified.

“This isn’t good,” Willow stated as she closed the door behind her.

“No kiddin’, Red. Never seen her so distraught. Not even with Glory,” Spike said, concern marring his brow.

“Maybe, she’s just really tired,” Dawn suggested, knowing it wasn’t the case.

“Maybe,” Spike mumbled. He couldn’t get over the feeling that Buffy had been keeping something from them, that she was hiding what was actually scaring her. Understandably, an army of Hell was frightening, but it didn’t explain the fact that she sounded like she was ready to give up. He didn’t say anything to Dawn or Willow. He knew they wouldn’t believe him, or wouldn’t want to, anyway.

Wishing them goodnight, Spike headed to the basement to spend the night alone with the gnawing suspicion that the woman he loved was lying to them, and that it was going to be the ruin of them all.


*some dialogue taken from Get It Done
Chapter Two-Admissions by Aurora
Chapter 2: Admissions


Buffy’s sleep had been dreamless and when she had awoken, it was much into the late morning, the bright California sun creeping into her room through the barely closed blinds. She felt as though she had been beaten with the Troll Hammer about seventy times and any movement she made set her stiff muscles ablaze. Buffy had to get to the bathroom; a shower would help. Actually, what would help would be that Slayer healing kicking in, but a shower wouldn’t hurt. She hoped.

The slayer slowly dragged herself out of bed, placing both feet on the floor and steadily getting up. She had never been this weak. Was it the demon mist? Why didn’t she feel any different? Correction; why didn’t she feel any different inside? She had some demon spirit or demon heart or whatever the hell it was, in her. Shouldn’t she be a little demonic? The contemplating gave Buffy a headache so she just focused on getting to a shower.

Emerging from her room, Buffy entered an empty upstairs hallway. No girls, which meant a free bathroom. With some perseverance, she managed to get undressed and get under the hot spray of the water, allowing its therapeutic warmth soothe her aching body. Only now did Buffy allow herself to continue her musing. Grabbing the bottle of shampoo, she squeezed a dollop onto her hands and massaged it into her scalp. If the demon spirit was what made the first Slayer, then it had to be what was passed down from one slayer to another. This meant that every slayer before her had been part demon, and that since the moment she had been called, Buffy was too.

Finished with the scrubbing, she rinsed her blond head. The essence that had taken over her should only then magnify her strength, right? Then why didn’t she feel any different? Buffy didn’t feel stronger or like she had this great power surging through her. All Buffy felt was just violated. Completely violated. She had begged them to stop and they still did that to her. She had felt like this once before and she never wanted to again, but here she was, in her bathroom, wondering what the hell they had actually done to her. The slayer realized as she looked around that she had somehow ended up sitting in the middle of the bathtub with her arms wrapped around her. Buffy was crying, sobbing and she hadn’t even noticed. ‘What’s wrong with me?’


********

Sipping his afternoon mug of microwaved pig’s blood, Spike lounged on his basement cot, content with the solace his new abode offered. It let him think without having twenty something teenage girls bugging him every other bleedin’ second. It was just too hectic for him, and since Buffy was resting, there wouldn’t be any slayerette training so he could keep to himself and enjoy the partial silence of…a washer and dryer?

“Must you do that now?” Spike asked, clearly annoyed.

“Well, yeah,” Dawn replied. “Clean clothes, up there on the Important Things To Do list. Bad enough we got a house full of girls; don’t need them all wearing sweaty clothes. Funky smells not so fun.” Stuffing the machine, she closed the lid and made her way to the vampire. Smiling, she scooted over next to him, her back flat against the wall.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Spike asked.

“What’s it look like? I’m sitting here,” she replied, grinning.

“I can see that. But why?”

“Cuz, I feel like it. Plus, Andrew’s starting to videotape everyone and it’s kinda creepy.”

Eyeing her, he shrugged. “Whatever. Just don’t start up with the yammering. Came down here for some peace and quiet.”

“Peace and quiet? What reality are you living in? You know there’s no such thing,” Dawn stated. Taping her fingers on her leg she searched for a conversation starter. “So, other than being antisocial, what d’you plan on doing today?” she asked, cheerily.

“Dunno. Smoke, sit, might go out and patrol when it gets dark,” he answered, unenthusiastically.

“Sounds boring.”

“Never said it was gonna be fun.”

Dawn shifted to Spike, studying his apathetic demeanor. Turning to look out at the empty space in front of her, she asked, “Why aren’t you waiting for Buffy to wake up?”

“Who says I’m not,” he replied, a little surprised at the shift in discussion.

“I do. You’re not pacing, or making snarky impatient remarks, or smoking fifty cigarettes one right after the other. You’re just here, wallowing.”

“I’m not wallowing!” he indignantly stated.

“Oh, please. If it’s not wallowing then it’s brooding. Either way, it’s not you,” she said, looking back at him.

“Damn right it’s not. I do not wallow and I sure as hell don’t brood.”

“Well, then tell me what you’re doing sitting here all unSpike like?”

“Just thinking, is all,” he admitted.

“About what?” she asked, her tone conveying utmost seriousness.

“Lil’ nosy today, aren’t we?” he joked without intending to.

“Hey, that’s what little sisters are for, right?” She said it so casually that Spike might have almost missed it. Almost. Did she think of him as her brother? Had she always felt that way, even the past year when things had gone so horribly wrong? Did she love him like she would a brother? He didn’t deserve her love, especially after how he had decimated their friendship. The total black and white shift in their relationship made him wonder if she had forgiven him. And if his Nibblet could forgive him, then maybe there was hope for him yet. His hand started to tremble and he tried to desperately keep it cool. He couldn’t loose face, even if it was with Dawn. She continued, oblivious to his inner struggle. “So spill.”

“Buffy,” he managed to say. Clearing his throat to wave away the emotions playing with his vocal chords, he tried again. “I was thinking about Buffy.”

Giving him a ‘no, duh!’ look, Dawn asked the obvious question. “What happened last night, you mean?”

Spike nodded. Deciding to take the first step, he told her. He could trust lil’ Bit. “She’s hidin’ something.”

Dawn stared at him for a good minute. He wasn’t sure if she was going to disagree, but he didn’t really care if she did. He knew he was right. But having Dawn on his side wouldn’t hurt. When she finally spoke, it wasn’t what Spike had expected. “I think you’re right. I had this feeling after she told us what happened, but it didn’t make sense. Sure, army of hell, but Buffy never gives up, or at least never admits it. Something else happened in that dimension.”

“Have to agree with you there, Bit. Didn’t say anything last night ‘cos didn’t think you an’ Red would believe me,” he admitted.

It was Dawn’s turn to shrug. “We might have but it doesn’t really matter now. We gotta find out what happened to her.”

“She isn’t gonna tell us. Not willingly anyway,” Spike commented, putting his finished cup of blood on the floor next to the cot.

“We’ll figure out a way. Maybe we should wait. She might just be a little shook up. Maybe she will come to us,” Dawn said.

“I hope you’re right,” Spike replied, unintentionally placing his hand on top of hers.

“Do you still love her?”

The question startled him. He hadn’t expected this little reunion with Dawn to be so expositional.

“Yeah, I still love her.”

His dead heart nearly burst out of his chest when he felt her warm hand curl up and give him a reassuring squeeze.


********

Buffy made her way down the steps, feeling a little better after a shower and a good cry, but it still took her a while to get downstairs without loosing her balance and falling on her ass. There were a few girls in the living room, but from what she could see, she figured they were out in the backyard training. A little relieved, she made her way to the kitchen, where she could see Willow and Xander. She stopped near the doorway, listening to what they were saying, not wishing to interrupt.

“…I’m so stupid,” she heard Willow exclaim.

“Hey. There will be none of that. You did what you had to, Will. She knows you didn’t mean to hurt her, but you had to, to bring Buffy back,” Xander consoled.

“It’s just, what if she doesn’t want to be with me anymore now that she knows what I really am? What if it all ends before it even begins?” Willow asked, choking with emotion.

“It’ll work out. Kennedy will realize she can’t be without you and learn to forgive. If you’re meant to be, she’ll realize that beneath the sometimes scary witchy exterior, is a gorgeous woman whose only human and makes mistakes,” Xander told her, never more sure of himself.

“You were always good with the cheering up,” Willow sniffled.

“It’s the thing I do. That and fixing stuff.”

Buffy could hear her two best friends laughing and wished she could be that easily comforted. It was at that moment that she wished Spike were there, with his out of nowhere presence, nonchalant attempts at comedic relief and long silent pauses. Instead, she was standing in the kitchen doorway and he was most likely asleep in the basement, both of them alone.

“Buffy, you’re up!” Willow said, pulling Buffy out of her train of thought. “You should have stayed in bed. I was just about to go up and check on you.”

“It’s okay, Will. I’m fine. Just caffeine, please,” Buffy replied, sitting between the two, accepting the cup of java Xander handed her.

“Hungry?” Xander asked.

Buffy nodded which made Xander offer her some of his buttered toast. “Thanks,” she said, nibbling on the food, still unsure if the nausea from bizarro world had completely dissipated.

“Will told me what happened, Buff. So, an army of hell, eh? Don’t worry; we can take ‘em,” he declared, smiling as only Xander could smile at the most inappropriate times.

“There were just so many. We’re basically sitting ducks ‘til the First decides to open up the seal and unleash hundreds upon hundreds of ubervamps,” she said, wishing it weren’t true.

“So we prepare and research and plan. Full out Scooby tactics,” Willow babbled, needing to lessen the burden on her best friend.

“I’ll even go on a donut run,” Xander offered.

“Promise? Jelly-filled, too?” Buffy managed to smile.

“I promise.”

Looking down at her watch, Buffy couldn’t believe it was already noon. Oh crap! Her job. “Please tell me its Saturday,” she groaned.

“Okay, it’s Saturday,” Xander replied.

“Really?”

“Yeah. And if it weren’t, Principal Wood would totally understand. Easy day off,” Xander reassured as Buffy let out the breath she’d been holding.

“Buffy are you okay? I mean, wonky portal and shadowmen encounters aside, you really freaked us out last night. You kinda went all Linda Blair,” Willow told her, concerned.

“You mean with projectile vomit and three-sixty head spins?” Buffy inquired, getting a slightly freaked.

“Uhh, no. More like uncontrollable thrashing,” Willow explained. “It was like you were having a seizure. I had no idea how to help you and before I could even suggest anything, you stopped.”

“And then I woke up, right?” Buffy asked, receiving a nod from Willow.

“Do you remember any of it, Buffy?” Xander asked.

“No. Last thing I remember was blacking out in the other dimension. That and the not so reassuring vision of the First’s army.”

“So what do we do now?” Xander asked.

“You can keep an eye on the training; I don’t want Kennedy to get carried away. And Will, I know were running low on food, could you…”

“Grocery shopping, no problem. I’ll go over the list before I head out.”

“Thanks,” Buffy said as she stood up.

“What about you Bufffster? What’s on the day’s agenda?”

“Gotta check up on Dawn. After that, I’ll join you and supervise the girls.” And with a smile, Buffy made her way out of the kitchen and into the foyer. ‘Where the hell was Dawn, anyway?’


*******


“Better get upstairs, ducks. Big sis is probably up and most likely lookin’ for you,” Spike stated, motioning for Dawn to head back upstairs.

But before Dawn could even lift her butt off the cot, she heard her sister head down the basement steps. She was happy she was awake, but as she watched Buffy descend, Dawn spotted the flinches and the knotted brow. Her sister was in obvious pain, but was too stubborn to stay in bed. It made her feel a little relieved; she was still the same old Buffy, in that respect anyway.

“Buffy, you’re awake!” Dawn called out.

“The way you all talk around here, someone would think I had some sort of sleeping disorder,” she commented sarcastically, coming to stand before her sister and ex-lover.

“Well, it’s not completely untrue,” Dawn retorted, smiling. Her face was starting to hurt from all the happies going on today, but she didn’t really care.

“Ha, ha, ha,” Buffy faux laughed, offering her own smile in response to Dawn’s.

All the while, through the sisterly banter, Spike sat unmoved, scrutinizing Buffy’s every appearance, every action, in the attempt to catch something, a clue or anything that might indicate that she was keeping something from them. He tried to not appear blatant in his scrutiny but she caught him. He quickly said something, “Feeling alright, pet?”

“Yeah. Willow told me I was all Exorcist girl before I woke up last night. Probably explains why my muscles were all achy this morning,” she replied, needing them to believe she was fine. Deciding she wanted to talk about anything else, she eyed the two of them comfortably sitting on the cot. “And when did you two form the Basement Club?”

“We were just hanging out. Geesh, Buffy,” Dawn exasperated, smiling at Spike as she slinked off the bed and headed to the stairs. “See ya later, Spike?”

“Sure thing, Nibblet.”

Buffy stood and watched the spectacle, her eyes narrowing in suspicion as her head went from Dawn to Spike and back to Dawn. Turning on her heel, she followed Dawn up the steps, wondering what had transpired between her little sister and her once vampire lover so that they were now again on friendly terms. She couldn’t help but wish that her relationship with Spike was that easily fixable.


********


Smack. The fledgling went sprawling to the ground, never knowing what hit him. Suddenly, someone pounced on him, fists pounding his face, making it impossible to get up. “First, she doesn’t love me,” Spike growled, punching the newly risen vamp in the gut. “Then, she starts shagging me; usin’ me,” he continued, roughly picking the vamp up by the lapels of the suit he’d been buried in. “Couldn’t love me ‘cos I was lacking in the soul department,” he stated, tossing his victim into a nearby tombstone. “Go out and get my bleedin’ soul back, go bug shaggin’ crazy and for what? For her to call me a bloody poofter in front of everyone!” he exasperated, throwing his arms up in the air.

The vampire he had been pummeling groaned as he slowly rose to his feet, wobbling around as he tried to get his bearings. “Dude, who are you talking to?” he asked, his hand holding his head and he staggered toward Spike.

“Nobody,” Spike answered as he backhanded the vamp, the blow making him fly back into the crumbling tombstone. “So then, I do what she wants. Get all bad ass again; kill the fucking demon and does she even notice? Do I get a little recognition? Did I even get a fucking hello this morning? NO!” Spike screamed as he rammed the stake in his hands into the vamp’s chest, the dust coating his boots.

Letting out a depressed sigh, Spike trudged along the cemetery, continuing his patrol. That had been his seventh vamp that night. He hadn’t told Buffy he was going out. He should have since the First still technically had its hold on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to actually face her. He knew if he had, he would have said something that he’d immediately regret. So he decided to go out alone, let out some steam and then head back and face the music. Lord knows that the moment she’d ask something of him, he’d do it. Glutton for punishment, love’s bitch after all.

Figuring the night’s hunt was most likely finished, he turned around, ready to go back to Casa Summers. Spinning on his heal, he knocked right into Buffy.

“Bloody hell! Where’d you come from?” he asked angrily.

“Whatever happened to heightened vampire senses? I could have staked you and you’d have been none the wiser,” she scolded, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Was distracted is all,” he answered, starting on his way back to the house with Buffy keeping pace by his side.

“Distracted with what? Watching vampire dust in the wind?”

“I was thinking. I know it’s hard for you to imagine, but I do reflect upon things on occasion,” he stated, clearly upset at the tone she was using with him.

“Sure, in a school basement, not in the middle of a cemetery where you could get killed!” she retorted, her arms flying in exaggerated gestures.

“Fine! I’m sorry for getting you all riled up with my almost possibly getting killed. Happy?” he asked.

“No,” she grumbled.

“Why am I not surprised?” Spike mumbled as he quickened his step.

“Why did you leave without telling anyone, you know…?” Buffy started, but was cut off by a growling Spike.

“I know the trigger’s still active, alright? My bloody conscious won’t let me forget it. But I was willing to risk it; needed to get the hell out of that house.”

He peered over at Buffy who appeared somewhat saddened. A long pause passed between them, only the sound of Buffy’s heeled boots echoed through the silence around them. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“Wha?” Spike barely verbalized, coming to a complete halt.

Buffy looked up into his flabbergasted face. “I’m sorry. About what I said yesterday. Chloe died and I felt so helpless and the First was taking advantage of the fact that nobody’s meeting up to their full potential, so I kinda exploded.”

“Noticed, pet. Didn’t hold much back, did ya?”

“Trying to apologize here. What part of ‘I’m sorry’ are you having difficulty with? I said those things yesterday without really thinking about what was coming out of my mouth,” she said, motioning for them to continue on their way home.

Spike followed, head slightly bowed. “But you still meant it.”

“Yeah I did. But it doesn’t mean I was right,” she commented as the approached Revello. “It doesn’t mean you were wrong either.”

“How so?” Spike asked, giving her one of his infamous head tilts.

“It was what I wanted. The soul. But I don’t know if that’s what we need right now,” she answered, the hem of her jacket becoming suddenly very interesting.

“Guess that’s just too bad, luv. It’s not going anywhere,” he declared, realizing they had finally arrived.

“I know. That’s why it wasn’t fair for me to ask from you what you couldn’t give. And I’m sorry.”

Spike didn’t say anything; he just stood there, his glance fixed on her face as a wave of emotions coursed through him. He wasn’t sure what the apology signified. It was a rare occurrence when Buffy admitted she was wrong; especially with him never being on the receiving end of those few admissions of guilt.

“So we’re okay right?” Buffy asked, still fiddling with her jacket. When Spike didn’t respond, she started to worry. “Spike? We’re cool right?” she pressed, the hint of fear affecting her voice.

With his gaze still locked on her face, he shook his head. “No, luv. We’re not okay.”

“What? Why? I said I was sorry about yesterday.”

“’S not ‘bout what you said. ’S what you’re not sayin’ is what’s makin’ us not okay, Slayer,” he said. He knew it could blow up in his face, but maybe if he could get her to consider telling him what was wrong, she might actually do it.

“What the hell are you talking about? What is it that you think I’m not telling you?” Buffy vehemently demanded, hoping he wouldn’t notice that the fear she had managed to push all the way down inside of her was now working its way back up.

“You bloody well know what I’m talkin’ about.” It was all he said in response. He wouldn’t prod any further because it would most likely make her close up. What he hadn’t expected was to see Buffy suddenly crumple, collapsing to ground, sobbing. He instinctively sunk down next to her. “Buffy, luv, what is it?”

She didn’t reply, she just continued to give out these gut-wrenching sobs that burned right into him. Spike had never seen her so broken and vulnerable, it made her seem so human. Nervously, he reached out a hand and placed it gently on her shoulder, expecting the physical contact to somehow pull her out of her hysteria. She flinched and shook her head erratically, scooting away from him as she hugged her arms around herself. The rejection hurt a bit, but he was used to it. Why would his attempt to comfort her be any different?

Her crying suddenly ceased and she began to stammer, her vacant eyes fixed on the ground in front of her. “I thought I was fine. That nothing really happened and it had all been some wacko hallucination. But I don’t feel right. They did something to me Spike; I’m not Buffy.”

Panic took hold of Spike. “’S not a relapse, is it? ‘Cos there’s nothing wrong with you, luv. The spell Red did, it didn’t change you.”

Buffy hysterically shook her head at his words. “It’s not about me coming back wrong. It happened last night, when I met with the shadow men,” she explained, hiccups occasionally cutting her off.

“What did they do, luv?” he asked, inching his way closer to her now that she was calming down.

Her eyes slowly glided up to his face, the emotionless stare she sent him caused him to shudder uncontrollably. “They…they…” she paused, her eyes brimming once again with tears. “They put a demon in me.”

Spike looked at her confused. “I don’t follow, pet. How could they put a demon in you? You’re alive and from what I can tell,” he took a quick sniff, “still human.”

At Spike’s statement, Buffy appeared to relax a little. “I still smell human.”

“Same scent,” he reassured.

“It was demon spirit or demon essence that got sucked into me. They said it was how they made the first Slayer,” she explained, her breathing easing into a steady rhythm.

“So what you’re sayin’ is that you got a bit of demon in you? More than you had before, anyway,” Spike inquired.

“Yeah,” Buffy confirmed. She let out a noise that was between a laugh and a whimper. “Guess you we’re right after all. I am a creature of the darkness.”

Suddenly, she felt Spike grab her upper arms, twisting her to face him. “Don’t ever say that,” he firmly told her, his fierce blue eyes aching with remorse for the fact that he had once said those same words to her. “I was a bleedin’ fool. You deserve to be in the light, luv; not in the shadows with me.”

“You don’t understand. The fact that the Slayer was made with demon essence means I haven’t been human since I was chosen. How can I possibly kill them now knowing what I am?” she asked, her voice hoarse with emotion.

“I do it all the time, pet,” he mentioned, receiving a contemplative look from Buffy. “Demon might be in me, but it doesn’t define me; like it doesn’t define you. You’ve had this demon mojo in you for all this time and it never changed who you really were inside. If anything, it made you more human, luv,” Spike stated, easing his grip on her.

“How’s that?” she snorted through her sobs; not the least bit convinced by the statement.

“You save the world. Not many people can even aspire to such a thing. You made the ultimate sacrifice for mankind and you’d do it again if you had to. Buffy, you are the bravest and most selfless person I know. Demon quality super powers might have started it, but it was you, luv, who kept yourself in it. In the face of adversity, you triumph again and again. Not ‘cos of the sodding demon voodoo, or Slayer obligation but because of your heart,” Spike whispered, believing every word his inner William was spouting.

“You make me sound like some sort of saint,” Buffy chuckled sadly as Spike let go of her.

“Not a saint. Just a woman who makes mistakes but who never stops trying in spite of ‘em,” Spike retorted, offering her a warm smile.

“Spike, the demon mist should have had done something to me, but all I feel is messed up in here,” she told him, clutching at her chest.

“Buffy, maybe you just haven’t tested it out yet. But that doesn’t matter anyway. Look, this thing that they did to you, it doesn’t make you any less of a person than you were before. If anything, this could help you against the First.”

Buffy watched as he stood up and eyed the hand that he offered her. Taking it, she was lifted to her feet, her face mere inches away from his. Smiling, he bashfully took a step back and nodded. “Better get inside, luv. Tomorrow’s another day.”

Spike started toward the front entrance, expecting her to follow. When he didn’t sense her behind him, he stopped and turned back only to find her standing in the middle of her front yard. His brow knotted in confusion as she remained perfectly still. “Pet?”

“We okay, Spike?” The question was so low; he barely heard it even with his vampire hearing. She seemed so open, so exposed that whatever he said could strike her down. Giving his trademark smirk, he replied, “Of course.” And with that, Buffy moved past him and entered the house with Spike not too far behind.
Chapter Three- Never Let a Girl Watch You Sleep by Aurora
Chapter 3: Never Let a Girl Watch You Sleep


The next morning had been pretty much uneventful, except for Anya chasing after Andrew with a wooden spoon, but Buffy had never really gotten the details. Instead, she let the girls have some R and R. Most of them spent it huddled in the living room, watching chic flicks, gossiping over teen magazines while they porked on junk food. Buffy knew the distraction was necessary for the Potentials and everyone else in the house. Xander and Dawn had opted for some away time, volunteering to do some errands, which gave them a chance to get out and peruse the mall. Willow had convinced Kennedy to go out for some coffee and talk, needing the privacy to deal with resolving their relationship problems. Anya, after delivering a few whacks to Andrew with the wooden utensil, had managed to rope him and a few other girls into board games. The last time Buffy had checked, Anya owned both Boardwalk and Park Place, with a hotel on each.

Buffy, on the other hand, was pacing her room, unsure of how to spend her day off. After she had said goodnight to Spike, she just went on autopilot and headed straight to sleep. She hadn’t really reflected on what was spoken between them the previous night. So now, she was in her room, alone and all she wanted was to go see him, talk to him. Walking over to her door, she stopped. “No. He’s probably asleep,” she said out loud, finding any excuse to not go down to him. She started to pace again. “But, how could he possibly sleep with the all day slumber party going on downstairs,” she rationalized, heading for the door. “No! I can’t,” she yelled at herself, getting frustrated. “God, its just Spike! Why the hell is this suddenly so complicated?” Finally, throwing the door open, Buffy stormed out, determined to not let her insecurities affect what she wanted to do.

She went downstairs, acting as though she hadn’t spent the last twenty minutes contemplating whether or not she should go down and see Spike. No one noticed her come down and slip into the basement; they were all too preoccupied with having a little fun. It was dark and she had to wait a moment for her eyes to adjust to the change. Taking the steps one at a time, she stealthily made her way down without a sound. Scanning the room, she spotted the cot and found Spike, deep in soundless repose. He was bare-chested with a single sheet draped over his jean-clad legs. His chest never rose, but he would occasionally let out some sort of rumbling noise, which Buffy figured was the closest thing he had to a snore. She smiled at the idea.

The fact that she was standing there watching Spike sleep suddenly hit her and she nervously slinked back towards the steps, feeling guilty for invading his privacy. “Buffy…” She froze when she heard him, thinking he had caught her. Turning around, she saw him, still in la-la land. “Buffy…” he called out, obviously dreaming. She smiled sadly at the longing in his voice. ‘I guess I am all he dreams about,” she reflected as she made her way closer to him. It was only when she got close enough that she saw that his brow was furrowed in pain and that his eyes moved erratically beneath their lids. “Buffy, no…” he whined. “‘M sorry… Never meant…Never hurt…” His chest started to heave and his body trembled as he let out one last choked sob. “‘M sorry.”

Buffy watched, like one would watch a train wreck. She couldn’t bear seeing how Spike’s guilt had filtered into his dreams but she couldn’t bring herself to wake him, afraid she’d crossed a line by merely being there. God, all she wanted to do was comfort him, like he had done with her just last night. It was then that she realized that what Spike needed was to know how she felt. He needed to know that she forgave him. If Spike could see past the demon, why couldn’t she get over his?

Taking in a deep steadying breathe, Buffy inched toward him, kneeling next to the cot as she reached out a hand which hovered above his shoulder. “Spike,” she called to him, her voice firm but soft. Spike remained fitfully asleep, moaning as he tossed in his bed. “Spike, wake up,” she repeated, lowering her hand to touch him. He nearly flew out of the bed because of it. Buffy suddenly found herself lying down beside him with two strong arms wrapped around her waist while his face was buried in the crook of her neck. From his whimpers and moans, she knew he was still asleep, still agonizing in his own personal hell.

“Spike,” Buffy called his name out again, hoping her close proximity would stir him.

He didn’t wake. Sighing, she allowed herself to settle into him, wrapping one of her own arms around his bare torso while her other hand soothingly stroked his bleached head. His cool body pressed up against hers sent shivers down her spine and she could tell her proximity was taking its toll on him as well. He fretted more in his reverie; most likely due to the fact that her presence made the dream a little too real. She knew she had to wake him up. She wasn’t really helping him, but just furthering his torment.

“Spike, wake up,” she urged.

That scent, that of vanilla, spice and her. It was her scent and it was consuming him. He couldn’t get away from it and it tore into him. It was only when he felt her warmth as well that he slowly withdrew from unconsciousness. Inhaling deeply, the scent invaded him and he knew he wasn’t alone on his cot in the basement anymore. Buffy was there with him, holding him. He didn’t deserve it, but he was too afraid to open his eyes and not be able to pull away from her. What form of grace had brought him into her arms? He didn’t really care. It was the loss of contact that left him filled with trepidation. How could he think it was okay for him to touch her? How was he going to summon the strength to actually let go?

Gradually, he gathered enough will power to lift himself up and open his eyes so that his gaze would fall upon the woman who unwillingly laid claim to his heart. “Buffy, what are you doing here?” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion.

He expected anger, and some pushing on her part, but all he received was Buffy smiling up at him. The image almost made his dead heart beat again. She lay beneath him, her blonde hair slightly disheveled, out of its ponytail and the smile spread over her lips was truly genuine. God, she was beautiful. And it made his guilt all the lot worse. But before he could pull away, she lifted a hand to his face and stroked his cheek.

“I’m just returning the favour.” It was all she said, wrapping her arms back around his body and lowering his face back to her neck. That sole action said much more than mere words; she was offering more than just comfort, Spike realized. Buffy was giving him her trust, and with that, no doubt, her forgiveness. With full comprehension of what was occurring between them, the dam broke and he began to sob uncontrollably into her shoulder.


********

The day had progressed, and there they remained in each others’ embrace. When Spike had finally pulled himself together, he had been completely humiliated that Buffy had actually witnessed his break down.

“Sorry for going nancy boy on you, Slayer. Blubbered my eyes out enough,” he had said, sulking.

“Call ourselves even, one spaz attack for another,” she had joked in response.

She had been careful not to act repulsed or ashamed of him; she jus stayed there with him. When sleep refused to take her, she watched him, allowing herself the simple pleasure of gazing upon him, something she had never done in all the time they had spent together. She had never given herself the chance to; she would usually fly out of his crypt the moment she regained feeling in her legs. But now, as he slept peacefully, she scrutinized over every feature. How she had never really noticed the scar on his eyebrow before. How his jaw would clench occasionally and how his mouth would twitch. She lightly traced her fingertips over his cheekbones, marveling at how they could probably cut glass. She even allowed herself to inhale his scent, tobacco, soap and something that was all his own. She was surprised that she found it comforting. That being here, in his arms, pressed against his bare chest would make her feel the safest she’d had in months.

Buffy’s inspection was short-lived when Spike jolted awake. His heavy eyes searched the basement; he needed reassurance that he hadn’t dreamt it, that she was really there with him. Relaxing, he rolled onto his side so that he could look at Buffy directly, his eyes a mosaic of emotions. “Hey,” Buffy said.

“Hey, luv,” he responded, his voice low, as though he subconsciously tried not to do anything that might scare her away.

“Good sleep?” she asked.

“Not bad,” he said, but his azure gaze told her differently. He never looked more content. “What time is it?”

“I don’t know. They’re still pretty noisy upstairs, so I’m guessing it’s probably coming close to dinner time.” Spike’s stomach gurgle confirmed her estimate.

Buffy giggled at the sound. “Guess you’re right, pet. Better get myself my sanguine supper,” Spike commented, but he didn’t move.

“Spike, for you to get blood, it would require moving. As in getting up from bed,” Buffy chortled, slowly sitting up.

“I don’t want to. Scared I’ll never get this again,” he said, wrapping his arm around Buffy’s stomach.

“I don’t know what this is, or what it means. But I know I can trust you because I wouldn’t be here with you otherwise.”

Spike released his hold on her and sat up, his eyes focused on hers. She knew that she hadn’t said the words out loud yet, that she had simply shown him through her actions. But now, that they had been vocalized, that they could never be taken back, did he allow himself to actually believe he was forgiven. It no longer made him feel unworthy, to be in her company; if anything, he felt, for once in his unlife, loved. Even if he was being delusional, he felt it.

Nodding, he scooted off the cot, throwing on a black t-shirt and lacing up his boots. Buffy just sat and watched him, until he was standing before her, waiting for her to get up as well. They moved soundlessly to the stairs and up to the awaiting mob, leaving behind them their sanctuary and one brief moment of closeness.


********

The basement door opened upon the utter chaos that was the Summer’s main floor, the kitchen being the focal point of disarray. Somehow Buffy had found herself pulled away from Spike’s grasp and into the mayhem; Molly had almost burned the house down trying to make some sort of meat sludge, Vi had broken three plates in her attempts to wash dishes and Amanda had spilled a jug of orange juice all over the counter. Each we’re desperately cleaning up their messes, only to bump into other Potentials which lead to further demolishment of her kitchen. The clean up soon turned to yelling and frustration where you couldn’t even hear yourself think from all the noise. ‘That’s it!’ Buffy thought. “Everybody Shut UP!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.

Well, it worked. All eyes were on her, bodies frozen in their actions. They all looked at her in fear, and she knew they we’re expecting ‘MeanBuffy’ to rip right through all of them like she had the other night. She didn’t; keeping her composure, she calmly started to give orders. “Molly, Vi, and Amanda stay and clean up your messes. Everyone else, get out of the kitchen and I’ll order pizza. The few grumbles were muted by the loud cheering of at least twenty teenage girls. Buffy sighed when everyone did as they were told.

She spotted Spike making his way out toward the back door but she didn’t stop him. He probably needed some space and a smoke. Hell, at that moment, she wouldn’t have said no to a cancer stick. Shaking her head she made her way to the phone and ordered eight party size pizzas, hoping it was enough to sate all the hungry girls in her home.

Hanging up the phone, she crossed her arms and leaned against the wall to watch the girls. “We so need a maid,” Molly complained, scarping the bottom of the pot she had been using. “Or at least a cook.”

“We could always make Andrew a slave boy. He’s a hostage so he’s got no rights,” Amanda suggested.

“Knowing him, his only culinary expertise will be that featured on Star Trek,” Vi commented, wiping down a glass.

“I thought he was a Star Wars geek?” Amanda rebutted, only to receive an apathetic shrug from Vi.

“We’re not making Andrew our maid,” Buffy stated with a smile. “So what you girls do all day?” she asked.

“Nuffin’ much. Watched the telly mostly,” Molly answered, still working at her pot.

“Yeah, we just hung out,” Amanda added. “But…uhh… I wouldn’t go into the living room if I were you.”

Buffy shook her head and pushed off the wall, not heeding Amanda’s warnings, she ventured into the other room. She really should have stayed in the basement. Calling it a mess would have been a compliment; it was as though she had stepped through a portal and where her living room had once stood there was now the city dump. Rest and relaxation day this was not. Okay, General Buffy resurfaces once more.

“Okay,” she called out to every girl in the house. “There will be no food if the house stays this way. Everybody find a spot and clean it up. I want to see floor people!”

More groaning, but the threat of no food had worked; the girls scurried to clean the mess they had made. Within half an hour, the floor was rid of every piece of garbage, all sleeping bags had been rolled up and the house almost sparkled. Buffy patted herself on the shoulder on a job well done. Letting the girls go with the promise of not making any messes, Buffy ventured upstairs to change since somehow brown goop had splattered on her shirt during the anarchy. She found Andrew helping Anya bring down laundry; she thanked the gods that they had only brought it down now, when she wasn’t in Spike’s bed wrapped in his arms. She grinned at the memory and longed to be back on his cot with him. Everything seemed so simple.

Yanking off her top, she flung it onto her chair, throwing on a simple black t-shirt instead. After inspecting her jeans for any traces of missile food, she made her way back down, straight to the back porch. She found him, pacing the back yard, hair still a bunch of disheveled curls and body tense sans black leather duster. The moon illuminated his pale features as the ember of his cigarette danced back and forth against the backdrop of night. “Spike, you’re making me dizzy,” she said, announcing her presence to him.

He turned his head to look at her but continued treading back and forth, letting out short puffs of smoke after every inhale. “What happened today?” he asked, his voice brimming with insecurity.

“What do you mean ‘what happened today’?” she asked, praying inwardly that Spike wasn’t regretting what they had shared in the basement.

“Downstairs, luv? With me makin’ an ass of myself, openin’ up to you,” he explained, annoyed that she was playing dumb. He lowered his voice suddenly. “And with you being there, in my arms. Being with me. What was that, Buffy?”

“I don’t know. What makes you think I’ve got any clue as to what’s going on?” she exasperated, throwing her arms up in frustration.

“Well I sodding well don’t! One minute you hate me, then you believe in me and then I wake up to find you in my bed of all places, telling me that you trust me!” he yelled, luckily not drawing any attention from those inside. “Can’t you see why I’m being such a headcase ‘bout it? It doesn’t make a lick of sense.”

Buffy sighed and plopped herself down on the back steps. “I wish I had answers for you but I don’t.”

“So what? We just strike it up to a bit of cold comfort? A glitch? Is that all that was?” he asked, becoming frantic.

“You know it wasn’t,” Buffy said, staring up into his distraught eyes. “Whatever it was, whatever it meant, all I know was that it didn’t feel wrong. I didn’t feel wrong.”

Why did he have to look at her like that? Had she really messed with him that badly? Had she crushed him so painfully that his eyes fill with so much joy at the mere thought that she didn’t find him repulsive? Buffy trembled at the thought, pleading with the fates that she’d never return to what she had become last year.

She noticed Spike had stopped pacing and had sat himself next to her, all too reminiscent of a previous night where he had comforted her. “Where’d we go from here, pet?” he inquired.

Buffy shrugged in response. “We work, we fight and we try not to hurt each other. Hopefully time will tell.”

“Okay,” Spike said, obviously disappointed.

“And if there are spontaneous basement sleepovers, so be it,” she added, giving him a warm smile, which was received with a big goofy grin.
Chapter Four- Letting Them In by Aurora
Chapter 4: Letting Them In


Buffy, with Spike only a few paces behind her, stepped out into the crowded hallway, welcomed by countless girls who were dispersed throughout the house enjoying their pizza dinner. She spotted Xander and Dawn portioning the last of the slices out to the unfortunate few that had not gotten any yet. “Mental note: Pay Xander back,’ Buffy reflected as she made her way over to them just as the last slice was handed out.

“Hey guys. Thanks for covering pizza duty,” she said, taking a few empty boxes from Dawn and heading back to the kitchen.

“No problem. But, if I were you I’d start feeding these girls more often or at least get them muzzles. I haven’t seen a mob that ravenous since my Hyena days,” Xander chuckled, following her with a similar stack of cardboard.

“That bad, huh?” Buffy asked.

“I’m surprised I still have all ten fingers,” Xander joked as he placed the boxes by the back door with Buffy.

Suddenly, all that could be heard was a loud squeal and the sight of a blurred figure zoom past them to the kitchen counter. Throwing open the lid, Dawn nearly dove into the pizza box. “I’m starved!” she announced, wolfing down a full slice in mere seconds.

Xander turned to Buffy and gave her an apologetic look. “We saved a pizza. Want a piece of whatever Dawn hasn’t managed to consume in the past thirty seconds?” he asked.

“That’d be great, Xander,” Buffy replied, quickly getting disgusted by the sight of her sister’s binge fest. “Hey Dawn, ever hear of mastication? It means chew,” she scolded, receiving an annoyed look from Dawn.

“So you guys have fun today?” Buffy asked as she bit into the pepperoni slice that Xander handed her.

“Totally,” Dawn enthusiastically announced. “Impending doom and possible world annihilation really brings out your inner shop-a-holic.”

“Plus, getting out of the house, extra perk,” Xander added.

“So what’d you do, Buffy?” Dawn asked, polishing off her third slice.

It was only at that moment that Dawn’s question made her realize she hadn’t seen or heard Spike since they had come back inside. Glancing around, she spotted him leaning against the archway leading from the kitchen to the hallway, quiet eyes simply observing those who usually paid him no heed. Their eyes met, and where she would normally turn away from his penetrating gaze; she held steady her hazel eyes to his blue. “Took a nap,” she answered Dawn’s question, smiling in Spike’s direction.

Neither Dawn nor Xander paid any attention to the exchange, too wrapped up in their pizza eating. But when Xander spoke again, Buffy broke away from Spike’s cerulean gaze. “How could you sleep with super slumber party going on?” he asked, biting into his second slice.

Glancing back at the vampire, still with a smile on her face, she responded. “I found a way.” Not wishing to seem obvious, she changed the subject. “So are Willow and Kennedy back yet?” And almost as though they were waiting for those words to be spoken aloud, the two women walked through the front door.

“Buffy?” Willow called out.

“In the kitchen, Will,” she responded.

They walked into the room hand in hand, never looking as happy as they did at that moment. ‘I guess all’s forgiven,’ Buffy figured.

“Hey Willow. Hi, Kennedy. Pizza?” Buffy asked, gesturing to the nearly empty box on the counter.

“No thanks. We already ate,” Willow replied, looking over at Kennedy who shook her head, also not wanting to eat.

Buffy didn’t say much after that. Everyone broke out into conversation about how they spent their day, with Xander and Dawn finishing off the last few greasy slices. Willow and Kennedy had seen some sort of indie film before they had dinner at some swanky French restaurant. Dawn had managed to drag a begrudging Xander around the mall, taking full advantage of that fact that her shoplifting induced banishment was now lifted. Needless to say, by the end of the day poor Xander had had his fill of being Dawn’s personal shopping bag mule. As those she loved reminisced about their day, one without any appearances by the First or Bringer ambushes, all she could dwell on was how she was lying to all of them.

She hadn’t told them about what had happened to her in that dimension and how she had, thanks to those misogynistic shadow men, become extra demony. She’d only told Spike, and that was only after he forced it out of her. It wouldn’t be good if it somehow came out that she had confided in Spike before she had ever considered telling anyone else. She realized that she needed to tell them; that she had to tell them tonight. She needed to tell them before she completely destroyed the fragile balance she had finally managed to restore since last year.

Buffy peeked over at Spike again. She wasn’t surprised to find him staring at her, a perplexed look etched across his face. She knew he was trying to read her; he was usually good at it. Giving him a reassuring smile, Buffy took in a deep calming breath and addressed her unsuspecting friends.

“Guys,” she said, cutting into Dawn’s ode to strappy sandals.

“Yeah, Buff?” Xander replied.

“I need to tell you something,” she said, her voice a little unsteady.

“So spill,” Dawn retorted, slightly annoyed she’d been interrupted.

“Not now. When the girls are asleep, I want you all to meet me back here,” she instructed.

“Buffy, what is this all about?” Willow asked, obviously concerned.

“There’s something you should know about what happened to me when I was with the shadow men. But I can’t get into it now,” she stated, leaving them to dwell on the possible reasons for holding a secret meeting as she made her way into the living room.

“C’mon, let’s get them to bed. Early morning training tomorrow,” Buffy called back, making up an excuse to make a houseful of girls turn in before ten o’clock.

By nine o’clock Buffy had managed somehow to get a large group of hyperactive adolescent girls to get to bed, knowing most of them wouldn’t be getting to sleep until hours later. Walking into the kitchen, she could see that everyone had been waiting for her as though they had never left and anticipating the worst. Without a word, she made her way to sit on one of the kitchen stools and waited for a barrage of questions to fly her way. When all she received was mind numbing silence, she realized that they were waiting for her to start.

“When I went through the portal, I met with the men who had made the First Slayer. They explained to me how they had given her power and then did the exact same thing to me.”

Willow was the first to speak up. “Buffy, what do you mean they did the same thing to you?”

The calm and collected demeanor she had been trying so hard to keep up crumbled with a single tear trickling down her cheek. “They made the First Slayer by putting a ‘demon spirit’ in her,” she explained, her voice hoarse with emotion.

“And they did it to you too, didn’t they?” Xander confirmed, his heart sinking at the thought.

Buffy only nodded in response, unsure if she could vocalize a reply.

“Do you feel any different?” Dawn asked gently, placing a comforting hand on her sister’s shoulder.

Buffy shook her head. “No, not really. Just feeling a little violated I guess.”

Dawn pulled Buffy into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry Buffy. I’ll do anything you want to help you get through this, ‘kay?” she sniffled.

“Thanks Dawnie,” Buffy whispered back, squeezing her sister one last time before letting go of her.

“Buffy, why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Willow asked, somewhat afraid of what could possibly be manifesting itself inside her best friend.

“I guess I had to deal with it first. I was total denial girl for a while,” she responded, twisting her hands in her lap nervously.

It was then that she noticed that Spike was, for a usually hyperactive and impatient vampire, being completely stoic. He was still in the same spot, leaning against the doorframe, but this time with his trademark leather, wordlessly watching her as she spilled her guts to her friends and sister.

“That was,” she continued, “until Spike pulled the confession out of me.” She said the words out loud and immediately glanced around, scrutinizing everyone’s reaction. Seeing the concerned and slightly bewildered looks she was receiving, Buffy persisted in her explanation. “So, I’m telling you now. This thing they did to me is suppose to help us, but I really don’t know how. I’m sorry I kept this from you guys,” she finished, her voice cracking ever so often with an escaping sob.

“I knew something was up. I just didn’t wanna push it,” Dawn told her, hoping in some way it would be comforting.

“So,” Xander chimed in, trying to drain out some of the tension that had accumulated in the room. “We research? Figure out what exactly they possessed you with and how it’s suppose to help us against the First?”

Buffy smile at his words; her friends weren’t mad at her. She was relieved and allowed herself to exhale the breath she had been holding ever since she had entered the kitchen. “I guess that would be the thing to do, right? Get into Giles’ mode?” Buffy responded lightly.

“Sure. I’ll hit the net and Xander’ll get those donuts he promised,” Willow reassured, while Kennedy, who had remained uncharacteristically silent, graced her with a kind smile.

“Okay, but can we leave it until tomorrow? Teary eyed confessions take a lot out of a Slayer. We can start after I get back from work,” she proposed, receiving nods of agreement.

“Okay, tomorrow I’ll be here with armful of crullers, but for now, I wish you all goodnight. I definitely need to get some good quality time with my neglected bachelor pad,” Xander said, giving Buffy a reassuring hug before heading out the back door.

“Guess we better get off to bed too. Goodnight,” Willow said, giving Buffy a hug before she took her girlfriend’s hand and headed to their room.

“Love you, Buffy,” Dawn said, giving her sister a quick peck on the cheek. As she passed by Spike in the kitchen’s doorway she gave him a sappy grin, telling him that she was grateful.

And then, like so many times before, it was just the two of them. “Night, pet,” was all he said as he turned toward the basement door, not wishing to keep her from the rest she had said she needed.

“Spike,” she called out to his leather clad back.

“Yeah, luv?” he answered, glancing back at her over his shoulder. She walked over to him, took his hand in hers and pulled him along with her, away from the basement and up the stairs.

Spike couldn’t make one coherent thought or verbalize one single word. He was dumbfounded and extremely confused; he hadn’t had the slightest idea as to where she was taking him or why. Finding himself set on autopilot, he simply followed Buffy in a haze.

They abruptly stopped in front of her bedroom door. Spike wanted to scream when she opened the door and guided him in, but he was frozen in a mix of shock, fear and complete happiness. Finally managing to get his vocal chords to work, Spike began to sputter. “Luv…what…why?”

“I don’t really like it in the basement. It’s too cold and the cot hurts my back,” Buffy explained not really acknowledging his incoherent question.

Leaving him to stand in the middle of her room, Buffy made her way over to her dresser, pulled out her Yummy Sushi pajamas and walked directly passed Spike to go to the washroom to change. All of this was done in what seemed comfortable silence as though she believed it was the most natural thing to have Spike in her bedroom. Spike on the other hand was absolutely bewildered as he stood there alone in the room that was the setting of so many of his dreams.

Seconds later, Buffy returned all pj sporting and scrubbed up for bed. She eyed Spike wearily. “You gonna sleep in your duster?” she asked, nonchalant.

“Buffy, what the hell is going on?” Spike demanded to know.

Sighing, Buffy dropped her casual façade and plopped down on her bed, shoulders slumped and head slightly bowed. “I just want you here, with me, okay?”

Spike stared at her as though she were growing horns. “So what you’re tellin’ me is that you want ME,” Spike thumped his chest, “to sleep with YOU,” he pointed to her, “in your…” he gulped, causing his Adam’s apple to bob, “your bed?” he managed to say almost letting out a very unmanly squeak.

“Yeah. I do,” she said, smiling at his nervousness. “But sleeping as in actual sleeping, you know, with the clothes and…the clothes.”

It was Spike’s turn to smile. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said, shrugging off his duster.

Buffy quirked an eyebrow, giving him a disbelieving look.

“What? I wouldn’t,” he reiterated, kicking off his boots.

“So you don’t expect this to get all with the groiny?” Buffy asked a little surprised.

Sitting himself down beside her, though careful not to touch her, Spike fixed his eyes to the floor. “If it means going back to the way things were last year, luv, yeah, I’d rather steer clear of the good ole rough and tumble, if that’s alright with you.”

In silence, Buffy took his hand for the second time that night and held it for a brief moment; to tell him that she felt the same way he did. Glancing up, Spike could see her pulling him up to the head of the bed, but it all seemed so surreal. What he wouldn’t have given to have been in her bed and in her arms all of last year? To be wanted by her not just physically. If his heart could beat no doubt it would have exploded by now. But as much as the elated feeling of being wanted was making him unbelievably happy, all the soul did was remind him how he didn’t deserve any of it. It made him ache just knowing he might actually get what he always wanted but couldn’t bring himself to actually take it. He was beginning to tremble like a ponce and at any moment could possibly break down sobbing at the unfairness of fate. With a steadying, yet unnecessary breath, Spike slipped beneath her comforter and wrapped his arms around her waist so that her head rested lightly on his chest.

“Spike?” she whispered.

“Yeah, pet?” he rumbled, finally managing to calm himself.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, luv.”


********

Sleep didn’t take either of them. He sure as hell tried, but having her so close and so willingly trusting him was making it impossible to even stay still. Not to mention that having her body sprawled over his was causing blood to rush in directions that would draw some unwanted attention. Even with the soul and its accompanying guilt, his body still reacted to her like it always did. Making sure that specific part of his anatomy never came into close proximity to her, Spike shifted slightly, desperately trying to alleviate his discomfort.

Buffy, though she tried, couldn’t sleep either. She was feeling something strange. Not bad strange, but more like different strange. Being in Spike’s arms should feel wrong and totally inappropriate after everything Buffy had done to him and what he had done to her because of it. Yet that wasn’t how she felt at the moment. If anything being with him seemed so right. Since she came back from the grave, Buffy hadn’t felt as at peace as she did with him right then. She didn’t understand it. Was she finally making peace with not only what happened with Spike, but with her life in general? Was she finally allowing herself to see the love he always claimed to have for her? Was she finally letting him in? And if so, could she actually find a way to have a healthy relationship with Spike?

Mewling, Buffy rolled out of his embrace and peered up at his misleadingly sleeping face. His brow was furrowed as though he was thinking but his eyelids were gently shut. Dreaming, maybe? She kept her eyes on him and reflected on what had occurred between them since she had been pulled out of the portal not two nights ago. ‘He does love me,’ she internally admitted. ‘Maybe even truly before the soul.’ Buffy shook her head not wanting to even consider that possibility because if she did, then having used him like she had seemed all the worse. Acknowledging Spike’s love for her was one thing, but being able to reciprocate those feelings was another. She was going to need some time, but she wasn’t sure with the lingering apocalypse, if she could afford it.

Rolling back into his arms, Buffy snuggled into his chest and allowed herself to fall asleep. Spike, who was still feigning sleep, opened an eye to peer down and wonder why Buffy was so restless.

Buffy was the first to wake up to the sound to the sound of girls giggling, chattering and even yelling outside her bedroom door. Groaning, she glanced over to look at her alarm clock. 7:00 a.m. She let out an annoyed moan only to hear a low chuckle reverberate the air next to her.

“They could at least be a little considerate for those of us still trying to get a few more winks,” Buffy stated, rubbing her face into Spike’s chest.

“Wasn’t it you who ordered early morning training, luv?” Spike pointed out.

“Whose side are you on?” Buffy mumbled into his black shirt. “If I let them wake me up, I’ve got to get up out of this bed.”

“Right. You want me to kill them or maybe just sew their mouths shut? Make it real quiet for ya. Could stay in bed all day,” Spike joked, in total seriousness.

“With you of course,” Buffy said.

“Of course, pet.”

“As tempting as that sounds, I gotta get up anyway. Ugghh, I hate Mondays,” she stated as she tumbled out of bed without the slightest indication of Slayer grace.

Spike remained perfectly still and watched as Buffy stretched, yawned and stomped her way to the bathroom. He could hear her arguing with one of the wannabe slayers, declaring that her job required showering, and that since that said job paid for their accommodations, she was allotted line butting privileges. Spike chuckled when he heard the recalcitrant girl begrudgingly give up her spot at the head of the line.

It suddenly hit him then. He was lying in the Slayer’s bed after a night of just sleeping, comfortably observing her morning routine as though he had been doing it for centuries. It irked him how simple everything felt at that moment. Unfortunately, he knew it was anything but. Though Buffy was moving on, no doubt her demon essence possession was going to be on the top of the Scoobies’ to do list. They hadn’t really talked about the confession she had made to her friends the night before. He was surprised when she had told them what had happened without him having to push the issue, and he was thrown even more when she admitted that he was the first person she had told. He knew it was significant; some sort of indication that things were progressing with them. Spike knew she wasn’t going to go running to tell the Scoobies about their little sleepover, but she had to know it couldn’t continue. Not without someone finding out.

It was fine by him though. Well, sort of. He didn’t want to be her dirty little secret. Had enough deception last year alone to last two lifetimes. Spike decided he would wait. He had enough faith in Buffy that she wouldn’t repeat the same mistakes. He had to trust her, right? She was giving him that much, so shouldn’t he? He chuckled. The whelp’s gonna have a coronary when he finds out. Then again maybe he should push the issue. No. He would wait. He would trust Buffy’s judgment and simply wait.

“Hey Buffy, just wondering if I could borrow your…”

Spike’s head shot up to see someone standing at the doorway, eyes wide in shock.

“Spike?”

A/N: BIG thanks to Darkezza for betaing my story.

Chapter Five- The Message by Aurora
Chapter Five:The Message

“Hey lil’ Bit.”

Dawn scrambled to shut the door behind her, pressing her back against it with her eyes still wide in disbelief. “Spike, what the hell are you doing in Buffy’s room?”

Spike sat up and threw his legs over the side of the bed, ready to boot if need be. “I…uhhh…was just…waiting for Big Sis. Uhh…you know, to talk shop,” he lied badly, irritated at how he had once been really gifted in the art of deception. Stupid soul.

“Talk to Buffy? At 7:15 in the morning and in her bed?” Dawn plainly doubted, giving him the patented brassed-off Summer’s look.

“Yeah,” Spike replied, wishing she would just accept his piss-poor excuse of an explanation.

“You know what Spike? You wanna lie to me, that’s fine. I guess I was stupid to think that things would ever go back to the way they were before,” Dawn venomously spouted, turning her back to him abruptly to leave.

“Nibblet, wait!” Spike called out, which made Dawn stop in her tracks. “I did stay here last night.”

She spun around at his words, her face in complete confusion at what he was admitting. Naturally, she blurted out the first thing that popped into her head. “You and Buffy are doing the nasty again, aren’t you?” she asked, clearly disappointed in both him and her presently absent sister.

“No, Bit. I swear. It was just sleeping.”

“So you and Buffy just spent the entire night, alone and in her bed innocently sleeping?” Dawn reiterated, still not fully convinced

“Yeah, we did,” a voice called from behind her, making her jump in surprise.

Dawn turned to see a freshly showered and robe donning Buffy. Dawn must have been so thrown by Spike’s admission that she hadn’t noticed her sister open the door and sneak right up to her. “Buffy, what’s going on?”

Walking past Dawn and into her room, Buffy gave the vamp the same reassuring smile she’d been giving him the past few days. “Spike’s here because I didn’t want him sleeping in the basement.”

Dawn stared at Spike, then glanced at Buffy and then turned back again to the peculiarly quiet vampire. As she inspected their appearances, looking for validation to Buffy’s claim, Dawn noticed that the two of them simply remained in awkward silence, keeping their gazes away from her scrutiny. Being a teenager herself, Dawn recognized the blushing we’ve-so-been-caught looks both her sister and Spike were wearing. She wasn’t sure whether to roll her eyes at them or to let go one of her trademark squeals. “So, are you guys like back together?”

“No.”

“Maybe.”

Their responses came out simultaneously; surprisingly it had been Buffy who had voiced the ‘maybe’, not Spike.

The room became suddenly very quiet as the vampire stared up at Buffy, in pure amazement.

Seeing as how Spike appeared to have been suddenly struck with an unexpected fit of catatonia, Buffy took it upon herself to explain things to her sister. “We don’t know Dawn. It’s…”

Yet, before she could get out all the details, Dawn cut her off. “Complicated,” she finished, having heard that phrase a billion times in the past year alone. “But there’s a chance right?”

Buffy nodded as Spike still remained mute.

A loud “Eeeee” permeated through the silence and Buffy found herself almost tackled to the ground by her little sister. “This is sooo cool,” she giggled. Then out of nowhere, Dawn broke from her gleeful merriment to kick her sister in the shin.

“Owww. Hey!” Buffy yelped.

“It’s about time you two legitimately hook up! There was enough angst coming from the two of you this past year to suffocate a roomful of Potentials,” she joked, pulling away from her sister and heading toward Spike, who was still staring into space. Dawn snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Earth to Spike!”

Awakening from his stupor, Spike stared up at Dawn as though he had forgotten she had been there all along. Sitting down next to him, Dawn took his hand and squeezed it. “I knew it was only a matter of time,” she whispered. “But do anything to her and I’ll make good on my waking up on fire promise.”

Spike simply nodded at her half-serious threat.

“Ummm…If we’re done here and if you guys don’t mind, I kinda need to get ready for work,” Buffy mentioned quietly.

“Sure thing, pet. We’ll just get out of your hair. Let’s go Nibblet,” Spike said, quickly pulling on his boots and duster.

Dawn followed him out of the room, walking through the hallway and down the stairs in silence. Spike had noted that Buffy hadn’t told Dawn to keep what she had seen to herself. Hell, she hadn’t even tried to cover it up.

Once in the kitchen and opening the fridge, Spike poured himself a cup of blood and popped it into the microwave. Maybe he wasn’t going to have to wait too long for her to tell everyone about them. He smiled. There was now a ‘them’.




Ten minutes later, Buffy walked into the kitchen as primped, polished and styled as ever, in a professional quasi guidance councilor sort of way. She poured herself a cup of coffee and headed out to the backyard where the girls had started their training session. Quickly saying a few hellos and giving Kennedy a couple of key instructions, she went back inside, calling out to Dawn to hurry her butt up before Xander arrived to pick them up. Too wrapped up in the pre-work routine, an unexpected voice caught her by surprise.

“You didn’t have anything to eat, pet,” Spike said, stationed at his spot, leaning against the door frame.

“God Spike! You scared me. You know, Angel used to lurk,” she said, giggling.

“I do not lurk! And what is it with you Summer’s women comparing me to Tall, Dark and Forehead?”

Buffy giggled some more. “I can get breakfast at school. No need to worry about me,” she said walking toward the front door, giving him a peck on the cheek as she passed him by. She could have sworn she saw him blush, even if it only lasted for a millisecond.

“I’ll see you after work,” the Slayer said as her farewell.

Spike smiled, watching as Buffy met up with Dawn at the front door and stepped out at the sound of Xander’s horn.

“I am no better than the poofter,” Spike declared, thankful that no one was around to hear him.


********


The day had been uneventful. Buffy had had barely any students come in to see her and the ones that did had to be directed to other school personnel who were better suited to help them with their predicaments. It seemed as though students at Sunnydale High had little need of guidance that day. A little nagging voice at the back of Buffy’s mind told her it was most likely the calm before the storm but she pushed it away. Man, was she ever bored. Finally, to Buffy’s content, when the last bell of the day had rung she had nearly knocked over three students as she dashed out of the office.

Opening the front door, Buffy was strangely pleased to find the house in its usual busy chaos. The girls were training in smaller groups, alternating between Kennedy and Anya, giving the former better one-on-one instructions and allowing the latter time to inform them on basic demonology. Just like Buffy had instructed.

She spotted Willow and Xander at the dining room table, decked with laptop, books and donuts. “You guys started without me? Not that I’m really complaining; you know, research not really being my forte and all.”

“Hey Buffy! I got home from classes early today,” Willow explained, never taking her eyes off the computer screen.

Xander smiled. “Did you know being the boss means you can take the afternoon off? Who knew?”

“Thanks. I really appreciate it,” Buffy said, taking a seat next to Willow. “Any luck?”

“A whole lotta nada,” Xander answered, slamming his book shut. “It’s hard to find anything on the First cuz, you know, predates the whole written word thing.”

“Willow?”

“Sorry Buffy. I’ve checked out my usual hunting grounds and nothing on the First or even on the creation of the Slayer.”

“Great,” Buffy said, deflated.

“Hey, c’mon Buffster. We’re not giving up just yet,” Xander reassured.

“Yeah. We’ve just skimmed the surface,” Willow added.

“Alright. But I guess I’ll check on the girls,” she said, making her way upstairs.

After changing into one of her comfy black track suits, Buffy peeked into Dawn’s room to find her sister buried in homework.

“Hey Dawnie. How was school?”

Dawn pounded her biology textbook with her fist and glanced up at her sister. “Just peachy. Stupid Krebs Cycle.”

“Science blues?” Buffy asked upon seeing the frustration marring her sister’s brow.

“Majorly,” Dawn affirmed, but quickly dropped her school woes to focus on more pressing matters. “So, you see Spike yet? Being away from him all day must have been tough,” she teased.

“No, not yet. I just got in,” Buffy admonished.

“Funny, I would have figured you’d have made a b-line for the basement the moment you got home,” Dawn commented.

“He’s probably sleeping anyway. You know, daytime equals vamp nap time,” Buffy said.

“But he’s not asleep,” Dawn added.

“Oh? And how would you know that?” Buffy asked, crossing her arms.

“Can’t you hear it?” Dawn answered, gesturing to her open bed room window that overlooked the backyard.

Perking her ears to any possible noise, Buffy could hear commands coming from outside. Well, that wasn’t anything new. It was only when she heard a familiar baritone voice that her eyes grew wide with shock. “What the…? That dope’s gonna get himself killed!” Buffy shouted as she bolted out of Dawn’s room. What was Spike thinking, being outside in the daylight? She sprinted into the kitchen, threw the back door open and nearly slammed into the moronic risk taking vampire.

Ignoring Buffy’s not so elegant entrance, Spike called out another order as he paced the shaded back porch. “Punch block combo!”

Buffy watched as the girls did the maneuver. They appeared to be improving. She looked over at Kennedy who was surprisingly writing down notes. Then she heard Spike again. “Alright ducks! Much better this time ‘round! Molly, good follow through, but block higher! Amy, don’t drop your shoulder! Kristen, feet wider apart! Okay now, one more time! Punch block combo!”

Buffy couldn’t believe her eyes. Here was Spike, Slayer of Slayers, actually training girls who might never even be called. She knew that he knew she was there, but he didn’t take his eyes off the group as they performed the same maneuver. Kennedy made her way over to Spike and whispered something to him which made him nod in agreement. When the girls completed the combo, they stood there in attentive stances, awaiting his evaluation, and hopeful for his approval. Buffy still couldn’t believe this was actually happening. How did he manage to get them to focus like that? What had he done that her rousing speeches hadn’t? At that point she didn’t really care since it was working.

Turning his back to the group, Spike gave Buffy a dazzling yet humble smile that only she was permitted to see, as to not diminish his newly established air of authority. “What do you think, luv?”

Buffy grinned. “I think that if you ever scare me like that again, I’ll push you out into the sun!”

“‘m alright. Once afternoon hits, backyard’s pretty shady,” Spike reasoned. “But putting aside my presently non-dusty nature, care to share what you think?”

Sobering a little, Buffy walked length of the back porch with Spike at her side, both inspecting the girls. In a clear voice, one above normal volume to ensure that all the Potentials heard her she announced, “Well done! They seem to be improving. Need more work though. Nowhere near where I want them to be.” Turning back to Spike, Buffy asked him in a whisper, “How long have you guys been at it?”

“At least three hours with this group. ‘bout three hours with the other group before the switch over,” Spike answered back quietly.

“They’re pretty synchronized and that’s great, but you know what real fighting is like. A demon’s not just gonna stand there the whole time while you try to pummel him. They’re gonna need more experience. So tomorrow I wanna start sparing sessions with them; you, me and maybe Kennedy. Knocking them on their asses just might be what they need,” Buffy said, in deep thought. “Let them break until nightfall, and then we’ll take the more ready few for patrol.”

“So what, take the kiddies to the good ole cemetery?” Spike inquired.

“For tonight. And I want to get them started on proper weapons training. We’ll have to fit that somewhere in the training schedule,” she replied, allowing herself to rightfully fall into her role as leader.

“Sure thing, Slayer,” Spike said as he turned towards the still waiting group of girls. “Okay, break time kids! Meet back here at dusk! Some of you lucky few‘ll be joinin’ us for patrol tonight!” And with that, the girls relaxed and trudged silently into the house.

When the last girl had ventured through the back door, Kennedy approached the now more casual vampire and Slayer. “Here are the notes, and I wrote down a few suggestions along with them. So if I’m done here, I’d like to go see Willow,” the senior Potential said as she handed Spike the notepad.

Spike simply nodded, indicating she had his approval to go. Reading through the notepad, Spike didn’t see the once again astonished look on Buffy’s face. “Spike, how the hell did you get Kennedy to play secretary?” she asked.

“Was kinda easy, actually. Just pointed out a few things, is all,” he stated, still flipping through the papers.

“And those few things would be?”

“Well,” Spike began, flapping the notepad shut. “I simply told the bint that she was gettin’ a lil’ too big for her britches.”

“Oh God, Spike, you didn’t get into the whole death wish thing, did you?” Buffy asked, jumping to conclusions.

“No, but I did say that her whole cocksure mini-slayer routine was gonna do her in. And I should know; killed two of ‘em didn’t I? Told her as much. Also pointed out to her that she wasn’t even technically chosen yet. Kept her gob shut since,” he explained, giving Buffy a smirk that was reminiscent of the old Spike.

“So what started all of this?” she asked.

“Wasn’t doin’ much else, pet. Couldn’t sleep so I figured I could at least help out,” he replied, eyes trailing off to look at the expanse of the backyard.

“You do a lot more than you realize,” she stated.

“If you say so, but this keeps me busy,” he countered, hoping she wasn’t going to tell him to back off.

“We better plan out the patrol. I want every girl coming with us to get equal attention and practice,” she added, heading toward the door.

“Buffy?” Spike said, praying he wasn’t making a mistake by saying what he was about to say.

“Yeah?” Catching a glimpse of him, Buffy turned back around to face the vampire. In the short amount of time she had looked away, Spike appeared to have suddenly transformed into someone she rarely saw. The bad-ass-second-in-command persona had crumbled away, leaving behind a very confused and vulnerable man standing before her.

“Spike, what is it?”

“This morning, luv. What you said to Nibblet. Did you mean it?” he asked, the hope so clearly visible in his ice blue eyes.

“About us being together?” Spike nodded at her question. Buffy sighed. “When I said there was a chance…” Buffy reflected on her response to Dawn’s earlier question.

“’S alright if you didn’t mean it. Spendin’ the night together ‘probly jumbled your senses, ya know? Maybe you weren’t thinkin’ straight and at the time ya thought it was the right thing, but it’s okay if you changed your mind. Me bein’ there might have made you wanna say yes, so I would understand if you really didn’t. And…” Spike rambled, only to be cut short by Buffy.

“I meant it, Spike.”

“So what now, luv?” he asked.

Buffy made her way over to him, taking his hand in hers. She really didn’t know what she was doing, stopping herself from thinking and allowing heart guide her for once. Locking her gaze with his, she slowly leaned in until their lips were nearly touching. Buffy slowly lifted her free hand and with a feathery touch, outlined the contours of his cheek, eventually cupping it tenderly in her palm.

“You sure this is what you want, Buffy?” Spike’s voice croaked with fear and need, feeling as though he would go insane if she didn’t bridge the gap.

It was then that she pressed her lips against his. It was a gentle and sweet caress, unlike the harsh, selfish embraces they had shared in the past. At first Spike was still a little stunned by her unexpected move, but quickly drew into her kiss. It had been so long since he had tasted her but he had never forgotten how sweet she actually was and how warm she felt in his arms. More than the fighting, more than the shagging, this was what he missed the most. Kissing his slayer.

Buffy eventually drew up enough courage to draw her tongue across his lower lip, seeking permission to enter. Spike eagerly allowed her to explore him, and in doing so, was rewarded with a thankful moan. Her tongue slid against his slowly and teasingly, but this time without the usual battle for dominance that had always tainted their past embraces. The pace of the kiss was slow, neither one of them wishing it to end. Grudgingly pulling away to breathe, Buffy looked up into his eyes, now nearly black with desire, and lovingly stroked his cheek with her thumb.

“I’m sure,” Buffy said before resting her head against his chest. Spike instinctively wrapped his arms around her, drawing her closer to him.

That’s when he spotted over her shoulder the back door wide open with Xander and Willow standing in the doorway, eyes widened in shock. Spike loosened his grip on Buffy. He didn’t know how much they had seen but he knew now that there was no going back.

“Luv,” Spike whispered into her ear, “you might want to turn around.”

Buffy instantly tensed the moment she realized what Spike was implying. In painstakingly slow motion she pivoted around out of Spike’s embrace, to find her two best friends staring at her.

“Buffy, what’s going on?” Willow asked. Buffy glanced back at Spike, who seemed to be anxiously awaiting her decision.

“I guess there are some things I have to let you guys in on,” Buffy admitted nervously.

“You might wanna start with explaining what the hell you’re doing with Captain Peroxide…again?!” Xander asked.

Buffy really wasn’t surprised at Xander’s bewilderment. If anything she had expected a far worse reaction. “Spike and I are…together,” Buffy stated carefully.

“Buffy, are you sure this doesn’t have anything to do with you being a little demony? Ooo, maybe it’s that demon heart stuff. Maybe it’s attracted to Spike’s demon and you’re misreading it as feelings,” Willow said, sounding like the unsure girl Buffy had known in high school.

“I know it’s not. Coming back out of that dimension made me realize…”

“What?” Xander interjected. “That you love him? Give us a break, Buffy! You know this,” he said waving his hand at Buffy and Spike, “isn’t love. Am I the only one who remembers what happened the last time you two decided to be ‘together’?”

“No, you’re not,” Buffy replied, getting annoyed. “And this is nothing like last year. God, Xander, you walk in on us the moment after I tell Spike I want a relationship and what? Just naturally assume that I’m reverting back to old habits. That I haven’t learned anything since last year? Give me a little credit, alright?” Buffy took a calming breath before she continued. “I have no idea where this thing with Spike’s gonna go, but I have to try. I want to try,” she finished.

“So you guys aren’t sleeping together?” Willow asked sheepishly.

“NO!” Buffy and Spike simultaneously responded.

Willow seemed to be put at ease by the news but Xander appeared to still be a little bitter. “Xander, I didn’t tell you guys because Spike and I are still figuring things out,” Buffy tried to explain as she walked toward her friends.

Defeated, Xander’s shoulders sagged in reluctant acceptance. “I just don’t wanna see you hurt, Buff,” his once infuriated tone now turned to one of concern.

“I won’t. We’re not repeating the past and I want to keep it that way.”

Xander only nodded as he gave Buffy a hug. “I guess I owe Andrew twenty bucks then,” Xander stated as they pulled away from one another.

“Huh?”

“We had this silly bet going. I put twenty on Wood and he put twenty on Spike. Ergo, I’m out of twenty bucks.”

“You guys are now betting on my love life?” Buffy said as she pretended being outraged, smacking Xander lightly on the arm.

“Well, it was that or bet on how many times Anya uses the word orgasm in one day. You’d be surprised, it’s still pretty high,” Xander replied chuckling.

“So, what was so urgent that you guys had to interrupt us?” Buffy asked still smiling, but quickly frowned when she saw the look on her friends’ faces.

“I kinda have to show you,” the witch admitted. “I found it on the net.”

Buffy and Spike quickly followed her friends into the dinning room where Willow had set up her computer. Buffy gazed at the screen. It wasn’t the usual type of web page one encounters when surfing the net. It didn’t have any pretty pictures, ads or, hell, it didn’t even have any colour; just black lettering on stark white background. She noticed a notebook with a translation written out in pen beside the laptop. Buffy read it ahead of Willow’s explanation and knew that it was their first real breakthrough, even though its vague words petrified her.

“There’s this message. There’s no name or links to find out who posted it. It doesn’t even have a home page. I think there’s some definite magic involved because it’s like this thing came out of thin air. And before you ask, I tried to use a few spells to trace it but they’ve all come up short,” Willow said as she sat in the chair in font of the computer. “The message itself could be a warning, or an answer to a question. It’s kinda cryptic, which with our experience is never good.”

“Well, what does it say?” Spike asked, not liking the way things were progressing.

“It’s in a rare Sumerian dialect. Lucky for us Giles left behind one of his books on uncommon ancient languages. Anyway, it says ‘She and spirits will unite, but in slumber they will remain. Only to be awakened when her lifeless blood kills the Tainted One. Its power initiated by the wielding. The source will find its end.”

The room was dead silent when Willow finished reading the prophetic message. They all remained speechless, unsure if they truly understood what they had just heard. It was Xander who first voiced a bit of confusion. “So, uh, is it just me, or did anybody else pick up on a ‘Buffy’s gonna die’ vibe?”

“We don’t know that. You know how these things are. They’re never really what they seem,” Willow stated.

“Let’s hope not. I’m getting really tired of dying,” Buffy joked receiving grim faces as her only response.

“Okay, let’s go through it logically. Obviously the spirits gotta be that demon mist that possessed Buffy. And it kinda explains why you don’t feel any different because it still got to be awakened,” Willow deduced.

“With my lifeless blood,” Buffy added.

“How does that work? I mean, how can it be awoken and be useful if Buffy’s not of the living?” Xander asked, deeply concerned.

“I’m not of the living and I’m still useful,” Spike said, not liking where this line of discussion was headed.

“Oh my god, do you think that the only way to unleash the power is for Buffy to be turned?” Willow asked.

Xander suddenly jumped out of his seat, glaring furiously at Spike. “I knew you’d be the end of her. I knew keeping you around was going to get us all killed. And now, there’s this mystic message telling us I was right all along!” Xander spouted, walking up to the vampire. “Pat yourself on the back, Spike. You might actually bag yourself your third slayer.”

“Xander!” Willow reprimanded, shocked at his insensitivity to the situation.

“Step off, whelp. I might play nice but don’t got the chip any more to stop me,” Spike warned, refusing to be intimated.

“Xander,” Buffy called to her best friend. Seeing the desperation in her face, the brunette stepped away and sat himself back down, his eyes never leaving the notorious William the Bloody.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Buffy said. “What I wanna know is who the hell is this ‘Tainted One’?”

“And it says you’re gonna wield something. That’s probably important too. A weapon maybe?” Willow wondered.

“Not to mention the ending of ‘the source’. But the source of what? The source of my powers?” Buffy said.

“Maybe it’s the source of evil, luv. Ya know, the First?” Spike guessed.

“I hope so,” Buffy responded. “This is so much worse than one of my slayer dreams.”

“So we just keep at it then?” Willow asked feeling a little disheartened.

“Don’t really have a choice, but I have a feeling its not gonna do us any good. Like every good cryptic prophecy, this one’s not gonna make any sense until it’s too late,” Buffy replied. “I better go and prep for patrol.”

Spike watched as the slayer left the room, in obvious need to distract herself, but leaving him in the unfortunate presence of her two best friends.

“You’d think I’d actually hurt her like that? Turn her into something she’s worked so hard to fight against?” Spike asked, sensing Xander’s gaze boring into the back of his head.

“Yes, I do. You might have a soul, Spike, but you haven’t proven yourself trustworthy,” Xander stated. “Not to mention the fact that the trigger’s still active and you weren’t so against turning people when you were under the First’s thumb.”

Pivoting around, Spike’s eyes narrowed when they met Xander’s. “Listen, you git. Get it through that thick skull of yours. I’d never hurt her. Rather be burned to a cinder than to see her cry. Get that, whelp? I. Love. Her.”

“You had a funny way of showing it when you tried to rape her. Or did you think we’d just forget all about that?”

Spike turned his back on Xander, ready to follow after Buffy. “No,” he answered. “Why should you? I know I haven’t.” With that said, the vampire made his way into the hallway.

“Xander,” Willow said, sounding as though she was about to scold him.

“Look, Will. I know we’re supposed to support Buffy in whatever makes her happy, and I know I seemed like I was okay with it, but I’m not. Knowing what that message says, how can I possibly root for them? She’s putting herself in danger every time she’s near him. I wish I could drop my suspicions about him, but I just can’t,” Xander prattled on.

“You finished?” Willow asked slightly annoyed.

“What’s with the hostility, Will?” Xander inquired, seeing Willow’s flustered expression. “Just stop being a goober-head and come look at this for a second,” the witch ordered.

Xander scooted his chair closer to the redhead so that he could actually see what she was talking about. He peered over at the translation written in the notebook, his gaze focusing on the area of the paper where Willow was rapidly tapping her index finger. “Well, what is it?”

Before answering Xander’s question, Willow searched Giles’s text, frantically flipping through pages as she followed her hunch. Upon finding the page she had been looking for, the witch quickly glanced at her notebook, checking and double checking her translation. With sudden comprehension of what she had just discovered, Willow let out a sheepish squeak. “Ooops.”

“Ooops? What ooops? Ooops is never good, Will. What are we ooopsing?”

“I think I might have accidentally made a little booboo in my haste to translate the message,” she explained.

“So, what did you misinterpret?”

“I…I don’t think it’s Buffy’s lifeless blood that kills the Tainted One.”

“Why do you say that?” Xander prodded.

“See this word here,” Willow said as she pointed to the computer screen. “I thought it meant ‘blood’, but it actually means ‘life’. The two words are kinda really similar so I mixed them up and when I fixed it, it totally changed the context of that part the message.”

“Out with it, Willow,” Xander said impatiently.

Taking a deep breath, the witch continued. “It’s not ‘her lifeless blood’ but ‘the lifeless life’ that kills the Tainted One.”

“What does that mean? It makes everything sound a hell of a lot more cryptic,” Xander commented.

“Think about it Xander? Who do we know who’s lifeless yet living?”

Xander paused to think. “No! You must have made another mistake. There’s no way.”

“No, I didn’t. Spike’s not gonna hurt Buffy, he’s going to help her.”

Chapter Six- Dealing With It by Aurora
Chapter Six: Dealing With It

Patrol had been a remote success. No one got hurt and the Potentials were actually using the skills they had been taught. Buffy had decided to take the girls who had had the most training, namely Kennedy, Molly, Amanda, Vi and Rona. With the exception of Amanda, it had been these few girls who Buffy and Spike had earlier taken out on a slayerette fieldtrip to the various demon haunts of Sunnydale. Buffy remembered that night with a bit of self-deprecation, remembering the not-so-graceful demonstration she and Spike had put on for the Potentials in the cemetery after the girls had been unsuccessful in facing off against the vampire. Unintentionally pouncing on Spike while he had still been healing from being tortured by the First, and the somewhat inappropriate ‘so do we like make out wif’ ‘em?’ remark Molly had made after Buffy had instinctively shoved her hands under the vampire’s shirt hadn’t been the only faux-pas of that night.

Sure, discovering that Amanda was the Sunnydale Potential and managing to give the girls a fair amount of field experience had been major bonuses, but there had still been some setbacks. The problem lay in the simplest fact that the girls were growing dangerously accustomed to working with a safety net. Spike’s mock attacks had been just that, mocks. Even if the girls had been scared of him, deep down they must have known Spike would never actually hurt them. And when Buffy had locked them up in the crypt with that newly risen vamp, she knew the girls would be okay because the odds had been on their side. The slayer realized that as long as she was around to hold their hands, they were never going to be completely ready for what lay ahead. So this time around, things had gone a little differently.

Buffy gave each girl only a stake and placed them in front of a freshly dug grave, making them wait for the vampire to arise. Just like she had done for Dawn during the summer, the Slayer would simply stand by and watch. But that was all she did. None of the other girls could help and Buffy would only intervene if the Potential’s life was in danger. It was up to them and them alone to kill the vampire.

Buffy didn’t expect anything extraordinary. They were amateurs and it was their first real patrol. Hell, she had even missed the heart on her first try and she was the Slayer. Yet, the girls had left her astonished. The fact that they had used their newly acquired skills gave her further hope that they weren’t completely doomed. Kennedy’s form had been flawless, which was to be expected but what had really floored Buffy was that the brash overtly self-assured attitude was gone, replaced instead with a humble ‘thank you’ for any compliment sent her way. The other four girls had also dusted their vamps, and apart from Vi’s not so graceful and fearful squeals, they had done a pretty good job of it too.

As the gang made their way back to the house from Restfield, the girls chatted about their one-on-one’s with the vampires, bubbling over with excitement and still reeling from the adrenaline rush that patrolling always brought on. Spike and Buffy remained a few paces back observing the group and even chuckling at some of the remarks the girls made. No words, however, were exchanged between the two of them, a residual silence that had passed over from patrol. It wasn’t until they had reached the front porch with all the girls safely inside the house that Buffy finally spoke.

“So, what do you think? And I mean what do you really think? They’re inside so you won’t hurt any of their feelings,” Buffy asked, leaning against the brick wall opposite to Spike, who was himself leaning against a column.

“They did good considerin’ a few weeks ago they were a bunch of scared girls without a chance in hell,” Spike replied.

“And now? Where do you think they stand?”

“Still a bunch of scared girls, but with a slightly better chance in hell. Even still, it’s some sort of an improvement,” Spike said, trying to sound optimistic.

“‘Slightly better’ is better than nothing,” Buffy shrugged. “But the scared part, that’ll stick around for a while, even if any of them become slayers.”

Spike’s casual and relaxed countenance disappeared at her words. With tense hesitation, he turned his cerulean gaze to the ground, knowing that what he was about to bring up was in no doubt going to upset Buffy. “Pet,” I know we haven’t talked ‘bout the little prophecy Red found today, but…” Spike began, nodding his bowed head, as though he were agreeing with some unspoken truth.

“There’s nothing to bring up,” the Slayer cut off, dismissing the issue with a wave of the hand. Spike’s head shot up, taken aback by her uncharacteristic cavalier attitude. “Just another message that confuses more than it helps,” Buffy quickly stated, refusing to look the vampire in the eyes.

“Buffy, what Willow was alluding to, ‘bout you possibly…and my involvement…” Spike pushed, interrupted again by an exasperated Buffy.

“Can we not? Things are crazy enough already. Getting all freaked about it isn’t going to help anyone. Who knows? Maybe this mystery message is completely bogus and it’s just the First messing with us,” she replied, urgently reaching for any reason to disregard the issue.

“You’re dodgin’,” Spike commented.

“I am not. I don’t think it’s worth getting all upset over, is all,” Buffy defended.

“Oh really? Then you mind tellin’ me why the hell your hands are shaking?”

Buffy was about to tell him she didn’t know what he was talking about until she glanced down at said hands. Noticing that they were trembling, she instantly drew them to her chest. “It’s from patrolling. You know the ever infamous rush I get?”

“Denial, pet. Not a river in Egypt.”

“What are you my shrink?”

“…”

“Don’t answer that.”

“Just sayin’, for someone who’s so sure about the unimportance of that lil’ cryptic note Red found on the web, you seem real edgy,” Spike quipped.

“Am not!”

“You know you are pet,” Spike said, growing a little solemn. “I thought we were past this?”

“Past what?”

“Lying to each other.”

“I’m not lying,” she stated, but seeing Spike’s unconvinced face made Buffy groan in surrender. “Fine, I’m a liar. A big fat horrible liar. Are you happy now?” she unwillingly admitted, clearly deflated by the fact that she was actually going to have to talk about this with him.

“You know you don’t have to keep it all together when you’re ‘round me. The brave face you put on for them doesn’t work with me. I know you Buffy. This thing has got you more scared than you’re willin’ to admit. And rightly it should. I’m even bloody petrified.”

Buffy looked at him a little skeptical. “You didn’t really seem that scared when you were nearly ripping Xander a new one,” Buffy pointed out, not sounding upset but being matter of fact.

“I should have. Throwing his mouth off like that ‘bout you. A good thrashing is what the whelp needs, and not even you can convince me otherwise,” Spike scowled but realized he was getting off track. “You’re wrong ya know. I was terrified from the moment Red read us that stupid bulletin from hell. Just didn’t want to loose face in front of the Glorified Brick Layer.”

“That’s just great. You wanna be scared, go right ahead. And while you’re quivering in your boots, I’ll be using my time to actually do something productive in our fight against the First,” she sardonically admonished, subconsciously trying to get him so mad that he’d forget what they were arguing about.

“God, why can’t you just admit it? Not too long ago you were so frightened that you were about ready to give up, ‘bout to throw in the proverbial towel. Now, you’re refusin’ to even acknowledge the possibility that that fucking prophecy might actually be true!” Spike vented, throwing his arms up dramatically in the air when she didn’t respond. “What is going on, Buffy?”

The Slayer stared at her boots for a good while, knowing that her misleadingly composed demeanor would instantly crack if she glanced up at those all knowing azure eyes. “If I admit it, then it might actually happen. I don’t wanna die again, Spike,” she mumbled; her voice tight with fear and vulnerability.

Spike watched as Buffy finally let down the stone walls she had put up since they had discovered the prophecy. He had known she was avoiding the topic and he had known she was frightened. More importantly however, Spike knew that Buffy needed to admit to it before any of them could deal with the impending doom foretold by the anonymous web posting.

Walking over towards her, Spike took Buffy’s still shaking hands into one of his own while he lifted her chin so that he could gaze into those pools of emerald that generally shone with such life. The single tear that trickled down her cheek broke his unbeating heart. He wiped it away, wishing to be rid of any evidence of Buffy’s unhappiness.

“When you left the room this afternoon, Xander and I had a few words. Told him I would never deliberately hurt you and that I’d do anything to keep you from gettin’ hurt,” he frankly started to explain, making sure she didn’t misunderstand what he was saying.

“Spike, I know…”

“No, wait luv, lemme finish,” Spike continued. “Even though I said it and I meant it, deep down I don’t even know if I can keep that promise. With our not so stellar record of being good for each other and with the First being all trigger happy, I don’t know if I can promise anything. The thought of you bein’ takin’ away from me again is excruciating enough as it is, I can’t even bear the thought that I’d…” he choked, not wanting to finish the sentence.

Spike cleared his throat. “Maybe I should leave. It’s probably best. You got Red, and maybe you could give Peaches a call. He’d be here in no time if you needed him. I could go and you could be safe.”

Buffy averted her eyes from his gaze, making Spike believe her silence was an indication that she felt as he did. “I’ll leave tomorrow at dusk,” he added.

The Slayer still said nothing, an indiscernible expression on her face. Spike nodded, the grip he had on Buffy’s trembling hand loosening as he took a step back. As he pulled away, he was surprised to find Buffy still holding onto him, refusing to let go. Spike stared at their clasped hands, his eyes following up from them to Buffy’s face. If it was possible she looked even more terrified.

“Do you love me?”

“What?”

“Just answer me. Do you love me?”

“Of course I love you, you crazy bint.”

“Then that’s all that matters,” Buffy said, tugging him back toward her.

“What about the prophecy?” Spike asked, as Buffy slowly placed her hands on his shoulders.

“I remember another prophecy we encountered a few years back that also proclaimed my untimely end. And here I am, still living,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck. Making sure he saw the sincerity in her eyes, Buffy continued. “I don’t care what that message says. It could literally say ‘Spike kills Buffy’ and I still wouldn’t believe it. They’re just words. I said that I believed in you and I meant it.”

“When did this lil’ epiphany happen? Two seconds ago you were scared for your life and now you’re tellin’ me you don’t care what the bloody hell the message says? Gotta say, you get over things real quick,” Spike stated, enjoying the intimacy Buffy was bestowing on him.

“Don’t get me wrong. You were right. I was freaked and the prophecy thing did throw me off for like a second but that doesn’t change how I feel about us. About you.”

“And how exactly do you feel, pet?”

Almost as though the god’s were working against the vampire, the front door swung open, revealing a very distraught Andrew.

“Buffy, Xander won’t pay me the twenty bucks he owes me,” he whined, at first oblivious to what he had interrupted. Snapping out of his bout of ignorance and seeing Spike and the Slayer in such an uncompromising position, the boy pulled out his video camera. “Hold that pose. This will be great for my segment I’m doing on you guys. I’m calling it ‘Buffy and Spike: Enemies Turned Lovers’.”

“If you press record, I swear to God I’ll smash that camera over your head,” Buffy warned from within Spike’s embrace, sending the newfound filmmaker a searing glare that looked as though it could potentially boil the geek from the inside out.

Andrew gulped and slowly lowered the video camera.

Groaning, Buffy grudgingly slipped out from Spike’s arms. “We’ll talk about this later,” she whispered to him. Spike nodded and followed after Buffy as she grabbed hold of Andrew by the collar and dragged him into the house. After ordering the ex-Trio member to go anywhere else that she wasn’t, Buffy spotted Willow and Xander waiting for her in the living room.

“Buffy,” Willow said calmly. “We need to tell you something,” she added, her voice strong and confident, devoid of its usual meekness.

Upon seeing Willow’s stern face, Buffy became instantly worried. “Uh oh. Please don’t tell me you found another anonymous posting cuz I just don’t know how much crypticness I can take in one day,” Buffy said as she made her way over to them, dispiritedly flopping down on one of the room’s sofa chairs.

“No. It’s not like that. There’s just still the one.”

“Oh. Good,” Buffy exhaled in relief, feeling the reassuring squeeze from Spike’s hand that had somehow settled on her shoulder.

“But what I have to talk to you about is kinda on the one we found today. Let me just say first of all that I’m really sorry Buffy. I hope I didn’t mess things up for the two of you,” the redhead rambled nervously, the old Willow coming through in full force.

“Willow, whoa! You wanna let us in on what’s going on?”

“I made a mistake in the translation,” the redhead squeaked out.

“Just let me know one thing, the new prophecy- better or worse?” Buffy asked.

“Depends on how you look at it,” Xander remarked, breaking his bout of silence.

“Don’t listen to him. It’s definitely better. Here look,” Willow said handing Buffy the notebook.

The Slayer scanned the page, searching for any differences between the new version and the last. Discovering the changes, she asked, “Lifeless life? What does that mean?”

Buffy suddenly felt Spike’s hand squeeze her shoulder again. “Read it out loud for us pet.”

“She and spirits will unite, but in slumber they will remain. Only to be awakened when the lifeless life kills the Tainted One. Its power initiated by the wielding. The source will find its end,” Buffy read out loud, feeling Spike’s grip gradually loosen as she finished.

“What the heck is a ‘lifeless life’?” she asked.

“You should know Buffy,” Xander answered. “You are dating one.”

Buffy instantly turned around to look at Spike. “So Spike kills the Tainted guy?” she asked, her gaze never leaving the vampire.

“That’s what it says,” Willow replied. “And for certain this time. Have I mentioned how sorry I am for messing up?”

Buffy turned away from Spike, who appeared relieved by the news, to speak to her best friend. “You did. It’s okay, Will. Now that we know what it really says, we can move on with our lives,” Buffy reasoned, peering down at her watch. “Wow, it’s late. I think I better get to bed.”

“I second that. Ancient translations really hurt Willow’s brain,” the witch stated before she made her way to the stairs. “Goodnight.”

“Night, Will. I better get going too,” Xander said, picking up his jacket and car keys. As he headed toward the front door, Buffy called out to him. “Xander, wait.”

Upon seeing Xander stop and face her, Buffy turned to Spike. “I’ll be just be a minute. Go on up. I’ll be right there,” she instructed before planting a quick peck on his lips.

“Don’t keep me waitin’ long,” the vampire replied, giving Buffy another much deeper kiss than the one she’d given him, knowing that Xander was watching them. Leaving her slightly breathless, Spike marched up the stairs, giving the two friends some much needed quality time.

“Xander…” Buffy started.

“Buffy, I know I shouldn’t have said some of the things I said. And believe me, right now, I’m suffering from major foot in mouth disease.”

“I wasn’t going to pick a fight and I wasn’t expecting an apology,” Buffy explained. “I just don’t want us being angry with each other.”

Xander could see how much he had actually hurt Buffy. It was a rare occasion when she opened up enough to let him in. So seeing her like that told him he must have really screwed up. “I’m not mad at you,” he said.

“Then what was with the silent treatment in there?” Buffy asked, pointing to the living room.

“Okay, I am mad but not at you.”

“And Spike?”

“Only a little,” he admitted.

“So if you’re not mad at me and only marginally peeved at Spike, what has got you so moody?”

“I’m mad at myself, Buffy.”

“What? Why?” the Slayer inquired, uncertain as to what her friend was referring to.

“About what I said to you. I’m mad at the fact that I might actually ruin our friendship because I can’t get over my stupid fear.”

“What fear?” Buffy asked, becoming concerned.

“That you’ll end up dead and there was nothing I could do to stop it,” he answered, his voice weak.

“Xander…”

“And I know that technically you already died. But the whole time you were gone was worst time of my life. I hated feeling like we failed you somehow. That’s why I agreed, why we all agreed to help Willow bring you back. We thought we were doing the right thing,” he explained.

“I know you did,” Buffy said, trying to put him at ease.

“And then you came back and the thought of seeing you die again…” He paused. “And then when Willow read that prophecy, I guess I just snapped. I’m really sorry, Buffy.”

“It’s okay, Xander. I understand. I’m kind of just relieved that we’re not angry with each other,” Buffy told him, giving him a hug. “And you know you’re one of the reasons why I’m still around, don’t you?”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, pulling away.

“You’re worried that I might die and you wouldn’t have been able to do anything to stop it, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, if I remember correctly, there was this one time, when I was fighting this really ugly vamp and I almost drowned…”

“The Master,” Xander interjected.

“Uh huh. As I recall, you were able to do something about it and you saved my life.”

Xander gave Buffy another hug. “Thanks.”

“Hey, what are friends for?” she responded, squeezing him back tenderly.

Once Buffy waved goodbye to the man she’d been best friends with since her first day at Sunnydale High, she bolted up the stairs. Opening her bedroom door, she found Spike staring at some of the pictures on her dresser. “Did the whelp apologize?” he asked, knowing she was staring at him.

“Yeah, he did.”

“Good,” Spike replied, placing the photo of Buffy and her two friends back down in its original spot. “Didn’t want to beat it out of him.”

“Thanks for being so civil.”

“Took all the will power I had in me to not wring his neck,” Spike exclaimed, gesturing a faux strangle to emphasize his point.

“I know,” Buffy smiled, walking up to him. “Can we go to bed now?” she asked, pouting.

“Pet, you know what that lip does to me,” Spike half-heartedly scolded.

“Yup,” she giggled. “Now get to bed.”

Slipping out of his duster and unlacing his boots, the vampire did as he was told and jumped onto the bed. “Happy?”

“Very,” she answered as she kicked off her own stylish yet affordable boots.

Before Buffy could even ask, Spike turned his back to her so that she could change into her pajamas. Suppressing a groan, he waited patiently until he felt Buffy’s side of the bed sink in. Lying down beside her, Spike drew Buffy into his arms as she pulled the covers over them.

“Can we stay like this forever?” Buffy asked, snuggling into the vampire’s chest.

“Won’t get any opposition from me, luv.”

“Hmmm…”

“Buffy?”

“Yeah?”

“You never did tell me how you felt.”

“About?”

“Us. Me,” Spike said quietly.

“Oh.”

“You said that we’d talk ‘bout it later since the boy wonder interrupted us.”

“That I did.”

“Well, it’s later.”

“That it is.”

“Luv, if you don’t wanna talk about this, we can just go to sleep. That’s fine with me.”

“No. I think that this is too important to put off.”

“Alright.”

Exhaling, Buffy pulled herself off of Spike and rolled onto her side so that she could talk to him face to face. “I know, Spike, that you love me. I won’t deny that fact anymore. And as easy as it is for you to know it and say it, I wish that were the case for me. It’s no secret that Buffy Summer’s has severe emotional issues. You of all people should know how messed up I am.” She stopped to calm herself. “Being the Slayer, coming back from the dead, loosing my mom are just some of the numerous reasons why it’s hard for me to let anyone in. Not to mention the fact that all the men in my life have left me at one point in time or another,” she paused in reflection. “Sorry, correction. All but one.”

“The whelp,” Spike filled in the blank.

“The guy who’s got no superpowers or combat training or any extensive demon book smarts is the one that sticks around. Xander’s never left. It’s partly why I couldn’t let him leave here tonight without making sure everything was alright between us. I can’t have him leave me,” Buffy explained, her voice choking with emotion.

“Pet…”

“I can’t have you leave me either, Spike. When you weren’t here last summer, I hated you so much, but God how I missed you. And I know why you left and I’m so grateful for what you went through for me, but it still hurt because you were just another person I had managed to drive away,” Buffy sniffled, wiping away a tear. “Tonight, when you told me you were gonna leave, all I could think about was how I wasn’t ready for you not to be here. I need you Spike.”

“You know I would never intentionally leave you, pet. Thought I was doing what was best,” he commented as he stroked her cheek lovingly.

“I know you were, but you can’t leave me.”

“I won’t. Gotta prophecy to fulfill now,” he joked and kissed her softly on the lips. Slowly allowing Spike to pull her back into his arms, Buffy nestled against him. “I can wait until you’re ready,” he whispered.

“I want to say it but…”

“It’s alright, luv. Now go to sleep. School day tomorrow.”

Buffy groaned into Spike’s shoulder at the thought of having to wake up in another five hours. The room grew quiet suddenly as the two of them began to fall asleep. Yet, before the vampire could slip into sweet repose, he was brought back by Buffy’s voice.

“What was that, luv?”

“Were you actually serious about having me call up Angel to help us out if you ever left?”

“Total lapse of sanity. Don’t know what I was thinkin’. Why, you’re not considerin’ ringin’ him up, are you?” Spike asked, sounding apprehensive.

“Naw, already got one souled vampire to deal with.”

“Thank God.”

“Plus, he would’ve probably self-combusted the second he found out about us,” she added.

“I’ll go get the phone.”


A/N: Thnx Darkezza for helping me paint my Spuffy world.
Chapter Seven-Reflection by Aurora
Author's Notes:
I know it's been a while since I last posted a chap for this fic but a case of writer's block and exams were kicking my ass! So here is the long awaited Ch 7 and there should be more frequent updates from now on. Thnx to those who left reviews and to anyone who is even reading this chapter. It means that you're stickin with it, which is deeply appreciated! Thnx again!
Chapter Seven: Reflection

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Buffy drummed her pencil against her desk, taking her boredom out on the small writing utensil. An exasperated huffed breath sent her blonde bangs flying. Friday afternoons were always the worst. No students had come in to see her because they were too busy counting down the minutes until the bell rang for their weekends to begin. Buffy couldn’t really blame them, though. She wanted to get the hell out of there as much as they did. Buffy sighed. She still had half an hour to kill, so tapping away at her desk was her only option to remain somewhat sane.

The quiet nature of that afternoon mirrored the theme of Buffy’s past week. In a short amount of time, she had already developed a routine for herself. She’d wake up every morning in Spike’s arms, fight the girls for bathroom privileges, race to work, advise teenagers on issues that she sometimes thought she had no right giving advice on, come home to help Spike train the SITs, go out for a patrol, go back home to crawl into bed and back into Spike’s arms. Yup, the past week had been uneventful, even a little mundane. Well except for the one day when the students had gone all wonky, the activated Evil Seal in the school basement had turned the high school into Hellmouth ground zero. But like all the dilemmas that seemed to occur every Tuesdays, she had dealt with it. A few remorseful tears from Andrew had closed the seal and cured the school of all residual evil that had been emanating from that hot spot. But other than that, Buffy would’ve considered the past week to be pretty much excitement free.

Andrew’s incessant videotaping had even diminished a bit, too. Buffy had agreed to let him record Spike’s sessions with the Potentials, since some of the girls had voiced that it actually helped with their training. She had also allowed him to videotape what he wanted so long as he didn’t get in the way. Buffy would catch him now and again, but he’d either run away or begrudgingly turn off the camera. At first she thought the whole videotaping thing was annoying and a total waste of energy, but now that she had time to think about it, it wasn’t such a terrible idea. If they did defeat the First, it would be nice to have something to look back on.

Buffy abruptly stopped tapping her pencil. Andrew’s videos were probably the only proof she had of Spike. There were no pictures or mementos that she’d collected over the years she’d known him. Actually that wasn’t true. She had kept a few things. That skull ring from when they had been ‘engaged’, a blue silk shirt of his that she had snatched and put on after one of their numerous rendezvous last year, and the silver lighter that had somehow ended back up in her possession were the only few things she had to prove that she had ever known Spike. Buffy made a mental note to pull out her camera when she got home, take a few pictures when Spike wasn’t looking. She needed at least one picture of him. Maybe she’d put it in a pretty frame and place it on her desk, so she could look at him everyday. He was her boyfriend after all.

Buffy couldn’t help but smile at the thought. If someone had told her last year that she’d truly fall for Spike, she would have directed them to the nearest insane asylum. But here she was, thinking of him as her boyfriend, which was a major milestone all of its own. Things hadn’t ended so well with her last vampire boyfriend. Yet, she knew Spike wasn’t Angel in more ways than one. Buffy chuckled at the memory from earlier that week when she had to pry the telephone from Spike’s hands just to stop him from calling Angel. He had wanted to tell her ex about them, to rub it in his face. Buffy didn’t know what it was about those two but one day she was going to stick them in a room and let them wrestle it out. Her eyes widened in excitement as she giggled. There could be some kind of oil involved…

Buffy’s eyes absentmindedly scanned the room until they landed on Principal Wood’s office door. After the whole Seal of Danzalthar debacle, she noticed some seriously weird vibes coming from the demon hunting principal. The past week, Robin had been distant and a bit of a recluse. Buffy had interpreted it as him dealing with the reality of what lay beneath the foundation of his school. Getting possessed by the seal when he had stood upon it and witnessing how easily the high school had fallen apart at the hands of the First was probably like an awakening sledge hammer to the head. She hoped that he wasn’t too completely overwhelmed, but she understood how it could take a while for the gravity of what was happening to settle in. ‘He better get out of this little funk soon,’ she reflected, nibbling on the end of her pencil, her hazel eyes still glued to the closed office door ‘before it’s too late.’

Yet, she couldn’t help but think that it wasn’t just the affects of the Seal that were playing with his mood. After she had dragged Andrew out of the basement, Buffy had noticed some sort of nonverbal macho exchange going on between Spike and Wood. It was after that night that even she couldn’t deny that there were serious tensions between those two. She hadn’t brought up the issue to either of them, but she suspected something bad must have happened to set them against each other. Buffy wanted to believe it was some sort of jealousy thing, but as much as her vanity wished it were so, she knew it wasn’t the case. Spike knew she was his and she’d only gone on one date with Wood that had amounted to little more than a fun night out. There was something else that she didn’t know about. Maybe it had to do with the fact that Robin’s mother was a Slayer, one who had died at the hands of a vampire. Perhaps because of that he had some kind of innate distrust of Spike. Wood’s feelings made sense to Buffy, and so did Spike’s. You don’t get in Spike’s face unless you want him to rip you a new one. With the exception of her, and possibly even Dawn, Spike didn’t take shit from anyone. ‘Especially,’ Buffy inwardly noted, ‘from a guy who had been zeroing in on his girl.’

Buffy looked up at the clock; a little over five minutes had dragged by. She dejectedly glanced over the door again. She had considered telling Wood about her and Spike, but she wasn’t sure how to bring it up in casual conversation. Buffy didn’t want to keep any secrets from him, especially when she needed as many people fighting on her side as possible, but his recent bout of emotional isolation and his blatant dislike of her vampire boyfriend were making it all the much harder for her to get with the truth telling. Every time Spike unintentionally came up in any of their conversations, an intense flash of anger would pass over Robin’s eyes, which was then nearly instantly replaced with a mask of somber disposition. All Buffy could do was give Wood a little time, but the clock was literally ticking and she was going to have to tell him sometime soon.

There was also one last person she had to inform. Giles. The thought made hyperactive butterflies spontaneously form in her stomach. When she had had Spike’s chip removed, Giles had nearly burst a blood vessel. He had warned her about getting close to the vampire and had said that he didn’t like the idea of how they depended too much on one another. Basically, in not so many words, Giles had told her he would disapprove of any relationship she had with Spike, romantic and nonromantic alike. At the time she hadn’t given his warnings much thought but now his words replayed in her mind, making her worry all the more. Giles was gonna flip and she so didn’t have the energy to fight him on it. She didn’t want to waste the precious time they might possibly have left debating on the issue of who she chose to date.

As much as she had enjoyed the unconventional and rare period of calmness in her life, the week had been a little too quiet. Though they were still in full research mode, there had been no new developments in the demon mist possession/prophecy department. It also made Buffy anxious that the First hadn’t reared its ugly head in a while. Being the all knowing pain in the ass that it was, it should be aware of the change in her relationship with Spike. The First could have easily triggered Spike when Buffy had been asleep with him in her bed. There were so many instances when it could have used him to get to her. But it hadn’t. The First also had to know about the prophecy. It had said it wasn’t Spike’s time yet. Maybe the First hadn’t messed with Spike because it wanted him to kill the Tainted One. Buffy suddenly panicked. What if the Tainted One was really someone fighting on their side? What if Spike killing him was a bad thing? Logic and confusion immediately sunk in. If that were true, why would he be called the Tainted One? Buffy clutched the side of her head, feeling a headache about to come on from all the neurotic thinking she was doing.

She gazed up at the clock again, still another twenty minutes to go. Buffy blankly stared at her computer, watching the minutes crawl by at the bottom right corner of the screen. After two minutes had passed, she yawned loudly and looked around for something else to do. Grabbing hold of her trusty pencil, she started to doodle a little on the multicolored notepad on her desk, making little hearts with stakes through them. Buffy was busily killing time when Principal Wood’s office door opened.

“Buffy?” he called out in an attempt to get her attention.

Buffy’s head shot up; she though he’d caught her slacking off. The casual smile on his face told her otherwise. Buffy intently looked over Wood, and smiled back when she realized that not only had he no clue how much of an unproductive afternoon she’d had but that he seemed to have gotten out of his moody slump. “What’s up?” she asked cheerfully.

“I was actually going to ask you that,” Wood good-humouredly stated, walking over to her desk. Peering down at what she was doing, he chuckled. “I guess it’s been kinda slow today, huh?”

Buffy groaned, dramatically slouching in her seat. “The slowest.”

“Go, on. Get out of here,” he gestured with the flick of his head.

Buffy however shook her hers. “I still got fifteen minutes, I can stick around for a while longer,” she unenthusiastically rationalized, feeling like it was the polite thing to do.

Wood shrugged indifferently. “If that’s what you want…”

Buffy suddenly jumped up out of her seat. “Well, if you insist,” she said quickly as she grabbed her purse before he could take back the offer. “See you Monday, boss.” Buffy waved a goodbye as she bolted out of the school, leaving a slightly bewildered Robin to only chuckle at her antics. Buffy might be polite but she wasn’t stupid. Throwing the school’s main doors open, she took a deep breath of fresh air. ‘Ah, freedom.’


********


Buffy strolled down Revello Drive, enjoying the afternoon California sun. As she neared her house, she saw a small group of Potentials heading her way. Fearing the worst, Buffy frantically sprinted to them. They looked ragged; sweating and very much out of breath. Then she noticed how uniform their running was, which made her stop and stand to watch them make their way down the street. The moment the group passed by her, some saying a few wheezing hellos, Buffy knew that they were jogging. She turned to watch them round the street corner as they went around the block. Determinedly getting back on track on her way home, she waved at another group that ran by her. ‘Why were the SITs running around town? Better yet, why weren’t they training?’

Opening the front door, she walked into an empty and quiet house. Now Buffy definitely knew something was wrong. “Dawn? Spike?” she yelled as she marched through the front hall, looking for anyone to explain to her what the hell was going on.

“In here pet,” she heard Spike’s calm voice coming from the living room. Following it, she stepped into the unusually dark room, noticing that the thick curtains had been drawn over the large window. What she saw puzzled her, yet strangely enough it also made her want to laugh out loud.

There was Spike, sitting in the middle of the big comfy couch, his feet carelessly propped up on the coffee table, with a mug of warmed blood in one hand and a newspaper in the other. All that was missing were a pair of reading glasses on the tip of his nose to make the scene complete. Buffy giggled as she sat down beside him. “Don’t you look comfy?”

Spike lowered the newspaper he’d been holding up to his lap, shifting his body to look at Buffy. “Just takin’ a lil’ break, is all,” he replied, a wide grin on his face. His sapphire eyes sparkled at the sound of Buffy’s laughter; it was so rare, he could never get enough of it.

“So what’s with the Slayer Marathon outside?” she inquired, comfortably settling against his side.

“Sent them out for a bit of a run. Little endurance training never hurt nobody,” he indifferently answered as he finished his cup of O neg.

“That’s easy for you to say. Some of them looked like they were about to plotz,” Buffy remarked, taking his empty mug and placing it on the new coffee table.

“No point in teachin ‘em fightin’ skills if they can’t last longer than ten minutes in an actual fight,” he stood firm, knowing he was right.

Buffy’s hand trailed up his muscled arm to the back of his neck, lovingly running her fingers through the short hairs she found there. “I know Spike, but you have to remember that those girls aren’t us. They don’t have my slayer strength or your vampire stamina,” she softly argued.

Spike tried not to purr like a kitten as she continued to play with his hair. “Gonna rag on the stamina now, pet?” he asked, doing that curling tongue thing against the back of his teeth that always made Buffy secretly weak in the knees.

Shaking off his attempt to distract her with his talented tongue, Buffy smacked the back of his head. “No. Just don’t push them too hard, okay? I don’t need a house load of exhausted Potentials on my hands,” she cautioned sternly, crossing her arms to emphasize her point.

“Alright, pet,” Spike caved, rubbing the back of his sore skull. “Another two laps and I’ll call them in.”

“Good,” she huffily stated. Buffy then suddenly realized that no one was watching the girls. Sure, they were in broad daylight but you could never be too safe. “Spike, you sent them out there without any supervision? What if something happens?” she fretfully wondered as she moved to get off the couch.

Before she could make a run for the front door, Spike grabbed her arm and pulled her into his lap. She halfheartedly struggled against his hold, eventually melding herself against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her waist. “I sent the whelp out with ‘em. Figured he could use a few laps,” he whispered into her ear.

Buffy let out a sigh of relief. At least having Xander out there meant someone was keeping an eye on the SITs. She peered up at the smug look Spike was giving her. “Well, don’t you have everything taken cared of?” she indignantly remarked, jutting out her bottom lip in a pathetic sneer.

Spike chuckled at the adorable display. “Look at that lip,” he said as he lowered his mouth to hers. “Gonna get it.”

Buffy pushed against his chest, dodging his every move. “Ewww. Spike, you got blood breath,” she whined girlishly as he relentlessly tried to kiss her.

“C’mon, luv. You didn’t even give me a kiss hello,” Spike complained as he flipped them so that he was on top of her.

Buffy shook her head vigorously, keeping her mouth tightly shut.

“Okay, but you asked for it,” Spike warned before he started to tickle her.

“Spike, stop it,” she panted between fits of laughter. “Please,” she squealed out a giggle.

“Not until I get a kiss,” he refused, continuing in his mission to make Buffy pee her pants.

“Fine! I surrender,” she grudgingly conceded, wrapping her arms around Spike’s neck.

Spike smirked. “Knew you’d see things my way,” he commented as he plundered her mouth with his.

Buffy moaned vociferously when she felt Spike’s tongue caress hers and smiled against his lips when he growled possessively. Soon she found herself needing oxygen, reluctantly pulling away from the kiss to gasp for air. Her eyes fluttered open again, gazing up into Spike’s lust filled baby blues. “Was that so bad?” he huskily mumbled.

Buffy groaned stubbornly. “You still have blood breath,” she obstinately retorted.

Before Spike could comment on how unconvincing her bellyaching was, Buffy’s lips were on his again, making him forget what he was about to say. Shrugging, he let the world fade away as he snogged with his Slayer. He never took advantage of these few genuine moments they had together. Who knew how long it would be before it was going to be taken away from them? Who really knew how much longer they truly had?


********


On a transatlantic flight from London to Los Angeles, an anxious Englishman cradled his scotch, twirling the amber liquid around in the glass, still very much awake in a plane full of sleeping passengers. Giles’s hands trembled slightly as he took another drink, ignoring the book he had pulled out to read in the sparse light coming from above his seat, staring instead mindlessly out the small double sided window. There were no sites to be seen; only a vast black ocean below, partially hidden by the dark ominous clouds that hung loosely in the night’s sky. Giles couldn’t help but miserably smirk at the foreboding appearance of the outside world. It was actually quite fitting.

He was heading back to Sunnydale, with a few more Potentials in tow and hopefully with the perfect remedy to Spike’s trigger issue. Yet his main purpose for traveling across the pond had been to visit the coven, to see if they perhaps could tell him anything that might help them against the First. What he had discovered was more than what he had bargained for.

Two days ago Althenea had told him of one of her visions. Other than the expected insight that the First was gathering its forces and that a war was surely inevitable, she said Buffy would be consumed by a powerful force but there was one who would be her saving grace. The old yet powerful witch had informed him that a vampire with a soul would have a definitive role in their battle against the First. When the Watcher had asked her which one, she ambiguously responded by saying that she only knew it would be the one that Buffy truly loved. Althenea had also told him to beware of a man in black and to look beyond the exterior, for appearances were always deceiving. Giles had left with more questions than answers but he wouldn’t get anymore out of the coven. So he was stuck with what little information he had.

Fear gnawed at Giles’s insides, making him take another big gulp of his drink. The welcomed burning in his throat and the resulting slack in his regularly tense muscles made it a little easier to unwind, though it didn’t completely wipe away all of his dread. He needed to sleep. Tomorrow he’d be in Sunnydale and he would have to tell Buffy what he’d learned, or more like what he hadn’t learned.

Giles forlornly stared down at his empty glass. Pressing the button for the flight attendant to ask for another scotch, he went back to vacantly staring out the airplane window. The low buzzing noise of the engines and the lulling noises of soft snoring assisted his mind to wander to thoughts of sinister men dressed in black and to the vampires who supposedly loved his Slayer.

A/N:Thnx Darkezza for the super beta job!
Chapter Eight-Lies Buffy Told Me by Aurora
Author's Notes:
Hey everyone. I know I said I'd be updating more frequently but I have to admit that this story's been on the back burner for quite some time. Between work, writting my other fic Master and some serious writer's block, I was finding it very hard to get this story to progress in the direction I wanted it to. But fear no more. My muse has finally been resuscitated! Thnx for the reviews and for still reading. I definitely won't take so long to post the next update. Sorry again for the wait.
Chapter Eight: Lies Buffy Told Me

The loud bell rang, as was to be expected at 3 o’clock, sounding the release of all of Sunnydale High’s students from their mundane Monday afternoon classes. It was also the signal of Buffy’s freedom, giving her the cue to run out of the school’s main office like a bat out of hell. Strangely enough however, the quasi, not really qualified guidance counselor remained seated at her desk, staring at the closed wooden door that barred her out of the Principal’s Office.

Last night in the comforting arms of her vampire boyfriend, after spending a long and tiresome day training the Potentials with Spike, Buffy had decided that she would tell Wood about them. She had been debating the issue the whole weekend, but when it came down to it, her newest ally needed to know. Buffy felt she owed him that much. If Wood was going to risk his life to help them against the First, then he should know everything, and not just her current dating status. Wood needed to know about what had happened to her in that alternate dimension, along with the prophecy they had discovered. Buffy had partly omitted certain facts because she hadn’t wanted him to become even more worried about things he had absolutely no control over. To be honest, Buffy had also been still reeling from the whole experience and had wanted to keep thinking about the whole ‘possession’ ordeal to an absolute minimum. But now thanks to Spike, she had dealt with it, or at least felt comfortable enough to talk about it to someone outside her close knit group of friends.

Taking in a deep soothing breath, Buffy pushed herself up from her desk. Taking the first hesitant step toward the Principal’s office, Buffy’s uncertainty began to kick in. ‘What if he totally flips?’ she worried, coming to a complete halt outside his door.

Buffy had no doubt in her mind that the son of a slayer would be against her relationship with a vampire. She knew he disliked the fact that Spike was even fighting on their side. How was Wood going to react when she told him that not only was she dating Spike, but that the vampire was also prophesized to somehow help her against the First? Buffy began to fidget with her hands as her second thoughts augmented her nervousness.

Abruptly stomping her foot, the Slayer growled quietly. ‘Get a grip Buffy! You’ve faced off against a Hell god! You think you could handle telling someone outside of the Scoobies that you’re dating Spike!’

Squaring off her shoulders and raising her head high, Buffy was about to lift her hand to knock on the door when it suddenly swung open, revealing a startled Principal Wood.

“Buffy, you’re still here,” Robin remarked, slightly surprised by her presence. “I would’ve figured you left the second the bell rang.”

“Uh yeah, I actually have to talk to you about something,” she minimally replied. “You know, about my other job.”

Her cryptic response snapped him to full attention, completely understanding its real meaning. Smiling to the few remaining office employees as they waved their goodbyes, Principal Wood quickly ushered Buffy into his office.

“I hope everything is alright,” Wood said as he carefully closed the door.

“Apocalypse status still the same as it was yesterday,” Buffy quipped apprehensively before shrugging her shoulders. “Still pending.”

Robin exhaled, but not completely relieved. They were talking about the apocalypse after all. “So, what’s on your mind?” he asked outright, sitting on his desk as he awaited her news.

Buffy immediately broke out into a pace, anxiously walking back and forth in the limited space of the office. “Okay. So there’s this thing I’ve been meaning to tell you,” Buffy began, twisting her fingers together nervously.

“This sounds serious,” Wood stated, concern marring his brow.

“Yeah, kinda is. Ummm, remember the vision I had when I came out of that portal from that box in your mom’s slayer kit?” she tentatively asked though she already knew the answer.

“Sure. If I recall correctly you said it was like a scene out of the Lord of the Rings, but without the cute little hobbits,” he replied, an amused grin splayed across his lips.

A disgusted look instantaneously came over Buffy’s face. “I did?”

“Uh huh,” he assured.

The Slayer ceased her agitated pacing to look up at the ceiling, incredulously shaking her head. “I really gotta stop letting Andrew pick out the movies for movie night. Next thing you’ll know, I’ll be throwing around Griffindor and Ewok references like it’s completely part of normal human conversation,” Buffy self-deprecatingly remarked.

“Uhhh…Griffin-what?” Wood inquired; clearly unfamiliar with whatever it was she was referring to.

“Uggghhh. Nevermind,” Buffy said with a defeated groan as she rubbed her forehead. “The point I was trying to make was that the vision wasn’t the only thing to come out of my dimension hopping.”

Wood grew alarmed. “You mean something followed you here through the portal?” he asked with wide brown eyes.

The Slayer considered his question carefully. “I guess you could say that,” she replied slowly.

“What was it? Another demon?” he urged her to elaborate, getting the wrong idea of what Buffy was trying to tell him.

“You could say that too,” she answered cautiously.

Wood gave her a perplexed expression, quirking an eyebrow ever so slightly. “Okay, how about I just let you tell me what happened.”

Buffy nodded. “So when I went through the portal, I met the guys responsible for creating the Slayer. To make a long story short, these guys took one part human girl and one part ‘demon spirit’, mixed them together and presto! The First Slayer,” she quirkily explained.

“Demon spirit? The slayer is part demon?!” To say Wood was surprised would’ve been an understatement. His jaw nearly hit the floor at the unexpected news.

“You could look at it that way. The slayer powers that get passed down anyway have demon origins. That’s all we really know,” Buffy continued to enlighten, all the while knowing that her little confession was no way near close to being finished.

“Wow,” Robin uttered, still flabbergasted by the revelation. It made a lot of sense when you sat down and thought about it. How else could one lone girl face off against vampires if her strength didn’t equal, of even excel their own? The implications of this newly divulged information slowly materialized amongst Wood’s chaotic thoughts. Not only did this all mean Buffy was part demon, but that his own mother had been as well. The idea was unsettling, causing his dumbstruck gawk to transform into a disturbed grimace.

Buffy sighed audibly. “Yeah. It’s definitely a wow-worthy bulletin. But there’s more,” she solemnly stated, finally deciding to take a seat in one of the office’s chairs.

“Really? Just how much have you been keeping from me?” Wood wondered, his tone still predominantly stunned, however the tiniest underlying traces of resentment could easily be detected. ‘What else could she possibly tell me? Why was Buffy hiding this from me? Doesn’t she trust me?’

Buffy bowed her head, slightly ashamed with herself. She should have told Robin a lot sooner. He was obviously offended that she hadn’t. “Ummm, well, those shadow guys I was talking about, the ones I met in the other dimension, kinda decided it was time for a little reenactment. They…they…” Buffy struggled to finish the sentence. The whole experience had been very traumatic for her. Maybe she wasn’t as over it as she thought she was.

Wood let out a throaty gasp with a few ‘Oh my God’s swiftly muttered beneath his breath. “They did to you what they did to the First Slayer, didn’t they?” he inquired, the sympathy palpable in his voice.

“Yeah,” Buffy whispered, continuing to gaze down into her lap. “They choked me full of black ‘demon spirit’ mistiness.”

“Ar-are you alright?” Wood asked, his soulful brown eyes remaining transfixed upon her, partly out of concern, but also somewhat out of curiosity.

Buffy snorted lightly. “At first I wasn’t. I was majorly freaked and in total denial, but I got through it thanks to my friends,” she admitted while mentally adding, ‘but mostly thanks to Spike.’

Robin nodded understandingly but he was still plagued by a bunch of questions. “Do you feel any different? And why would they do such a thing? Does it involve the First?”

Buffy lifted her head up to look back at him. “I feel the exact same. And to answer your last two questions, yes it has to do with the First. They said I needed the extra strength if I’m going to go up against it,” she explained, watching his face warily to make sure he comprehended what she was saying. “The weird thing is that this demon power or whatever it is doesn’t get superpowery until some prophecy gets fulfilled.”

“Prophecy?” Just when Wood was beginning to think he had a good grasp on what was going on.

“Umm…yeah…it’s actually the reason I brought all this up. Well sort of,” Buffy replied, deciding to get up out of the chair, resuming her pace of the Principal’s office.

“Well, I don’t think there’s anything else that you could tell me that’ll shock me any more than I already am,” Wood remarked skeptically.

“After I got possessed, Willow found a prophecy that said I would eventually gain these extra powers after Spike kills some baddy so that I can wield some kinda weapon. Or so we think,” Buffy quickly uttered, still roaming around the room.

Wood’s jaw finally hit the floor. “I stand corrected,” he announced. Suddenly what she had actually said slowly sank in, bringing with it the instinctive feelings of hate. Spike. The name alone made him see red. He couldn’t possibly be the hero described in the prophecy. Buffy must have misinterpreted it.

Buffy noticed the angered look distorting Robin’s usually handsome features. “What’s wrong?” she wondered. ‘He can’t be mad yet. I haven’t even gotten to the dating Spike part.’

“Are you certain the prophecy named Spike specifically to help you against the First?” Wood inquired, his voice hoarse as he tried to contain his aversion to the Slayer’s open friendship with the vampire that killed his mother.

“It said precisely that a ‘lifeless life’ would kill some Big Bad. If that ain’t Spike then I don’t know who else it could be,” Buffy retorted, making a valid point.

“But Buffy, how can you possibly believe that a vampire would ever genuinely help out the good guys?” Robin asked, voicing his blatant doubt. ‘Especially a vampire with his past,’ the principal/demon hunter mentally inserted.

“For one thing, that vampire has been fighting on my side for the past three years. He’s even helped me save the world from an apocalypse,” the Slayer rebutted, suddenly becoming very defensive. “Spike’s changed. He’s not evil anymore. He’s loyal and caring, and he does so much and barely gets any recognition for it.”

As Buffy continued to defend Spike, Wood noticed the starry eyed, far away looks she was making, even if only for the slightest second. Growing uncomfortable with what her facial expressions possibly meant Robin shifted restlessly on the desktop as he shook his head. ‘There’s no way. Buffy’s way smarter than that,’ he internally disbelieved.

“Ummm…this isn’t really any of my business but…” he began to hesitate.

‘Oh crap! How’d he figure it out?!’ she inwardly squeaked. ‘I gotta be the one to tell him first. Or else he’s gonna think I wasn’t planning on telling him at all.’

“I’m dating Spike!”

Wood remained utterly gobsmacked. He hadn’t expected her to blurt it out like that. Robin was actually anticipating some form of denial as a response to his almost spoken question. Not a confirmation to actually having a romantic relationship with William the Bloody. He was beyond bewildered. He was beyond upset. There wasn’t a word in the English language to describe how he felt.

“Y-you’re kidding, right?” he stammered out, his face void of any emotion as he stared blankly at the petite blonde in the middle of the room.

Buffy slowly shook her head. “No, I’m not,” she solemnly affirmed.

“Buffy, he’s a vampire. How can you even consider being involved with him?” Wood wondered, gritting his teeth as he tried very hard not to sound condescending.

“Spike has a soul now,” she countered, happy to see that that bit of information had prompted him to thoughtfully pause, even if only for a short moment. Before Robin could respond, Buffy continued. “Spike and I have a history, and it’s totally messed up and more complicated than anyone will ever know. No one truly gets him but me. They’re all bent up on his chip getting removed and the whole trigger being still activated.”

“Chip?”

‘Really not helping out your cause here, Buffy,’ she internally scolded. Sighing loudly as she slumped her shoulders, the Slayer began to explain Spike’s history in Sunnydale. “A military ops group few years back put a behavioral modification microchip in his brain to stop him from hurting people.”

“And it’s gone!?!” Robin asked incredulously.

“It was malfunctioning. It had to be removed or it would have killed him,” Buffy told him, fully aware that she had omitted the fact that she also had had the option to repair the small defective piece of silicon in Spike’s head.

‘Pity,’ Wood thought as he readied to pose another question. “So if it’s gone, how can the trigger still be active?”

Buffy gave a curt nod, admitting that the whole thing was kind of complex. “The trigger’s actually a posthypnotic thing. The First put it in his head. It was... made him... He was killing again,” she reluctantly admitted.

“You mean now he’s killing uncontrollably and you’re still dating him?!” Wood pushed himself off the desk, walking closer to Buffy.

“Spike was, but he’s not anymore. I can’t explain it but the First has just stopped setting him off,” she responded, crossing her arms in a poignant gesture to say that he wasn’t going to get her to change her mind.

Wood couldn’t help but take her up on her silent challenge. “Buffy, how can you have him roam around the house with all those defenseless girls, let alone form some kind of relationship with that monst—”

The Slayer instantly cut him off. “He is not a monster,” she declared sternly. “Was maybe, but the present tense of that word cannot be used to describe Spike. Everything that had happened had been completely out of his control. We’re still trying to figure out a way to get rid of the First’s hold on him.”

Robin sighed at her stubbornness. “Buffy, I know you think you know him…”

“Look,” she interrupted him again, blatantly exasperated. “I thought I should tell you since it’s only fair that you know what you’re getting yourself into. I value your friendship and we need everyone we can get in this fight but I’m only going to say this once. My relationship with Spike is not up for debate and that’s final.”

Wood immediately disregarded her resolute mindset. “Buffy, you don’t know everything he’s done. How can you just turn a blind eye?” he pushed.

Buffy squinted her eyes in aggravation. “Even before the soul, Spike has been fighting by my side. No one knows him, gets him, like I do. I admit I don’t know every single detail of his sordid past, but I do know of the sins he’s committed against me. And those were absolutely kyboshed the second Spike went out and willingly got his soul back. The trigger might still be working but we need him. Besides me, he’s the strongest fighter we have!” she informed Robin, her voice becoming increasingly higher. “The prophecy says he’s gonna do right by us. We need him. I need him. And that’s—”

“He killed my mother.”

The slapping sound of Buffy’s mouth instantly shutting echoed throughout the room. ‘I guess I’m not the only one who can blurt out secrets.’ She eyed Wood wearily. She would have expected a smug smirk plastered on his face but instead he just appeared outright devastated.

“He what?” she whispered softly.

“Spike is the vampire that killed my mother,” Wood reiterated, his mournful gaze locking with Buffy’s.

“Oh my God,” she gasped silently, covering her mouth with her hands. It all made sense now. The unexplainable hostility Robin exhibited whenever Spike was around or even simply mentioned. Buffy had chalked it up to general vampire mistrust and hate since his mother had been killed by one. She would have never guessed in a million years that Spike’s second slayer had been Robin’s mother. ‘Oh my God.’

Wood gently sneered at her reaction. “You still so sure of him now?”

Buffy adamantly shook her head. “He’s not the same vampire that did that.”

“Doesn’t wash blood off his hands though,” Robin quickly shot back.

Buffy didn’t know what else to say. She just remained staring at him, torn between feeling sorry for the man standing before her and threatening to hurt him six ways from Sunday if he even so much as considered touching a single hair on her boyfriend’s platinum head. Buffy also knew that if she said anything else, she might completely sway him from helping her out. As conflicted as she was about Mr. Robin Wood, the Slayer needed him on her side.

Wood didn’t avert his eyes from Buffy’s obstinate gaze. The Slayer was clearly being manipulated by Spike. There was no doubt in his mind. The vampire was a ticking time bomb, and she was too blind sighted by her feelings to come to terms with the consequences of what she was doing.

However, Spike’s involvement in the prophecy was a little too difficult to disregard. Maybe Buffy had made the whole thing up to protect Spike? Wood mentally discounted the notion. He knew that Buffy could never be that deceitful. What if Spike had reformed and was now, dare he say it, truly a champion of good? Robin’s plans for revenge were slowly beginning to quell. Not only did Buffy’s announcement set off his misgivings about the infamous vampire, but the fact that she was dating Spike made Wood think that the small, yet incredibly strong woman before him would probably exact some vengeance of her own if he ever tried to kill her undead boyfriend. Wood hated to admit it, but he was torn.

“So,” Buffy said, deciding to break the uncomfortable silence. “Where’s that leave us now?”

Wood smiled at her frankness. “The First Evil still trying to destroy the world?” he good naturedly asked.

“Yup,” she replied gleefully, her spirits suddenly brightened by his jovial manner.

“Then count me in,” he told her. He wasn’t about to ditch Buffy in her biggest moment of need. It wasn’t to say that his decision was entirely selfless. Allying himself with the Slayer allowed him access to the inner sanctum and her closest confidents, including Spike. What better way to keep an eye on him than to join Buffy. He would know the instant the vampire crossed the line, and Wood would be there, stake in hand.

Satisfied with his response, Buffy walked toward the door, ready to leave. She paused when Robin called after her. “Oh and Buffy? Just don’t leave me in a room alone with him. I can’t make any promises if you do,” he seriously told her as he sat back behind his desk.

Buffy understandingly nodded in silence. She waved goodbye before heading out the door, feeling a wash of relief flow over her as she eagerly scurried out of the hallway, suddenly compelled to see Spike again.

Back in his office, Wood stared at the door Buffy had just exited, their conversation still fresh in his mind. He had meant what he’d said. The moment he found the opportunity to be alone with the vampire; Robin wouldn’t be able to stop himself from avenging his mother. That much he was certain.




TBC

A/N: Thnx again Darkezza for the beta job. You're the best!
Chapter Nine-The Last to Know by Aurora
Author's Notes:
Hey guys. I know its been a while but my beta was out of town for a while and we all know what happened with SR. So this late posting was completely out of my control. Anyway, thnx for the support and reviews. Enjoy.
Chapter Nine: The Last to Know


Buffy trudged up the front steps to her house, exhausted and somewhat shaken from the conversation she just had with Wood. On her short walk home Buffy had involuntarily dwelled upon what the young Principal had said. Sure, she knew Spike was a vampire and with that came a history of violence and bloodshed. She knew he had killed two slayers and she had known Robin’s mother had been a slayer. Why the hell had she never put two and two together?

Buffy groaned as she reached her front door, placing a hand tentatively on the big brass doorknob. Wood’s bewildered reactions to her announcement about having a relationship with Spike had also plagued her thoughts. Was she being careless with Spike? Was he still a danger? Buffy shook her head. She couldn’t start doubting him now. When it came down to it, Buffy was probably the only person who really believed in him. She could never abandon the faith she had in Spike. She just couldn’t do that to him.

Buffy pushed the door open and suddenly found herself in the midst of the house’s daily training routine. A large group of SITs were sitting in the living room, attentively listening to Anya ramble on about vampires and Turok Hans. Luckily for Buffy, no one heard her come in. She watched them for a minute, seeing Dawn at Anya’s side, drawing diagrams on a large dry erase board. The Slayer couldn’t help but note the look of concentration on her little sister’s face. With her super slayer stealth, Buffy headed across the foyer toward the stairs.

“Now, another thing you gotta consider is vampire stamina,” Buffy heard Anya state as she gradually made her way upstairs. “In hand-to-hand combat they can fight for hours and never get tired. As a matter of fact, it’s what makes them excellent lovers. I’m talking hours of sex here people.” The last remark made Buffy stumble a bit.

“Uhh, Anya? I don’t think they wanna know about sleeping with vampires,” Dawn shyly advised, not surprised but still uneasy about having to be the one to censor the forthright ex-demon.

“Why not? It’s vital information,” Anya adamantly countered.

“Yeah, if humping vampires turned them to dust,” one of the girls joked, eliciting a few snorts and giggles from her peers.

Clearly misreading the comment, Anya gave her straight-faced, overly perky response. “No. No it doesn’t. But it might disorient them long enough for you to land a stake in their chest.”

A burst of laughter suddenly resonated throughout the house from the living room. As Buffy reached the top of the stairs, all she could hear amongst the giggling was Anya repeatedly asking “What? What did I say?”

The Slayer let out a few chuckles of her own. She was going to have to definitely talk to Anya about what was and what wasn’t appropriate when it came to teaching the young impressionable minds of the Potentials. She so didn’t want them to start getting any wrong ideas about vamps. The thought of the girls ogling and drooling over Spike suddenly jumped into her head. Buffy was without a doubt going to have to talk to Anya.

Making her was through the surprisingly clean upstairs hallway, Buffy opened the door to her room. All she wanted to do was get out of her work clothes and find Spike. She smiled. She could hear him shouting out orders through the open windows of the house. ‘Guess he’s training the other half of the troops in the backyard,’ Buffy surmised as she made a b-line for her closet. Pulling out a pair of well worn jeans and a comfy maroon tee, Buffy quickly changed.

Turning around, she gasped when her eyes settled upon the room. It was spotless. The clothes that had once littered the floor were gone. The notebooks Spike had been using to keep track of the girls’ progress were no longer scattered across her room. Instead they were in a neat pile by the nightstand. Buffy disbelievingly approached the bed, which was actually made! She couldn’t believe how excited she was getting about a clean room. Boy, did she ever need to get a life.

On her pillow lay a single, yellow flower, one she recognized from the garden in the backyard. A smile spread across her face as she brought the soft petals to her nose, inhaling the sweet scent. Glancing back down, she caught sight of a note. Eagerly picking it up, Buffy read the words scrawled on the small piece of paper.


I figured since I’m spending my nights in here with you and all, I should probably lend a hand with the keep up. Now hurry up and come give me a kiss hello.


Love, Spike



How was it that whenever she started to doubt herself, in whatever she was doing, Spike would always come through with the little gestures? Staring down at the saffron flower in her hand, Buffy’s uncertainties began to vanish. No matter what happened Spike would be there for her. And that was all she needed to know.




********


As Buffy made her way back downstairs, she realized that the two groups were taking their daily thirty minute break before the switch happened. Girls filed in and out of the living room, crowding the downstairs level of the house. Idle chatter reached Buffy’s ears as she surfed through the throng of teenage girls, trying to make her way down the hall. Squeezing herself past a few more SITs, she finally entered the kitchen.

At the same moment, Kennedy and Andrew emerged from the backyard. Both were staring at the tiny screen on Andrew’s handheld camcorder.

“I think they’re starting to get it,” Kennedy stated as she gave the replay one last glimpse.

“I know. They’re all like mini-Buffy’s, except you know, without the super powers,” Andrew replied before an enthralled expression materialized on his face. “Spike’s a pretty good leader too. Kinda like Aragorn, reluctantly leading his wary and broken fellowship against the evil forces of Lord Sauron.”

Kennedy stared incredulously at the starry eyed geek. “Yeah, sure Andrew. Whatever you say.” And with that, the brunette hurriedly marched out of the kitchen, trying to find someone actually sane to talk to. She nodded a ‘hello’ to Buffy before passing her by.

The Slayer returned the greeting before heading to the back door. “Hey Andrew. Is Spike back there?” she asked the distracted ex-Trio member. A barely discernible affirmative mumble was his only response. With a shrug, Buffy made her way outside.

Spike was leaning against the house’s rear brick wall, completely protected from the sun’s deathly rays. Smoke danced in the air above his head from the lit cigarette dangling between his lips. Spotting Buffy, he prematurely finished off the smoke, stomping out the barely burned up cig. Grinning from ear to ear, he sauntered over to her, taking her small hands in his. “Got my note?”

Buffy hesitantly nodded. “Yeah and you’re sweet but there’s no way I’m kissing you.”

“What? Why the bloody hell not?”

Buffy giggled, watching him get flustered. “You know you’re real cute when you get all huffy. But I’m still not kissing you. Especially not after you’ve been suckin’ on those cancer sticks. You’re all stinky,” she pointed out with a pout.

“First of all, I am not cute,” Spike announced indignantly. “Secondly, what’s with the bleedin’ fascination with my breath? Kinda shallow, don’t ya think pet?” he seductively wondered, edging his way closer to Buffy.

“Hey! You better stay back, Mister! I’m warning you,” Buffy half-heartedly resisted as she playfully backed away.

“C’mon luv. Just a quick peck. S’all I ask,” Spike pleaded, giving her his most devilish smirk. “Don’t make me tickle you again.”

Buffy snatched her hands from out of his grasp. “Try it and I’ll toss you into the sun,” Buffy gave out one of her own threats.

Spike remained unfazed. “You wouldn’t want to do that now,” he cautioned as he swiftly grabbed her by the waist, yanking her to him.

Buffy remained outwardly stubborn, though inwardly, she had already caved. “Oh yeah? Why not?”

“‘Cos big ole piles of dust can’t do this,” Spike huskily whispered before pressing his lips against hers.

Buffy instantly surrendered to the kiss, finding that she needed some kind of physical confirmation that she wasn’t being reckless, that she wasn’t abandoning her duties as the Slayer by having feelings for Spike. The gentle caress of their lips soon turned firm and demanding. Buffy opened her mouth, pushing her tongue against his. Spike groaned, loving it when she took control. They fervidly continued to kiss until Buffy pulled up for air, nearly hyperventilating from lack of oxygen as she rested her forehead against his.

Spike was seeing a few stars himself. It had been a while since their embraces had ever been that fervent. It wasn’t to say that the fire was gone. On the contrary, it was still there, beneath the surface, as hot as it had ever been; just it was no longer an all consuming wildfire, decimating everything in its path. What had Spike slightly irked was that the kind of kiss they had just shared wasn’t very different from those Buffy used to bestow upon him as a means to escape. The kind that had initiated the torrid love affair that, much like a blazing inferno, had nearly destroyed them until there had barely been anything left. Spike pulled away to gaze down into her eyes, releasing the breath he didn’t know he had been holding when he saw her staring back up at him with nothing but warm adoration. There wasn’t a single trace of the cold, emotionless void that had once haunted the hazel depths of her eyes. To say Spike was relieved would have been an understatement. Buffy wasn’t trying to forget. He grinned as he ran the back of his hand over her flushed cheek. ‘Slayer’s just a bit randy, is all.’

“So, pet, how was your day?” Spike asked as he took in a deep, unnecessary pull of air, figuring casual conversation might get his excited mind off thoughts of ‘Randy Buffy’. The Slayer immediately started talking about her day, purposefully omitting her little encounter with Principal Wood only an hour ago. The topic of discussion eventually steered to that of training SITs and the other subdued chitchat they usually exchanged everyday after Buffy arrived home from work. Walking hand in hand, they went back inside, finding Dawn and Andrew hanging about the kitchen. Andrew was still immersed in his little clip show while Buffy’s little sister scurried around, preparing herself a snack.

“Hey Buffy. We’re out of milk,” Dawn greeted her sister, shaking the empty milk carton in her hand.

“Hi Dawn. It’s nice to see you too. Why, yes, I had a great day. Thanks for asking,” Buffy replied, her deceitfully cheerful voice laced with sarcasm.

“Yeah, whatever. Still low on milk here,” Dawn declared unapologetically.

Buffy scanned the kitchen. “Isn’t it Willow’s turn to do groceries?” She couldn’t remember seeing the redheaded witch since she had walked into the house. “Where is Will?”

Andrew chose at that moment to pipe up, taking his attention off of the small digital screen of the video camera. “Some Fred guy called from L.A. Willow said she had to go but shouldn’t be gone for too long,” he informed the group, appearing a little concerned. “You don’t think she’s cheating on Kennedy with this guy? He did sound kinda effeminate. Maybe…”

Spike quickly cut him off. “Maybe you should shut your gob.”

Andrew gulped at the vampire’s unimpressed glare and nodded as he retreated back to his video watching.

Buffy remained silent. What was so dire that Willow had to leave the Hellmouth to go to L.A.? She knew it had something to do with Angel. Was he in trouble? And if he was, why hadn’t he asked her for help instead of Willow’s? Buffy didn’t like all these dealings going on behind her back. It made her feel like she didn’t have any control, which terrified her.

Sensing her uneasiness, Spike gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Bet it’s nothin’ to worry ‘bout, pet,” he reassured but not without adding, “Reckon Peaches just needed to borrow Red for a little soul cleansing meditation. ‘Probly cross-legged and chanting as we speak.”

The vampire’s lighthearted insults didn’t get past Buffy, who was trying to give him a reprimanding scowl. It didn’t work though and soon a reluctant smile tugged at her lips.

It wasn’t a secret that Spike had never really liked his Grandsire or that he hated the fact that the older vamp had been the first to claim Buffy’s heart. Yet what bothered him the most was that the instant Andrew had mentioned L.A., Buffy instinctively thought of the poofter. Angel already had what Spike so desperately craved— Buffy’s love. Was she ever going to let him in?

The sound of a few soft chuckles escaping her lips eased some of Spike’s worries. If Buffy could at least laugh at Captain Forehead and not get all defensive then maybe there was a real chance, maybe he wasn’t just grasping at straws. Maybe.

Spike’s inner musings were interrupted by Anya’s unexpected appearance as she noisily stormed into the kitchen, taking a seat at the breakfast nook. “Really, how difficult is it to understand how to kill Gnarok demons?! I swear, if I have repeat decapitation with castration one more time I think I just might disembowel one of the little slayerettes myself!” she vented, clearly frustrated.

“Uh…Why are you even giving instructions on Gnarok demons anyway?” Buffy inquired suspiciously. “Wasn’t the point of these little lessons for you to teach them about the First and vamps?”

Anya shook her head dismissively. “You never know what these girls might have to face one of these days. Plus, teaching them only vampire demonology would be like having a world history class and only discussing the last two hundred years. I think it’s a very limited view of the demon existence. Good thing I’m human again because I would’ve been very offended.”

Buffy’s unconvinced expression didn’t falter one bit throughout Anya’s spcheel. “Just make sure they know everything we do about the First, okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Again my effort goes unappreciated,” the ex-demon complained.

“Okay Anya,” Buffy snapped back. “Since I’m so inconsiderate, why don’t you take the night off?”

Anya let out an unfeminine snort. “And who’s gonna take over demon lessons for the next batch of Potentials?”

Buffy glanced over to her sister. “Dawn will.”

The girl in question was beyond shocked, her crystal blue eyes wide with astonishment. “Mmmuuhhh?!” Dawn asked with a mouthful of peanut butter and jelly, pointing to herself disbelievingly.

The Slayer nodded. “Sure, why not? You’ve been helping Anya out and you’re like mini-Giles with all the research, so it only makes sense.” Not wanting to pressure her sister, Buffy also added, “Only if it’s okay with you, that is.”

Taking a sip from her half-filled glass of milk, Dawn swallowed what she had been chewing. “That’s so okay!” she cheered enthusiastically. Resisting the urge squeal, Dawn calmed herself down. “You’re really gonna let me help out?”

“Yup,” Buffy determinedly replied. “You are now licensed to order SITs around.”

Dawn ran to her sister and hugged her. “You’re the best,” she whispered before scurrying off to the living room to prep for her debut as official demonology instructor, yelling back at Andrew to help her set up. Looking up from his camcorder, the boy jumped to the occasion, almost skipping out of the kitchen.

“I think you’ve created a monster,” Anya quipped as she watched Dawn excitedly putter around the living room.

“I still have time to change my mind,” Buffy shot back.

“Did I say monster?! What I meant to say was—Oh whatever! I’ll be in the tub,” Anya announced as she got off the kitchen stool, going upstairs to enjoy an evening soak.

Spike chuckled as he pulled Buffy into his arms. “Was a good thing you just did for her, luv.”

Buffy stared up at him confused. “What, Anya? She’s been getting on my nerves all week.”

The vampire shook his head. “No. For Dawn. Keep gettin’ the feeling that the Nibblet feels a lil’ left out amongst all this hustle and bustle.”

“I know,” Buffy lamented. “I’ve sensed it too but she still has school and homework and I never wanted her wrapped up in any of this in the first place. God, when I was her age I would’ve given anything just to be normal. Instead Dawn’s begging to join the wacky apocalyptic fun.” Buffy sighed as she placed her head on Spike’s chest. “So I figure if she’s doing the safe book stuff, she can help me out. We could even be a team. The Summers Sisters’ Slayer Brigade. What do you think?”

Tipping her chin up with his finger, Spike locked his gaze with hers. There was a playful mirth dancing in his cerulean eyes. “I think you’re a wonderful sister.”

The concern marring her brow disappeared as a smile reappeared on her lips. “Sucking up will get you everywhere,” Buffy quipped before planting a sweet kiss on Spike’s lips. ‘Mmmmm. Spike lips. Lips of Spike.’

Dawn’s unexpected announcement ended their short blissful break from reality. “Buffy! Giles is back!”

Buffy grudgingly pulled out of Spike’s embrace, giving him a remorseful look before heading out of the kitchen. Potentials were moving toward their designated spots, indication that recess was clearly over. Spike greeted his new group as they made their way past him to the backyard, ordering them to do a few laps around the house to warm up. He didn’t want to go outside just yet.

Giles glanced around him, not believing this was the same house he had left weeks ago. To begin with, the place itself looked immaculately clean. There weren’t any girls lofting about and the strangest of all was that the hum of incessant chatter was gone. Walking further into the house, the Watcher spotted a group of Potentials sitting in the living room, alertly paying attention to Dawn as she seemed to be giving some sort of lecture on vampires. ‘Since when had she become an authority on vampires?’ and ‘Where were the rest of the girls?’ he wondered, automatically searching for Buffy. Dawn did his work for him by calling on her sister after she had spotted him standing dumbfounded in the hallway.

“Giles! You’re back,” his Slayer happily called out as she made her way to him from the kitchen. “Wasn’t expecting you back so soon.” She peeked behind his back and saw two, very intimidated girls. “And with more Potentials.”

“Ah, yes. These girls were discovered by the coven while I was in England. This is Emma and Jem,” Giles introduced, still distracted by the drastic change in the Summers’ home. The two girls timidly waved at the Slayer.

The back of Buffy’s neck tingled, making her turn around. Spike was standing a few feet behind her. She was relieved he hadn’t gone out to train the SITs just yet, but was unsettled by the inexplicably somber disposition he suddenly appeared to be in. Unable to ask the vampire what was wrong, Buffy pushed the issue aside and asked “Spike, can you show the girls where they can put their stuff?”

Spike’s somberness turned into an offended grimace, his jaw clenching as his lips straightened into a thin line. “Sure thing, luv,” he grounded out as he gestured to the newbies to follow him up the stairs.

Oblivious to the vampire’s mood swing, Buffy gave her old Watcher a hug. Taking a step back, she looked at him sympathetically. “You look beat. You want some tea or something?”

Giles gave her a warm smile. “That would be lovely.” He followed her into the kitchen where she poured him a cup of Earl Grey. A really cold and bitter cup of Earl Grey.

Catching the face he made, Buffy shrugged meekly. “Sorry. I thought it was a fresh pot.”

“It’s alright,” Giles casually waved off.

Spike returned, still stone faced with the morbidly silent teenage girls trailing behind him. Buffy mouthed a ‘thank you’ to the grumpy vampire before taking the girls into the living room. Finishing off the introductions, Buffy tried to get the new Potentials comfortable. “Why don’t you guys join Dawn’s powwow. You can start training with Spike tomorrow,” Buffy suggested. Emma and Jem joined the group, their shyness slowly abating as they mingled with other girls their own age.

Getting back to Giles, Buffy found him standing beneath the archway leading to the front hall, curiously watching her little sister, pride twinkling in his eyes. “You wanna go for a walk?” she whispered to him over his shoulder as to not interrupt Dawn’s lecture.

The Watcher nodded as he proceeded to the front door, knowing there were more than a few things that needed to be discussed with his Slayer. He paused when he noticed she wasn’t behind him anymore.

“Just give me a sec, Giles,” she quietly requested as she scampered off to the kitchen.

Spike was where she had left him, his miserable glower gone, replaced instead with stoic indifference. Grabbing her coat from the back of one of the barstools, Buffy put it on as she started to relay her plans to Spike. “I’m gonna do some catching up with Giles. I’ll be back soon.”

He only nodded. Moving in to give her a kiss, Spike was startled when Buffy placed a quick peck on his cheek. Glancing around to make sure certain uninformed individuals hadn’t seen, she bolted down the hall and out the door with Giles, leaving Spike alone to only fear the worst.




********


After a few blocks in comfortable silence, Buffy finally spoke up. “You know we don’t actually have to walk around if you’re tired.”

“I’m fine. Nothing like some fresh air to ease my jetlag,” Giles assured. “So, I see that some changes have been made since I’ve been away.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Buffy sardonically replied.

“Care to elaborate?” Giles asked, genuinely intrigued.

“Short version goes along the lines of I went through some portal that we found in a slayer emergency kit and got possessed by demon slayer-making mist. We then found some cryptic prophecy about it that we think says Spike will kill some Tainted Guy and it will make my spirit awaken, whatever that’s supposed to mean. Since then we’ve been training the Potentials nonstop. Well actually Spike’s done most of the training, but it’s been completely under my supervision,” Buffy finished her anxious rant.

Absolutely worried, Giles came to a halt, inspecting Buffy, trying to find evidence of what she had been through. “God Lord Buffy. Are you alright? The possession, it didn’t—?”

“I’m fine, Giles. You can breathe now,” Buffy good-humoredly reassured her pseudo father.

Yanking the specs from right off his face, Giles vigorously wiped his glasses. Now that he knew Buffy was safe or at least seemingly so, another part of her story troubled him. Spike. His involvement in the latest prophecy the Scoobies had discovered was eerily coincidental to what Althenea had told him. A vampire with a soul, one who Buffy truly loved, would have a hand in defeating the First. It not only meant that Spike’s involvement was a crucial factor in this war but that Buffy loved the vampire. Or would come to love him in the near future. Giles wasn’t completely surprised by the notion, he just wasn’t sure if he was that comfortable with it.

“The coven said that the First was gathering its forces,” Giles started, getting to real reason behind his trip overseas.

“That explains why it hasn’t shown its ugly face in a while,” Buffy cut in.

“It was not the only thing I learned from Althenea. She mentioned that we must be wary of a man in black,” he continued, waiting for Buffy’s response.

“Well the only guy who wears black around here is Spike, but you can’t really label him as a ‘man’ since he’s technically a vampire,” she rationalized.

“We simply cannot dismiss the possibility she was referring to Spike,” Giles deceivingly insisted. He wanted to see for himself what his slayer felt for the vampire, even if it meant editing out what he already knew, or at least suspected.

“Please, don’t start ragging on me about Spike,” Buffy pleaded as she clutched her brow. “He’s done more in this fight than anyone else. If it wasn’t for him none of the girls would know a jab from a right hook and I would probably still be a pulling at my hair, trying to figure out how to deal with a house full of scared teenage girls. You once said that I depend on him and I recognize that I do, but it’s only because I trust him. I trust him with my life, Giles,” her voice reached a desperate tone as she concluded her intense tirade.

“Are you in love with him, Buffy?”

The question came out of nowhere and nearly knocked her off her feet. “What?!?! No!” she automatically answered, but knew it was far from the truth. “I mean…I dunno. Is it like written on my forehead or something?” she asked, almost sounding like Dawn during her whiny pre-teen phase.

Finding themselves in the park, Giles directed them to an empty bench. “Buffy, in clear spoken English, what is your relationship with William the Bloody?”

Fidgeting nervously with her hands, the Slayer stared down at her lap. “We’re kinda going steady.”

Hearing only silence, Buffy peeked up at Giles who wasn’t even looking at her but staring out into space with an extremely contemplative expression on his face. “Uh, Giles, it’s your cue to freak out and tell me how I’m screwing everything up.”

“I’ve already told you my misgivings concerning Spike,” the Watcher calmly began, still staring at nothing. Turning to face Buffy, he took her hands in his. “Obviously you haven’t heeded them. However, you are an adult now Buffy and it is your right to choose how you want to lead your life. So long as you know what you’re doing, I really have no choice but to accept it.”

“I don’t,” Buffy whispered.

“You don’t what?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she pointed out. “I’m so confused and I’m way in over my head. I don’t even know if everything I’ve done, that we’ve done, to prepare for what’s coming will even make a difference. My house is a hormonal ticking time bomb, I still have to play mom for Dawn, and the school’s new principal and my boss is actually a demon hunter with some personal vendetta against my boyfriend. I still have got no clue what this demon stuff that got sucked into my body is going to do to me and if it’ll even help us in this fight,” Buffy declared, releasing a shaky sigh. “And then there’s Spike…”

“Whatever happens, Buffy, I am here for you. You might not have faced this kind of adversity before, but that has never stopped you,” Giles comforted, trying to instill some much needed confidence in his slayer.

“So you’re really okay with this whole Spike thing?” she asked, nibbling on her bottom lip.

Giles heavily exhaled. “Just tell me you’re going about this relationship in a more…how should put it?…reserved manner than the first time around?”

“I’m not sleeping with him Giles,” Buffy told him, unashamed.

“Thank God!” he exclaimed under his breath.

Getting up from the park bench, the duo quietly made their way back to 1630 Revello Drive. Spotting her house, it was Buffy again who broke the silence. “Well that was easier than I thought it’d be,” she contentedly remarked.

Walking up the front steps, Giles stopped just short of reaching the door. “And I think I’ve found a way of making things even easier.”

Buffy watched as the Watcher pulled out a small box from his coat pocket. “What’s that?”

“The trick to de-triggering Spike.”



TBC

A/N: Thnx Darkezza. You rock!
Chapter Ten-Fix You by Aurora
Author's Notes:
Hey guys. I know. I know. It's been a while but here's the next chap. Sorry for taking so long.
Chapter Ten: Fix You


“What is it?” Dawn curiously asked as she leaned over, staring intensely at the small piece of unknown material in the miniature box cradled in Giles’s hand.

The Watcher scanned the basement, noticing how all of the gazes suddenly shifted in his direction.

Xander had just finished fastening the shackles around Spike’s wrists after checking that the chains would hold the vampire once he turned feral. The said vampire was sitting impatiently on the cot, clearly feeling like some carnival freak show attraction. The SITs were all upstairs, being kept busy by Anya and Kennedy, oblivious to the exorcism that was about to take place beneath their feet. And much to Spike’s chagrin, Wood was also there, watching him. To say that tensions were high in the cramped basement was an understatement.

“It’s called a Prokaryote Stone,” Giles began to explain, his voice audible enough for everyone to hear. “It will move within Spike’s mind to reveal the root of the trigger’s power. It can bring forth images, memories…hopefully an answer to whatever it is that’s setting Spike off.”

“It’s kinda shiny,” Dawn casually remarked as she took a step back.

Giles rolled his eyes. “Yes, quite.”

“Hold on a tic?!” Spike shouted. “When you say move within my mind, you don’t actually mean…” he trailed off, hoping Giles wasn’t seriously alluding to what he didn’t dare say.

“Yes, Spike. We have to put this in your brain,” the Watcher clarified, a slight smirk tugging at his lips.

As much as Giles wanted to accept the vampire’s relationship with his Slayer, there was still a part of him that hated the idea. He trusted Buffy and if she was falling in love with Spike there was little he could do to stop it. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t take some enjoyment out of making Spike squirm though. In Giles’s eyes, as her pseudo father, no one would ever be good enough for Buffy, even if Spike was the most deserving of his approval thus far.

Spike’s azure eyes bugged out in distress. “Bugger that!”

Buffy swayed on her feet uncomfortably, sending concerned grimaces in Spike’s direction. “How do we know when it’s worked?” she asked in her patented, no-nonsense Slayer style.

“It might not work,” Giles reluctantly informed her.

Everyone slowly turned to look at the Watcher, shock and confusion visible on their faces.

“Huh?” Dawn asked, speaking for the group.

“The stone’s just a catalyst for the process. The rest is up to Spike,” Giles elaborated, glancing over at the disgruntled vampire.

Spike sighed as his gaze caught sight of everyone staring at him. “Alright. How do you expect to get that hunk of rubble into my cranium?” Spike asked with bitter surrender.

Giles turned to Dawn, who was waiting for him to take the open spell book she had in her hands. “I was given the accompanying spell for the stone but since Willow isn’t here, I’ll have to perform it myself,” he enlightened them as he accepted the text from Dawn with one hand while holding the box with the stone in the other. Clearing his throat, he began. “Kun'ati belek sup'sion. Bok'vata im kele'beshus. Ek'vota mor'osh boota'ke.”

As the last word of the incantation echoed throughout the silence the stone began to wriggle within its small confinement, no longer appearing to be solid, but that of metallic liquid. Holding the enchanted rock away from his body, Giles tentatively moved toward Spike. Everyone else watched tensely as the Prokaryote Stone lived up to its name.

The vampire jumped back upon seeing the slithering pebble. “Oh, you have got to be joking?” Spike angrily barked, panic evident in his eyes. “What now?”

“The stone must access the cerebral cortex via the optical nerve,” Giles gruffly replied with his medical jargon.

The vampire eyed the stone warily, his terror-stricken gaze flipping from the box to the Watcher’s unsympathetic face. “Oh, bollocks. With all the rubbish people keep stickin’ in my head it’s a wonder that there’s any room for my brain,” he quipped apprehensively.

Giles rolled his eyes for the second time that night. “I don’t think it takes up that much space, do you?” he derisively murmured.

Spike shot Giles a scowl as the fellow Englishman lifted the box to his face, lining the mystical mineral up to just below his right eye. As if on cue, the Prokaryote Stone slinked its way up Spike’s cheek, slithering beneath his eyelid, causing him to clench his jaw and to pant needlessly from the discomfort. He clutched his head in pain, feeling as though the stone was searing a path through the grey matter in his skull.

“Ow.”

The immense pain soon intensified into pure torture. “Oh, OW!” he cried out, writhing in agony.

“Spike!”

Buffy was at his side in a second, pulling his hands away from his face as the pain appeared to have quickly subsided. “Spike?” she worriedly tried to gain his attention.

“Maybe we should’ve waited for Red to get back” he hoarsely responded, his bleary gaze focused on the floor in front of him.

Buffy wasn’t completely sure what he meant. “Are you alright?”

He shrugged. “How am I supposed to know if this bug-ugly’s doin’ its job...”

Spike trailed off as the basement and its occupants faded to black, the room melting into another place, another time. Two figures appeared before him. Two people who he had known in another lifetime, ages ago. A naïve and sensitive man was in the midst of reading his latest work to his biggest fan, an older, sickly woman, with eyes that glittered with undying adoration. Two people who Spike hadn’t given much thought to in the past few years, and one person in particular who made him wish he could just forget.

Mum…

Buffy noticed that Spike’s eyes had suddenly glazed over. “Uh, Spike?”

The dazed vampire said nothing, continuing to stare out at the expanse of the overcrowded basement. Buffy frantically waved her hand in front of his face, calling out his name a few more times in the hopes that he’d snap out of it. Jumping to her feet, she rushed over to Giles who was also eying the vampire strangely. Tugging hysterically on his arm, Buffy pointed to her incapacitated boyfriend. “Giles, you broke him! Fix it!”

Giles didn’t even have a chance to respond.

Spike awoke from his stupor, vamping out ferociously. Buffy and Giles scrambled away from him as the vampire pulled and tugged on his chains. Snarling viciously, Spike picked up the cot, tossing it across the room. Poor Xander didn’t even know what hit him. As Dawn and Wood rushed out to help the unfortunate victim of Spike’s inadvertent attack, Buffy watched helplessly as he continued on with his feral episode. And suddenly, almost as quick as it had began, the vampire abruptly stopped, his body rigid and his face emotionless as the stone slipped from whence it had entered. Breathing erratically, though quite unnecessarily, Spike stared in bewilderment from the group of people before him to the cold cement floor, unclear of what exactly it was that had just been revealed to him.

Dawn assisted a clobbered Xander upstairs, using a comforting but steady hand to lead him away from any more physical harm. With Xander taken cared of, Wood could lay all his unadulterated concentration on the vampire. His dark brown eyes glared fiercely at the creature before him. Buffy’s good-willed intentions for including him in this little demonstration, to prove to him that Spike was a changed vamp, had been in vain. If anything, it only reaffirmed his vengeful resolve. William the Bloody had not changed. He was still the same monster that killed his mother.

Buffy took a cautious step toward the frazzled vamp. “Spike?” Her voice was small and uncertain, with the smallest trace of fear lying beneath the surface.

Spike slowly lifted his head up, eyes sparkling as he tried to put on a strong face. With a sad grin, he nodded. “Right here, luv.”

Running back to him, Buffy threw her arms around his neck, seizing him in a tight embrace. Burying her face in his chest she let out a muffled whimper. “You had me worried there for a second.”

Wrapping his arms around her waist, Spike gently placed a kiss on her cheek. “Can’t get rid of me that easy, Slayer,” he weakly joked, his voice no more than a faint whisper. “I would’ve found my way back. Like I always do.”

“What did you see, Spike?” Giles inquired, bringing the couple back to the task at hand.

Buffy slipped out of Spike’s arms, taking a spot at his side. Sliding her small hand in his, she gave it one good squeeze. Buffy could tell this was gonna be the hard part.

Buffy watched as Spike glanced from her Watcher over to Wood, who was at the moment standing by the stairs, a seething glower plastered on his face. Blue eyes remained locked with brown, seized in a silent round of distrust and intimidation. Spotting the discontented expressions on both their faces, Buffy knew there was no way Spike was going to open up if she didn’t step in.

“Uh, Giles. Could Spike and I have some time alone?” she asked, politely.

Giles understood. He knew Spike wouldn’t want to divulge his deepest, darkest secrets to the man who, for all intents and purposes, was Buffy’s father. If the vampire wouldn’t share his revelation with him, then he sure as hell wasn’t about to say boo with Robin Wood in the room. Nodding, Giles motioned for Robin to follow him.

Eyes still engaged in non-verbal death threats, Wood gradually made his way upstairs, refusing to take his malicious gaze off of Spike. The vampire himself observed the two men part with restrained ire. It wasn’t until he heard the basement door close shut did Spike break from his angered vigil.

Dropping his head to dejectedly look at the chains binding his wrists, Spike sighed noisily. “Mind takin’ these soddin’ things off me, luv?” he asked, his voice low and calm but not void of the desperation that was threatening to consume him.

Without any reservations, Buffy promptly released him from his restraints. Rubbing the feeling back into his sore and bruised wrists, Spike gave her a shy smile. Uncertainty about what was yet to come, amongst other things plaguing his conscience, brought forth his uncharacteristically insecure demeanor.

“Spike? Did it work? Did it have anything to do with that song you’re always singing before you go bizerk?” Buffy fretfully wondered.

Sighing for what felt like the hundredth time that night, Spike moved to flip over the overturned cot. Plopping himself down on the lumpy mattress, he stared at the chains on the wall. “It’s called ‘Early One Morning’. Old folk ditty my mum used to sing to me,” he dismally informed her, his usually clear blue eyes fogged with unprecedented melancholy. Eventually, staring back at Buffy, pushing aside for the moment the guilt of his past, he added, “Does it even matter if it worked?”

***********


Andrew pressed the zoom-in button on his camcorder, trying to capture Xander’s pain as Anya and Dawn sat on either side of him on the living room couch, trying to tend to his more or less superficial wound. The would-be director was careful in his selection of camera angles, ensuring that he caught the entire group gathered at the epicenter of the Summers house. Since he had been banned from being part of the afternoon basement activities, this little meeting was the only way he could get the scoop on what the heck was the latest predicament facing the Slayer and her vampyre.

Turning the camera lens away from the group and aiming it a little too close to his own face, Andrew set the scene up, making sure future viewers would understand the context of what was being said.

“Hello gentle viewers. It seems that something unusual has transpired today. Our leader, Buffy, along with a few of her devoted companions, ventured into the basement hours ago. All have just now emerged, except for the Slayer and Spike. Let’s watch now as Xander tries to recuperate from what appears to be an arduous ordeal.” Pivoting the camera back, Andrew zoomed back in on Xander.

“Ow!” The unmanly squeal resonated throughout the room. “Jesus, Ahn! What’s in that bottle? Sulfuric acid?” Xander inquired indignantly.

“Stop being such a baby,” Anya scolded as she dabbed a cotton swab of alcohol over the gash on Xander’s forehead. “Honestly, Xander. For a man who has extensive knowledge in giving women many orgasms, you’re a wuss.”

Dawn, along with all the other Potentials in the room, shifted uncomfortably. “Someone please change the subject,” Dawn pleaded, unable to look at Xander beside her.

“Uh…yeah…so what’s up with Spike?” Kennedy threw out, willingly discussing the vampire if it meant not thinking about Anya and Xander having sex.

“Yeah, why didn’t anyone tell us that he’s dangerous?” Rona crossly asked.

“Spike’s not dangerous,” Amanda countered defensively. “He hasn’t done anything to us.”

“Yet,” Rona mumbled.

“If it wasn’t for Spike, we woulda never gotten the training we did. We can’t just turn against him now,” Vi also defended, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Spike’s trigger is still working,” Kennedy solemnly informed the girls. “He could snap at any second and go off on all of us.”

“But Buffy’s tryin’ to fix that,” Molly retorted, trying to look on the bright side of what was a very scary situation.

“And what if she can’t? How’re we even gonna know the difference?” Rona said irately. “She knew about Spike all along and didn’t tell us. I just don’t get how Buffy can take this for granted. It’s not her life on the line here.”

Seething, Dawn was past the point of annoyed but before she could ardently defend her sister, Anya surprisingly stepped in.

“People go through things,” she generally stated. “Things that no one else can even come close to understanding. And sometimes you overlook the bad because you love them so much that you can’t live without them,” she philosophized, her warm, remorseful eyes connecting with Xander’s hopeful and surprised gaze. She tenderly wiped his forehead one final time before turning to the group around her. “So sure, Spike’s got a Get Out of Jail Free Card when it comes to Buffy, but it’s only because she’s in love with him. We all know that’s why she can’t let go. We just either forget or all out deny what’s staring us in the face,” she poignantly finished.

She became a bit stunned when she suddenly felt a familiar hand close around hers. Staring back over at Xander, she lightly squeezed his hand when she spotted the promise in his eyes. Maybe he was willing to give it another go. Maybe they should try it like Buffy and Spike, without the sex. Ha! Who was she kidding? But one thing was for sure, she wouldn’t be having sex on Spike’s cot again. It hurt her back and smelled like smoke.

Their heartfelt moment was cut short by Andrew’s unexpected and unwanted bit of directorial instruction. “Anya, do you mind repeating that last part for me again. My finger slipped and I didn’t get it on film.”

The ex-couple broke from their intense gazes and glared at the annoying geek as the rest of the girls began to disperse to separate parts of the house. There wasn’t much left of their half hour break and no one was in the mood to waste it on yelling at Andrew. Xander and Anya could have him; they looked as though they were about to throttle him anyway.

*********


In the adjacent hallway between the living room and the basement entrance stood a grim faced Wood and a contemplative Giles. The Watcher glanced at the other man, who seemed to be keeping his persistent glare on the now firmly shut basement door.

Due to his long and unplanned absence, Giles was a bit out of the loop. All Buffy had told him was that this unassuming high school principal was actually a rogue demon hunter, who appeared to have some sort of personal vendetta against Spike. What exactly had happened between Wood and William the Bloody was still left to be determined, but from the fury blazing in the man’s eyes, Giles could tell it wasn’t about to blow over.

“What if Spike can’t be cured?” Robin asked, eyes still glued to the well-worn wooden door. “What if the trigger can’t be de-activated?”

“We cannot consider that option,” Giles firmly replied. “We must keep faith with Buffy.”

“Shouldn’t there be some kind of contingency plan?” Wood wondered, finally turning his gaze to Giles.

Giles pulled his glasses off his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Pardon my frankness, but who are you?” the Watcher asked.

He had never been formally introduced to the Buffy’s boss, so this was a good a time as any. Even having already been informed by Buffy of Robin’s M.O., pretending he knew bugger all about the man actually gave Giles the upper hand. People were more prone to talk if they thought no one knew what was really going on in their head. Giles just hoped that Robin would make the same mistake.

“Robin Wood.” The stranger extended a confident hand in formal greeting.

Taking the offered hand, Giles shook it firmly but briefly. “Ah, yes. Buffy had mentioned you. Said you fancied yourself a bit of demon hunter,” he good-humoredly remarked.

Robin gave a modest smile at the Watcher’s suddenly warmer and more welcoming attitude. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you know so much about me. You are Buffy’s Watcher after all,” he casually commented.

Giles chuckled a bit at the notion. “I may be her Watcher, but only in namesake. Buffy no longer reports to me. The definition of our Watcher-Slayer relationship was never exactly textbook. It still isn’t,” he explained, unintentionally glancing over to the basement door.

“But she would listen to you, right? If the occasion called for it, she would listen to her Watcher?” Wood wondered with a hint of urgency.

“What are you getting at?” Giles somberly asked, his demeanor turning on a dime.

“If Spike becomes uncontrollable, wouldn’t you advise her to do what’s best for the greater good?” Wood guardedly said without actually out rightly saying ‘kill Spike’.

“Careful what you say, Robin. If you know what’s good for you, I wouldn’t repeat any of this to Buffy,” Giles ominously warned though not surprised by the man’s one tracked mind.

“Someone has to tell her. She won’t hear it from me, but Buffy would trust her Watcher,” Wood argued, determined to get the Watcher on his side.

“How’s it you know so much about Slayers?” Giles suspiciously inquired. He was beginning to wonder if maybe he had underestimated Robin’s hatred for Spike. It must be some kind of grudge if the Principal was willing to go up against Buffy. Brave man. Stupid, but brave.

“My mother was one,” Wood threw out, his voice steady though his dark brown eyes screamed of devastation and misery.

Giles’s eyes widened, his mind whirling as everything suddenly came together. “You’re Nikki Wood’s boy. Crowley adopted you after—”

“Spike killed my mother,” Robin venomously finished off the other man’s sentence.

“And this dire necessity to have Buffy prepared for the possibility that she might have to kill Spike has nothing to do with your own personal motives? How do I know this isn’t some ploy to get back at him?”

Giles wanted to be sympathetic but he simply couldn’t muster up any phony compassion when Wood’s actions could potentially have world altering consequences. The look in his eyes told Giles all he needed to know. If Buffy didn’t do something about Spike then the dear ole principal would.

Almost reading his mind, Robin immediately replied, “If he’s a threat, if he compromises the mission, then what does it matter?”

Giles took an unwavering step forward, purposefully getting in Wood’s face. “It matters to Buffy and in the end, it’s her call,” he furiously stated before pointing a hostile finger at the obstinate man. “You listen to me. Do not make Buffy’s decisions for her. It’s her call because it is her right. If there is so much as the slightest chance that Spike is needed for this fight against the First and you bollocks it all up with your damned need for vengeance, I won’t be there to stop Buffy.”

The temperature in the room felt as though it had dropped several degrees. The casual good natured introduction had turned into a silent war of wills.

With clenched anger, Robin slowly began to speak. “I’m only saying that we have to consider the possibility.”

“So long as that’s all you’re saying,” Giles retorted, making his way to the kitchen. “I’ll be in the backyard training the Potentials for the rest of the night. If I were you, I’d find some way to entertain yourself. Who knows how long it’ll be before they’re through,” he advised, throwing a glimpse at the basement door.

Silently, the Watcher walked out of the hallway, leaving Wood to carefully ponder his next move.

*********


“What did you just say?” Buffy asked, uncertain if she had heard the vampire right.

“Does it even matter if it worked?” Spike repeated, elbows on knees as he miserably stared at the cement floor.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Buffy didn’t know if she should be offended, shocked or devastated by Spike’s apathy. “Of course it matters if it worked.”

“I get that,” he sadly stated. “Gotta stop the First from pullin’ my puppet strings. I get it. It’s just…just…”

“What Spike?” she pushed, becoming frustrated.

“If Rupes didn’t want you with me before, you sure as hell aren’t gonna get his blessing now,” Spike finally clarified. He hated himself for being so insecure, but he couldn’t help it.

They hadn’t said much to each other since she and Giles had come back from their little walk and talk. The second Buffy had stepped through the front door she had instantly gone into slayer mode. Nothing but demands and orders with not a single explanation for any of them. Next thing Spike knew, he was putting on a show for the rest of the Scobbies by having some prophylactic stone shoved into his brain

He still had no idea what had actually been said between Buffy and her Watcher. Spike was positively, absolutely certain that Rupert was against the relationship. If that pathetic peck on the cheek Spike had gotten a few hours ago told him anything, it was that Buffy cared what Giles thought.

“And you think I care what Giles thinks?” Buffy’s exasperated voice rang in his ears.

Spike’s head instantly shot up, staring at her disbelievingly. “Well duh, pet,” he replied with blatant sarcasm.

“Look Spike. I don’t know what’s with all the mopiness, but snap out of it,” she chided.

“So good to know I’m nothin’ more than an inconvenience to you luv,” Spike muttered. He might be acting like a ponce but she wasn’t giving him any reason not to.

Buffy groaned, rubbing her forehead as she sat next to Spike. “I’m not gonna end this between us, Spike.”

A flash of hope lit up his eyes as he looked at her. “So, we’re still together?”

Buffy gave him a sweet smile. “Yes, Spike, we’re still together,” she reassured him as she lifted her hand to soothingly brush his cheek. “But if you get all girly on me again, I might change my mind.”

“Girly?!” Spike shouted indignantly, pulling away from Buffy. “A bloke gets a bit insecure and suddenly he’s girly?”

“What got you all with the second guessing anyway?” she asked curiously.

Spike shrugged. “Well, Rupert’s back and we all know how he feels ‘bout yours truly,” he began to explain, scratching the back of his neck. “‘Probly didn’t help my cause with the whole untamed sideshow, huh?”

Buffy shook her head. “No. I don’t think that’s it Spike. At least not all of it anyway,” she openly doubted.

“There was…well…there was…God ‘m such a poofter!” he self-deprecated.

“Spike, just tell me,” Buffy implored. She didn’t want any tensions between them. Things were starting to get intense and were inevitably going to get even bleaker. Buffy needed Spike to be in her corner, to be there for her no matter what was about to happen. There wasn’t any room for misgivings or distrust. She needed things to be okay between them.

“Why didn’t you kiss me?” he asked out of the blue, sounding like a lost little boy.

“What? When?” Buffy asked incredulously.

“When you got home from work, pet. First you couldn’t get your hands off of me, then your Watcher shows up and I’m suddenly chopped liver,” he sulked, feeling as pathetic as he sounded.

“Are we really discussing this? I couldn’t just make out with you right in front of him, Spike,” she berated. “It’s bad enough he’s the last to know. I didn’t want him finding out by walking in on one of our grope fests.”

“I wasn’t expectin’ you to inform Rupert by makin’ him watch on as you snog me into a second death, pet,” he countered mockingly, “but a guy could use a lil’ reassurance once and a while.”

Buffy exhaled loudly, at last understanding Spike’s puzzlingly fickle mood. “It’s gonna take a lot to end this thing between us Spike. And I mean more than homicidal personality triggers, or foreboding internet prophecies, or even my occasionally overzealous Watcher,” she clarified, hoping it would be enough to settle his uncertainties.

“I’m a right git, aren’t I?” Spike mumbled, mentally kicking himself. Like Buffy didn’t have enough on her plate, she had to deal with his brooding too. Yes, he had to admit, this qualified as brooding.

“Yeah,” Buffy halfheartedly agreed. “But you’re my git,” she added cheekily before planting a gentle kiss on his lips.

Pulling her into his arms, Spike released a sigh of relief. “Thanks, luv.” Burying his face into the crook of her neck, he brandished her tender flesh with a few more kisses.

He had never felt as confident about their relationship as he did at this very moment. And even though Buffy had still yet to say those three little, but very monumental words to him, Spike felt loved. Not the altruistic adoration he had had for Druscilla, or the petty infatuation he had experienced with Cecily, or the all consuming obsession he had had with Buffy. It was different now. It was unconditional and at last, reciprocated. Spike could bet money on the chance that had he and Buffy not fallen into a romantic relationship, she would have still loved him, as a friend, for just being himself. He hadn’t been that sure of someone else’s feelings in ages. Not since his mother.

Oh God. Mum…

Buffy sighed contently, oblivious to Spike’s ruminations. “See, I can be reassurance girl,” she quipped, hugging him harder.

Spike however didn’t hug back.

In fact, he suddenly felt inexplicably limp. “Spike?” Buffy worriedly whispered as she pulled away from his embrace.

Spike didn’t hear her. He couldn’t hear her. The stone was taking him back.


“William?” his sickly mother apprehensively called out, walking into the parlor in her nightdress.

Spike, or William to be precise, uneasily greeted her. “Uh, mother.”

“Where have you been?” she inquired, her voice quivering with emotion. “I’ve been beside myself for days.”

William’s manner brightened, excited about revealing his new state of existence. “You needn’t have worried mother,” he consoled. “You’ll never have to worry about anything again. Something has happened. I’ve changed.”



“Are you okay?” Buffy asked, confused by his silence.


William’s mother stared at her son, unable to comprehend his behavior or the words that were spilling from his mouth. “What are you talking about a-and why are you acting so strangely?”

William approached the woman who had brought him into this world, who had given him life. It seemed somewhat surreal that he was now standing before her, dead on his feet. Well, undead anyway.

“It’s alright, mother. It’s only me,” he comforted, wrapping his arms around her fragile form.



Upon saying his name for the second time, Buffy felt the arms around her tighten. She mistook his hallucinated reaction as nonverbal assurance that he was still there with her. Unknowingly, Buffy allowed herself to fall back into the embrace.


“We’ll be together forever,” William promised his mother.


“Forever…”

Buffy barely heard him, his voice so low that not even her close proximity could make up for its inaudibility. “Spike…?”


“William…?” His mother remained motionless, the uncertainty and fear evident in her meek voice.

“It’ll only hurt for a moment,” Spike whispered reassuringly before slipping into game face. It would be the last words he would say to the woman he knew as mother.



Before Buffy knew what was happening, Spike’s fangs descended upon her neck.


TBC

Thanx Darkezza! You're the best!
Chapter Eleven- Inner Demons by Aurora
Author's Notes:
Enjoy!
Chapter Eleven: Inner Demons


She gasped, paralyzing shock taking control of her body as the blinding pain filled her. For a few crucial moments she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. Spike was taking long and deep pulls from her. She could feel him draining her. If she didn’t stop him soon, he was going to kill her.

With all the Slayer strength she could muster, Buffy forcefully pushed Spike away. The impact of her palms against his chest brought him back to another time, in the not so distant past.




“I know you feel like I do,” Spike could feel himself say, longingly gazing at Buffy as he paced before her. “You don’t have to hide it anymore.”

A battle worn Buffy glared at him, her arms wrapped around her minimally clothed body. There was nothing more than a flimsy grey robe concealing her from the unwanted stares of the vampire she could never love.

“Spike, please stop this,” she exasperatedly requested, becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the whole situation.

Bridging the gap between them Spike took an unyielding step toward her. “Let yourself feel it,” he huskily demanded, placing his hands firmly on her hips, trying to pull her towards him.

Buffy resisted, considerably irritated. “No.”

“You love me,” Spike desperately insisted, his hands working their way over her unwilling body with touches that were no longer wanted and caresses that now stung.





Spike fell off the cot from the force of Buffy’s powerful shove. His eyes widened as comprehension began to sink in, the strong coppery taste of her empowering blood still lingering in his mouth.

“Buffy?” he hoarsely whispered as his ice blue eyes focused on her right hand, which was firmly pressed against her bleeding neck.

The Slayer began to speak, her tone desperate, her face consumed with fear. Spike couldn’t hear her though. Only a few muffled garbles broke through the haze. He was being taken somewhere else by the existential whirlwind that was the Prokaryote Stone.




His newly transformed mother stood before him in the parlor, the fireplace’s glow illuminating her revitalized features. She no longer appeared ill. Instead an inexplicably radiant quality suffused her being. William had never seen his mother look so healthy. Again, he noted the irony in the fact that she was now dead, but she still looked wonderful nonetheless.

“Oh, William,” his mother began in response to his compliment, “you're so... tender.” She placed a delicate hand on his face.

Oblivious to her subtle ridicule, William continued on with subdued excitement. “Well, this is as it should be, mother. You and I together. All of London laid out before us.”

“Ah, yes. Us,” she said, smiling disdainfully.

William, ignorant as ever, smiled brilliantly. “First, we'll feast. Then the night is yours. Theater, perhaps. Dancing? Tell me, what's your pleasure?”

His mother turned toward him, staring him dead in the eyes. “Pleasure? To take my leave of you, of course,” she stated matter-of-factly. “‘The lark hath spake from twixt its wee beak? ’You honestly thought I could bear an eternity listening to that twaddle?” she condescendingly asked.





Spike growled involuntarily as the memory finished playing in his mind. He shook his head vigorously, trying to shake it away. His fists flew to the side of his head, desperately pounding at his temples in the vain attempt to end the visions. It was futile however. The second he peered back over to where a distraught Buffy was now standing, he was pulled back.



“Ow, no, stop it,” she determinedly refused, her fear lying just beneath the surface of her angered annoyance.

Her words were ignored as Spike’s hands continued to inappropriately peruse her body, groping at her flesh as he desperately tried to kiss her. Buffy frantically struggled to push him off. “Spike no…Ow…What are you…”

Fevered emotions fueled the struggle, which quickly escalated to the sound of fabric being ripped as it echoed throughout the bathroom. In one unguarded moment, Buffy lost her balance, clutching at the shower curtain, which inevitably ripped off of the rod, sending her already sore back to crash down against the side of the tub.

“Ow!” she bellowed.





Why was this happening to him? Of all the misdeeds to choose from in his past, why show him these two? Why did the stone have to remind him of the two lowest moments of existence? Spike wasn’t allowed the time to postulate an answer. His mother wasn’t finished with her malicious diatribe.




“I feel extraordinary. It's as though I've been given new eyes. I see everything,” she whimsically explained. “Understand...” she paused before frowning at her son, “everything.”

William was becoming increasingly disturbed by his mother’s sudden exposition. “Mother…”

She ignored him, her tone sustaining its nasty quality. “I hate to be cruel,” she started before abruptly stopping. “ No, I don't. I used to hate to be cruel in life. Now, I find it rather freeing,” she cheerfully confessed. “Nothing less will pry your greedy little fingers off my apron strings, will it?”

William took a step back, uncomfortable with the shift in his mother’s behavior. “Please stop,” he pleaded, unable to look her in the eyes.

Once more, she disregarded his request, approaching him slowly. “Ever since the day you first slithered from me like a parasite...”

He interrupted her, flabbergasted by her words. “What're you s—”

She supplied him the bitter answer before he had a chance to complete the devastated question. “Had I known better, I could have spared myself a lifetime of tedium and just dashed your brains out when I first saw you.”

With a disgusted huff, she stepped away from him, her voice rising in exasperation. “God, I prayed you’d find a woman to release me, but you’d scarcely showed an interest. Who could compare to your doddering housebound mum? A captive audience for your witless prattle.”

His mother dug the knife in deeper and all he could do was stand there, utterly helpless.





Spike scurried back, keeping his distance from an advancing Buffy. He shook his head again, not wishing to believe the painful words spoken by his own mother.

“Whatever I was, that’s not who I am anymore,” he shakily announced, his ambiguous words coincidentally directed in Buffy’s direction.

Confusion was instantly added to Buffy’s fear. “I know Spike. This isn’t you. The stone is doing something,” she started to explain, not understanding that he was still under the Prokaryote Stone’s influence.




Snickering mockingly, William’s mother took a step toward him. “Darling, it’s who you’ll always be. A limp, sentimental fool.”




Having had just about enough, Buffy raced over to the hallucinating vampire, grabbing him roughly and hauling him up to his feet. She shook him violently, hoping it would jostle him from whatever delirium that had ensnared him. She was about ready to do anything just to get Spike to snap out of it.

The momentum of her shaking spun them around, causing their feet to become tangled in the chains on the cold floor. Losing her balance, Buffy fell, bringing Spike down on top of her.

The face of his mother drifted into oblivion as Buffy struggled beneath him. He knew what was coming. He knew what memory he was about to relive. But he couldn’t do anything to stop it. He was trapped to relive the moment he truly felt like a monster.




Spike stared down at Buffy, his expression maddened as something primal, something animalistic, took him over. She continued to struggle beneath him, but for once he was stronger, faster. Desperation fueled him, his mind focused on one thing. He was deaf to her pleas.

“No! Stop it!” Buffy cried out, her voice screeching in panic.

“I know you felt it. When I was inside of you,” he muttered, his eyes wild, his grip painfully demanding.

His frantic hand pulled and tugged at any available piece of fabric. Not hindered in the slightest by the sound of her robe ripping, unaffected by the tears cascading down her cheeks.





Buffy continued to squirm on the floor, trying to extricate herself from beneath Spike’s unusually heavy form. Glancing up into his eyes, she saw nothing but an emotionless void in their depths. He wasn’t fighting her; he wasn’t trying to get up. Spike wasn’t even moving. He simply remained motionless above her with a hauntingly vacant expression on his face.





William staggered back up against the rough brick of the fireplace, his mother closing in on him. Her contempt for the son that had sired her was now clearly seen on her no longer docile face. “Do you think you’ll be able to love her?” she spat scathingly. “Think you’ll be able to touch her without feeling me?”

He squirmed, trying to get away as she invaded his personal space. It didn’t deter her in the slightest. His mother would not stop until she had completely torn his heart into shreds.

“All you ever wanted was to be back inside…”





Buffy finally slipped out from under him, rolling onto her stomach and crawling away from Spike. She froze from the feral roar that was emitted from behind her. A steel grip latched onto her ankle, brutally dragging her back to him with one strong jerk.

‘Oh God! Please don’t let this be happening,’ Buffy inwardly prayed. ‘Not again.’

Flipping her violently onto her back, Spike pinned her arms above her head. As hard as she tried, Buffy couldn’t muster the strength to free herself. The delusion he was currently seized in made him inexplicably and extraordinarily strong. Not to mention that the blood loss wasn’t helping her either.

Buffy ceased struggling when she realized Spike had stopped moving. Looking up at him, he was gazing back down at her, his cobalt eyes lost in another vision. He remained frozen, hovering above her with hands like vices around her wrists.





Buffy’s frantic screams resounded throughout the bathroom. They did not, however, dissuade the vampire on top of her from his forceful assault.

“No. Ow. Ow!” she shouted. “Please, Spike. Please!”

“You’ll feel it again, Buffy,” he urgently assured her, his voice dripping with maddened conviction.

“Please don’t do this,” Buffy hysterically implored, a heartbreaking sob escaping from her lips.

Her pleas continued to go unheeded as Spike reached for the top of her ash colored robe, clasping it brutally in one hand. “I’m gonna make you feel it,” he furiously promised, nearly ripping the garment in half.





Buffy blinked as Spike suddenly disappeared above her. She sat up, horrified to see him flying through the air, painfully crashing into the basement wall with a resonating crunch. She became even more alarmed by the sight of the person who had pulled Spike off of her. Buffy stared dumbfounded as Wood marched with a seething focus toward a debilitated Spike.

The vampire however was none the wiser to the nearing threat. He simply remained on the floor, slumped against the cracked wall. Nothing could permeate his mind. Nothing could free him from reliving his nightmares.





“You finally got your wish, didn’t you?” his mother disgustedly wondered, her small but deadly body too close to his own. “Sank your teeth into me. An eternal kiss.”

William shook his head frantically. “No. I only wanted to make you well,” he insisted, his voice quivering as he tried to defend himself against his own mother.





Wood glared down at Spike, sneering in abhorrence. “I’ve been waiting for the longest time for you to fuck up,” he wrathfully stated as he pulled a wooden stake from out of his back pocket. “I don’t know how people could actually think an animal like you would ever care for anyone but yourself.”

Spike kept still, his empty gaze falling upon the small space separating him and the looming principal.




“You wanted your hands on me,” his mother hissed resentfully. “Perhaps you’d like a chance to finish off what you started,” she suggested, placing her hands on his body in a manner that was beyond inappropriate for a mother.

William pushed her away, trying desperately to extract himself from her advances. “I loved you. I did. Not like this.”

“Just like this,” his mother persisted. “This is what you always wanted. Who’s my dark little prince?”





Buffy fought to get to her feet. The world spun around her, her head lightheaded from the lack of blood in her veins. She couldn’t let that stop her though. Wood was all stake happy and Spike was stuck in la-la land. She had to stop Robin before he killed the incapacitated vampire.

Bolting in Spike’s direction, Buffy knocked Wood aside, the stake in his hand clattering as it slid across the floor. Crouching in front of Spike, she reached out to him, to see if he was alright. What she got was not what she had been expecting.

The vampire jolted abruptly, as though he were being electrocuted from an internal source. Gaining a brief moment of consciousness, awareness returned to his previously blank gaze. A bellow ripped from his lips, his arms shooting out in front of him as he jumped to his feet, shoving an unprepared Buffy out of his way.

“No!”

Wood jumped into action, smacking Spike down again, thinking the vampire was attempting to resume his attack on the Slayer. Spike crashed to the cement floor, another ferocious snarl emanating from his throat though he remained in a motionless heap. Raising his stake up high, Robin readied himself to plunge the splintered piece of wood into the chest of the vampire who had taken his mother away from him so prematurely. At last he would have his vengeance.

“STOP!” Buffy screamed, colliding into Wood with every ounce of strength she had left.

The sound of Buffy’s screaming had Spike suddenly hyperventilating, his chest frantically heaving unnecessarily as memories inundated his mind.





“Stop!!!”

With one final slayer-strength powered shove, Buffy sent Spike hurtling through the air, his flight quickly impeded by the protruding bathroom sink. She managed to her feet, gripping her robe closed; trying to salvage whatever sense of decency she had left.

Panting erratically, Spike also picked himself off the floor, his azure eyes incredulously wide as realization hit.

Buffy’s tear streaked face was contorted in a mixture of hurt and fury. The enraged words flew out of her mouth almost instantly. “Ask me again why I could never love you.”





With Robin momentarily out of commission, Buffy spun on her heels, dropping to the floor to check to see if Spike was okay. “Spike. C’mon snap out of it,” she urgently pleaded.

He didn’t respond. He couldn’t see her. It was another Buffy staring at him, disheveled and livid, her burning glare boring holes into his soul. And suddenly, as though he had blinked her away Buffy was gone, replaced instead by his demon faced mother. She stood there, her amber eyes staring at him with the same hatred and disgust he had seen in Buffy’s.




“There, there, precious. It will only hurt for a moment.”





Almost as soon as the vision of his demonic mother voiced those words, Spike helplessly watched as she disintegrated into dust.

“I’m sorry,” he croakily whispered, the prophylactic stone induced fog lifting from his brain. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

Buffy gave him a confused look. “It’s okay Spike. It’ not your fau—umph!”

Distracted by trying to help Spike, she hadn’t felt Wood approaching. Using the element of surprise to his advantage, he forcefully knocked her out of the way, stake back in his hand. His mind was made up. With the adrenaline pumping, he was convinced that Spike needed to be eliminated.

Though Robin was fast, he still couldn’t compete with a woozy slayer’s swiftness. From the floor Buffy retaliated, kicking his legs out from right under him. Wood landed on the floor with a loud thump, but he appeared unfazed, getting back on his feet in no time. Buffy recovered just as fast, firmly situating herself between Spike and the danger that presented itself as the Sunnydale High Principal.

“Get away from him,” she ordered, the unspoken warning blatant in her unyielding voice.

“Move out of my way,” Wood obstinately responded, refusing to budge. In his opinion, he knew better than Buffy. He hadn’t been tricked by Spike’s little remorseful act.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Buffy ominously remarked as her fist shot out, delivering a solid right hook to Robin’s face.

Staggering back, Wood stared in astonishment as he tentatively touched his now bloodied lip. Standing straight, he dropped his hand to his side as his face returned to its grim expression. “Why are you protecting him?”

“Here’s the more important question. Who made you judge, jury and executioner?” Buffy scornfully inquired, her stance defensive in anticipation of another attack.

“He’s compromising the mission,” Wood accusingly pointed at the sullen vampire sitting on the floor behind her, who at the moment was still repeating his guilt ridden mantras of ‘I’m sorry’s. “Are you willing to compromise the world for one vampire?”

Buffy’s demeanor remained unchanged. Wood had a lot of nerve to use ‘the mission’ as an excuse to get rid of Spike. She knew that he had found his window of opportunity to exact his revenge. She’d be damned if she let him go through it.

“This has nothing to do with the mission and you know it,” she bitterly retorted.

Wood shook his head. “He’s a vampire, Buffy. His sole purpose to for existing is bloodshed. One of these days, he’s going to destroy you just like he did my mother.”

“I’m sorry.”

The unexpected words were spoken in a much louder voice, an element of consciousness audible in the tone. Two sets of surprised gazes looked to Spike, who seemed to have returned to the land of the sane, no longer lost in his own hallucinated inner battle. Slowly, he rose up off the floor, his gaze locked on Buffy, completely dismissing Wood’s presence.

Robin took advantage of the distraction. Pushing Buffy out of the way, he aimed his stake for the vampire’s chest. The stake did not pierce the heart. It didn’t even break the skin. He didn’t even have the chance to lower his arm.

Like a bolt a lightning, Spike’s hand caught Wood by the wrist, painfully wrenching the weapon from out of his grasp. Robin wasn’t given time to holler at his potentially broken wrist. Spike’s other hand clamped around the other man’s neck; his grip near choking as he spun his would be assassin around, throwing him up against the cold hard wall. Wood gasped for air, desperately clutching at the hand wrapped around his neck, trying to relieve the unyielding pressure against his trachea. Spike pushed him up higher and harder against the wall, making the tips of Wood’s toes barely graze the floor.

“Never touch her,” Spike coldly commanded, his eyes flaring with rage, hints of the demonic amber trickling into the sharp blue of his irises.

“Spike,” Buffy calmly called to him, gently placing a hand on his rigid arm.

He turned his head to look at her, fury still blinding him. It all dissipated when he saw the weariness in her eyes. Nodding, he let go of Wood, letting the man fall.

Robin broke out into a fit of coughs, his lungs burning as he inhaled large gulps of air. “See what I mean,” he managed to rasp out, standing back up while holding his assaulted throat. “He was going to kill me.”

Spike snorted. “Hardly. I’d have a right mind to, though, seein’ as how you had the gall to manhandle Buffy.”

“Spike, let’s just drop this,” Buffy tiredly beseeched, slipping her small hand in his. The vampire turned toward the Slayer, about ready to walk away when Wood suddenly began to speak.

“I didn’t mean to hurt Buffy but she can’t see what’s staring her in the face. You’re a monster Spike and you always will be,” he explained spitefully.

Spike pivoted on his heels and stormed back to Wood, getting right up in the dear ole principal’s face. “Since the moment I met you, you’ve been pushin’ my buttons. I don’t know what you’ve got against me but piss the fuck off!” he growled threateningly.

“His mother was a slayer, Spike,” Buffy whispered sorrowfully. Sighing, she gazed sympathetically into Spike’s perplexed eyes. “The one you killed in New York.”

Spike heard what she was telling him but he didn’t cringe or flinch at the news. He didn’t show much of any reaction really. He simply looked over at Wood with an impassive acceptance. “Killed a lot of people’s mothers,” he gruffly stated, numbing guilt underlying his cavalier attitude. “Even my own.”

Buffy said nothing in response to Spike’s confession to matricide. Not because she’d been rendered completely speechless by shock but simply because there was nothing truly left to say. Sure she was a little thrown by the revelation but like all of Spike’s prior sins, it didn’t change how she felt. The devastated glances he threw in her direction were reason enough to not hold his past transgressions against him. Buffy slipped her hand back into his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. She smiled warmly when he stared at her, his expression conveying a blend of relief and awe.

“I guess the guilt clause was left out of that whole soul contract of yours, huh?” Robin snidely criticized, angered by Buffy’s offhanded reaction to Spike’s admission.

“What is it that you want from me?” Spike bitingly asked. “An apology? Some kind of grand gesture with me fallin’ on my own bleedin’ stake? Well guess again, mate, ‘cos it ain’t gonna happen,” he mercilessly stated. “Yeah, I was the one that did in your mum, but at the time she was the slayer and I was a vampire.”

Wood sneered in disgust. “So that just makes what you did okay?”

“Never said that, mate,” Spike retorted. “But at least your mum died for somethin’. She was a warrior and in the end, she died tryin’ to make the world a better place. A better place for you.”

Wood remained silent, unsure how he should respond to what Spike had just told him. He didn’t want to listen to the vampire’s logic. He wanted to cling to the belief that Spike was evil and that he should be killed, even if only to calm the searing need for retribution in his heart. Yet he couldn’t disregard what Spike had said. He couldn’t ignore the truth behind the words. The restless feelings of payback were beginning to cool down as Wood’s own guilt over his actions consumed him. All he could think of now was how disappointed his mother would’ve been in him.

Spike continued with his melancholic rant, the elusive remorse Wood had commented upon earlier now flooding into the vampire’s dull blue eyes. “Least she died for a reason. Her death served a purpose. Least you weren’t the reason why your mum bit the dust,” he hoarsely uttered, choking back a sob as unshed tears filled his red rimmed eyes. “So yeah, I’m not weepy ‘bout offin’ your mother but that’s ‘cos I got enough grievin’ to do over my own.” Spike spun on his feet, turning his back to Wood, not wanting to show the other man the distraught condition he was in.

Robin eyes grew wide as he observed the vampire. He could barely put a coherent thought together as he watched a single tear escape the vampire’s defenses. Wood had never seen Spike with his guard down. He’d never witnessed the vampire so vulnerable. With his beliefs concerning Spike’s evilness now shattered, Wood let the stake he had held in his hand drop to the floor. With the sound of wood on cement echoing throughout the basement, Robin ran up the stairs, unable to deal with what he had just experienced. Not stopping once he reached the main floor, he bolted out of the house, needing the air and alone time to figure his shit out.

The moment Spike had sensed Wood’s departure he had sunk down on the cot, burying his face in his hands. After a few moments, he could not stifle the raging emotions tearing at his heart anymore. Sobs began to wrack through his body as his palms became damp with the tears that he could no longer suppress.

Suddenly, he felt himself wrapped in a gentle, comforting embrace. Lifting his bleary gaze to the owner of the two arms tenderly holding him, Spike couldn’t stop his lip from quivering as Buffy looked at him with such compassion and warmth. Burying his face in the crook of her healing neck, Spike allowed the guilt he had been repressing for so long to break free.

All Buffy could do was to soothingly stroke his platinum head and whisper reassuring words in his ear in the hopes that after this purging of emotions, the First would relinquish its hold over Spike.



A/N: Some of the dialogue was taken from Lies My Parents Told Me and Seeing Red

Thanx to Darkezza for the superb beta job. Couldn't do it without you Joy!
Chapter Twelve-Nothing Ever Stays in the Past by Aurora
Author's Notes:
Hey guys. Here's the next chap. Sorry for the long periods between updates but Christmas break was anything but a break and school is yet again taking up most of my time. Therefore, little time to write. It doesn't mean though that I've abandonned my fics. Thank you again for all the reviews and support. This chapter is dedicated to Darkezza who's an awesome beta.
Chapter Twelve: Nothing Ever Stays in the Past


The door leading out from the Summers’s kitchen to the backyard swung open as a crowd of physically exhausted Potentials swarmed into the house. Giles, who had been the last to enter, couldn’t help but grin smugly as he watched the group of tired teenaged girls trudge along to bed, too drained to protest the early curfew.

Locking the back door, he mentally patted himself on the back. It might have been ages since he had put his Watcher skills to use but he was anything but rusty. The aching groans and embittered mutterings coming from the girls as they set up their sleeping bags in the living room, eager to get to their remotely comfortable slumber, was testament alone to his skills as one hell of a Watcher.

Giles couldn’t remember the last time Buffy had truly needed any real guidance. A sad smile crossed his face. She really didn’t need him anymore and for that he honestly couldn’t be prouder. Hopefully it would be some time before Buffy arrived to that realization herself. For now, Giles was purely content playing whatever role she had set aside for him in her life, even if it was simply filling the position of surrogate father. He could live with that.

Andrew and Xander were quietly sitting at the breakfast bar, jointly munching on a bag of chips. “How were the recruits?” Xander asked with a mouthful of snack food.

Giles slipped into one of the chairs next to the young men. “The girls demonstrate much promise,” he optimistically stated. “Mind you, their strengths and agilities are no where near that of a newly chosen slayer, however, I did find that their combat knowledge and their enthusiasm to be quite refreshing.”

“You can thank Spike for that,” Andrew piped up. “He’s been like their Obi Wan,” he added, his eyes taking on a dreamy, glazed over quality. “A little reluctant at first but with a little time and effort, he was able to show them their first real taste of being warriors of the light.”

“Uhh…yes…so I’ve heard. More or less,” Giles replied, uncertain how to respond to the boy’s exaggerated admiration of Spike. “I knew he was assisting Buffy with the training of the Potentials but I was not expecting this level of dedication on his part.”

Andrew turned on his trusty camcorder and presented it to the Watcher. “If you wanna see what he’s already taught them, I got it on tape,” Andrew offered.

“Thank you,” Giles said as he took the camera, his eyes focusing on the device’s small screen.

Getting up from his seat, Andrew reached over the Watcher’s shoulder to press a button. “Just gotta rewind.”

Giles watched patiently as the images played in reverse, trying not to pay attention to the fact that Andrew was still looming over his shoulder. The annoyance instantly faded when he caught sight of a familiar figure on the tiny monitor racing out of what looked to be the front door.

“Wait a minute,” he spoke up apprehensively, playing around with the camcorder in his hands, trying to get the rewinding images to play.

“Oh, that footage still needs to be edited. It’s from this afternoon,” Andrew informed an uninterested Giles.

The image playing before him was that of a group of Potentials listening closely to Dawn as she lectured on about the histories and traditions of slayers. Dawn paused for a moment as the unexpected sounds of the slammed basement door and rapid stomps of footsteps loudly echoed throughout the house. The camera turned suddenly in the direction of the front door, just in time to catch Robin Wood dashing out of the Summer’s home.

“What’s up Giles?” Xander concernedly asked, seeing the solemn expression on the older man’s face.

“Robin left?” Giles asked in grave seriousness.

“It was weird,” Andrew answered. “Dawn was in the middle of her lesson when all of a sudden we see Principal Wood sprinting out of the house.”

“And you thought it best not to inform me?” the Watcher asked, clearly irritated.

Andrew paled slightly at the older man’s admonishment. “Uhh...we didn’t think anything was wrong. I figured he just needed some air. Things have been kind of tense lately,” he tried to defensively explain. “And Dawn didn’t tell you either,” he childishly added, trying to displace the blame on the Slayer’s little sister.

Giles exhaled with annoyance. From what he had seen on the camcorder, it would appear that Wood had slipped into the basement and then, sometime later, had fled from the house like a bat out of hell. Giles could only deduce that some altercation must’ve taken place between Buffy, Spike and the over zealous Principal. It would, however, require further investigating on his part.

The Watcher placed the video camera back on the counter. Getting up from his seat, he moved toward the basement door.

“Giles, where are you going?” Xander worriedly inquired.

“I believe that unbeknownst to all of us Robin Wood decided to pay Spike and Buffy a little visit,” Giles finally enlightened the two confused young men. “I need to check and see what damage has been done.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Xander openly doubted. “I mean…” He pointed to the healing gash on his forehead.

“I’ll take my chances,” the Watcher somberly responded. He wasn’t so much concerned with Spike’s unpredictable mental state as much as the possibility that Buffy may at the moment be weeping into a pile of ashes.

His trek out of the kitchen was abruptly cut short by the unexpected sound of ringing. With one last uncertain glance to the basement door, Giles picked up the phone.

“Summer’s residence,” he automatically answered, somewhat anxious to get off of the telephone to check on his Slayer.

A familiar voice greeted him. “Ah, Willow good to finally hear from you,” the Watcher said into the receiver, glancing over to Xander whose ears suddenly perked at the mention of his best friend’s name. “How was L.A.? Were you successful in assisting Ang—”

Giles paused as the voice on the other line abruptly cut him off, his brow furrowing as Willow began to speak at a rapid pace.

The room was dead silent, yet the witch’s frantic words were still muffled to Xander’s ears. Even though he couldn’t understand what was being said, he recognized the tone, which worried him since it was one Willow only used when she was really freaked. And if all mighty Wicca was scared then there really was something to be worried about.

“A girl? The hospital?” Giles repeated what he had just been told. “Alright. I’ll inform Buffy. Just get back as soon as the doctors inform you that the girl’s condition has stabilized,” he instructed. “Please hurry…uh…Yes, Willow?”

Giles listened intently as Willow went on to explain a bit of hesitant news. His expression gradually shifted from perplexed to bewildered to finally settling on distressed. Pulling the specs from off his face, the Watcher pinched the bridge of his nose. “Now I might have heard you incorrectly, Willow, but do you mind repeating who it is exactly that you are bringing back from L.A.?”

Xander strained to hear the barely audible response, but he simply couldn’t make out whose name had been uttered through the phone’s earpiece. He would have to get the details from Giles later.

Giles nodded as he put his glasses back on. “That’s what I thought you said,” he sighed, nearing vexation. “Yes, I’ll inform her. See you soon, Willow, and do be cautious. Who knows how many more servants of the First are out there.”

The Watcher warily hung up the phone.

“What did Willow say?” Xander restlessly inquired.

Giles turned to his gaze back on the basement door. Perhaps Wood’s intrusion had been harmless and Buffy had been successful in assisting Spike with the deactivation of his trigger. The Watcher could only hope that was the case because his Slayer would need all her wits about her for what was to come. Actually more like who was to come, really.

“Willow came across a girl who was apparently attacked by a subservient of the First,” Giles vaguely answered Xander. “We’re also to have a guest,” he ambiguously added. “I need a scotch.”



**********


Buffy ran her fingers through the short hairs at the nape of Spike’s neck, his head resting gently on her shoulder. They had remained there, nearly motionless, since the confrontation with Wood for little over an hour. Spike’s sobs had eventually quieted and now the two were in a state of calm, silent comfort.

Then suddenly, without any real rhyme or reason, Spike pulled away from Buffy, surprisingly letting out a harsh chuckle. “You gonna hold this bout of girlishness against me too, luv?”

Buffy stared curiously at the vampire, closely observing the way his head was bowed in shame. She tentatively placed her hand on his knee, which caused him to slowly lift his gaze to hers. She smiled to reassure him. “This doesn’t count.”

Spike shrugged. “Even so, my sulking must be getting a little old,” he self-deprecatingly muttered.

“I don’t know,” Buffy replied, her tone light as she laid her head on Spike’s chest. “I kinda like being able to see you this way.”

The vampire pulled away once again. “Gee, thanks pet. Good to know my constant sniveling brings you some kind of morbid gratification.”

Buffy sighed in frustration. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh really? ‘Cos for a second I thought you just said that you like seeing me all teary eyed and weepy,” he incredulously accused.

The Slayer groaned. “What I was trying to say was that I like that you show me this side of you, you dope.”

“Oh.”

“And you shouldn’t feel like your burdening me or that you’re a total wuss because all your so called ‘sniveling’ just means you trust me,” she carefully explained, her glistening hazel eyes focusing on the spellbound look on Spike’s face. “You’re the only one who’s truly seen me at my worst, Spike. I guess even in my darkest of moments, I trusted you.”

“So what’s all this trusting between us signify then?” Spike hoarsely wondered.

Buffy kissed him gently on the lips. “No more lies. No more secrets,” she whispered. “We can put all the horrible things we’ve done to each other behind us and finally be equals in this, Spike.”

Spike was utterly dumbfounded. Could he really let go of his guilt? He had always considered himself beneath Buffy, even though he wouldn’t have admitted to it before the soul had hammered away at his confidence. As much as he wished to be Buffy’s equal, to one day be considered worthy of her love, he knew that he never really would. He was a vampire after all, his hands forever tainted with the blood of the innocent. How could he ever be seen in the same light as Buffy?

Spike began to shake his head. “We’ll never be equals, luv,” he firmly disagreed, his voice filled with devastation.

The Slayer lifted her brow unbelievingly. “Didn’t I just say it’s all in the past?” she asked, aggravated by Spike’s stubborn self-loathing. “I’ve already forgiven you for what you did, William,” she stated softly.

He hadn’t said it outright but Buffy knew Spike was still dwelling on the incident last year in the bathroom. It was why he refused to see himself as the good man she knew he was.

“And what if I haven’t forgiven myself?” he sadly posed the not so hypothetical question. “What then?”

Buffy’s frowned. “Does this have anything to do with what the stone showed you?”

Spike grudgingly nodded. “It might.”

“Spike, what did you see?” she asked uneasily. “One moment you were just fine and then the next you’re biting me, which you’ve never…And then you’d switch between uttering complete psycho babble and going all space cadet on me,” Buffy slightly ranted, feeling herself getting flustered as her throat closed with emotion.

“I saw my mum,” he miserably told her.

Buffy expected as much considering Spike’s unexpected confession to matricide hours earlier. Wood had accused the vampire of being so callous in his lack of remorse over the killing of the New York based slayer all those years ago. It wasn’t that Spike was unremorseful about murdering Robin’s mother but he had another, more heart wrenching grief to contend with. It must’ve been that guilt which the First had used to keep Spike under Its thumb.

“And I saw you,” Spike bleakly added.

Buffy’s suspicions were confirmed. The First had also used Spike’s guilt where she was concerned to control him too. She wasn’t surprised by this admission yet there was one thing that still confused her. “How am I linked to your mom?”

Spike bowed his head in disgrace, unable to look Buffy in the eye. “‘Cos I hurt her like I hurt you,” he said gruffly. “I tainted you and like I tainted her, with my presence in your lives. I…I violated the both of you.”

Buffy was taken aback by Spike’s last statement. He had warned her once that she never truly knew the real him, that she had no clue of the evils he was capable of committing. He had told her but she had refused to believe him. Now she was faced with the possibility that Spike might have raped his mother before he had killed her. The thought of such a crime naturally repulsed her, making her stomach involuntarily churn. She prayed she was simply jumping to conclusions.

“Spike, what did you do?” she hesitantly asked, her heart loudly drumming in her chest.

“I made her like me,” he dejectedly whispered. “I made her a vampire and when she turned against me, I killed her…again.”

Buffy felt a little ashamed to feel relieved that Spike’s reference to the violation of his mother was in regards to making her a vampire and not in the literal sense she had first interpreted. She knew there was still more left to Spike’s catharsis but he wouldn’t divulge unless she pushed him, which she did with her next question.

“Why would you turn her, Spike?” she steadily asked in her most non-judgmental tone of voice.

The idea of a vampire returning to his home the first night he rises from his grave and slaughtering his family wasn’t a concept lost on Buffy. She’d seen it countless of times before and even Angel had done it himself. You could say that it had become an expectation, perhaps even a stereotype, for vampires to first kill their loved ones, to do away with all remnants of their mortal existences before setting off on their new lives of mayhem and bloodshed. Buffy didn’t expect anything less from ruthless demons. It was why Spike’s declaration of siring his mother had been unexpected. It was a rarity. Vampires wanted to be rid of reminders of their humanity, not hold onto to them for an eternity.

“She was sickly,” he croakily began to clarify. “Consumption…what you would call tuberculosis nowadays. I just wanted to make her better.” He glimpsed up at her, his clear blue eyes pleading for understanding.

Buffy released a shaky breath. “When my mom got sick, I thought someone was out to get me through her. So I did a spell to find out what was really wrong. It had something to do with pulling away curtains,” she said quietly, noticing Spike nod his head, indicating that he knew of the mentioned incantation.

Buffy continued. “It’s when I first found out about Dawn being the Key, but it didn’t tell me anything about mom. Even when evil mystical vengeance checked out, I still tried to find some kind of spell to fix her. I was desperate because the truth that my mom was dying and there was nothing I could do to stop it was just too unbearable.”

Buffy slipped into Spike’s side, wrapping her arm around his waist. “Had there been some kind of anti-brain tumor spell somewhere, I would have used it. Despite Giles and Tara and everyone else telling me it wouldn’t be right, I would’ve used it,” she mournfully stated. “I would’ve done anything to save my mom.”

Spike lifted his head slowly until his line of sight met hers. His eyes were shining with unshed tears as he looked at her with a blend of adoration, relief and thankfulness. The vampire wrapped his arms back around the petite blonde next to him, pulling her into a fierce hug. Buffy smiled into his shoulder as she happily returned the embrace.

“She wasn’t my mum anymore,” Spike allowed himself to continue, Buffy’s understanding and acceptance making it easier for him to reopen old wounds. “When I turned her, I set loose a demon, and it tore into me. For the longest time, I believed the horrible things she’d said,” he rasped, tightening his hold on the Slayer.

“But it was the demon talking, not her. I realize that now. My mother loved me with all her heart,” he confidently remarked before adding. “The guilt is still there, but I’ve made peace with it. The First can’t use it against me anymore.”

Buffy slowly pulled out of Spike’s arms, taking his hand in hers instead. “You said that you saw me, Spike, when you were under the stone’s spell, but you don’t have to tell me what was shown to you, because I have a pretty good idea. Just tell me that you were able to make peace with that guilt too,” Buffy softly entreated.

“I…I think I have. I don’t know,” Spike doubted tensely. “I meant what I said. I haven’t forgiven myself for what I did. The guilt is still there, like a ball of fire in my heart.”

“But can the First still use it to control you?” she urgently inquired.

Spike released a trembling breath. “The monster I turned my mum into had in not so many words told me that I wasn’t worth loving. A century’s worth of distractions made it easy to forget her words but they were always there, beneath the surface somewhere,” he enlightened, pain flashing in his cerulean eyes. “But that night…when I almost…to you…I knew she was right.”

“Spike…” Buffy began to object, her hand squeezing his.

“No,” he firmly refused to listen to any more of her protestations. “She was right. It’s why I got the soul, so that I could be one step closer to being the man that’s deserving of your love. I wanna be that man, Buffy.”

“You are,” she asserted.

“No. I’m not,” Spike miserably contradicted. “But I realize something now.”

“Yeah? What’s that?” Buffy hesitantly wondered.

“Even though I don’t deserve your love, Buffy, I still have it,” he whispered, glimpsing tentatively at Buffy’s face.

He wasn’t certain how she would react to his statement. Spike knew Buffy was hesitant to tell him how she felt but he knew. After all they had been through since she had come back from that portal, how couldn’t he think Buffy loved him?

Spike didn’t let her respond. “I know you haven’t said it but I see it everyday, even in just the little things,” he began to elaborate, feeling as though he has to defend his previous statement.

“When you’re lyin’ in my arms at night; when you kiss me; when you laugh at my piss poor attempts at cheerin’ you up; when you stand by me; when you defend me; when I tell you I love you and you look at me like no one has ever spoken those words to you; those are the moments when I know you love me,” he hoarsely stated.

“I’ll always feel like I’m not good enough for you, pet, but the First can’t play me with that card anymore. It can’t turn my guilt over what I did and my fear that you’ll never love me because of it against me because I can see now that in spite of all I’ve done, you love me,” Spike finished, his words certain, though his demeanor screamed with old and new insecurities.

For a few excruciating moments Buffy remained completely silent. When she didn’t reply, Spike grew concerned, ready to take back everything he had just said. He wasn’t given the chance.

“The trigger, does it still work?” Buffy evenly asked.

Spike exhaled, half relieved, half disappointed by the deliberate disregard of his heartfelt declaration in her response. “Dunno.”

“Why don’t you sing the song,” Buffy gently suggested.

Spike gave her a quirk of his scarred brow. “Don’t you think I’ve made enough of an ass out of myself for today, luv?”

Buffy gazed at Spike with lighthearted annoyance. “C’mon. I’ve heard you sing before.”

Spike couldn’t help but smirk at the memory. “Yeah, well, wasn’t like it was voluntary. If it hadn’t been for that tap dancin’ ponce of a demon, I would’ve never belted out a tune around the lot of you.”

“You were good,” Buffy reassured. “Your voice was all deep and rough,” she huskily added, her cheeks burning slightly when she caught sight of the smug look Spike was giving her.

The vampire smiled slyly at the compliment before his low baritone voice broke through the silence. “Early one morning, just as the sun was shining, I heard a maid sing in the valley below. ‘Oh, don't deceive me. Oh, never leave me. How could you use a poor maiden so?’”

“Guess Giles’s 'hunk of rubble' actually worked, huh?” she cheerfully remarked, using Spike’s own skeptical words against him.

Spike’s smile grew. He had passed the test. He was free. “That it did,” he minimally replied.

Buffy’s attention shifted from the vampire to the stairway which led from the basement to the main floor of the house. She wasn’t sure how long they had been down there, but she knew that it was time to head back up.

“Spike, are you gonna be okay?” she wondered, looking for a bit of reassurance herself.

“Yeah, pet. ‘m gonna be just fine,” Spike promised, his azure eyes never looking as bright as they did at that very moment.

“Good because I really should check on Xander. You nearly knocked him out with all you bed throwing,” Buffy mildly chastised.

Spike scoffed, unaffected by her attempts at making him feel bad for clobbering Xander with the cot a few hours earlier.

“Whelp deserves it,” he retorted, his tone unforgiving. “The way I see it, it was simply karma takin’ into affect. Was poetic justice, really, him being walloped by the very same bed he sullied,” he reasoned unapologetically.

Taking one long dramatic sniff of the cot he was sitting on, Spike grimaced. “Still reeks of him and the demon girl.”

Buffy’s face scrunched at the vampire’s last statement. “Ewww,” she whimpered, jumping off the defiled bed. “You mean Xander and Anya had sex on that?” she asked in bewilderment, pointing at the now offensive mattress.

Spike nodded, inwardly laughing at the look of revulsion on her face.

Buffy suddenly paled. “Was that before or after I had that nap on it with you?” she fretfully inquired.

“Before,” Spike curtly answered, his own distaste for the situation evident in his expression. You think people could at least respect him enough not to shag on his bed.

“Oh gross!” the Slayer exclaimed in horror, shuddering in disgust and furiously wiping her hands on her denim clad legs.

“Tell me about it,” Spike bitterly said. “Believe me, heightened sense of smell is a definite disadvantage in these sorts of circumstances.”

“I need a shower. A very, very hot shower,” Buffy announced.

Images of Buffy’s nude body covered in soapy suds involuntarily popped into Spike’s head, but he quickly shook them off. No point in torturing himself over the momentarily unattainable, though he wouldn’t have minded celebrating his newly restored freedom with a good old shag in the shower.

Spike paused briefly when he realized that he could think of sex and Buffy in the same thought without some internal form of reprimand. The guilt was still there, strong as ever, but something else was there that he’d never felt before. Hope. Hope that one day, when they were ready, he and Buffy could at last have a healthy sexual relationship. It wasn’t a guarantee but it was enough.

Getting up off of the cot, Spike took hold of Buffy’s hand, lacing his fingers with hers as he headed toward the stairs. “How ‘bout you sneak on up and take that shower of yours. I’ll stay behind and sacrifice myself to the barrage of questions that’re most likely waitin’ for us upstairs. I’ll make my way up to bed when ‘m done,” he generously proposed.

“Just don’t take too long,” she perkily ordered. “It’s been a long day and I can’t sleep if you’re not there with me.”

Kissing her lightly on the temple, Spike whispered, “Know what you mean, luv.”

Walking hand in hand, the couple ventured up the stairs, ready for whatever third degree they were about to face. Buffy could only assume that when Wood had fled the basement, he had also left the house, which would without a doubt spark a multitude of questions. Everyone residing in the house would want to know if it was now safe to be around Spike and Buffy was also expecting some fevered remarks concerning the healing bite wounds on her neck. Glancing over at Spike, she was somewhat put at ease by his composed and confident demeanor. If everything else went to hell, she’d at least have him by her side. That much she was sure.

Spike pushed open the basement door, permitting them entrance into the main hallway. Buffy wasn’t surprised by the group congregated there, if anything she was amazed that all the SITs hadn’t joined in as well.

It was only when she noticed that everyone’s backs were turned that she realized something was going on. What could’ve sidetracked everyone’s attention away from her and Spike? Was Willow back?

Pushing through the small crowd, Buffy stopped dead in her tracks when she finally caught sight of the person who had captured everyone’s interest. It wasn’t going to be a joyful reunion, that much Buffy was certain.

“Hey, B.”




A/N: Some dialogue taken from Lies My Parents Told Me
Chapter Thirteen-If You Don't Know, I'm Not Going to Tell You by Aurora
Author's Notes:
This chpater is now betaed thanx to the wonderful Darkezza. (Hope you feel better Joy!) Thnx again for all the wonderful reviews.
Chapter Thirteen: If You Don’t Know, I’m Not Going to Tell You


“Someone want to tell me what this convicted felon is doing in my house?” Buffy demanded to know, her voice wavering with stifled fury, glaring venomously at the brunette who stood awkwardly before her.

After a few moments of silence, Giles cleared his throat. “Willow brought Faith back with her from L.A.”

Buffy turned her head to stare disbelievingly at the redheaded witch, wondering what the hell her best friend must’ve been thinking to bring Faith to Sunnydale.

“Willow. Giles,” Buffy said as calmly as she could, “Upstairs. Now.”

Not waiting for a response, Buffy let go of Spike’s hand and stormed up the stairs. She was immediately followed by an anxious Wicca and a contemplative Watcher.

The vampire retreated back into the dark corner of the hall, quietly leaning up against the staircase, watching those left behind, namely Andrew, Xander and the newly arrived slayer. He wasn’t feeling very social at the moment, having had his fill of fun for the night. The whole cathartic experience of having that hallucinogenic stone shoved up into his brain had exhausted him. He’d been really looking forward to going to bed, to falling asleep with Buffy in his arms. Too bad nothing ever went as planned.

“So Faith,” Xander uneasily approached the wayward slayer, careful not to get too close. “How was the big house?” he asked, feeling as though someone should break the uncomfortable silence.

Faith shrugged nonchalantly. “Crowded,” she briefly replied.

Andrew drew closer to her, his camcorder already in hand. “I was wondering if I could possibly get an interview,” he excitedly requested. “What do you think about, ‘Faith: The Slayer Who Lost Her Way’?” Andrew asked, holding his hand up in the air, waving it from side to side to exaggerate the title.

Faith stared at him incredulously. “Is this kid for real?”

“Now Andrew,” Xander said, laughing nervously as he pulled the geek away from the irritated slayer. “Why don’t we give Faith some space, huh?”

“Oh. Okay,” Andrew conceded. “You’re probably really tired from your trip anyway,” he added, having convinced himself that her sour disposition was most likely due to fugitive-on-the-run grumpiness and not his movie making enthusiasm.

“Here’s an idea, Andrew,” Xander chimed in a little too eagerly. “Why don’t you find a place for Faith to bunk for the night?”

“I bet Anya wouldn’t mind sharing Dawn’s room with Faith,” the boy casually suggested. “If anyone could handle an ex-con, it’s a woman who spent the past millennia with vengeance as her M.O.”

Xander blanched at the idea. The last thing he wanted was for his ex-fiancé to share a room with the once homicidal slayer who he had taken his virginity. He’d either find one of them a mangled corpse in the morning or even worse, they’d bond over their one commonality. Him.

“I don’t think that’ll work. That room’s already pretty full,” he lamely rejected the suggestion.

“I dunno, I bet if we tie her up, we could find some space for her in my closet,” an unexpected voice sounded from up the stairs.

All heads shot up, their surprised gazes falling upon Dawn as she made her way down the stairs. She had been awake this whole time, having decided to stay up until she heard the customary sounds of Buffy and Spike packing it in for the night. She hadn’t been able to get to sleep until she knew they were both okay. That and Anya’s foghorn of a snore could rival that of any hibernating bear.

Dawn, however, had never heard the reassuring banter that usually accompanied the couple’s trek to bed. Instead she had picked up on someone storming past her room. When she had opened her bedroom door a smidgen of the way to peek out into the hallway, she’d spotted Giles and Willow stepping into Buffy’s room just as the door was slowly closing behind them. With Spike no where in sight, Dawn immediately knew something was up.

Naturally she went to investigate what all the commotion was about. Staring intently at the brunette slayer at the bottom of the stairs, Dawn had her answer. Faith was back.

“Check it out. Brat’s all woman-sized now,” the Slayer teasingly commented.

Dawn crossed her arms over her pink pajama clad chest. “Shouldn’t you be rotting away in some jail cell?” she maliciously inquired.

“And she’s grown to be so much like her big sis,” Faith sardonically observed.

“Huh,” Dawn scoffed. “Does that mean you’re gonna try to kill me too?” she asked, glaring menacingly at the slayer.

Faith flinched slightly at the teen’s scathing remark. “Guess I deserve that.”

“No, you deserve worse,” Dawn bit back before turning her attention to an awkwardly mute Xander. “Does she have to stay here?” she asked, purposefully talking about Faith as though she weren’t in the room.

Xander released a worn out sigh. “Yeah, she does.”

“Fine,” Dawn responded sharply. “But it’ll be a cold day in hell before she sleeps in my room.” And with that, the Slayer’s little sister proceeded to stomp back up the stairs.

On her way up, Dawn spotted Spike hiding in the shadows. She gave him an inquisitive quirk of the brow, which he responded with a wink and a smirk. Despite the high tensions that she’d left in her wake, Dawn traveled up the stairs with big smile on her face.

Xander scratched his head. “Uhhh…why don’t you take the couch,” he offered, pointing to the sofa that had been Andrew’s spot for the past few nights.

“Hey!” the ex-Trio member protested. “Where am I supposed to sleep?”

Xander shrugged. “There’s an empty cot in the basement,” he retorted.

Andrew huffed and gave his most petulant pout. “Why can’t the wanted fugitive get the cot?”

“Because as much as Faith would probably love to spend another night surrounded by cement walls, I think the polite thing to do would be to offer her the couch,” Xander explained matter-of-factly.

“This is exactly what happened to Sam when Frodo fell for Gollum’s whole redemption act. And do you know what happened? Middle Earth was almost lost!” Andrew heatedly argued.

Xander tilted his head back to look exasperatedly up at the ceiling. “Do you even think before you open your mouth?”

“I’ll just take the basement, alright?” Faith interrupted, tired of all the trouble her sudden arrival was causing.

“Great,” Andrew said cheerfully. “But we’re still on for that exclusive interview, right?” he asked the Slayer anxiously as he started to head off in the direction of the living room.

Faith rolled her eyes. “Sure thing, Barbara Walters.”

Andrew paused for a few moments at the supposed insult, giving Faith a pondering purse of the lips. “I’d like to think my style’s a little more cinematic, a little more documentary and not so journalistic, but still totally aggressive. I’d say it’s kinda like Ron Howard meets Michael Moore but with Peter Jackson’s attention to detail.”

The Slayer stared at the nerd, unsure how to respond to his name dropping babble. “Uh huh.”

“I got fight sequences that are so Ang Lee and I’m not afraid to get down to the nitty gritty. Just ask Xander. I interviewed him and Anya a year after he left her at the altar,” he bragged. “Angst you could cut with a knife. You should watch it some time.”

Faith, somewhat taken aback by the news, glanced over at Xander, whose expression was a cross between that of fatigue and looking as though he was ready to beat Andrew within an inch of his life. She thought it best to drop the subject entirely. “Look, I’m real beat. How’s about we hold off on the movie screening until after the apocalypse.”

Andrew nodded sympathetically. “I understand. There’s little time to spare in the fight against Evil. Well goodnight,” he waved, heading off to get to sleep.

Xander rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks for not encouraging him,” he said gratefully.

Faith continued to play it nonchalant. “No biggie. He was kinda gettin’ on my nerves too.”

Xander smiled at the comment. “You better get used to it. He’s like this twenty-four seven,” he informed her.

“I can handle the Spielberg wannabe,” she good-naturedly replied.

“Wait a week. You’ll be itching to smother him in his sleep like the rest of us,” he said, grinning as he grabbed his coat, pulling his car keys from his pocket.

“You’re heading out?” she asked suspiciously.

“I’m going home to my much neglected apartment, which is currently one hundred percent teenage girl free,” he answered, clearly eager to get home and enjoy the peace and solitude.

“Free of any women for that matter,” Spike muttered under his breath.

Faith snorted as Xander chose to ignore the vampire’s affront to his virility. “If you need anything, just ask the Bleached Wonder over here,” he told the Slayer as he headed out the door. “Goodnight.”

Faith sighed as she waved goodbye. She might have just finished sharing a cordial moment with Xander but it was evident that he was dying to get as far from her as possible. By the reactions of those she had encountered since she had stepped into the Summers’s home, it was clear that time had not healed all wounds.

She was beginning to wonder if it would’ve been better if she’d simply stayed in L.A. Angel, when he had his soul, wasn’t one to judge her. Wes, who had turned into a major hottie in the time she’d been incarcerated, seemed to have forgiven her for torturing him a few years back. Working with Angel’s gang hadn’t been too bad either. They’d all been willing to bring her into the fold. Sure, Angel’s brat kid had been a pain in the ass at first, but at least they hadn’t made her feel like a complete pariah. At least they’d given her a chance.

“Whelp’s sure eager at gettin’ as far away from you as possible, luv,” Spike noted, his words reflecting her earlier thoughts.

Faith could only shrug. “I guess it’s just weird for him, being around me. Probably reminds him of the night I made him a man,” she cheekily stated.

Her casually naughty attitude was just a smokescreen though. She didn’t want anyone, let alone William the Bloody, to know how she truly felt. Although the taking of Xander’s virginity might’ve been a factor in his discomfort, Faith knew that when she was around he couldn’t help but remember all the horrible things she’d done to him and his friends. He could probably still feel her hands around his neck, how they could strangle every last breath from his body. The guy had plenty of reason to be edgy around her.

Spike quirked his brow upon hearing this latest tidbit concerning the whelp’s past. “Huh,” he uttered, not sounding too surprised or really impressed. “Guess that makes it official. The Glorified Brick Layer’s got a death wish when it comes to the courtin’ the opposite sex,” he commented, shaking his head slightly as he turned on his heel. “C’mon,” he said, gesturing to the kitchen with a flick of his head.

Faith followed quietly, still feeling kinda shaky about the vamp ahead of her. The last she remembered Spike had gotten himself implanted with a behavioral modification chip, making him pretty much harmless. She also distinctively remembered that he didn’t much like Buffy. Obviously things had changed since Faith had left Sunnydale.

Spike was pulling for the good guys now and it didn’t take a genius to spot how comfy he was at Buffy’s side. The hand holding had been a dead give away. Also, she could’ve sworn she’d seen fresh bite marks on Buffy’s neck. But that was impossible. As far as she knew Miss Tightly Wound would never throw down like that. Faith’s eyes had to have been playing tricks on her. Hell, she was still reeling from the fact that Buffy would even involve herself with a soulless vampire. Things had changed indeed.

Spike made a beeline for the fridge, pulling out two bottles of beer before taking a quick inventory of how many he had left. Satisfied that the girls were wise enough not to filch any of his beer, he handed one to Faith.

“Thanks,” she said with a hint of confusion.

If Spike was Buffy’s man, he had to know there was no love lost between the two slayers and he probably knew the reasons why. So if he knew what she’d done to his girl, why was he being all decent to her?

Spike continued to maneuver around the kitchen, grabbing his duster from off the kitchen counter. Moving to the back door, he asked, “Care for a smoke?”

“God yes,” Faith ardently admitted, trailing behind the vampire as he stepped onto the back porch.

Pulling out his pack of smokes from his pocket, he tossed it to Faith.

She eagerly pulled out a cigarette and placed it between her lips. Before she could even ask for a light Spike flicked open his once lost silver lighter.

He’d found it a few days back in Buffy’s room when he’d been searching her closet for weapons, in a box filled some of his old things and a few pictures he never knew she’d taken of him. Stumbling upon that collection of Spike paraphernalia provided him with a bit more insight into how Buffy felt for him. She wanted to remember him, to have proof that he was hers. It was just further evidence that Buffy did love him, even if she still couldn’t say it.

Faith leaned in, allowing the tip of the cigarette to enter the flame, pulling back when it started to glow orange. Sucking in and exhaling a deep breath of smoke, she sighed as the nicotine did its job in calming her nerves. “Thanks. I really needed that,” she said, handing back his pack of cigarettes.

Spike shrugged as he lit up a smoke of his own. “No problem,” he replied, twisting off the cap of his beer as he took a seat on the porch steps.

Faith mimicked his actions, opening her beer as she sat down next to the vampire. Taking a gulp, she sighed again. “You know a couple of months back I would’ve done anything for a few minutes alone with a good beer and a pack of smokes.”

“Better savor the moment then, Slayer. Far few instances in these parts to get a lil’ down time,” Spike genially replied, taking a swig of beer.

Faith blew out a stream of grey smoke as she stared at the vampire skeptically. “Okay, what gives?”

“Not sure I follow,” he responded, genuinely uncertain about what she was trying to call him on.

“C’mon. You’re totally going out of your way to be Mr. Hospitality when you should be giving me the brush off like everybody else,” she clarified accusingly. “So again I ask, what gives?”

Spike was ready to deny that he was doing her any favors but stopped himself short when it suddenly made sense to him as to why the bird would be so suspicious. He wasn’t being a prick about the fact that there was bad blood between her and his girl, and he wasn’t giving her the cold shoulder like the rest of the Scoobies. Spike was just hoping it would’ve all come off as indifference but apparently treating this girl like a human being was considered some great act of generosity.

So why was he extending the not so blatant olive branch to Faith? He wanted to say that he hadn’t the foggiest clue but he knew that would’ve been a bald faced lie. Spike was giving Faith the benefit of the doubt because no one had given it to him, because he saw much of himself in the Slayer. She was a woman who had committed a few unsavory crimes in her lifetime, who had turned to the dark side because she had felt abandoned by the world. And now that she has seen the error of her ways and has started on the road to redemption, those whose forgiveness she so desperately needs have already branded her as untrustworthy and, worse yet, as undeserving. It was as though history were repeating itself, though this time around Faith was playing the part of Spike.

The vampire shrugged. “Just know what it’s like to be the black sheep ‘round here.”

Faith smiled. “Thing is, you gotta still be part of the group to be considered the black sheep. Right now, I’d say I’m slowly working my way up from social outcast,” she joked, taking a sip of her beer. “But thanks, though, for cuttin’ me some slack,” she added seriously.

Spike took a draw from the cigarette pinched between his fingers. “It’s not like we ever met. I’ve got no real beef with you,” he reasoned.

“That’s not true,” Faith quickly disagreed.

Spike gave her a perplexed frown. “What’s not?”

“We have met,” she enlightened him.

Spike shook his head in dismissal. “I’m not too old that I would’ve forgotten crossin’ paths with you, Slayer.”

“I wasn’t myself at the time,” she said cautiously. “I was kind of sporting a different body.”

Spike continued to stare at Faith as though she were cursing in Fyarl. “The body swap. With Buffy,” he uttered suddenly as it finally dawned on him.

“So she did fill you in on that whole deal,” Faith said, not really surprised.

“She told me it went down. Failed to mention who was driving her skin around,” he replied, still a bit unnerved by the revelation.

“I may have said a few things…” she started hesitantly.

“Like you could ride me at a gallop 'til my knees buckle, squeeze me 'til I pop like warm champagne,” he cut in, repeating the words she had once spoken to him. “That's not the kind of thing a man forgets.”

“Guess not seeing as how you’re now doing the steady thing with Blondie,” Faith commented casually as she took a gulp of her beer.

“You think you had anything to do with that?”

“Nah. I’m not that full of myself,” she replied, chuckling. “But I bet I planted the seed of possibility, huh?”

Spike didn’t respond. Smug slayer was right. After that confrontation at the Bronze the vampire had started to see Buffy in a new light. It wasn’t that he’d fallen in love with her. No, that wouldn’t happen for at least another year. It had nothing to do with love and everything to do with lust. Their magically inspired engagement had initiated it but that night at the Bronze had cemented his curiosity. The flames of desire had been kindled, and though he would’ve never admitted it, Spike could no longer look at Buffy without imagining the things she had presumably described doing to him. It had all been downhill from there.

“Gotta say I’m kinda surprised B would get with a vamp lacking in the soul department,” Faith casually commented.

“Who’s to say I don’t,” Spike replied demurely. “Have a soul, that is.”

Faith could only gape at the vampire sitting next to her. “You have a soul?” she asked, absolutely astonished.

“Yeah.”

Faith continued to gawk. “So you’re like Angel?”

Spike scoffed. “I’m nothing like Angel. For one thing, I wasn’t cursed with a soul. I won mine back,” he stated, stifling the growl that instinctively rumbled in his throat whenever he was compared to his Grand Sire. “Plus Angel’s as dull as a lamp and we have very different coloring,” he fervently added.

Faith’s brown eyes widened at the news. “Whoa,” she uttered before smirking. “Kinda touchy aren’t we?”

“You tellin’ me you enjoy it whenever you get compared to Buffy?” he asked indignantly.

The Slayer frowned at the question. “That’s different.”

Spike snorted. “It’s the same soddin’ thing,” he countered. “Don’t feel so great havin’ to play second fiddle to the person everyone else places on a bleedin’ pedestal.”

Faith seemed unconvinced by Spike’s last remark. “So you don’t treat Buffy like she’s God’s gift to humanity?”

“At first I might’ve made her out to be this unattainable example of perfection,” he admitted. “Then I got real friendly with her darker side. I can say from experience that Buffy is anything but perfect. And I love her despite and because of her flaws. It’s not about pedestals anymore. She survived me and I her and because of that we’re closer than we’ve ever been. There were some major road bumps but I wouldn’t change what we went through.

“Everyone around here experienced a few reality checks of their own where Buffy is concerned. But old habits die hard and they forget that she’s just a woman with a cross to bear. And that’s the difference between them and me. I’ll never make Buffy out to be something she isn’t because I’ve been to a place with her that no one has and that no one probably ever will.”

Faith gave Spike a mildly impressed look as she took a swig of her beer. “Guess you guys really are serious, huh?”

Spike couldn’t help but smile. “Like a heart attack.”



********


Buffy paced her room, clearly aggravated by Faith’s unexpected appearance. She ignored Willow and Giles’s pleas for her to sit with them on her bed so that they could discuss the issue at hand. Buffy was too livid to sit.

She wasn’t going to deny that having Faith on their side wouldn’t put them at a greater advantage against the First. It was just that… well for one thing, it was Faith for crying out loud!

It was the same Faith who had killed remorselessly, who had betrayed them all by allying herself with the Mayor; the same slut who had tried to seduce Angel, and when that had failed had tried to poison him to get back at her; the same psycho bitch who had stolen her body and who tricked Riley into having sex. And it was still the same Faith who had forced Buffy to first become acquainted with her own darker side in order to kill the other slayer in an attempt to save the vampire she loved.

It was a darkness she never knew she possessed; never knew she could tap into. It was only last year that she had come to know how deep that darkness ran within her but she would’ve never discovered its existence if it hadn’t been for Faith. And for that Buffy could never forgive the woman presently standing downstairs in her front hall. No matter what Willow claimed, Buffy couldn’t believe that Faith had completely reformed.

Despite her mistrust and hatred of Faith, what was really getting on Buffy’s nerves was that she had been totally blindsided by the other slayer’s arrival. The fact that she had had no idea Faith was out of jail, let alone on her way to Sunnydale, made Buffy feel as though she was losing control.

It seemed as though the past few months had just been problem after problem. First it had been the unwilling possession of her body by that other worldly demon mist and the prophecy that had accompanied it, then it had been the second go at her relationship with Spike, and after that it had been Spike’s de-triggering and Wood’s unexpected freak-out. As trying and as stressful all those trials and tribulations had been, Buffy, for the most part, had felt like she still had a grip on things. Faith’s arrival, however, had completely thrown her for a loop and now everything just felt chaotic, as though it was all slipping out of her hands.

She wasn’t going to acknowledge the insecurities that instinctively reemerged with Faith’s reappearance. Buffy wasn’t about to admit that deep down she feared she would be supplanted by Faith, that the Potentials would suddenly shift loyalties and follow the slayer with a dark past. She didn’t want to own up to the dread she felt over Faith’s past fixations with her previous boyfriends neither. When the other slayer had first shown up in Sunnydale only a couple of months after Kendra’s death, there had been a period of time during that first week that Buffy had felt, to be completely honest, a little inadequate when compared to the buxom brunette. Those feelings had quickly vanished once Faith had gone off the deep end and went all sociopathic murderer on them. But no matter how short lived, they had still manifested in Buffy. And though unwilling on her part, those unwanted feelings had returned.

She hated that she still felt like Faith was not only intruding on her solo gig as ‘Slayer’ but how she always seemed to make Buffy look like she was some kind of stick in the mud. Just because she took her job seriously and had a stronger sense of right and wrong didn’t mean Buffy was some prudish, goody two shoes. Yet she knew that like her friends four years before, the Potentials would be easily impressed and eager to befriend the hipper and morally ambiguous Slayer.

She also couldn’t shake her automatic suspicion of Faith in regards to her meddling in her love life. Call it possessiveness or jealousy or just simply pathetic, Buffy didn’t care. And could anyone blame her? Faith had messed with two of her prior relationships and if she wasn’t careful she might throw a monkey wrench into a third. It was another reason why Buffy couldn’t sit. She knew she needed to talk to Giles and Willow but she hated that she had to leave Spike down there with the boyfriend stealing skank. At times images would pop into her head of what Faith was capable of doing to woo away Spike from her, but she pushed them away because if she didn’t, Faith would’ve been a corpse three seconds after she’d walked through the front door.

It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Spike, she just simply wouldn’t trust Faith. Not where her boyfriend was concerned. Thoughts of the possibility of the two of them alone together made her ancy and eager to get back downstairs, but then she would remind herself that Xander and Andrew were down there and that as long as Faith hadn’t scared them away, she wouldn’t make her move on Spike until they were gone. Buffy she just hoped that she got back down there before the opportunity for Faith came a knocking.

“Buffy, I know you weren’t gonna be jumping for joy over this, and I really hate having to say it, but we need Faith,” Willow remarked defensively, her green eyes following her best friend as she paced the room.

“If you mean we need her to be a giant pain in my ass, then sure, add Faith to the team roster,” Buffy sarcastically snapped.

“Buffy I do believe you’re being quite unfair to Willow. She did what she thought was best for all of us. Especially you,” Giles mildly reprimanded.

The Slayer sighed in defeat and glanced over at the redhead sitting on the bed, who at the moment looked as though Buffy had just finished kicking her puppy. “I know. I’m sorry, Will,” she apologized. “I know you meant well but having Faith here right now is just too much for me to deal with. She couldn’t have shown up at a worse time.”

Giles removed his glasses and proceeded to polish them. “I gather you’re referring to…uhh… those,” he said pointing to the fresh bite marks on Buffy’s neck. The one’s Spike had involuntarily given her hours before.

Unconsciously her hand flew up to cover the wounds, but she immediately lowered it as she nodded. “Spike’s trigger has been deactivated,” she bluntly stated. “He was hallucinating and accidentally bit me, but the First isn’t pulling his strings anymore.”

Willow smiled as Giles released a sigh of relief. Though as quickly as the grin had appeared on the witch’s face, it disappeared into a perplexed grimace. “Buffy isn’t that a good thing? I mean, if the problem with Spike is resolved, I don’t see how Faith’s an extra burden.”

“You’re right. The problem with Spike is dealt with but I got a new problem. He’s about yay high,” she said raising her hand to a few feet above her head, “and he’s my boss.”

Giles groaned slightly. “Andrew had caught Robin on tape sprinting out of the basement like a madman but I could only speculate as to what had happened,” he explained. “Please don’t tell me he actually ventured downstairs in an attempt to settle his own score.”

“Okay I won’t tell you,” Buffy replied, somewhat exasperated herself. “But I can tell you that I’m not going into work tomorrow.”

“So Wood’s a bad guy now?” Willow asked, confused.

Buffy shook her head. “It wasn’t against us, just Spike. And I could totally go vindictive bitchy girlfriend on him but it doesn’t matter. He made a mistake and we can’t get distracted from what matters.”

“And right now, what matters Buffy?” Willow asked thoughtfully.

“The mission,” she responded firmly. “That’s why I need this resolved with Wood so we can get back on track,” she determinably stated. “And it’s why Faith being here isn’t such a good thing. We get distracted and the First keeps on getting stronger.”

“So what do you want to do Buffy?” Giles asked calmly, waiting for his Slayer’s response.

Buffy sighed again. “Well she’s already here so there’s no sending her back now. As long as we can get her into the routine as fast as possible, we can get back on schedule.”

Giles nodded in agreement. “Let’s pray that Angel was right in breaking Faith out of jail.”

“Uhh…well, actually, it wasn’t Angel who got her out. It was Wesley,” Willow informed the Watcher and Slayer.

Buffy was somewhat stunned. “Wesley? As in stuffy, everything by the book, super Watcher dork Wesley?”

Willow nodded. “The same one. But he’s not so big on the stuffiness anymore. He’s actually kinda a hunky now,” she said, finishing off with a giggle.

“A hunk? Really?” Buffy asked a little intrigued.

Giles cleared his throat uncomfortably. “As much as I would love to hear of the intrinsic details regarding Wesley’s metamorphosis, isn’t it about time we head back downstairs?”

Buffy nodded. “Let’s get this over with,” she agreed as they filed out of the room. Buffy paused for a second as something in her head just didn’t seem to add up. “What I don’t get is why would Wesley break Faith out? Did it have anything to do with what Angel needed your help with?”

The redhead tensed as she heard her best friend’s question, turning around to apprehensively face Buffy. “Okay, I’ll tell you if you don’t freak out.”

The Slayer seemed even more unsettled. “What happened, Will?”

Willow’s shoulders slumped. What she was about to say was not going to go over well with Buffy. “Faith being busted out of prison did have to do with why I was in L.A.,” she started cautiously. “Angel lost his soul.”

“What?” Buffy automatically asked, not sure if she’d heard right.

“Angelus has returned?” Giles asked, concern evident in his furrowed brow.

Willow vigorously shook her head. “No. I mean he did but we got Angel’s soul back.”

“How did he lose it? Did he…did he sleep with…” Buffy couldn’t finish the question. If Willow said that he’d lost it after sleeping with Faith, she wasn’t sure she could face the other slayer without stabbing her in the gut again. It wasn’t that still bore a torch for the vampire. Angel would always have a place in her heart but the love she once felt for him was gone. She knew that her and Spike were beginning something much more real and much more profound than the puppy love she had had with Angel. It was just that the thought of her ex-boyfriend with the dark slayer simply opened up old wounds and reinforced the insecurities she had about having Faith in her home. Especially anywhere near Spike.

“There was this ubber baddie they were having problems dealing with and they thought that Angelus would know something to help them against this demon,” she started to explain slowly. “So they got some maji guy to remove Angel’s soul.”

“Why would Angelus remember something Angel couldn’t?” Giles inquired, obviously baffled at the fact that Wesley would even consider bringing Angelus back into the world as an option at defeating another enemy.

Willow shrugged. “I think they were getting desperate.”

“I’ll say,” the Watcher responded, trying to suppress the anger he felt over Wesley’s foolishness.

The witch sighed and turned to Buffy. “The plan backfired and not only did Angelus escape but someone stole this mystical jar thing that was holding his soul. Long story short, Faith was there to get him back and my job was to free the soul from its magic container and get it back in Angel. After going through this whole existential mind walk thing with Faith, we got Angel back to his good old self.”

“Mind walk? Like what you and I did when Glory got Dawn?” Buffy wondered.

“I guess,” Willow replied, uncertain of the details regarding what had transpired between Faith and Angel in the past few days.

Buffy nodded at the apologetic tone in Willow’s voice. “Let’s go,” she said, motioning with her head, leading the group to the main hallway where they had left the prodigal slayer.

Buffy became concerned when Xander, Spike and Faith were no where in sight. Spotting Andrew sleeping on the living room couch, she rushed into the dark room, stepping over a few unconscious forms to reach the dormant dork. Shaking him, she tried to wake him. “Andrew, where’s Faith?”

“Mmmmmm…you’ll never get me to join the Dark Side, Vader,” he muttered in his sleep.

“Andrew goddamnit wake up,” Buffy hissed as she shook him harder, venting a bit of frustration on the unsuspecting geek.

“Huh? Wha? Buffy?” he asked rubbing his eyes.

“Where is everyone?” she asked irately.

“Xander went home and I think I heard Faith and Spike go into the kitchen,” he replied, not wishing to give her anymore reason to be any angrier than she already was.

Not saying anything she left a shaken Andrew to get back to sleep as she walked past Willow and Giles on her way to the kitchen. Marching into the room, again her boyfriend and the home wrecking ho bag were no where to be found. Buffy was about to head into the basement thinking that Spike might have turned in for the night when she heard two familiar voices coming from the back porch. It was them and they sounded a little too friendly.

Buffy’s stomach sank at the thought that it could’ve happened so quickly. That Faith could have sunk her claws in so quickly that in the half an hour Spike was already blinded to her scheme. He was already falling for her innocence act, how she made every guy feel like a white knight for bringing her back onto the path of redemption. It had worked on Angel and now Spike was about to fall for it too.

Buffy wasn’t sure if she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs or just go to bed and cry. It was too much. Even if she was being irrational, and what was happening on the other side of the backdoor was completely innocent, and Spike was simply being uncharacteristically nice to strangers, Buffy couldn’t still help but get upset. Spike needed to be weary of Faith. She needed Spike to be weary of Faith. If he let his guard down, the other slayer would find a way to ruin what the relationship they had been building toward. Even if Faith didn’t want Spike, she’d still do it because the vampire made Buffy happy. It would be the perfect revenge. And it would be revenge because no one can just brush off years of hatred.

Willow and Giles watched as Buffy flew past them after not so gracefully interrogating Andrew.

“Guess this would be a bad time to tell her about the girl in the hospital, huh?” Willow anxiously whispered to the Watcher.

“The doctors said the girl would be unconscious until morning did they not?” he inquired, his eyes never leaving Buffy’s stomping form.

“Yeah,” the witch replied.

“Then let’s leave those matters for a later time. I think Buffy has already dealt with enough for today. It won’t hurt anyone if we leave it until tomorrow,” Giles reasoned, really not wanting to be the one to inform his slayer that there was another player in the game and they were siding with the First.

Willow and Giles had decided to remain in the hallway. If Buffy’s suddenly angry countenance told them anything, it was that things were about to implode within the Summer’s home. The two thought it best to stay out of the line of fire.

Buffy swung the door open to find the two of them sharing a laugh as they drank and smoked. She couldn’t help but notice how comfortable Faith looked sitting next to Spike. Buffy wanted to kill her.

“Well, it's nice to see you two getting along so well,” she said, drawing their attention in her direction.

Picking up on the hint of hostility in Buffy’s voice, Faith stood up and gave the other slayer a hesitant smile. “Yeah. Uh, you just know all the cool vampires, B.”

Buffy chose not to respond to the comment because Faith would’ve been without a head after she’d bitten it off. “Did someone find you a place to sleep tonight?” she curtly asked instead.

Faith only nodded.

“Good.” She turned and marched back into the house without so much a word to Spike.

The brunette turned to the confused vampire. “I think she’s mad at you,” she remarked with a sympathetic tone.

“Picked up on that too, did you?” he replied, sighing wearisomely. Just the perfect way to end an imperfect day.

“You better chase after her before you end up in the dog house,” Faith suggested.

“You okay for the night?” he asked more out of courtesy than true concern.

“Five by five,” she reassured. “Go on before you get into even more trouble.”

Spike nodded as he dashed into the house, passing by Giles and Willow without the slightest pause, and flying up the stairs to Buffy’s room. The door was closed.

Knocking lightly, Spike called to her. “Buffy, open the door, luv,” he said softly, his tone that of an annoyed plea.

A few seconds passed by before the door opened. He stepped to enter the room but was instead pelted with a pillow and blanket. Grabbing hold of the objects, he stared at his girl in surprise. “Buffy what the hell is going on?”

The Slayer stood in her doorway, dressed in her nightgown, arms crossed over her chest. “I’m too mad at you right now to sleep in the same room as you, let alone the same bed,” she stated in a grave and infuriated tone.

Spike dropped the blanket and pillow to the floor. “’S this about my killin’ time with the slayer bint while you all decided to leave me out of your lil’ powwow?” he asked, feeling himself getting angry. Buffy couldn’t seriously be upset with him just from talking to Faith, could she?

“I wasn’t leaving you out of anything, okay? Faith showing up caught me off guard and I just needed time to calm down,” she replied defensively.

“We can see that worked well. I’ve never seen you so irrational,” he argued.

“If you can’t figure out why I would have a problem with you buddying up to Faith, then we’ve got bigger problems than my being irrational,” Buffy responded in a harsh whisper.

“Are you jealous?” Spike automatically asked, but wished he hadn’t.

“And that’s tells me all I need to know,” Buffy rasped, fighting back the tears. “Goodnight Spike,” she said as she swiftly closed the door.

The vampire stood there dumbfounded. What the hell had just happened? How had he gone from having experienced a very personal ordeal with Buffy and feeling their relationship was stronger because of it to having to sleep in the upstairs hallway outside her door? Was it a crime to be nice to the chit? He knew about the beef Buffy had with Faith and it was understandable that she would feel some resentment toward the girl. After all Faith had tried to kill most of her friends, her mom and even the Poofter before he left Sunnydale. She’d also stolen Buffy’s body and tried to take over her life.

That thought brought him back to Faith’s confession of how it had been her hitting on him at the Bronze a few years back, and not Buffy. In all likelihood that was probably the most innocent thing the slayer had done while in possession of Buffy’s body. Were there other things Faith had done that his slayer had decided not to inform him about? It might explain why she was being so unreasonable.

Throwing off his duster, he laid down on the floor, resting his head on the pillow as he pulled the blanket over his body. It didn’t smell like Buffy. He had become so accustomed to being bathed in her scent, to being surrounded by her warmth as he slept. Spike sighed dejectedly. It was going to be a rough night.



TBC

A/N: Thanx Darkezza for the super beta job. I hope you feel better.
Chapter Fourteen-Bed Therapy by Aurora
Author's Notes:
After a three month hiatus, I'm back. Exams are finally finished with and, as sad as it is to say, my overseas vacation is over. Hopefully now I can commit more time to writing. Thanks for the all the reviews and emails. Keep sendin' 'em my way.
Chapter Fourteen: Bed Therapy


Spike rubbed his tired eyes as he stared out into the dark hallway. He had abandoned his futile attempts at catching some shuteye before the house broke into its usual morning routine. So there he remained, sitting on the floor, back pressed against the wall, the blanket he had been given tangled around his legs.

Good thing everyone was still asleep. He had an image to keep up with the girls. Would’ve ruined his Big Bad credibility if one of the Potentials caught sight of him camping it out on Buffy’s doorstep like some house trained pet.

So why was he still there, skulking about like some pathetic lovesick fool? The faint sounds of Buffy’s sniffles and whimpers provided him his answer. He was love’s bitch after all.

Spike couldn’t bring himself to leave. It would be as though he were walking away from Buffy. And that was the one thing he had promised himself he would never do. He refused to be like all the others. Spike figured Buffy just needed some time to cool off. She wasn’t being the least bit reasonable and he sure as hell wasn’t known for his endless supply of patience. Had he busted down the door and demanded that she talk to him, it would‘ve only ended with one of them getting a stake through the heart, and odds were that it wouldn’t have been Buffy. So needless to say, he wasn’t about to go venturing into her room any time soon.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to storm in there and give her a piece of his mind. She might not have accused him of infidelity, but from the way she’d been acting she might as well have painted a big red ‘A’ on his chest. Normally, he would have taken it like a slap to the face. How could she ever doubt his loyalty to her? Now that he finally had her trust, why would he ever risk losing it?

Those questions had gotten him thinking and the only conclusion he could come to which would explain Buffy’s behavior was that she wasn’t giving him the full story. There was more to her history with Faith than she was letting on. And it was with that knowledge that his temper had waned. Besides the need for self-preservation, it was also the reason why he had allowed her the time to calm down. He wanted Buffy to be a lot more levelheaded when he confronted her about the omissions of her past.

Spike opened his ears again to the noises coming from Buffy’s room. He could hear her steady breathing through her closed bedroom door, which told him she had finally gotten to sleep. He considered going back on his no-more-sleep-until-morning-plan. If he was going to go head to head with Buffy, a few hours of sleep wouldn’t hurt. As Spike was about to lay his head back down on his pillow he sensed someone coming his way.

“What’re you still doin’ up, Nibblet?” he asked gruffly as the teen softly padded across the hallway from her bedroom.

Taking a seat next to him on the floor, she tiredly replied, “Couldn’t sleep. Would shoving a sock down Anya’s throat be going a little too far to stop her from snoring?” she asked with all seriousness.

Spike chuckled. “I don’t think you’re the type to take a life with hosiery.”

“I heard you guys, ya know,” Dawn grimly stated out of the blue.

“Guess that saves me from giving you my piss poor excuse for bein’ out here,” he replied despondently.

“It was Faith wasn’t it?” she asked with unashamed ire in her voice.

Spike tapped his index finger to his nose. “She didn’t like that I played nice with the jailbird.” “

So what’re you doing out here?” Spike gave her a confused look. “Thought I already explained my stint in the doghouse, Bit.”

“I get that Buffy’s mad at you, but how come you’re not in there trying to figure out the real reason why she’s mad at you?” she wondered, her tone deprecating.

Spike looked at Dawn with a more scrutinizing eye. He wasn’t sure when it had happened but his Lil’ Bit had grown into a woman. One who was wise well beyond her years. With dealing with his regained soul and all the commotion the First was causing, he’d never noticed just how much Dawn had matured. Made him feel worse for not sustaining the friendship they’d developed when Buffy had been in the grave. Spike quickly pushed the guilt aside. Much like her Big Sis, Dawn had given him a second chance. Maybe now with the soul, he wouldn’t fuck things up. Or maybe all it would do is just make him notice when he finally ruined things for good between him and his Nibblet.

“I’m just giving Buffy time,” he explained with a tired sigh.

“You sure you’re not just letting her walk all over you again?” she asked knowingly.

Spike stared at her skeptically though her words had a ring of truth to them. “What’re you goin’ on about?”

“Thanks to a lot of sisterly bonding over the summer, I know about some of the stuff that went on last year between you and Buffy,” she clarified.

Spike became worried and slightly uncomfortable at the news. He was aware of the fact that Dawn knew of the time he had almost raped Buffy. Her ‘you’re gonna wake up on fire’ threat had told him as much. However the other depraved and hurtful things he and Buffy had done to one another weren’t exactly meant for Dawn’s ears, no matter how mature she now seemed. His Lil’ Bit had been forced to grow up so much in the past few years, he didn’t want to his past misdeeds contributing to her loss of innocence. “Just how much exactly did Buffy divulge?”

Dawn picked up on the vampire’s sudden apprehension. “Relax, Spike. I got the PG-13 rated version,” she reassured him. “As much as Buffy and I were about the truth telling, we felt that details weren’t necessary ‘cause well, you know, ewww.”

Spike eased a bit. “Must’ve been a short talk,” he mumbled.

Dawn quickly picked up on the context of his remark and cringed. “You know the fact that all you guys did was have wild monkey sex wasn’t something completely lost on me, but thanks for the reminder.”

The vampire winced slightly. “I meant that there wasn’t much to me and the Slayer the first time around.”

Dawn nodded. “Buffy said it wasn’t healthy. She also mentioned how she used you,” she mentioned, treading lightly on the subject. “And how you were more or less her emotional punching bag for the better part of a year.”

“Making me sound right pathetic, pet,” he mumbled. “I did have a backbone you know.”

“Except when it comes to Buffy,” Dawn countered stubbornly.

Spike scoffed indignantly. “What’s with the use of the present tense there, luv? We’ve been through this already. Big Sis and I are past all that.”

“Are you?” Dawn asked warily. “I mean, look at you. You’re literally her doormat.”

The vampire scowled as he glanced over his shoulder at the wooden door. “I see your point,” he grumbled. “But what was I supposed to do? Just barge in there and instigate a shouting match?”

“Did you ever consider that maybe that’s what Buffy needed?” she argued.

Spike’s brow quirked immediately at the teenager’s statement. “You can’t seriously be suggesting that Buffy’d rather holler at me than keepin’ her moral high ground with the silent treatment.”

Dawn nodded slowly. “I know it sounds dumb but when things get intense and the whole world needs to be saved, Buffy goes on emotional shut down. As the Slayer, she’s gotta be calm and collected which equals ixnay on the feelings,” she stated grimly. “As cliché as this is going to sound, Buffy’s spaz attack was a cry for help.”

“So she wants me to… what? Save her from herself?” Spike asked in confusion.

He used to be able to read Buffy so well. Why hadn’t he seen any of what Dawn was bringing to light? He wanted to blame the soul. It was harder to look into the souls of others when yours refused to let up for even a nanosecond.

Spike, however, knew better than to use his newfound guilt as an excuse. He’d gotten too comfortable in the few weeks they’d been together. Routine was an easy trap to fall into. In his attempt to be Buffy’s beau and her second in command, he’d managed to lose sight of what had made his connection to the Slayer so special. He was the only one who was supposed to know her. The vampire had always elevated himself above her friends and Watcher in that respect. Even to the point of bragging about it to the new kid in town. Turns out he needed to reassess just how perceptive he really was of his girl. And it would have to start by getting his sorry ass off the floor and into her room.

Dawn gave him unimpressed stare. “If you wanna put it that way, yeah she does.”

It was Spike’s turn to nod in understanding. “Right, well, enough with the Oprah talk then. Got myself a girl to save and a relationship to salvage,” he said solemnly as he picked himself off the floor. “Oh, and Dawn?”

“Yeah?”

“You might want to consider a profession in psychology,” Spike said with an amused smile on his face. “And I owe you one.”

Dawn jumped to her feet. “Well duh,” she replied. “Good luck,” she whispered as she headed toward the stairs.

“Where you going?” Spike asked curiously.

“Midnight snack,” Dawn explained as she trotted down the steps.

Spike let out a heavy breath as he turned around to face Buffy’s closed bedroom door. Turning the knob slowly, he gently pushed the door open, trying to keep the hinges from creaking. If Buffy was asleep, he didn’t want to wake her. He knew he needed to have a few words with her but he couldn’t bring himself to disrupt her sleep. His girl barely got enough rest as it was.

His eyes instantly landed on her sleeping form. Buffy was curled up on her side, her hands tucked beneath the pillow that cradled her head. She looked so peaceful.

Gently kicking off his boots, Spike quietly made his to way to his side of the bed. Slowly, he slipped beneath the sheets, trying as best as he could not to disturb Buffy. Unfortunately, her instinctive slayer sense kicked in. As soon as he was lying by her side, Spike picked up on her accelerated breathing and knew she was awake.

“Spike?” she lightly moaned in confusion.

“Go back to sleep, luv,” he reassured, tensely waiting for her to kick him out again.

Buffy rolled over to look at him, their faces a few inches from each other. As soon as their gazes locked, Buffy averted her eyes. Understandably, Spike interpreted her actions as an indication that she was still upset with him.

The truth was, however, that Buffy couldn’t look Spike in the eye because she was so ashamed of her behavior. After she had closed the door on him, she’d immediately regretted it. The look in his eyes when she had shut him out had been like someone had doused her with ice cold water. In that instant the infuriated rage that had been clouding her judgment had vanished, leaving her with a deeply rooted sense of dread.

She had taken her hatred of Faith out on Spike and made him the scapegoat of all her insecurities. It wasn’t until she was alone in her room that she realized her temporary bout of psychosis might have undone what had taken months for her and Spike to build. Just that afternoon, when Spike had finally freed himself from the First’s control, they had experienced such a monumental cornerstone in their relationship. And by acting the way she did, Buffy might’ve as well kicked dirt in the face of what she and Spike had shared. The first real instance that she’d been tested in this revived relationship of theirs, she had reverted back to her old ways.

Though Buffy had not thrown a single punch, she had still turned on him and in doing so she had failed. By projecting all her hostility and mistrust in Spike’s direction, she had managed to break the one promise their relationship had been built on. That no matter what happened neither of them would fall back into past habits. Spike had lived up to that commitment. Buffy, on the other hand, was definitely coming up short on her side of the deal.

After finally becoming aware of the fact that she had yet again taken out all her problems on Spike, an uneasy sense of panic filled her. The old Spike would have put up with her mood swings and sharp tongue, but she wasn’t so sure if the vampire would be as forgiving this time around. She wasn’t naïve enough to think that he would suddenly fall out of love with her but she knew everyone had a breaking point and Spike had reached his the night he’d left Sunnydale in search of his soul. Buffy didn’t know if this new soul having, and at times emotionally volatile Spike, could endure her unintentional relapses into prior psychologically destructive patterns.

Buffy’s fear lay in the fact that he might put an end to their fledgling relationship. Even if he was strong enough to put up with her bullshit, there was still a chance that Spike would break things off. He might see this revival of spite in her as a sign that their past was one obstacle they could never overcome. There was the possibility that he would see himself as the root of the problem and leave her just to save her from herself. Buffy knew he’d stick around for the final fight but it was the “after” aspect of saving the world that concerned her. She worried that she’d drive him away, even if he thought he was doing it for her own good.

It was that concept that frightened her the most. It was too reminiscent of what she had gone through with Angel and she hadn’t felt nearly a tenth of what she felt for Spike as she had for his Sire. Buffy wasn’t sure if she could survive a break up, let alone him leaving her for good.

For those reasons and those reasons alone she had cried herself to sleep; her sobs had been those of self loathing. If this one stint of insecurity completely ruined her relationship with Spike, Buffy didn’t know how she would live with herself. It was why she had been so relieved when she had felt him get into bed next to her.

A few moments passed between them until neither could bear the silence anymore.

“Buffy…”

“Spike…”

Their eyes met again and a smile tugged at both their lips. “Go ahead, pet,” Spike encouraged.

Buffy worried her bottom lip between her teeth as her eyes stung with the tears she was trying to hold back. “I’m sorry,” she rasped.

Spike’s brow wrinkled in puzzlement. Here he was thinking he was about to get booted from the room and instead he had Buffy asking for his forgiveness. It was too much of a one-eighty for his mind to grasp.

His silence made her all the more concerned. “You were right. I was being completely irrational,” she whispered.

Spike exhaled slightly as he pulled Buffy into his arms. “What happened tonight, luv?” he asked tiredly. “I thought with all the connecting we did over my John Nash impersonation that you…” he paused uncomfortably. “I thought it meant something, what we went through.”

“It did,” Buffy insisted with a wide and troubled gaze.

“Then mind explaining to me why the sudden throwback to your once favorite pastime of ‘Kick the Spike’?” the vampire asked somewhat bitterly.

Buffy flinched. Though she had expected this kind of response, it was still hard to hear it come from Spike’s own mouth. “I wasn’t…I mean…I didn’t…,” she struggled with her response as she fiddled with the cotton material of his black shirt. “I just kinda reacted but I never meant to take anything out on you,” Buffy finally explained.

Spike detected the hint of regret in her voice. He decided to ease up on the tongue lashing. “At first, when you shut me out, I just took it,” he began to enlighten her, not really certain where he was going with it. “It wasn’t until I realized how downright humiliatin’ it was to be sittin’ outside your room like some tamed pet that I got this unwanted sense of nostalgia, you know.” He decided not to bring up the fact that Dawn had helped him arrive at this realization. It was a bit embarrassing to admit that his Nibblet had better insight into his relationship with the Slayer than he did at the moment. “Opened my eyes is what it did. Was like I was back at the crypt, watchin’ you take off after things started to get a lil’ too real.”

“I didn’t intend to push you away,” Buffy continued to defend in her self-deprecating tone. “It just happened.”

Spike gave her a suspicious look. “Things like that don’t ‘just happen’, luv,” he argued softly. “You wanna tell me the real reason you went Jekyl and Hyde on me the second Miss Reformed showed up.”

Buffy released a haggard breath. “The last time I had a run in with Faith, I had to deal with some major damage control,” she began slowly. “She deliberately set out to mess up my life and thanks to her, I got hurt real bad.”

Spike noticed that she didn’t mention what exactly it was that Faith had done to hurt her. He’d be sure to bring it up once they’d resolved their own issues. “I gathered as much, pet, but it still doesn’t explain why I got the proverbial shaft just for makin’ nice with the ex-con. Wasn’t even like we had a chance for a real fight. You cast me out before I could even make my case.”

“Irrational, thy name is Buffy. I get it,” the Slayer half heartedly grumbled. “It’s just…It’s just that…”

Spike concernedly gazed down at Buffy as she struggled to put to words how she felt. “It’s what, luv?” he asked gently, hating how frightened and fragile she seemed all of a sudden.

Buffy sighed for what felt like the hundredth time in the last ten minutes. “After Faith was locked away and out of the picture, the pain was still there. Everyone got to go home, move on,” she paused, a melancholy expression spreading across her face. “Everyone, that is, except me.”

Spike continued to focus his attention on the tiny woman in his arms but he couldn’t help but fall into contemplation. He never realized the extent of the causes for Buffy’s behavior. He had initially assumed that the incident this evening had simply been about bad blood and unresolved vendettas. The vampire never knew that Buffy’s issues regarding Faith only skimmed the surface of what was truly bothering her. With that being seen, Spike had to admit that Dawn had been absolutely right. In a frightening, ESP sort of way.

“I think that’s when it started. Slowly, I was becoming guarded when it came to the touchy feelies in my life. Everyone I cared about, even if they stayed a part of my life, I still kept them at a distance. I never let anyone in on what I was going through. I still loved them but I couldn’t let them too close because if they hurt me, I didn’t think I could survive it. It was just easier being numb, so it became my defense mechanism.”

Buffy let out an unexpected chuckled. “It’s why Riley left. I just kept shutting him out, especially when my mom was dying. And when I finally noticed what I was doing, Giles took me on some vision quest that really didn’t do me any good other than showing me the easy way out. Then Glory found out Dawn was the Key and I was back to being stone cold Buffy. I even went catatonic when the Hell Bitch kidnapped my sister.”

The events being described by the distraught Slayer were nothing Spike didn’t already know. What caught him off guard, however, was Buffy’s perspective on those unfortunate moments in her life. He understood the burden of being a slayer and the subconscious wish for release from it, yet he never considered how Buffy might cope with it all. He had always thought it was her friendships, her ties to the world that had made her different from all the others, the reason why she survived for as long as she had. Turns out her friends and kid sis had only taken her so far. He had always wondered, with all the love and support she had around her, how Buffy had still managed to succumb to the inevitable deathwish that resided in every slayer. Now he knew.

Unaware of Spike’s internal revelation, Buffy continued with her cathartic tirade. “What is even more ironic is that I’d never felt as numb and alone as I did when I was so desperately trying to feel after I was brought back. And it wasn’t just with you, Spike. Everyone was on a need to know basis where I was concerned. Because I was so involved on numbing away the pain, on blocking everyone out, I never spotted Willow’s magic habit, or Xander’s doomed engagement, or Dawn’s stint into juvenile delinquency, until it was too late.

“It took my best friend to almost destroy the world for me to have one of those life altering epiphanies. I finally understood that I had to let people in or I was going to lose everything.”

A single tear rolled down her cheek, which was like a rusted dagger in Spike’s unbeating heart. “And I’ve been trying. I really have,” she said in desperation, as though she needed Spike to believe her. “But then with the First rearing its ugly head and my getting pumped with that demon mist and everything happening with…us, it’s been one hell of a struggle not to go on permanent mental hiatus.

“Then when I saw you with Faith, it was like the straw that broke the camel’s back. The camel being my sanity,” Buffy joked lightly between sobs. “It just became too much. So naturally I regressed back to pushing you away when I should have let you in on what I was going through. God, you must be getting sick and tired of this same old pathetic routine,” she finished, unabashed with self-loathing.

The vampire gazed intently into her hazel eyes, catching every trace of shame visible in those green pools. He could sense her uneasiness and even sniff out a minute scent of fear. Spike wasn’t sure what she was afraid of but he could tell simply from her body language that Buffy needed some kind of reassurance. He started by rubbing small circles into her tense back.

“How’s ‘bout this?” he began softly. “From now on, whenever you start buildin’ those walls of yours to keep us all out, you and me will just have ourselves a lil’ chat; ‘probly much like this one. That way you can’t hide behind that tough Slayer exterior and I won’t be feelin’ completely inadequate for not havin’ the least bit idea as to what’s botherin’ you. That sound alright to you?”

Buffy nodded quickly as a faint smile spread across her lips. “Okay,” she quietly agreed.

“Alright. It’s a deal then,” Spike contently replied. “Since we’re on the topic of openness, mind lettin’ a bloke in on what exactly it was that Faith did to make you fly off the frickin’ handle?”

Buffy naturally hesitated at first but then inhaled deeply to prepare herself. Though Spike deserved to know about the sordid details of her past regarding Faith, she feared that rehashing all those memories would bring back the pain associated with them. Allowing herself to feel Spike’s strong arms around her and to place faith in the love that was so clearly evident in his cerulean eyes Buffy began to tell the story of her senior year at Sunnydale High.

As Spike listened on to the stories of Faith’s attempted seduction of Angel and Riley’s inability to tell who he was actually sleeping with, he began to understand Buffy’s unenthusiastic reaction to his pleasantries with the dark Slayer. Made him regret ever having privied the bitch to one of his few beers.



TBC

A/N: Thanx Darkezza for the awesome beta job.
Chapter Fifteen-The Other Side of the Coin by Aurora
Author's Notes:
Hey. Here's the next chap. Thanks for the feedback and support. Plz leave a review.
Chapter Fifteen: The Other Side of the Coin



Faith pulled tightly on her jean jacket in an effort to stave off the cold chill that lingered in the outdoor breeze, the dewy grass crunching beneath her leather boots as she traversed Restfield Cemetery. She had opted for a midnight patrol through the old stomping grounds rather than continue her futile attempt at catching some sleep. The cement walls and the old, beat up cot were just a little too reminiscent of her previous digs. Though she had insisted on sleeping in the basement as to not inconvenience anyone else at Casa Summers, the familiar sense of loneliness and the almost suffocating feeling of hopelessness had sent her out into the night air. Some mindless violence was exactly what the doctor ordered.

A non-temperature related shiver unexpectedly ran down Faith’s spine, her slayer senses suddenly awakening. Following her instincts, she stealthily made her way towards the unseen vamps, crouching down behind scattered tombstones along the way.

A group of vampires finally came into view and, by the looks of it, were tag teaming some poor schmuck. Faith knew that if she didn’t step in some time soon, the consistently clueless population of Sunnydale would be down yet another soul. Launching into the air, she pounced onto one vamp, immediately staking it between the shoulder blades as she smacked another to the ground.

Before the dust of her first victim could settle upon the graveyard’s well manicured lawn, Faith dashed in the direction of the dumb ass in distress. Honestly, what were they thinking? Anyone who valued their life in Sunnydale knew that the cemetery was off limits after dark.

Distracted by her inner monologue, she nearly missed the vamp that was catapulting straight for her. Abruptly sidestepping in mid-sprint, Faith avoided colliding into the projectile vampire that was flying at mach speed. Her eyes locked on the bloodsucker as he was hurled backwards through the air, landing on the hard ground with a sickening crunch. Watching the vampire over her shoulder, the Slayer nearly gawked as the pathetic excuse for a demon began to scurry away, tripping over its own two feet as it tried to escape.

Sighing heavily, Faith made an about face and began to chase after the retreating vampire. Jumping on its back, she tackled the vamp to the ground and, with an uncharacteristic no-nonsense attitude, quickly eliminated the one obstacle keeping her from finally meeting with the vampire tossing, midnight roaming, graveyard visiting moron.

Brushing off the thin layer of dust that coated her jacket and pants Faith turned around, intent on finding the mysterious vampire hunter. What she found instead was a stake, pressed firmly against her breastbone. On reflex, she fearlessly looked up to peer into the face of her attacker. The chocolate brown eyes that stared back at her burned with an intensity that bore into her soul.

The Slayer quickly shook off the haze that the stranger’s hypnotic stare had induced. Getting a better look at him, she had to admit he was definitely easy on the eyes. The black man before her was tall and from the strong hand gripping her shoulder, Faith could tell he was no lightweight. Being in such close proximity, she couldn’t help but fixate on how luscious his lips were or the way his muscled chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath from just taking out a swarm of vampires.

‘Get a grip will you!’ she mentally chided. ‘You’re getting all hot and bothered by a guy who wants to make you a slayer shish kabob. God, you’re so bent.’

“What are you?” he asked through mild pants, breaking through Faith’s internal scolding.

Before the Slayer could even articulate a syllable of a response, the stranger’s gaze shot to the hand that was pressed against her shoulder. “You’re warm,” he remarked, a hint of surprise noticeable in his voice.

As an expression of confusion appeared on his handsome face, the once restraining hand made a sudden, and incredibly inappropriate, move from her shoulder to her chest, a large palm taking the place of the pointy stake on her sternum.

Faith’s eyes went wide with indignation. Hunky or not, there was no way she was gonna just let this Blade wannabe feel her up. “Look Denzel. I don’t let guys get to second base without buying me dinner first,” she snapped, smacking the imposing hand off of her chest. “Or at least giving me their name,” she irritably added.

Thrown off by her strength, the stranger raised his brows in puzzlement, which immediately transformed into suspicion. The stake that was still in his hand was back again, hovering dangerously over Faith’s heart.

Faith groaned in annoyance. This was getting old. Knocking the threatening stake away, the Slayer grabbed a hold of Mr. Pent-Up-Aggression by the neck, pinning him back against a nearby tree.

“Who are you?” he choked, clutching desperately at the grip Faith had on his already tender throat. God knows his neck didn’t need anymore strain. After the wringing Spike had given him, he was lucky he wasn’t paralyzed.

“You first,” she said firmly.

“Robin Wood,” he answered, his voice strained. “I’m the High School Principal.”

Faith stared at the man in astonishment. “Still better than Snyder,” she mumbled as she let go of Wood.

Breathing heavily, Robin rubbed the soreness from his neck as he stared in bewilderment at the woman in front of him. “You’re not a vampire?”

“No shit Sherlock,” she crudely retorted. “I’m Faith and I’m a Slayer.”

Wood went rigid at her announcement. “Now I know you’re lying because I know the Slayer and you aren’t her,” he said before launching himself again at the brunette.

Using his momentum against him, Faith grabbed a hold onto Wood’s arm, spinning him about before tossing him into the air. A loud thud broke through the silence as the Sunnydale High Principal landed on the ground, several feet away.

“You were saying?” Faith asked smugly.

Wood groaned from his spot on the damp grass. He pushed himself up onto his hands, tipping over onto his side to look up at the Slayer. “But how?” he asked in a state of shock. “Buffy’s the Slayer.”

“You know B?” Faith wondered though she wasn’t really surprised. All the do-gooders in this town were always in cahoots.

“Yeah,” he answered gruffly as he got to his feet, feeling his ribs to see if he’d broken any in the fall. “And I know there’s only supposed to be one Slayer.”

Faith shrugged. “You can thank some cosmic loophole for that screw up. Apparently the guys who started the whole Slayer line never considered CPR.”

“I still don’t get how there are two Slayers,” Wood stated, still clearly baffled.

“You know for a school type you’re pretty slow on the uptake,” Faith quipped. “Buffy nearly drowned and cuz her heart did technically stop for like half a second, some other slayer got called. When she got killed, yours truly here ended up wining the destiny lottery.”

Wood’s eyes moved rapidly from side to side, trying to come to grips with what he was being told. “But if you’re a slayer, where have you been? Why haven’t you been here, on the Hellmouth?”

Faith exhaled noisily as she leaned against one of the larger tombstones only a few feet away. Did she really want to go into this with a complete stranger? Especially one who was friends with Buffy? The Slayer paused for a few seconds. Then again, what did she really have to lose? She didn’t know this guy, so if he got all uneasy around her because she opened her mouth, no loss, no foul. What was another name on the Faith Haters of America membership list?

“I’ve been in L.A.?” she vaguely replied, preparing herself to drop the bomb that was her past.

“Doing what?” Robin wondered earnestly.

“Hard time in a state penitentiary,” Faith answered in a forthright manner, hoping her upfront response would mask the shame she really felt.

Wood simply stood there, mouth agape as he stared in bewilderment at the Slayer. “F-for what?” he stuttered slightly.

“Homicide,” she rasped, unable to suppress the guilt.

Wood continued to stare, his face completely void of emotion as his brain attempted to register the information. A slayer who had taken a human life. It was a concept he couldn’t grasp, let alone understand. To him, it was unnatural, a literal crime against nature. Having been raised by a Watcher, albeit a retired one, any knowledge he had of his mother’s calling revolved around a slayer’s obligations to humanity. Even when his mother had been alive, it had constantly been drummed into his head that a slayer had an essential duty, which made her special. Perhaps it was his young age at his mother’s death, but his perception of her had become one of moral superiority. A hero worship that had emerged from grief, fueled by the upbringing of his conservative, surrogate father. And eventually, as he grew into adulthood, that unrealistic view soon transferred to all slayers.

It was why he now felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him. “I think I need to sit down,” he muttered as he took a seat next to the Slayer who shouldn’t be.

Faith remained quiet, beginning to second guess whether or not divulging that much about her past had been such a good idea.

“How did…I mean…how could…” he trailed off. Wood cleared his throat before making a second attempt. “How did this happen? Wasn’t your Watcher there to guide you, keep you on the right path?”

Faith turned her head slightly to stare questioningly at the man beside her. “Never knew you were on the up and up with the whole slayer and watcher dynamic,” she remarked snidely.

“My mom was a slayer,” Wood revealed, his voice gruff.

“Oh,” Faith replied automatically in surprise. It took her a few moments before the implication of that tidbit settled in. “Ohhh,” she repeated in a much more somber tone. “I’m sorry.”

It was Wood’s turn to stare back doubtfully. “What for?”

“If your mom was still around, I wouldn’t be a slayer,” she explained matter-of-factly. “So, I’m sorry.”

“Thanks,” he replied solemnly “I guess.”

An awkward silence fell between them. One that Faith knew ten seconds in, she had to break. “I never really had a Watcher,” she said quietly, answering the last question Robin had asked her before they’d become sidetracked with the fate of his mother. “The first one didn’t survive more than a few months and Buffy and Giles always had this father-daughter thing no one could come between. So by the time Wesley came around, the last thing I wanted was a Watcher telling me what to do.”

“Is that when it started?” Wood genuinely wondered.

“What? My going over to the dark side?” she joked lightheartedly.

“Yeah,” he chuckled slightly, glad that Faith had found a way to lighten the mood between them.

Faith suddenly panicked. Wood was getting way too close for comfort. “Uhhh…I think I gotta go and…stake some vamps or something,” she lamely announced as she stood up, preparing bolt.

“Faith?”

The Slayer sighed again. When she had decided to disclose the ugly truth about her past, she’d never expected it to go this far. The Slayer had never exactly opened up about her fall from grace with anyone. Mainly from a lack of options regarding those who would actually take the time to listen to her. Buffy and the rest of the Scoobies had already written her off as some loose canon that should be avoided at all times. That was unless they needed some extra muscle to take out another baddie. Because that’s all she was to them—a last resort.

Faith knew Angel would never turn her away but there hadn’t been much time for heart-to-hearts during their last reunion. Not to mention that he was Angelus for half of the time and you never opened your mouth around that bastard, let alone your heart. Maybe if she hadn’t come back with Willow she could have stayed in L.A., and caught up with Old, Soulful and Broody. He probably would’ve managed to pry all that touchy feely emotions stuff out of her. Angel always had a knack for breaking down her barriers.

The prison psychs, however, had never managed to make a dent. The whole time she’d been on lockdown, Faith had not once discussed why she had turned herself in. How could she tell these people that the reason she felt angry and alone and completely ostracized from the rest of society was because she was chosen to spend the rest of her life slaying vampires? They would have strapped on the straight jacket and sent her off to the asylum before her hour was even up.

So the question was, did she wanna cross this point of no return with Wood? Like she had previously rationalized, for all intents and purposes he was a stranger, someone who really knew nothing of her past. He didn’t have any preconceived notions about her and he already knew all there was to know about her supposed secret identity. So really if she was gonna open up to anyone, Robin Wood would be the ideal candidate.

“You really wanna rap about my problems now? Are you looking to be the guy who puts the "pal" in principal for me?” she uttered derisively, testing the waters to see if he truly cared. If he backed off, Faith knew he wasn’t the shoulder she needed to lean on.

Wood’s brow raised skeptically at the Slayer’s one-eighty mood swing. He wasn’t dissuaded though. His daily interaction with teenagers taught him that the more walls a person put up, the more they needed someone to talk to. It was Faith’s defense mechanism, one he had seen a billion times before.

“Actually, yes I do,” he replied solidly.

Faith paused for a moment before sagging slightly in acceptance, not having to carry on the keep-people-at-bay bravado. “I thought he was a vampire. It was a mistake,” she began slowly. “I was in total denial after it happened, like I didn’t even care. Buffy tried to get me to open up, but I just pushed her away. After that, I wasn’t exactly invited back to the Scooby meetings.”

“Scooby meetings?” Wood repeated in confusion, not really getting the pop culture reference.

Faith continued on, oblivious to his puzzlement. “I always figured the world owed it to me. That I didn’t need to follow the rules because if it weren’t for me, this town and the rest of the world would be nothing but vampire chum. So when a job came along where none of the rules applied, I jumped onboard.”

“I’m guessing it wasn’t an honest living,” Robin remarked.

The Slayer snorted. “That’s for sure. I was basically playing head goon for Buffy’s annual Bad Guy. Mayor Wilkins was gonna demon it up, basically wipe this town off the map. And I was his muscle, I did his dirty work,” she said glumly, thinking back on all the horrible things she’d done.

“Was it the money?” he wondered.

Faith shook her head. “There wasn’t really any money.”

“Then why?” he prodded further. He was still trying to understand how a slayer could have rejected every moral fiber in her being for, of all things, a job.

“At first I just wanted to stick it to Buffy and the Superfriends,” she started to explain, a twinge of disdain evident in her voice. The frosty reception she’d received at the Summer’s house hadn’t helped to quell the old animosities that still lingered below her tough surface. “So I started playing both sides, reporting all I knew about Buffy’s weekly antics to Wilkins. But after a while it stopped being about payback. For the first time in my life, I actually felt like I belonged somewhere,” she began to explain hesitantly. These were troubled waters they were about to embark upon. “Wilkins was my Giles.”

“So he was like a watcher?” Wood wondered. “An evil watcher?”

“No…I mean…yeah he was evil but…that’s not what I meant,” she awkwardly corrected. “Remember that father-daughter thing I mentioned that Giles and Buffy have going for them? I had that with Wilkins. I was his Faith, his little firecracker.”

Robin’s eyes lit up, the light bulb finally going off. “He made you feel loved,” he said understandingly.

“Yeah,” the Slayer uttered in a shaky breath. “I know it wasn’t really love because how could someone so evil possibly know what love is. But it sure felt like it.” She added the last part in a strained whisper.

A multitude of image involuntarily popped into Wood’s head: the resolute look on Buffy’s face when she had stood between him and Spike, the cold fury that had flared in the outraged vampire’s eyes at his treatment of the Slayer, the soft touch that had ended Spike’s blind fury, the tender glances the couple had briefly exchanged after the vampire had confessed to matricide.

Wood refused to admit they shared anything remotely close to love, but he’d be in some serious denial if he didn’t at least acknowledge that it sure looked pretty convincing. He shook off the train of thought. Though he told himself he needed to pay attention, to play Freud for the sake of the emotionally fragile slayer, Robin knew he was partly doing it as a means of distraction. To keep his mind off of the fact that he should have never stepped foot into the Summer’s basement earlier that evening.

“What happened to the Mayor?” Wood asked, pushing for further conversation though he had a feeling he already knew the answer. If Wilkins had been Buffy’s enemy like Faith said, and the blonde Slayer was still alive and well, then the Mayor must have been defeated.

“She killed him,” Faith replied sorrowfully.

“She killed a human?!” he asked in alarm.

Faith groaned. “Did you miss the part where I called Wilkins a ‘Bad Guy’? You know that’s slayer talk for demon, right?” she asked tartly. She was getting a little annoyed at how everything she told this guy was so earth shattering. Especially when it concerned the sanctity of a slayer’s duty. Or more like anything that supposedly violated said sanctity. “And as if Miss Exceptional Moral Standing would ever lay a hand on a human,” she heatedly argued before taking a pause to rethink her statement. “Well…except for that time she put me in a coma.”

“She what?!” Robin sputtered in astonishment.

“Yup. Perfect Little Buffy Summers almost killed me,” Faith revealed bitingly. “Stabbed me in the stomach with my own knife.”

Robin despairingly rubbed his bald head, sighing heavily. “Why?”

Though his voice was hoarse and weary, his dark brown eyes danced with untamed stupefaction. Faith turned away from his disheartened gaze. Sure it was annoying but it was hard to stay peeved when the guy was looking at her like a kid who just found out the Tooth Fairy didn’t exist.

“I shot her boyfriend with a poisoned arrow. It was this vamp poison where the only cure was draining a slayer dry,” she answered him flatly, her focus centered on a space of green lawn a few feet away. “So B figured my blood was the best antidote.”

“You shot Spike?” he asked, his mood perking up momentarily at the thought of Spike in any form of bodily harm.

“Who said I was talking about the Bleached Wonder?” Faith asked indignantly, stealing the nickname that Xander had used earlier that night.

Robin’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Then who?”

“Uhh…Angel,” she responded matter-of-factly.

“Who?”

Faith rubbed her forehead. She could feel the beginnings of a headache pounding at the interior of her skull. “Angel, the original vampire with a soul,” she clarified, giving him a ‘like-duh’ glower.

“Are you saying that Spike isn’t the first vampire Buffy has been involved with?” he inquired, carefully stating his words.

“Yeah,” she curtly replied. “I know I’m not always up to date with current events but I’ve been locked up in a jail cell for the past three years. What’s your excuse?”

“Two vampires,” Wood mumbled, totally dumbfounded. “She’s been with two vampires?” he asked, the pitch of his voice rising with incredulity.

“For a friend of B’s, you’re kinda outta the loop,” she remarked.

Wood disregarded her comment, his mind still dwelling on the history of Buffy’s love life. The bile building in his stomach started to rise. “How could she even…I mean when she told me about Spike…I still can’t believe…” he unintelligibly tried to express his bafflement. “Buffy’s a slayer. How could she lower herself to being with a vampire? Let alone two?”

Faith quirked a brow. “You think it’s that cut and dry?”

“Of course. Vampires are evil. If they weren’t evil, there wouldn’t be the need for slayers,” Wood argued resolutely.

“So everything’s so black and white for you?” she wondered, unsure why she was suddenly defending Buffy, even if only in an indirect fashion.

“I can’t believe you’re supporting this,” he grumbled, shaking his head.

That was it. Faith had had enough. Jumping off from the tombstone she’d been sitting on, the Slayer spun on her heel, her determined gaze centered on Wood’s disapproving face. “Whatever delusion you’re under, whatever way you think slayers should act, you desperately need to get the hell over it!” she sharply bitched. “Slayers aren’t perfect. We’re not these fucking superheroes everyone thinks we are.”

Robin crossed his arms, unimpressed. “You’re human. You make mistakes. I get it,” he solemnly replied. “But what you fail to realize is the part of making mistakes is learning from them. Buffy won’t even fess up to any wrong doing. And you…well, you seem to think that slayers deserve some sort of absolute pardon. Like it’s owed to you.”

His last remark made Faith see red. “You fucking bastard,” she growled, automatically raising her fist to punch the asshole’s lights out. She didn’t though. Her hand fell back to her side, tears stinging her eyes. “So much for no harm no foul,” she rasped softly before spinning around, wanting to get as far as she could from the biggest mistake she’d ever made.

“Faith,” Wood called out to her, instantly regretting his use of the Slayer’s own words against her.

She just kept marching in the opposite direction. Until a strong grasp whirled her about. “Let go of me,” she gritted out, glaring at the hold he had on her arm.

“Faith, look…I’m sorry. I crossed the line,” he apologized.

“Yeah well, it’s my fault for thinking I could actually talk to someone with it ending in them hating me,” she retorted cuttingly.

Robin loosened his grip around her arm. “I don’t hate you,” he said gently.

“Yeah, well you’ve got a funny way of showing it,” she warily sighed, her stubbornness waning.

“I just…it’s just…” Robin trailed, experiencing trouble in explaining his behavior. With a long exhale of breath, he sat himself back down on another tombstone, head slightly bowed. “I didn’t mean to attack you, Faith. But tonight has been one of the longest in my life and it’s been nothing but shock after shock. The things I’ve seen tonight, the things you’ve told me, it’s as though everything I’ve known to be true was all a lie,” he said somberly. “I’m can’t believe I haven’t had a nervous breakdown yet.”

Faith relaxed, taking a seat back next to the distraught Principal, hoping he would see the gesture as an acceptance of his apology. “Is that why you’re out here? Hanging around cemeteries after dark?” she inquired softly, though her tone was slightly reprimanding. “You beating on vamps to get your mind off of something?”

Wood rubbed the back of his neck, keeping his gaze to the ground so Faith wouldn’t see the shame in his eyes. “I tried to kill Spike today,” he confessed.

It was Faith’s turn to stare at him wild eyed before bursting out into laughter.

“I don’t see how this is funny,” he grumbled.

“Oh, believe me this is freakin’ hilarious,” she giggled, wiping away a tear. Inhaling deeply, Faith cleared her throat. “You try to slay Buffy’s new beau the same night I show up at her door. Man, the Karma gods must have it out for me.”

Wood winced at the implication of her words. “I guess we have one thing in common then,” he said glumly. “We’re both in Buffy’s bad books for trying to kill her boyfriends,” Robin elaborated.

Faith sobered up at his statement. “Why’d you do it?” she asked tentatively.

“It’s kinda personal,” he replied guardedly.

The Slayer stared at the man next to her with a reproaching quirk of a single eyebrow. “You’re kidding me, right? I mean, I let you get all up close and personal with my ish and you can’t even give me a reason why you wanna completely screw things up with your best buddy Buffy?”

Wood groaned in protest, but dropping his shoulders moments later in surrender. “Spike killed my mother,” he said feeling like a broken record. How many times had he actually said that today? The words were starting to lose their dramatic affect.

Faith gasped under her breath. “Didn’t see that coming,” she whispered to herself.

“Look, I know my friendship with Buffy is probably unsalvageable, but at the time I thought I was doing what was best,” he attempted to defend himself.

“And now?” Faith vaguely wondered.

“Now what?” he said, unsure what exactly the Slayer was asking.

“Do you still think trying to off the vamp was for the best?” she restated.

Wood shrugged. “Both Buffy and Giles had warned me. They told me there was some important prophecy that said Spike might have something to do with stopping the apocalypse, but I didn’t want to hear it. I couldn’t believe that the monster that killed my mother could actually have a hand in saving humanity,” he started, uncertain where his train of thought was going. “I even convinced myself that I was doing Buffy a favor. Spike was just a distraction, keeping her from her mission.”

“Sounds like you’ve changed your mind,” Faith noted.

Robin exhaled loudly. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “I was so sure I was right. I knew Spike had to die. I thought that finally avenging my mother would help with the pain, even if only a little. But then…”

“What?” the Slayer gently pushed.

“I really fucked up,” he admitted in disgrace. “I was so set on revenge, that I did some things I’m not proud of.”

“Like?”

“Well for one thing, I took advantage of Buffy and Spike in a moment of weakness,” he began to clarify. “I even allowed myself to use physical force against Buffy when she was distracted.”

Faith didn’t ask when this scenario had exactly played out or what it really entailed. She already knew Wood had made his attempt on Spike’s life some time that evening before she had shown up. The Slayer figured she’d find out about it soon enough. “So you acting like an ass changed your mind about Spike?” she asked with a crumpled brow, not really getting the connection.

Wood shook his head vigorously. “No, it wasn’t that,” he said firmly. “I’ve never seen a vampire look so guilty,” he confessed, pausing briefly as he reflected on his own words. “It was like there was no amount of physical pain that I could dish out that could even compare to the torture I saw in his face. And then it hit me. He was already suffering. Suddenly my need for retribution seemed so…pointless.”

“So what happened to vampires are evil?” Faith inquired, reiterating Wood’s earlier statement.

“Why do you think I’m out here?” he replied dismally. “I was hoping to get some perspective.”

“Did it work?” she wondered.

“No, not really,” he answered honestly. “The vampires I killed tonight, I know they’re evil. I know shoving a stake through their chest was the right thing to do. It was nice feeling that again,” he commented, his tone bittersweet.

“But…?”

“For the past twenty five years, there were things I thought I knew as fact. Solid and unchanging rules that have to be adhered for the universe to properly function. That was until today,” Wood explicated before becoming very agitated. “What am I supposed to know is true or not if what I see with my own eyes flies in the face of everything I’ve ever believed?” he uttered, posing the hypothetical.

Faith reached out and placed a hand on his arm. The guy could definitely use a little bit of comfort.

Robin’s eyes focused on the small hand gently touching his forearm. “If I accept that a slayer can love a vampire, that a slayer can kill a human being…” he paused for a moment, unable to continue. “I have to consider the possibility that my own mother was capable of the same,” Robin finally declared.

The Slayer squeezed his arm slightly. She understood his turmoil now. Robin Wood had been thrown into a sea of grey and was now drowning in the ethical ambiguities.

“No one thinks twice about what it really takes a slayer to kill a vamp. Everyone thinks it’s as easy as stake in heart, presto changejo, you got a pile of dust,” Faith softly commented. “No one really knows what it’s like.”

“What do you mean?” Wood asked, wondering how Faith’s words had anything to do with his personal anagnorisis.

“You know how they give psych tests to soldiers to see that they haven’t gone mental from all the killing they had to do?” she posed, hoping the analogy would help Robin connect the dots.

“Uhh yeah,” he responded, still not following.

“Those shrinks should really come up with something for slayers too,” Faith casually commented.

“But you’re not killing anyone,” he argued, becoming frustrated since he didn’t understand how this was supposed to help him through his moral crisis.

“Close enough,” she rebutted, crossing her arms.

“There is a big difference…”

Faith immediately cut him off. “Do you know what it feels like to shove a stake into a person’s chest? Except for the turning to dust, it’s pretty much just like staking a vamp,” Faith heatedly informed the doubtful Principal. “And I should know.”

“What are you saying?”

“Being a slayer, it’s all about the hunt. You tell yourself that they’re vamps and they’re evil and they need to be killed, after a while…” she paused, unsure how to go on without giving Wood the wrong impression. “After a while, right and wrong, good and bad, they’re all just words.”

Robin said nothing. He simply stared at the Slayer, afraid of what she was implying.

“The power you have. How you decide if someone lives or dies. It gets to you,” she continued. “I know I rag on B for being such a tight ass but I get why she’s like that. It’s cuz she has to be. If she wasn’t well…you know…” she trailed off, pointing to herself to illustrate her point.

“Helps too that she has friends and family. They keep her grounded. Maybe if I had that, maybe I wouldn’t have let it totally take me over,” Faith said mournfully.

“So you’re saying you don’t have anyone?” he asked suspiciously.

“Well nowadays with the whole rap sheet I got, I’m lucky if I got an emergency contact,” she snidely quipped in response. “But before that I was still pretty much on my own. Everyone I knew here was B’s friend.”

“And your parents?”

“Dad bolted when I was a tot and as far as I know, moms is back in Boston, probably drowning in her bottle of Jack,” she told him bitterly. “It’s probably why it meant so much, when Wilkins took me in. He loved me because I was so far gone. Really all he did was make it worse,” Faith added dejectedly. “And that’s another thing.”

“What is?”

“The fact I went to Wilkins in the first place.”

“I thought you did it because you wanted to belong?” Wood countered in confusion.

“Yeah but I felt like I belonged because he got me. He saw the badness inside me and accepted it with open arms. It was nice having someone I could relate to, even if it was because we were both evil.”

“If what you’re saying is true, about slayers having these feelings, couldn’t you have found this connection with Buffy?” he inquired dubiously.

“I couldn’t relate to B about homework and chores. What makes you think we’d try to open up to each other about this stuff?” she heatedly argued. “She’d probably deny it anyway.”

Wood absorbed the information, his gaze shifting from the brunette at his side to the horizon, wondering how long it was until sunrise. It felt like he’d been talking to Faith for an eternity. “It’s why she’s with Spike, isn’t?” he asked, his demure voice lacking any contempt or disgust.

“Yeah,” Faith answered, her own brown eyes looking out at the starry night sky. “She needs him because he gets her, more than her buds or Giles or even her kid sis. Spike doesn’t judge, he accepts the ugliness inside of her. Loves it even.”

“She love him back?”

Wood wasn’t sure why he asked. It might be because if she did then she would be accepting his ugliness. To love him she would have to accept the good and the bad. Robin wasn’t sure if he was comforted or disturbed by the notion.

Faith shrugged. “That’s a whole other can of worms,” she quipped, jumping off the gravestone. “C’mon. I know I could use a drink. Or fifty.”

Automatically, Wood stared at his wristwatch. “It’s 3 a.m.!”

“So what? You wanna head back over to B’s? Mend a few bridges?” the Slayer asked, completely unconvinced.

Wood groaned. He wasn’t ready to face Buffy yet. He was still on systems overload everything he’d learned and experienced that night. Robin felt as though he had too many things to think through before he could face the Slayer he had betrayed. Not to mention that Buffy was most likely asleep at the moment, which meant he’d have to wait until morning to speak with her. That also meant spending the rest of the night at home, alone with his thoughts.

“On second thought, a drink sounds good,” he accepted, joining Faith as she headed toward the cemetery gates.

Maybe getting a drink with Faith would relax him a little. It didn’t hurt either that the Slayer was a great distraction, gorgeous and stubborn. Robin Wood just prayed that she’d had her fill of talks about slayers and vampires for the night.


TBC
Chapter Sixteen-A Certain Amount of Connecting by Aurora
Author's Notes:
Hey guys. What's this? An update without months having gone by? No your eyes do not deceive you. Please read and review. Thanks for the feedback and enjoy!
Chapter Sixteen: A Certain Amount of Connecting

Buffy groaned in protest as her bedside alarm went off; its irritating buzz proclaiming to the world that it was only a few hours past dawn. With a few lumbering swings of her arm, the quasi-conscious Slayer managed to put an end to the bothersome noise.

“I think it’s dead, pet,” a gruff voice muttered. Buffy rolled over, her sleep blurred gaze landing on the vampire who shared her bed. A smile played across her lips. Spike’s face was inches from hers, eyes still firmly closed. His hair was an unruly mess of curls.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” she playfully murmured before groaning in frustration. “Spike we have to get up.”

Spike scoffed, eyes still shut. “We don’t have to do anything; you got to get yourself outta bed. Got to play councilor for all those pimply faced teenagers,” he objected.

Buffy huffed indignantly. “And you have SITs to train.”

Pulling the blankets up to his chin, Spike rolled over onto his other side so that he faced away from the indignant Slayer. “Vampire’s are ‘sposed to be nocturnal, luv. Think it’s ‘bout time I revisited the lifestyle,” he whispered his argument.

Buffy watched in amusement as he continued to feign sleep. As much as she wanted to bust Spike’s chops, she couldn’t help but laugh at his antics. After the whole ordeal that was last night, especially with the momentary loss of all her mental faculties upon Faith’s arrival, Buffy felt good knowing all was forgiven. It was nice being able to be goofy and playful with each other again. It felt safe and on some deeper level, it gave her strength.

The Slayer smirked as a devilish idea popped into her head. Slinking over to Spike’s side of the bed, she propped her chin on his shoulder. “Spikeee,” she called softly.

He responded with a non-sensical grunt.

Stifling a giggle, Buffy placed a light kiss on the skin near his ear, before taking the soft lobe into her mouth, sucking on the flesh gently.

Spike stiffened in surprise, his whole body tensing at the unexpected sensation. This was new.

Eventually, the feel of Buffy nibbling on his ear outweighed the shock, causing him to release a long, guttural moan.

“That’s cheating,” Spike sighed, rolling onto his back, the pupils of his sapphire eyes dilated with desire as he stared up at the unexpectedly naughty Slayer.

Buffy didn’t reply. She chose to capture his lips in a kiss instead.

Spike sighed as her lips languidly caressed his. Snaking one arm around her small waist, the vampire yanked the Slayer down to his chest with a lustful growl. His other hand found its way to her golden locks, fingers entwined in the silken strands.

Buffy actually giggled at his ardent need for her, her body molding on top of his, her tongue worming its way past his lips.

She gasped suddenly into his mouth when she felt the evidence of his arousal pressing into her thigh.

Spike paused beneath Buffy. This was definitely uncharted territory, where their new relationship was concerned anyway. The last thing he wanted was to push Buffy into something she wasn’t ready for and potentially ruin the best thing that had ever happened to him.

But God how he wanted her! Wanted her so badly it hurt. If it weren’t for his daily cold showers, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to face a house full of girls.

Buffy didn’t even seem to notice his hesitation, one of her hands slipping beneath the hem of his t-shirt, her soft fingers grazing the skin of his taut stomach. He hissed at the warmth of her touch. It was the ‘all’s clear’ sign he needed. If Buffy was ready to go a little further, so was he.

His mouth moved to her jaw, kissing a trail down her neck until he reached the bite mark he’d made the night before. As he lapped at the wound, the hand that he’d had on her waist drifted down to her pajama clad bottom, gripping it firmly as he ground his erection into the junction between her legs.

Buffy released a hoarse moan, feeling a familiar fire kindling within her. Her plan at getting Spike out of bed was backfiring on her.

Not since last year had they been this physical with one another. It was probably the thought of repeating past mistakes that had them donning invisible chastity belts. But after last night…God what hadn’t happen last night?

Buffy had seen Spike at his worst and he in turn had been a witness to hers. And despite all the ugliness and vulnerability they’d seen in each other, it still was the most profound night their relationship had faced thus far. She’d never connected with anyone like she had with Spike.

Though she knew he loved her, truly and completely, and she trusted him wholly, Buffy wasn’t ready for sex, which sounded so absurd considering she’d done things with Spike that would make a porn star blush. But the overwhelming fear that reared its ugly head whenever she thought she might be making a mistake was too strong to ignore. Buffy didn’t want to regret doing anything with Spike. She didn’t want to hurt him.

Buffy writhed above him involuntarily. Just because she didn’t think they were at the sexcapades stage yet didn’t mean she wanted him any less. “Spike…”

His lips were on hers again, his kiss stealing the breath from her lungs.

Buffy pulled away, panting heavily as she placed her hand lightly on his chest. “We should stop,” she said breathily.

Spike stared up at her, worried that he’d crossed some kind of line. Before he could plead for forgiveness, Buffy lifted herself up, sitting lightly on his thighs, a big smile plastered on her flushed face. “You have SITs to train,” she said impudently.

A wave of relief washed over Spike, which was immediately followed by an amused sense of frustration. “Why you cheeky little…”

He was cut off by a quick peck Buffy placed on his lips. “I’m gonna go take a shower,” she informed him as she jumped out of bed.

When she saw he wasn’t moving she asked, “Aren’t you getting up?”

He stared back at her, his annoyed expression negated by the mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Actually I’m waitin’ to get back down,” he complained, feigning indignation as he crossed his arms for dramatic affect. “Wouldn’t want to scar any teenage girl sensibilities,” he added, gesturing with his head to the door.

Buffy smirked at the pout he didn’t even realize he was making. She bent down and kissed him sweetly on the lips, her hand softly cupping his cheek.

“You want me to clear the hallway? You could take a cold shower?” she asked sympathetically, trying to help him out. The tight spot he was in was, after all, her fault.

Spike stared up at her in awe, his cerulean eyes sparkling as they looked into Buffy’s sympathetic gaze. She felt bad about leaving him hanging, which made his heart swell. The old Buffy would have left him hard and unsatisfied without a second thought. Now, his girl felt guilty for getting him all hot and bothered with no intention of finishing the job. Well not with her assistance anyway.

It still felt strange to him, that she cared. He knew without a doubt that, even if only in the most fundamental way, Buffy loved him. Spike just wasn’t certain how far that love extended. Was it a companionship, a friendship complemented with desire? Or was Buffy truly in love with him? The vampire pushed the thoughts away. When Buffy was ready, she would tell him. Unless, that is, the world came to an end before she got the chance.

Nodding, the Spike gave her a smile in gratitude. “Thanks, pet.”

Buffy made her way to the door, opening it slightly to peek out into the hallway. She sighed when she saw that the morning lineup for the bathroom was nonexistent.

“Coast is clear,” she announced.

Spike hopped out of bed, wincing slightly as his hard on rubbed against the zipper of his jeans.

Racing to the front door, he planted a kiss on her lips. “I love you,” he whispered, before taking off to the bathroom, hoping his luck was good enough that the Potentials were all just having a tardy morning.

The Slayer watched as her vampire boyfriend shut the bathroom door, in a hurry to deal with his embarrassing predicament. She sighed. She felt bad for getting him all worked up just to leave him hanging.

Buffy couldn’t help but think how sensitive Spike was being. The old Spike would’ve made her all lusty and horny until she gave into him. It wasn’t that she hadn’t wanted him. Hell, more than half of the time she’d been the one jumping his bones. But last year, when he had wanted it, Spike had known exactly how to seduce her.

It was why her gaze remained transfixed on the bathroom door. In the heat of the moment, Buffy had stopped them. Spike had not argued her decision. He hadn’t even gotten upset, not really anyway. She figured his huffiness was fulfilling some kind of male ego requirement.

Spike loved her enough to place her needs before his own.

The smile she’d been sporting transformed into a frown. He loved her so much and she couldn’t even tell him how she felt. Spike had said he already knew that the First couldn’t use his guilt for what he had done to her because he knew she still loved him despite it.

Buffy groaned at the memory. Last night he had said those words to her and her response had been to totally change the subject on him. Heartless much?

She loved Spike, she trusted him but she couldn’t overcome her deer-caught-in-headlights fear. Sure, they’d hashed out all their problems yesterday but you just don’t get over years of self-conditioning over night. Spike deserved to know. She just hated that there was an apocalypse looming over them, that she had a deadline to deal with to work out her feelings. Buffy didn’t want it to sound forced. She wanted to mean it.

Heading back into the room, Buffy started to make the bed. She still needed time. She just hoped it wasn’t going to take the end of the world for her to tell Spike she loved him.


********


“The Yankees suck!” Faith stubbornly stated.

Robin glared at her, unconvinced. “You gotta come up with a better argument for your case,” he countered. “And the Yankees do not suck.”

“Whatever,” she dismissed, taking a sip from the coffee she’d picked up from the Java Hut.

The two of them were out on Buffy’s front porch, reclining on the railing, enjoying the morning sunshine as they delayed their trip back into the house for as long as they possibly could.

“You know, an 85 year old curse that still hasn’t been broken is clear indication that the Yankees are a much better team,” Wood continued the quarrel. He loved pushing Faith’s buttons; it was so easy to get her all riled up.

“Oh yeah? Last World Series your boys played, they got their asses handed to them,” she retorted.

“Eighty. Five. Years,” he simply replied, punctuating every word. “That’s almost a century of an asswhoopin’,” he chuckled.

Faith scoffed. “Shut up and drink your coffee.”

They’d spent the whole night hanging out, just talking. Well, for the most part.

The Bronze had been closed, and Willy’s was shut down indefinitely. She hadn’t thought of it until now but maybe the little snitch new something the rest of them didn’t. She shrugged the thought off. No point in over analyzing the weasel’s life plans.

Faith eventually had found a bar open late on the outskirts of town. At first she and Wood just kept to themselves, downing a few shots of tequila to drown their sorrows.

What neither of them had realized was that, much like Willy’s, the bar catered to both human and demon clientele. So when the recently returned Slayer and vampire slaying Principal walked into the establishment, a table of vampires weren’t all too happy to see them.

Faith smiled behind her Styrofoam cup of coffee at the memory. They’d left the place trashed, having dusted every last vamp, much to the owner’s dismay. The two of them had left the place laughing hysterically, the tensions they’d been under the whole night suddenly lifted.

The duo spent the rest of the wee morning hours simply walking the empty streets of Sunnydale, talking about everything and anything that came to mind; everything and anything except the subject of vampires and slayers. It was nice to pretend, to forget their problems, even if only for one night.

The whole Boston Red Sox versus The New York Yankees debate had started just after the sun had risen, when they’d bought themselves some coffee from the just opened Java Hut.

Neither Wood nor Faith had decided to return to Buffy’s. They’d just ended up back there, a silent agreement between the two of them that they’d wait a while before venturing back into the house.

“You’ll never convince me, ya know,” she said unwaveringly. “I’m pure Bostonian through and through. I got the Red Sox in my blood.”

“Yeah well, born and raised in Manhattan,” Wood countered. “It’s bad enough I moved out here. What right minded New Yorker leaves the Big Apple? The Yankees are my only lifeline back to city living.”

Faith nodded. “Know what you mean. California’s all bimbos and granola types. They wouldn’t last ten minutes where we grew up. An hour in a blizzard could take ‘em out,” she wisecracked.

Faith and Wood laughed lightly at her joke, both their gazes inadvertently landing on the front door. They were avoiding the inevitable and it was likely that sooner much rather than later they were going to have to face Buffy.

They could hear the going-ons of the Summer’s home behind the solid wood door, a hum of excitement and nervous chatter of a houseful of teenage girls reaching their ears. Robin looked down at his watch, wondering when Buffy would be heading out for work. If she decided to go in today at all.

“Guess everybody’s up,” Faith commented, a bittersweet tone to her voice. Having to go back into the house meant she had to step back into reality, into the hell that was her existence. Faith didn’t want the night to end. She didn’t want to stop pretending.

“Yeah, sure sounds like it,” Wood replied, his own voice laced with melancholy. He’d much rather spend the rest of his day hanging out with Faith than have to face the Slayer he had backstabbed.

“You know we don’t have to go in,” she suggested, trying to sound logical. “Maybe we should give it a day. You know, let everything blow over before we go back into the snake pit?”

Wood was about ready to agree when simultaneously a car pulled up behind them and the Summer’s front door swung open to reveal a flustered Slayer.

“Hurry up Dawn!” she shouted over her shoulder. “We’re running…” her voice faltered when she saw the last two people she expected to see that morning lounging on her front porch. “Late.”

“Buffy,” Wood said in surprise as he stood up.

“Robin…” Buffy responded in shock. “Faith,” she added with involuntary hostility when she noticed the woman standing beside her boss. “I see you two have met. Lemme guess, you’re trading notes on how to kill my boyfriend?” she inquired scathingly.

Wood winced at her remark. True, it was warranted but that just made him feel all the worse. “I deserve that,” he sighed.

Buffy placed her hands on her hips, evidently unimpressed by Robin’s shabby appearance and his blood shot eyes. “Look, obviously you’re spending your day playing hooky but Xander’s waiting and I’m running late,” she harshly stated, taking a step to leave. “Dawn!” she yelled.

“Buffy, wait,” Robin implored, hoping she’d just give him a minute to plead his case.

The Slayer sighed, turning around to hear whatever it was he had to say. She couldn’t well leave without her punctually incompetent sister.

“I’m sorry, Buffy,” he immediately apologized.

She stared at him in surprise, having detected the sincerity in his voice.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he continued. “You were in a vulnerable position and I took advantage of that for my own means.”

Buffy quirked a brow. “And Spike?” she wondered skeptically.

Wood exhaled loudly, struggling to come to grips with the conflicting emotions he had regarding the vampire in question. “I’ve been talking to Faith,” he began. “She explained a few things to me. I’m still trying to figure it all out. I can’t honestly say I’m sorry for trying to kill Spike…”

“Then we’re done here,” Buffy cut him off with the wave of her hand, making her was down the porch steps.

“Buffy, please,” Robin begged as he followed her to the front lawn, immediately trailed by a silent Faith.

The Slayer spun around, glaring at the two of them, wishing Dawn would move her ass.

“I can’t forgive him, Buffy. Not for what he did to my mother. It’s why I can’t be sorry for trying to kill him last night,” Wood attempted to clarify. “But I understand now why you need him,” he revealed, glancing briefly over to Faith. “How important he is to you.”

Buffy’s gaze also turned to the brunette, astonishment evident in her expression as she realized that Faith had somehow assisted in Robin’s little epiphany.

“I’m sorry I hurt you, Buffy,” he finished.

Buffy nodded, silently accepting his apology. “Despite my relationship with Spike, he’s still the strongest warrior we have. We are gonna need him if we're gonna come out of this thing alive,” she told him, facing him with a grave demeanor. “You try anything again, he'll kill you. More importantly, I'll let him.”

It was Wood’s turn to look shocked.

“I have a mission to win this war, to save the world. I don't have time for vendettas,” Buffy warned, making her way over to the car, her hand resting on the door handle. “If you still want to be a part of this, you’re going to have to work with him. Can you do that?” she wondered questioningly.

“I can try,” he replied honestly.

“Okay. I’m planning on having a meeting tonight so everyone can get caught up on what Giles dug up in London. Can I count on you to be there?” Buffy asked. “With intentions that are not of the nature of staking my boyfriend?”

Robin nodded wordlessly.

It was at that moment that Xander, who had been patiently waiting for Buffy to finish her reconciliation with the High School Principal, rolled down the passenger window, staring anxiously at the Slayer.

“Real sorry to interrupt here, Buff, but my ass is canned if I’m not at that meeting in fifteen minutes,” he pleaded.

Without another word to Robin, Buffy opened the front door to Xander’s car, about ready to scream at the top of her lungs for her sister when the teenager dashed out of the house, flying down the walkway of their front lawn.

“I’m here. I’m here. I’m here,” she rambled as she jumped into the back seat of the car.

Wood took a step back as Buffy closed the door behind her, standing next to Faith, who had remained suspiciously silent throughout the whole ordeal with Buffy. They quietly observed the car race down Revello Drive until it turned a corner, no longer in range of sight.

“You think she meant it?” he asked with a trace of fear.

“What? Letting Spike kill you if you pull another stunt like the one last night?” Faith already knew that was what Wood was thinking. “D’ya even wanna take the chance?”

“No. I guess not,” he admitted tiredly. “I better get going. I need some sleep.”

“Yeah, the coffee was definitely lacking in the caffeine department,” Faith remarked in agreement.

“Thanks for the slayer insight,” Wood lightly joked. “And for the much needed distraction,” he added with a smile.

“No biggie,” she shrugged. “But just that we’re both clear, everything that was said last night remains…”

“Totally between us,” Wood assured.

Faith sighed. “Good.”

“So, I guess I’ll see you later?” he asked, placing his hand on her arm.

“Uhh…yeah. Big meeting,” she responded, feeling a foreign twinge of nervousness.

Since when did she get nervous around guys?

‘Maybe since you’ve never met one who wasn’t a total creep or who wasn’t completely turned off by your criminal record,’ she mentally admonished.

The dark Slayer stared up at the man standing beside her. ‘And never one who looked this fine’.

Wood placed an innocent kiss on Faith’s cheek. “Bye,” he whispered with a grin.

Faith prayed to God she wasn’t blushing.

“Bye,” she said softly, watching with a smile as the closest person now in her life, a guy she’d known for less than forty-eight hours, began his march back home.

Staring back at the Summer’s front door, the Slayer groaned wearily. What were the chances she could make it to the basement without running into Andrew?


********


Meanwhile, as the Xander’s car drove slightly over the speed limit on its way to the Sunnydale High School, Dawn’s eyes narrowed suddenly in confusion.

“This might be the lack of sleep talking, but did I just see Faith and Principal Wood on our front lawn?” she asked, openly doubting her own perception of reality.

Buffy gave the teen a curt nod. “I think they were out the whole night…talking,” she answered without any real emotion. Buffy was as baffled as her sister, if not more so.

Dawn shook her head in disbelief. “Weird.”



TBC



A/N: Before you Red Sox fans point out that the Curse of the Bambino was recently broken, this story is taking place in 2003 so the Sox wouldn't have won the World Series until 2004.
Chapter Seventeen- Eye Opener by Aurora
Author's Notes:
Here's a long chapter. Thanks for the reviews and emails. This chapter, like all other chapters, was betaed by the wonderful Darkezza. Feedback would be greatly appreciated.
Chapter Seventeen: Eye Opener



Blood. Her blood. Staining his blade. The blood of a temptress, the crimson blood of a dirty girl. Since Eve herself, it ran through the veins of all women.

Adam’s wife, Adam’s love, Adam’s weakness. She was the cause of his suffering. The reason the first man was cast out of Eden for the rest of eternity. His undying trust in her ruined him, denied him a life without sin; a dishonor that would forever shame mankind.

And for her, the punishment was to be everlasting, a reminder of her first transgression against the Lord. Her curse, and that of all her female descendents, was to bleed and to endure the pains of childbirth. It was a mark to be donned by the originator of original sin so that she may never forget the repercussions of her actions. A mark that signified her defiance of God.

Staring back down at the knife in his hand, he smiled sadistically. The Blood symbolized her fall from grace and committing man to the perils of mortality. Yet this blood would not bring forth new life. No, this blood was to end it. A woman’s journey through wickedness began with blood and so it would end with blood, to be shed from a wound in place of her womb, to permanently stain the blade that was to pierce her flesh. His blade.

“You know, you really should clean that thing,” a soft feminine voice called from behind him. “That or just mount it on the wall and be done with it.”

The tall, dark haired man turned around, finding a petite blond woman standing before him. “You’ve taken a new form,” he muttered in surprise, suppressing the traitorous urges that developed within him at the sight of this manifestation of yet another seductress.

“I have,” the incorporeal figure replied without further clarification. “And if you finally put that knife away, Caleb, I might just let you in on who she is.”

Caleb nodded, dutifully laying the weapon down upon one of the many barrels that littered the dank wine cellar.

“I’m Her,” the First vaguely elaborated.

Caleb’s brow furrowed in puzzlement. “Not lookin’ to poke holes in your undoubtedly surefire plan but seeing as how you only appear in the skins of the recently departed, I don’t see how the Slayer poses a threat to you if she’s of the non-living sort.”

The First sighed in mild annoyance. Caleb wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, but then again, what the Preacher’s brutish stubbornness lacked in detecting subtext was compensated by the devout obedience it offered.

“Because she didn’t stay dead,” It replied, pacing in front of the befuddled holy man. “Her resurrection shifted the balance, allowed me to put my plan in motion. With you as my right hand man of course.”

“Of course,” Caleb agreed. “Couldn’t blow up the Council and lead the Ray Charles brigade without a solid grasp on the corporeal world,” he went on as his eyes scanned the image being presented to him. “So this is her huh?”

The apparition smiled. “What d’ya think?” the First wondered as it swayed the blond mane it was projecting to and fro.

The self-proclaimed Preacher folded his hands, resting them at level with his waist. “Beautiful,” he immediately stated matter-of-factly. “But so was Delilah before she betrayed Samson,” he venomously added.

“What else do you see?” It inquired, staring directly into Caleb’s reprimanding gaze.

He took a moment to analyze the image of the Slayer standing before him. “Power,” he automatically answered. “And loneliness; the kind of loneliness that comes with true power.”

“Anything else?” It asked encouragingly.

Caleb stared harder, trying to concentrate on whatever it was his Master was referring to. About ready to give up, he finally caught sight of it, glimmering in the corner of the Slayer’s hazel eyes.

“Love,” he whispered, astonishment written in his typically sinister features.

“Bingo,” the First exclaimed, hopping up onto a large wooden wine barrel.

“I don’t understand,” Caleb confessed. “How does this affect us? A woman’s love is as fleeting as the breeze. Eventually her fancy will turn to another wretched soul.”

“And in the meantime?” the First questioned, waiting to see if Its devout little minion could connect the dots.

A menacing smile spread across Caleb’s lips as an evil plan began to formulate in his mind. “We use it against her.”

The First grinned approvingly at his reply. “I knew there was a reason why I picked you.”

“So who’s the unlucky fella?” he asked eagerly, getting excited at the prospect of the carnage he would exact against the enemies of his Master.

“Oh, you’ll meet our favorite couple real soon,” the First assured him. “Assuming she’ll actually take your bait.”

“She will,” he stated definitively.

“And what makes you so sure?” the First asked, slightly intrigued by the man’s confidence.

“Curiosity,” he responded confidently. “Woman's first sin. I offer her an apple. What can she do but take it?”

“You can take the man out of the Preacher but you can’t take the Preacher out of…whatever it is you are now,” the First offhandedly commented before the imitated Slayer’s demeanor suddenly sobered. “When they show up, kill Spike,” It ordered.

Caleb did a double take upon hearing his instructions. “It’s the vampire?!” he asked, stunned. “The one whose head you’ve been playin’ with since he came back to these here shores with a sparklin’ new soul?”

“The same one.”

Caleb gawked for another few seconds until he at last nodded in acceptance. He wouldn’t doubt his Master any further. The First had a plan, which was to be followed, not questioned.

“And the Slayer?”

The First shook its incorporeal head. “No, I want her to get out alive,” It said as it appeared to climb off of its wine barrel throne. “Her defeat will be all the sweeter once she’s been broken.”

Caleb smirked again. “And once she’s out of the picture, it can be mine right?” he asked, sounding like an impatient child.

The First’s gaze landed on the trap door in the cellar floor. “Have you removed it from the rock?”

“I have Bringers on the excavation as we speak,” he notified the First.

“As soon as she’s dead, it’s all yours,” the First permitted, disappearing in a stream of light, leaving Caleb to prepare for the cavalry that would soon be on its way.

The man dressed in black allowed his gaze to momentarily fall to the trap door. He was going to enjoy taking down the Slayer and he was going to really enjoy the prize that awaited him. Once the Bringers dug it out of the stone, it would be his. Not hers to wield.


********



Buffy walked briskly down Revello Drive, heading in the direction of her house. It was ten in the morning, and she was done for the day, and quite possibly done for good with the whole school councilor gig.

It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy it. If Buffy had the opportunity of a real future with a real career, she could’ve seen herself maybe being a guidance councilor. God knows she could have used a compassionate ear those first few months after she’d been chosen. But no, it wasn’t that she didn’t like the job. To be perfectly honest, there was no job left.

Like on most days, Buffy had expected a steady flow of students coming in to see her that morning. Instead she’d spent her time waiting, with not a single pimply faced teenager stopping by to even say hello.

And as she’d sat, idly waiting to help some obscure troubled teen, she couldn’t help but think of the houseful of scared adolescent girls waiting to be reassured and educated back at home.

Then it hit her, like a ton of self-aware bricks. The pointlessness of her being there, the total waste of time and energy that she’d invested in maintaining this little fantasy, all came crashing down on her conscience. Having half expected to spot a ball of tumbleweed rolling across the vacant school corridors, Buffy had abruptly gotten up from her desk. She’d ignored the booming ticks of the clock’s second hand, attempting to disregard the ominous ringing in her ears. She had to get out of there; she had to go home, where she was actually needed.

So now Buffy was marching down her street, reflecting on how she should have quit weeks ago. The High School had been near empty, classes less than half full with apathetic students. The Principal himself hadn’t even shown up for work, revealing where his job and the school actually ranked on his priority list.

The streets on her return home were lined with houses that were being sold or just completely abandoned. The town was being silently evacuated, the residents of Sunnydale, after having faced an Ascension, a Hell Goddess, and other countless near apocalyptic episodes, knew instinctively that they may not survive what was to come. They could no longer feign the ignorance that had sustained them for all these years.

An ignorance Buffy seemed to have acquired herself recently, deciding to put the blinders on when it came to the world around her. Sunnydale, the High School, the false illusion of normalcy that masked the Hellmouth was gone. There was nothing left to distract her, nothing left to hide behind.

Buffy’s place was with the Potentials, training them with Spike at her side. She knew that now. It was why she was racing home. She had to make up for lost time.

Striding through the front door, Buffy came to a halt in the middle of her front lobby. The house was completely unoccupied. What was it with her today and the eerily deserted locales? While genuinely considering the possibility that she may be suffering from a severe case of room clearing B.O., a familiar face strolled into the hallway from the kitchen.

“Home so soon, luv?” Spike asked, mug of heated blood in hand.

The smile that lit up her face was unconscious, a side product of the giddy reflex Buffy couldn’t help suppress at the sight of the platinum vampire.

“I’ve decided to go on sabbatical,” she lightly stated as she followed him into the living room, taking a seat beside him when he sat down on the couch.

“For how long?” Spike asked, somewhat thrown by the announcement.

“Indefinitely,” she answered, seemingly unaffected by what could potentially be an upsetting bit of news.

Spike took a sip of his breakfast. The likelihood that the Principal had anything to do with her decision wasn’t one he could readily discount. Maybe his girl and the wanker had had a bit of a squabble back at the office over what had transpired the night before. Spike’s eyes suddenly narrowed. If Buffy had lost her job because that pillock couldn’t get over his obsession with retribution, so help him God, Spike was going to make sure the Educator was taught a severe lesson.

“Mind if I ask why the sudden change in heart, pet?” Spike inquired, wanting to see if his theory concerning her unexpected change in vocation was correct.

Buffy sighed, tucking her legs beneath her as she slid to Spike’s side, laying her head on his shoulder. “I was kidding myself,” she started, her voice small. “The whole guidance councilor thing was nice but I have more important things to worry about than the dropping student population of Sunnydale High.”

“Finally noticed the herds of folks migratin’ out of our fair town, have you?” he teasingly wondered. At least now he knew Principal Wood had nothing to do with her decision. Lucky for him.

Buffy’s head shot up to stare at Spike in bewilderment, whacking him halfheartedly on the arm. “You knew and you didn’t say anything?!”

The vampire stared at her with embellished indignation. “’S not like it’s a bleedin’ secret. All you had to do was look out the soddin’ window!” he argued back defensively.

Buffy exhaled, visibly deflated as her brief spell of moral outrage quickly dissipated. “I know,” she relented. “Just trying to displace the blame for my sub par slayering.”

Spike gave her a reprimanding frown. “You’re not a bad slayer, Buffy,” he firmly told her.

Buffy rested her head back on his shoulder, snuggling into his chest as the vampire pulled her closer, one strong arm wrapped around her waist. “I know. But I could’ve been better.”

Spike kissed Buffy’s temple softly. “If you start dwellin’ on the ‘would’ve, could’ves’ luv, you’re gonna find yourself in a high school basement, waxing poetic with the local vermin.”

Buffy giggled at his little spiel. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” she replied. “Rat Whisperer,” she mockingly added.

“Ha bloody ha, Slayer,” he grumpily rebuked. “Last time I sacrifice my self-respect to lighten the mood.”

“I appreciate the gesture,” she assured, still laughing as kissed him on the cheek. “Really, I do.”

“Know what would ease my bruised male ego?” he whispered in her ear.

Buffy’s breath hitched momentarily at the evident need in his voice. Before she made a conscious decision as to how to respond to the vampire’s not too subtle advances, she was grazing kisses along his jaw, leisurely traveling to his lips. She ignored the coppery taste of his kiss, remnants of his sanguine meal, as her tongue slid into his mouth, a soft moan the only soundtrack to their embrace.

Neither moved from their spots on the couch, partly from the concern of becoming too consumed in their passion in such a public area of the house, and also because Spike was still holding his cuppa of O-neg.

Buffy’s hand involuntarily glided up the vampire’s chest, unintentionally scraping his left nipple through the thin cotton material. The unanticipated stimulation made Spike groan and gasp in the same unneeded breath. She could feel the similar stirrings from earlier that morning begin to rekindle as their kisses became more fevered, more hungered.

The Slayer pulled away, panting heavily as she glanced up at Spike with hooded eyes. Again, she had to be the one to put on the brakes. Buffy wasn’t sure where all the Potentials were but she sure as hell didn’t want to give any of them a free show. “Where are the girls?” she asked breathily.

Spike’s glassy eyed gaze met hers, his lust addled mind unable to rationalize why her soft lips were no longer caressing his. “What’s that?” he responded ineloquently.

Buffy smiled at him as she put a tiny bit of distance between them, giving herself some room to breathe. “Where are the SIT’s?” she asked again.

Spike inhaled deeply, sitting back as he regained his composure. “They’re with your Watcher in the backyard,” he explained. “Rupert wanted to school ‘em on the Slayer histories. Figure he thinks it’ll give ‘em purpose, add to group morale and all that rot,” he said indifferently as he placed the mug he’d been cradling on the coffee table.

Buffy worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “So, we have the house for ourselves for a while?”

Spike didn’t give her any time to elaborate before he playfully tackled her, his mouth zeroing in on her beautiful throat. His mouth latched onto the wounds he’d recently marked on her supple column of flesh, his body hovering above her, gently pressing her into the couch’s soft, accommodating cushions. He growled hungrily at the feeling of her breasts pushed up against his chest, at how her thighs cradled his rocking hips.

Buffy’s eyes grew wide at the sensation of his mouth suckling on her neck. Earlier that morning, he had lapped at the bite marks, but it had not produced the mind-melting, spark-spotting, electrical firestorm that was presently raging throughout her body.

She figured she’d been too distracted by other, more prominent aspects of Spike’s arousal to fully feel the affect his lingual ministrations on her wounds. Yet now that the vampire decided to go on full assault, focusing his attention solely on her sensitive neck, Buffy couldn’t deny that Spike’s mark was some sort of erogenous zone.

He had not been the first vampire to sink his fangs into her. She’d been bitten before, three times to be exact, but she’d never been given the opportunity to experiment with the residual tinglies that apparently lingered post-wound infliction. Now that she knew how it felt, how it could feel, both the bite and the sensations subsequent to it, Buffy mentally kicked herself for never having allowed Spike to bite her in all the time they’d been together. Maybe when she was ready to…

Abruptly, Spike released his mouth from her neck, sitting the both of them up in one swift move.

Buffy, lacking all ability to formulate the obvious question of ‘Why’d you stop?’, simply verbalized a ‘Huh?’ instead.

Spike chuckled at his girl’s disoriented appearance, taking some bit of manly pride in the fact that he had rendered her totally loopy with his wicked tongue. Picking his mug of blood back up for another sip, Spike reclined back into the sofa, waiting for the inconvenient reason he had to put an end to the snogfest with his Slayer.

Shaking off the lust induced haze, Buffy’s line of vision followed that of Spike’s, joining his attention to the front door. When it suddenly opened, she stared back at Spike in surprise.

“Buffy?” she heard Xander call out as he stepped into the house.

The Slayer continued to stare at Spike, smiling when she understood his motive behind the cease and desist on their make out session. She knew Spike would’ve loved nothing more than to rub it Xander’s face, to have her best friend walk in on them when they were in mid grope. Instead, he hadn’t dismissed Xander’s approaching presence and had prevented a very awkward situation. Well, awkward for Buffy anyway.

“Thank you,” she whispered in gratitude.

Spike returned the smile, bowing his head in what appeared to be uncharacteristic bashfulness. It was funny that amongst all the naughtiness that had been only recently revived in their relationship, it took her acknowledging his good intentions to get him all but saying ‘aw shucks’.

“Buffy?” Xander called again.

Taking the vampire’s unoccupied hand in hers, she called back, “In here Xand.”

The meaning of the gesture wasn’t lost on Spike. Though his girl was grateful for his averting a potentially embarrassing scenario between her and the Whelp, it wasn’t to say that she was ashamed of what they had, that they were together. He wasn’t her dirty little secret anymore. It made him want to grin like a bloody poofter. But he wouldn’t, not with the Glorified Brick Layer as an audience.

Xander strode into the living room, looking worn and weary, completely oblivious to the coziness being shared by the couple on the couch. He plopped himself down in the small sofa chair, sighing heavily.

Buffy quirked her brow. “You’re home early,” she noted.

“I was just about to say the same,” he replied tiredly. “School cancelled?”

“I quit,” Buffy answered, straight to the point. “You?”

Xander released a sardonic chuckle. “Guess I shouldn’t have jinxed myself with the whole ‘my ass is canned if...’ salutation this morning, huh?” he indirectly explained.

“You got fired?” Buffy asked with surprised outrage. “But you weren’t late.”

Xander shrugged. “Ya know that meeting that I absolutely had to be at?”

“It was so they could fire you,” Buffy pieced together, her tone sympathetic.

“Yeah well it wasn’t just me,” he informed. “The company was picking up and getting the hell out of Sunnydale.”

“No need for building houses if there’s no people around to put them in,” Buffy reasoned.

“And since I wasn’t willing to transfer to another city, they had no choice but to can my ass,” he elaborated. “And to think I could’ve slept in today.”

Buffy cracked a smile. That was Xander, always the jokester even in the face of career ending job terminations.

“You gonna be okay?”

Xander gave her a reassuring nod. “Just gives me more time to help around here I guess.”

“My sentiments exactly,” she rejoined, glancing briefly at Spike, who was quietly drinking his blood.

The vampire had decided it was best not ruffle any of the Boy’s feathers. For Buffy’s sake, he’d maintain some form of civility. Even if it meant keeping his mouth shut.

The three of them turned to the sound of the basement door creaking open, revealing a sleep rumpled Faith. “Hey,” she greeted uncomfortably, hating how all eyes were on her.

“Hey,” Buffy replied when no one else would.

Xander seemed to have suddenly grown very agitated at the sight of the Slayer, and Spike, well he was too busy shooting daggers at the brunette, most likely from his newly acquired awareness of her previous transgressions against his girl.

Buffy on the other hand was feeling surprisingly forgiving. She knew she’d been completely irrational when Faith had shown up the night before, her own insecurities causing her to overreact at threat the other Slayer seemingly posed. Then this morning, after Robin had told her that it had been Faith who had helped him understand her relationship with Spike, Buffy could no longer refuse to believe that the woman standing uneasily in her front hall was not trying to make up for some her past misdeeds. Thanks to Faith’s slight intervention, the Slayer had managed to call truce with Wood.

“There should still be some coffee left on the pot in the kitchen,” Buffy informed, breaking through the unnerving silence.

Faith nodded a thanks but her quest for caffeine was cut short by the thunderous steps of one Andrew Wells, who at the moment was barreling down the stairs, followed by an equally eager Anya. The duo skidded to a stop, looking very much like Laurel and Hardy, about ready to burst at the seams with some kind of harebrained scheme.

“Buffy, good you’re home,” Anya quickly said, excitement laced in her voice. “Andrew and I have been talking.”

“Having a tête-à-tête if you will,” Andrew supplemented in his narrator voice.

Anya shrugged off the nerd’s interruption. “Since you seem to have many girls on hand who could serve as an efficient labor force, we were wondering if we could borrow the Potentials for an afternoon?” she inquired, her tone determined and optimistic.

“What for?” Buffy asked skeptically.

“Everyone knows our days are numbered, just no one wants to bring up the fact were not too far from an apocalypse because they don’t want to make you feel pressured,” she steadily explained with unforgiving honesty.

“We’re like the Rebel Alliance in the final moments leading up to the Battle of Endor,” Andrew piped up.

“You gonna get to your point any time soon?” Buffy asked, becoming increasingly aggravated.

“We need provisions, the kind you can’t get from Walgreen’s,” Anya elaborated. “And now’s the time to be stocking up so we’re not running around like headless chickens searching for crossbows or eye of newt when the First finally decides it wants blood,” she stated in one breathless stretch. “Your blood that is, and our blood vicariously.”

“Thanks for the clarification,” Buffy quipped, waiting impatiently for the purpose behind this business pitch.

“Anya was saying that there’s probably a mundo stash of magic supplies and weapons still left in the Magic Box,” Andrew finally got to the issue, sounding as giddy as a schoolgirl, pausing momentarily with an afterthought. “Well, whatever wasn’t smashed to pieces from Willow’s rendition of Jean Grey turned Dark Phoenix.”

“If we had a few girls with us, maybe we could sift through the rubble and do a bit of salvaging,” Anya pushed further, sounding very much like her former saleswoman self.

Buffy still wasn’t convinced and she clearly showed it with the arching of her brow. “So you just want to give away all that merchandise that never met its money making potential? How unlike you Anya?” she commented. “What’s the catch?”

“Hey!” the ex-demon protested indignantly. “I’ll have you know I love my life more than I love money.”

Buffy sustained her incredulous expression.

Anya sighed in surrender. “There was this shipment of Ghora eggshell that I had promised someone as a form of payment,” she began to explain.

“Payment?” Spike inquired, his interest in the conversation peaking.

Anya groaned in annoyance. “Yes, payment. Which he is now demanding for since he’s hightailing it out of Sunnydale.”

“Why am I gettin’ the impression this transaction was one of the unsavory persuasion, Anyanka?” the vampire asked.

“It’s a debt I have to clear,” she replied through gritted teeth, hating how her bruised pride was on exhibit for all to see.

Xander, who had wisely remained silent for the majority of the conversation, gaped at his ex. She had used the ‘D’ word. Anya Jenkins was a savvy and ruthless in all aspects that concerned her financial standing. Anya did not have debts, even those of the non-monetary sort. “D-debt?” he stuttered.

“Yes,Xander, I’ve recently acquired a few debts,” she snapped back at him. “Since the short return to my vengeance career left me owing more unsatisfied clientele than expected for my takseybacksy wishes, I had to pull a lot of strings with many demons so D’Hoffryn wouldn’t have my hide,” she defended, becoming quite aggravated. “So can we please get me those damn monster eggs before that Parachni demon comes for my legs?” she begged, turning from Xander to Buffy.

Buffy shrugged. “Okay,” she agreed unconcernedly. “The raid of the Magic Box is still a good idea though.”

The ex-demon sighed in relief. “Good.”

“I’ll get a few girls together after they’re done with Giles and we’ll head out,” the Slayer informed her.

Anya nodded, deciding a quiet exit was the best course of action. It would’ve worked, had she not bumped into the complete stranger who was lurking in the hallway.

“Who are you?” she asked.

Faith was rendered speechless from being so unabashedly put on the spot.

Andrew gladly filled in the blanks. “This is Faith. The other Slayer,” he declared, reverence evident in his tone.

“Faith?” Anya repeated the name since it sounded vaguely familiar. Suddenly her head spun to stare accusingly at Xander, who at the moment was sinking deeper into his sofa chair, wishing the upholstery would just swallow him whole. “As in the Faith?!”

The dark slayer slowly began to inch away from the confrontation that was seconds from erupting, her instinct to flee strong from the prospect of having to contend with the easily jealous woman Xander had left at the aisle.

Buffy knew things would get bad quickly if she didn’t intervene. However, Spike beat her to the punch.

“Oi! Demille,” he called out to Andrew. “Get the camera ready. I think Girl, Interrupted here‘s ‘bout ready for her close up.”

Buffy turned to Spike, about ready to object. The last thing Faith needed was for Andrew to go all investigative reporter.

To her surpise, Faith relaxed almost instantly at the suggestion. “Let’s go doofus,” she said, grabbing a hold of the starry eyed geek’s arm, dragging him out of the house to the front porch so that they could finally have that one time exclusive interview away from prying eyes. Specifically, those belonging to one fuming former vengeance demon.

Anya watched the Slayer walk through the front door with suspicion and discontent, her arms crossed in a dramatic fashion.

“Xander? Could I have a word with you?” she asked, not waiting for his response as she stomped up the stairs.

Releasing a long haggered breath, Xander got up from his seat, head hung low as he followed after his ex.

Buffy offered him a sympathetic smile, which he returned with a saddened quirk of the lips.

“So much for civility,” Spike muttered under his breath when the room’s population finally returned to just him and Buffy.

The Slayer sighed in agreement. “I better go check in with Giles, at least let him know I’m gonna be taking over the majority of the training.”

“Demoting me already, luv?” Spike asked teasingly.

“Oh, don’t think you’re going anywhere buster,” Buffy warned lightheartedly. “I still need you. You’ll just be playing a little more…second string from now on. That’s okay, right?” she wondered tentatively.

She didn’t want Spike to think she wasn’t grateful for his help. Buffy didn’t want him to feel like she was just usurping him, reaping the benefits of all his hardwork without having contributed as much to the workload. Granted Spike had only taken up a strong leadership role in the past two weeks, but Buffy still didn’t want to steal his thunder. He really was good with the Potentials.

“Are you kiddin’? ’S a soddin’ relief, is what it is,” he unabashedly responded. “Don’t know how you do it, pet. Nearly two weeks of takin’ over training all on my lonesome and ’m ‘bout ready to throw in the towel,” he remarked, his voice a mixture of exhaustion and relief. “It’s all yours, really, the whole buggering brigade. I’m perfectly content playing second fiddle.”

“You’re not just saying that?”

“Who’s the Slayer here, luv?” Spike argued. “I might’ve had myself a few minions back in the day but ‘m no leader. Even with the soul, ‘m not one for playin’ the hero type, what with the limelight and all, does nothing for the complexion,” he joked with a chuckle. “Prefer it that way, pet. Training the girls, bein’ in charge, that’s your calling, Buffy, not mine. I’d much rather play the part if supportive boyfriend.”

Buffy kissed him softly, her lips lingering on his for a moment, the air suddenly heavy between them. “Okay, but don’t think you’re getting out of a.m. training just cuz you don’t have to be in charge anymore,” she murmured against his lips.

“Slave driver,” he griped in half-seriousness.

“Better believe it,” Buffy countered, giving him one last peck before she got up off the couch, heading through the kitchen to the backdoor.

Spike watched her traipse off, smirking at her cheekiness. He would’ve wanted nothing more than to join her out in the backyard with the Watcher and the rest of the girls, but the pesky morning sunlight had a tendency of shining right onto the back porch, keeping him well away until the sun traveled just a bit further west. It was why the morning routine usually had them out in the front yard. Funny that only in a place like Sunnydale could a large gathering of girls practicing martial arts go unnoticed. Didn’t hurt neither that Sunnydale was nearing ghost town status. Less time spent making up piss poor excuses about holding self-defense classes for the local Girl Scout Chapter. Stupid gullible humans.

The vampire shrugged. Since Giles had taken the Potentials for the morning he had himself some free time. Good thing too. From the stifled shouts and hushed grievances coming from above him, Spike figured he had at least a half hour of eaves dropping to keep himself entertained. It wasn’t like there was much else for him to do. Might as well get his jolies from the Whelp’s misery.


********



Anya closed the door firmly behind them as Xander tentatively stepped into the empty bedroom, which she had without a doubt commandeered to conduct the inevitable ripping of a new one he was about to endure. He stood in the centre of the room, his demeanor both awkward and exasperated. It wasn’t even noon yet and he was ready to call it a day. The last thing he needed was another heated confrontation with Anya.

“What is it Ahn?” he asked, his wearied frustration blatant in his tone.

She glared at him menacingly, a look she had once only reserved for the male victims she’d punished in the name of her scorned customers.

“Oh, no you don’t,” she instantly went on the defensive. “You’re not allowed to get grumpy with me Harris.”

“Anya, Faith is here to help Buffy,” he went into explication immediately, his patience waning. “She came back with Will last night and I have absolutely nothing to do with her being here.”

The woman before him relaxed slightly, allowing her arms to uncross and dangle at her sides. “I know, alright,” she dejectedly admitted .

“Then what’s with the secret inquisition?” he irritably inquired.

“You honestly have to ask me that?” Anya harshly whispered, hurt detectable in her voice.

“Yes. Yes I do,” he answered ardently. “We decided it’s time to move on. Remember, our one last hurrah? You’re the one who called it a ‘one more time’. You were the one to say it was over first.” He paused, giving himself a moment to calm down. “You can’t make with the jealousy and act the wounded party when us not being together anymore was your idea.”

“You left me,” she verbally punched back.

Xander threw his hands up in surrender. “As much as I would love to rehash this never ending blame game with you I’ve had a pretty rough morning. So fine. Whatever. You win,” he relented, making a move for the door, intent on leaving before they started saying things they didn’t mean.

“We still haven’t talked about what happened yesterday,” she meekly mumbled to his turned back.

Xander stopped dead in his tracks. “Yesterday?” he asked, turning around to face her.

Anya bowed her head, suddenly uncomfortable under his scrutinizing gaze. “We had a moment Xander, after Spike almost decapitated you with the bed, when you squeezed my hand. I…I felt…we...we shared something.”

Xander’s eyes softened, finding it difficult to maintain his exasperation when she looked so vulnerable. “I know,” he whispered back.

“We never had a chance to talk about what happened yesterday and then I come downstairs and you’re there with the woman who stole your virginity, not even acknowledging my presence…”

“Ahn…”

“And I don’t think it’s fair that you’re putting it all on me that we didn’t get back together after we had steamy basement sex just because I called it a ‘one more time’,” she rapidly continued, ignoring Xander’s protest. She needed to say what she’d been waiting weeks to say. “I mean, I was really confused and after the post-coital euphoria wore off I got insecure. So I said what first popped into my head.

“And when you didn’t object and totally jumped aboard the ‘one more time’ train, I couldn’t take it back and before I knew it we were moving on. And then yesterday…”

“When I squeezed your hand…” Xander supplemented, taking advantage of her momentary pause. “After our moment.”

Anya nodded. “It felt like there was still hope for us, Xander,” she rasped. “It gave me hope.”

Xander shifted from leg to leg, unnerved at the sight of her usually vibrant eyes now brimming with tears. “Ahn…”

She didn’t let him start. If he suddenly took it all away from her now, her pride wouldn’t survive his witnessing the breakdown that was sure to follow. Anya was already finding it hard keeping the tears at bay.

“You need to choose Xander. Once and for all,” she said in a composed and steady manner, trying to downplay the quiver in her voice. “Either be with me or make it final. I can’t do this anymore. I need closure,” Anya pleaded, hating how she sounded so desperate. “At least then, if these are really the last days we have left, we can have some peace of mind. I don’t want to die with any regrets.”

Xander stood still, rendered speechless by her request.

Anya didn’t wait for his reply. She needed some distance before he completely rejected her. She figured his silence could only mean he was trying to break it to her easy. Marching past him, she bee lined for the bathroom, locking herself inside the temporary sanctuary.

Xander, however, had made no effort to stop her. He was still in shock.

What he was supposed to feel was relief, the proverbial weight on his shoulders now miraculously lifted with one liberating ultimatum. Anya was giving him the choice, to sever all ties and move on with a guarantee of no more guilt. If he decided they were really through, she’d live with it, probably not like it, but she’d find a way to deal. Then they could really get on with their lives, even if their life expectancy nowadays only afforded them another two or three weeks.

It should be what he wanted, because if they weren’t going to be together then they should stop torturing themselves with ‘maybe’s’ and ‘what could’ve beens’. Xander should be thanking the gods for bestowing upon him this gift of a free pass out of self-loathing, might as well been handed to him on a silver platter. He should want this. Then why did he feel like the ground was falling out from right under him?

As he stood in Dawn’s room, staring out into the hallway at the closed bathroom door, only apprehension filled him at the notion of officially calling it quits with Anya. His hands were shakings and he could feel a cold sweat breaking out all over his body. Not a single ounce of jubilation or relief could he detect in the maelstrom of emotions running rampant within his gut.

Xander rubbed his face roughly as a sigh fell from his lips, resignedly making his way downstairs to get some fresh air. He needed time to think. Alone.


********



Spike sat quietly in the Summer’s kitchen at the breakfast bar, out of direct sunlight of course thanks to Buffy’s considerate deed of closing the kitchen blinds. It enabled the vampire to sit and listen in on the training session, not wishing to be left out of the fun since he was going to have to take over with Buffy for the afternoon. Needed to stay on top of the game if he was going to be any use to his girl. Unfortunately, Giles was still on his bloated rhetoric of Slayer tradition and responsibility. Lucky for Spike he had the Demon Bint and Dough Boy playing on Channel 2.

Sipping his second cup of blood, Spike’s eyes briefly met with Xander’s when he entered the kitchen in search for Buffy. Disregarding the vampire without so much as his customary guttural acknowledgement, he headed to the backdoor.

“Where are you going?” Spike wondered, his eyes still centered on the counter space in front of him.

“Like I’d tell you,” Xander uttered beneath his breath.

“Like I care,” he shot back. “Just don’t want you interuptin’ Buffy in mid sentence,” the vampire retorted disdainfully. “Started up one of those speeches she’s become so fond of recently, ‘bout two minutes before you so ungracefully lumbered your way downstairs.”

Xander groaned. He didn’t want to disrupt Buffy when she was in the middle of one of her now famous inspirational rants. He just wanted to tell her he’d be back that afternoon to help with the Magic Box raid. He just needed to go for a walk or something, get his head cleared up, and he definitively didn’t want the whole Summers’ Sorority knowing why.

“Can you just tell her I’ll be back in a few hours. I gotta…” he stopped, remembering who he was talking to. “Just give her the message.”

Spike simply nodded into his cup, his focus seemingly concentrated on Buffy’s muffled voice as he listened to her through the houses thin walls.

Xander, dismissing the vampire with an irritated scoff, pivoted about face to exit through the front door when the vampire suddenly came to life.

“Harris…” he called out.

Caught off guard, he spun around only to catch the flask that had been thrown his way. A peace offering. A very tempting peace offering.

“You heard,” Xander stated not so much asked, not particularly pleased with the idea of anyone, let alone Spike, knowing his business.

“Happens when you’re the resident fly on these walls,” Spike shrugged.

“You do know it’s 10:30 in the morning, right?” Xander halfheartedly contested.

Spike gave him a poignant look. “You can cut the propriety act, mate. Take it or leave it. This here libation is a one time sort of deal.”

“Just had to say it…you know…for the record,” Xander impassively explained, taking a generous swig of whiskey. In a house where the human traffic rivaled that of an international airport, he knew he was taking a risk with his spontaneous happy hour. Deciding the safest bet was to pour himself a cup of joe, Xander spiked the java brew with the amber liquid.

“Figures you’re of the sort to filch bread from a beggar,” Spike grumbled, grabbing his flask from Xander’s overindulgent grasp. “‘Spose to last me a while, you welcher.”

The other man ignored the vampire’s complaints, taking deep gulp of his irished coffee. “God that hits the spot,” he hoarsely proclaimed.

Spike shook his head in disapproval. “You’re a right wanker.”

“Please stop talking,” Xander unemotionally asked, knowing exactly where the vampire was going with the insulting commentary. He should have known that Spike’s momentary call for truce was conditional. The worst part was Xander had to choke down whatever jem of wisdom Spike was about to impart without the security of his routinely sarcastic repartee. He should have just tossed the flask back into the vampire’s face. Stupid post-booze handout obligations.

“Well somebody’s gotta say it and ev’ryone else ‘round here’s too afraid to tell you for fear of shatterin’ your fragile male ego,” he brusquely retorted. “I’ve no such qualms.”

“Oh, joy,” Xander bitterly whispered. “Now the vampire is gonna lecture me on relationships. My day is officially complete.”

“Put a sock in it,” Spike chastised, hating that he had to be the one to talk some sense into the Recently Sacked Brick Layer. God knows no one else was going to take the time to come to the Anyanka’s aid.

“Why should I?” the man at his side shot back.

“‘Cos we’re cut from the same cloth, Anya and I,” Spike started to explain.

“Is this where you act like you know someone just because you found a way into their pants?” Xander bitingly wondered, his voice dripping with contempt.

The vampire glowered back. “Oh, you two are bloody perfect for each other!” he fired back. “Just when I got Anya to stop bringin’ up that soddin’ night that will forever live in infamy, I gotta deal with you and your buggered insecurities,” he rejoined, stifling the instinct to smash the boys head against the counter. “Do us all a favor, Harris. Move on. Everyone else sure has.”

Xander slumped in defeat. “You don’t know her,” he obstinately argued without real conviction.

“Know enough,” Spike said, holding his ground. “Know what it’s like beein’ the Big Bad at the top of your game only to ‘ave it all ripped away from you by a bunch self-righteous prats. An’ to top it off, for lack of better options, you’re forced to cozy up to the likes of you and your lot. A fate worse than death for those of the former demon persuasion.”

“Always willing to put you out of your misery, White Fang,” Xander quipped, taking another sip of his caffeinated booze. “Just point the way to the nearest stake.”

“Sing me a new tune, would you Harris?” Spike wearily implored. “Actually, don’t sing. Don’t even say another word. Just shut that gaping hole you call a mouth for once in your pathetic life,” he ordered vehemently.

“Fine. Just make it quick,” Xander grudgingly responded.

“It’s not easy bein’ what we are. ‘avin’ to suddenly play nice with all the other boys an’ girls after livin’ for so long by our own set of rules. ‘S no simple feat reintegratin’ yourself back into mortal society, ‘specially with you all and your moral superiority, makin’ it like the twelve labors of Hercules just to get into your inner circle,” the vampire bitterly elaborated. “Believe me, a hardship which only pales in comparison to the pain of having you’re heart ripped to shreds by the object of your affection.”

“What are you getting at?” Xander asked with aggravated suspicion. Okay, so he had to admit, Spike and Anya, they shared a few similarities. It still didn’t mean the vampire was an expert or any kind of qualified counsel on his relationship with his ex.

“Buffy hated me for bein’ there for her when no one else could. Pretty much despised the fact that the only connectin’ she made after returnin’ from the great beyond was with a soulless vamp that wasn’ even worthy of her time, never mind her…attentions,” he carefully worded, reminding himself who he was talking to. “Never tired of lettin’ me know just how disgustin’ I was or how ashamed she felt. An’ if her words didn’ cut deep enough, her fists found ways at obliteratin’ what lil’ self-respect I was clingin’ to.”

Spike paused, gauging Xander’s reaction. For once the boy wisely decided to heed his advice and keep quiet. It was probably for the better. The vampire had never intended to divulge as much as he had when he had decided to embark on this therapy session with the Whelp. Any form of a wiseass remark from Xander and this unnatural incident of ‘guy talk’ was irrevocably terminated.

“But no amount of name callin’ and bone breakin’ could scare me off. So long as she came back to me, I could live with not ‘avin’ her, all of her,” he somberly stated, clearing his throat abruptly. There was no way he was going to play confessional with the likes of Alexander Harris. He’d rather endure another round of torture at the ethereal hands of the First than receive any form of pity from the Whelp. He strategically turned his gaze away, focusing his gaze on the mug in his hands. “The day Captain America decided to drop in for a visit changed all that. Guess it was bringin’ the militia bride in tow that got Buffy with the wantin’ more than the usual cold comforts. Shoud’ve known it was too good to be true. Came to put an end to our lil’ liaison that same night.”

Spike glanced over again at the man sitting at his side; the uncharacteristic hush settling between them was making the vamp anxious. If the blanched expression on Xander’s face told him anything, he had an idea where this was all going.

“So you see, Harris, that’s the clincher. Not the verbal barbs she regularly flung my way, not the punches she never hesitated to throw, but for that one moment frozen in time, it was the hope she gave me that did me in, and nearly her in the process.”

If he wasn’t already tense, Xander stiffened even more so when the word ‘hope’ had been uttered, automatically reacting to how the vampire’s sentiments mirrored those of his ex. Spike however was too wrapped up in his tirade to notice.

“Just to ‘ave it, to experience what could’ve been ‘f she jus’ let me in, to ‘ave her, all of her and then ‘ave it all ripped away was my ruin.”

Spike waited for the inevitable rejoinder that must have been lingering on the tip of Xander’s tongue. To his astonishment, it never came.

“Take my advice, mate. Put that humanity you so insistently hang over our heads to use and take your pick. The longer you pull her along, the more she’ll think there’s a snowball’s chance left for the two of you,” Spike insisted, standing up slowly. “If you’re gonna crush her, do it quick, make it painless. Don’t keep her hope alive jus’ ‘cos you’re not man enough to do right by her. You owe her that much,” he finished, the foreboding nature of his guidance not lost on Xander. “Here endeth the lesson.”

With that last muttered interjection, Spike grabbed his coat from off the back of his chair and headed to the front door. He’d risk butting in on Andrew’s stint of interrogative journalism for a few minutes to have himself a smoke. The unintentional heart to heart he’d just shared with, of all people, Xander, had left him somewhat skittish. The vampire was hoping a dose of nicotine would do the trick at calming his nerves.

Xander however couldn’t get himself to move, too dumbfounded at what had just transpired in the Summer’s kitchen. Did he just get a pep talk from Spike?

As that question cycled in his mind, a mantra to his bafflement, the indisputable truth behind the vampire’s message was clawing its way to the foreground of his conscience, making itself heard as a tightening knot at the pit of his stomach.

Xander exhaled loudly. Guess there was no running from it. He had to make a choice about Anya and her place in his life. Now all he had to do was figure out what exactly it was that he wanted.


********


Two bruised eyes fluttered open as their owner was revived to consciousness. The tubes attached to her arm, providing life sustaining fluids pinched where the needle pierced the skin. The wires recording her vitals netting around her, making her feel like a fly trapped by a spider’s web. A loud, persistent beep rang in her ears, dragging her out of her drug induced haze. Was she in a hospital?

The confusion that had clouded her mind instantly lifted as her memories supplied the answers as to why she was in a hospital bed, hooked up to so many unaccommodating devices. The hooded freaks chasing her. The seemingly Good Samaritan Preacher picking her up in his truck. The knife in her stomach. It all came flooding back.

Fear gripped her unexpectedly, which instantly abated when the rational section of her brain finally kicked in. She was in a hospital, which meant she was safe. He couldn’t get to her here.

Then another sense of urgency began to build in within her. The reason why she had been hiking the town limits so late at night. She’d been on her way to Sunnydale, to find the one person who was supposed to help her, protect her.

Guess it was a little too late for her, considering she was currently checked in at Sunnydale Memorial’s intensive care unit. But he was still out there and there were other girls like her who were none the wiser of what was after them. No one deserved to end up like her. They needed to know.

With great effort, she weakly snatched the button hanging by her bedside, pressing down on the red circle in attempt to draw attention to herself from the nursing staff.

She needed to get a hold of the Slayer. Initially she had been seeking refuge; she’d been promised sanctuary if she found the one and only Buffy Summers. Now her prospective meeting held greater purpose. She had to convey the message, his message, if only to provide the Slayer with incentive to kick his misogynist, priest faking, country boy ass.



TBC
Chapter Eighteen-Would You Lie with Me and Just Forget the World? by Aurora
Author's Notes:
So I'm back. For reals this time. The past few months have been nonstop with finishing my last year of uni. Needless to say, it's left me with next to no time for writing. But now I'm done my thesis and the summer is around the corner which means freeing my muse from the little corner of my brain that I had to shut it away in. It might take him sone time to get back in the game but he's definitely not giving up on any of my WIPS. Thanks to anyone who reviewed the last chapter and who is still sticking with me even after my hiatus. This chapter goes out to my super awsome beta, Darkezza. Enjoy.
Chapter Eighteen: Would You Lie with Me and Just Forget the World?



The car ride back from the hospital had been ominously quiet, with neither Buffy nor Willow wishing to discuss what they had just learned about the newest player in the apocalypse. They didn’t want to acknowledge that like all prior encounters of potential world inhalation, this incident would initiate a chain reaction of trials and tribulations which would eventually lead them to the Final Battle. The painfully obvious fact that their little reprieve from all things concerning the big, scary First had inarguably come to an end would not even be alluded to. The countdown had officially begun, but wild horses couldn’t even drag that much of an acknowledgement out of the mute pair.

So instead, the Slayer and the Witch remained in distracted silence, both completely aware of what was being left unsaid between them, neither verbalizing the presence of the giant Armageddon elephant that was sitting in the backseat.

Making their way across the front yard, Buffy finally turned to her best friend. “Anya and the girls should be back by now,” she informed the redhead, as she glanced at the dark night sky.

‘When had the sun set?’ Buffy offhandedly mused as her hand came to rest on the door handle.

“Can you just make sure they’re all back in one piece? One visit to the hospital was enough today. I don’t wanna have to rush a bunch of teenagers to Emergency for Tetanus shots because they were digging around in rubble…” she caught herself when she realized that she was talking to the very person who had reduced their former meeting place to a giant trash heap. “I mean…” Buffy backpedaled.

Willow smiled reassuringly. “It’s okay, Buffy. I was there too, ya know. After all, I was the one that made the place go Ka-Blooie.”

The Slayer stared at the Wicca in fascinated disbelief. “You’re all with the cool acceptance,” she noted.

Willow shrugged. “I’m taking a page outta the Book of Oz.”

“Monosyllabic stoicism?” Buffy asked, still a little baffled.

“No. Not that,” the Witch chuckled. “I was talking about his whole ‘you gotta face your demons if you’re ever gonna control them’ philosophy,” she explained before adding, “and I can’t do that if I go all ‘eek’ whenever someone brings up last year.” She emphasized the last remark with a frantic wave of her hands.

What Willow decided not to mention, however, was that since the apocalypse had now officially been set into motion, sooner much rather than later her mighty witch skills were going to be in high demand. She might have recently become comfortable enough to dish out a hefty dose of magic without going all evil and veiny, evidence to that being her recent trip to L.A., but what lay ahead of them called for something far more demanding than just breaking a hidden mystical jar. She was going to have to step up to the plate if she was going to be of any use against the First. And to do that, she needed to make peace with her past. “That Oz. Always the sage,” the Slayer reminisced before her amused smile transformed into a frown. “We could probably use some of that wisdom right about now,” she added somberly.

Willow looked on concernedly at the blonde. “Buffy? You okay?”

The Slayer nodded. “Yeah. I just need some time to think,” she said softly. “You’ll check on the girls? And can you make sure Anya got her demon eggs or whatever?”

The Witch nodded. “Sure,” she replied. She didn’t have to ask what her best friend needed to mull over. Willow knew Buffy had some major decisions to make before the meeting could even begin.

They both stepped into the house quietly, Buffy heading for the stairs as Willow went to go find Anya to see just how fruitful the afternoon pillaging had been.

The Slayer stopped midway up the steps, her gaze landing on the group of girls already gathered in the living room, eagerly waiting for the big, important slayer meeting to commence. The keen ones, those that had been the first to take up sanctuary at her house were all there, moving furniture around to make space for the crowd that in an hour or so would be crammed into the room.

Watching them move about with a notable inflexion of excitement in both their steps and voices, Buffy wondered which of them would see the light of the next day. Did Rona, Molly, Amanda, Vi, or even Kennedy consider for even a second the possibility that tonight could be their last? For as much as she didn’t want to drag these girls, these barely trained teenagers, into a battle they weren’t ready for, Buffy didn’t have much of a choice.

She knew this wannabe preacher’s clearly ambiguous message was a probable set up. A man dressed in black minister’s clothing tells her he has something of hers and she’s supposed to what? Wait until he starts picking off her girls one by one like he had done to poor Shannon, who was still bound to a hospital bed? She couldn’t do that. They needed to attack soon; it would give them an edge. It would give the Potentials a fighting chance. Even if it was a trap.

The likelihood that the First’s most recent recruit was the ‘man in black’ Giles had warned her about, or the infamous ‘Tainted One’ Spike was supposed to kill wasn’t a concept lost on the Slayer either. So if in the end they were going to take this guy out, what was there really to sweat?

How about the number of lives this inevitable victory was going to cost them?

The sound of Dawn’s infuriated scolding over some unknown matter and Andrew’s indignant whine brought Buffy’s attention back to the living room, catching sight of the SITs egging the geek on as he theatrically described his encounter with Faith while her sister sighed in aggravation.

Buffy felt so displaced from the scene playing out before her. She was only a few feet away but it might as well have been miles. She wished she could share in their sweet ignorance, to not have all their lives in the palm of her hands.

It figures too that just when she’d realized that her place was training these girls, the apocalypse finally decided to rear its ugly head.

One morning.

She’d been given one morning to truly train the Potentials, to get to know them beyond their names and fears. It hadn’t been enough. A few hours teaching the art of meditation and sharing important survival tips was all that she would really contribute to their training. They weren’t ready and even if they’d been trained for years, they would never be ready. And now she had to lead them to uncertain death for their own good. Talk about psycho slayer logic.

Buffy sighed as she continued up the steps. She needed to think things through, weigh out the pros and cons to falling for the stranger’s obviously damning lure. She had to come up with a plan and a contingency plan if that one failed. The Slayer had to go to work.

God, she felt so tired. So utterly worn out.

Pushing the door to her room, she walked in to find a vampire lying on her bed, reading a book. Upon further inspection she realized Spike was perusing through the copy of Sonnets from the Portuguese that Angel had given her on her eighteenth birthday. ‘Huh. Spike likes poetry. Who knew?’

Despite her distraught mood, she smiled at how cozy and welcoming he looked. What she wouldn’t give to just slip into bed next to him and have him read to her from the collection of prose.

‘How do I love thee? Let me count the ways,’ she internally recited with dejected yearning.

“So how’s the First buggerin’ us this time ‘round?” the vampire asked glancing up from behind the pages of the classic anthology. “Pet, what’s wrong?”

Tossing the book aside, Spike jumped to his feet, worriedly walking over to the Slayer. “Buffy?”

She stared up at him in confusion until she felt the first tear trickle down her cheek. Shaking her head, she wiped at the unexpected dampness. Buffy’s mouth seized up on her, her airways closing as she fought back the sob that threatened to escape.

Spike instinctively pulled her to him and she willingly buried her tear soaked face into his chest, her arms slipping around his waist. He hugged her close, ignoring how her shoulders trembled as he peppered her face with kisses. He pushed down the rising sense of distress and murmured words of comfort into her hair.

Exhaling loudly, accented with a few soft sniffles, Buffy relaxed her near crushing grip on the vampire, bowing her head in embarrassment at her little meltdown.

“He’s here,” she hoarsely informed before clearing her throat of all emotion. “The man in black. He’s in Sunnydale.”

“Didn’t realize you had such an aversion to Johnny Cash, luv,” Spike replied with a smirk.

Buffy’s brow crinkled at first, unsure what the hell country music had to do with anything. Then she realized he was poking fun at her. “Spike! This is serious,” she scolded as she smacked his chest, fighting off the smile that threatened to ruin her annoyed demeanor.

“I know,” he sighed, his hand coming up to stroke her cheek. “Can’t blame a bloke for tryin’. Had me a lil’ worried back there.”

“Sorry…”

“Don’t apologize,” Spike harshly whispered as he cupped her face with both hands. “Never be sorry for openin’ up. Remember, ‘s just us, pet. You don’t have to be Super Buffy ‘round me,” he tenderly reminded her as he took one of her hands in his.

Buffy returned his gentle squeeze as she blinked back the newest set of burning tears. Biting her lip to suppress further sobs, the Slayer nodded wordlessly.

Leading her to the bed, Spike pulled Buffy down to sit next to him. “Tell me what happened, sweetheart,” he lightly insisted, stroking her back in large circles.

“The girl, Shannon, the one that Willow and Faith found but never told us about until the hospital called, she was attacked by this Caleb guy, posing like some Bible thumping minister, except, you know, evil,” she murmured shakily. “He pretended to help her. Then he stabbed her but not before telling her to pass on a message.”

Spike’s brow quirked slightly. “To you, ‘m guessing.”

“Who else,” she answered despondently, shoulders sagging with the weight of the world pressing down upon them. “He said he had something of mine,” she added softly.

“Sounds like a bloody trap if you ask me,” Spike immediately provided his two cents, not liking where this was going.

“Yeah, it probably is,” Buffy sighed.

“Am I gettin’ that you’re actually gonna take this wanker’s bait?” the vampire asked incredulously.

“I have to,” Buffy whispered, her voice void of any conviction, looking completely hopeless. “If we don’t find him, he’ll come for us.”

“You don’t know that,” Spike brusquely argued.

“If he’s the Tainted Guy like all the signs are pointing to, there’s gonna be a showdown sooner or later,” she replied, becoming slightly annoyed by his discouragement. “Even if he isn’t doing everything he can to find us, he’s a bad guy and they always have the worst possible timing. If we go after Caleb now, we’ve got the element of surprise on our side and it’s on our own terms.”

“‘m the one who’s s’posed to take this tosser out, yeah?” Spike not so much asked but compellingly stated. “Let me go alone.”

Buffy shot to her feet. “Are you nuts?!”

“‘S in the prophecy, pet,” he stubbornly countered, staring up at her with stifled impatience.

“I don’t care,” Buffy adamantly refused. “Caleb is working for the First, which off the bat means he’s no lightweight. And from what Shannon told me, he’s also got the Bringers at his beck and call, which already means you’re outnumbered.”

“I can take on a few measly Bringers, luv,” he stubbornly gritted out.

“Oh, like you did when those so called measly Bringers kidnapped you?!”

“I was chained to a sodding wall! Couldn’t really fight the buggers off now could I?!” he retorted, his voice rising as he stood up.

“Whatever. You’re not going alone. End of discussion,” she firmly declared, her stance unwavering as Spike stepped into her personal space, a clear sign that this little face-off was far from over.

“‘m not one ‘f the scared lil’ girls downstairs, Buffy,” he stated in a hushed tone, staring down at her in a manner that harked back to his soulless, Slayer hating days. “Never was one ‘f the gang neither. ‘m not jus’ gonna fall in line.

“I love you, yeah, but you can’t stop me. So tonight, after the Watcher’s finished his lil’ song and dance, ‘m goin’ after our friend Father Faithless. And that’s final.”

Buffy stared back at him, eyes narrowing as she refused to give into his skewed reasoning. “Fine!” she harshly snapped. “Get yourself killed.”

Spike’s jaw clenched and nostrils flared at her infuriated brush off, stretching the muscles in his neck as he restrained the instinct to blow up at the woman before him. The staring contest lasted for a few more silent seconds, and for a moment he almost caved, but when she turned her back to him, unbeknownst to him, to hide her brimming tears, Spike followed suit, pivoting on his heels, his stubborn pride compelling him to leave the room. Yanking his duster from off the end of the bed, the vampire made it for the door, his steps heavy and gait tense.

He would have left too, if it were not for his heightened sense of hearing picking up on a low, cacophonous sound, just like that of a muffled cry. Glancing over his shoulder, Spike watched as Buffy’s body wracked with repressed sobs, undoubtedly waiting for him to leave before permitting herself to fall apart.

Just watching the sporadic convulsing of her body as she silently wept had Spike kicking himself.

‘Way to go, you stupid prat,’ he inwardly reprimanded. ‘She was reachin’ out to you, bloody well breakin’ down those emotional walls of hers, doin’ exactly what you asked her to do. Then you go and bugger it all up. Pretty much make her regret the second she confided in you.’

With wide, determined strides, Spike moved across the room, spinning her about and taking her back into his arms. “God, pet, ‘m so sorry,” he genuinely lamented.

“Please don’t go,” she whimpered as the tears continued to stream down her face. “I can’t lose you,” she whispered into his neck, her hands latching onto his cotton tee, as if holding on for dear life.

The desperation in her behavior unsettled him. It had been a while since he’d seen her so distressed, so lost and vulnerable. Not since her return from the demon possessing dimension and the emotional breakdown that had subsequently followed had he seen her like this. And even that episode seemed inconsequential when compared to what he was currently witnessing. Never had he seen her like this.

It terrified him to the core. Not because she was venting to him. Buffy was human; she had a right to be afraid, and aggravated and exhausted. It was just the underlying impression he was getting from her, a niggling feeling deep down that his Slayer was walking the razor’s edge, just one calamity away from completely giving up.

It was probably why he had flown off the handle like he had. He couldn’t understand her blinkered logic. Why should she risk her life, her sanity, and the lives of all the Potentials when the Poncy Priest’s fate was already cemented in stone?

Spike just wanted to protect her from foreseeable devastation. He just never considered the possibility of failure. Never thought he’d be the one to push her over the edge. All he had seen was her trying to tie on the leash again. Boy was he an idiot.

Spike subconsciously hugged her tighter.

Buffy shook her head frantically. “You can’t…” Hiccup. “Find Caleb alone,” she said with a sniffle as she tried to calm herself down. “I know you can take on the Bringers and hold your own. God, out of everyone you’re the last person I worry about whenever all hell breaks loose,” she rambled, exhaling loudly. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like you’re a sucky fighter. A-and I really didn’t mean to go all control freak on you either. I…I just can’t lose you, Spike.” The last part was said in a small, childlike voice.

“Not gonna lose me, luv,” he whispered into her golden hair. “Jus’ can’t stand seein’ you like this, is all. Not when the solution starin’ me in the bleedin’ face.”

He winced as Buffy’ nails dug into his shoulders. “No. Don’t go.”

“I won’t,” he reassured her, trying to get a reign on the emotions that were warring within.

Spike wanted to be there for her, to be her rock in all this madness. He just wasn’t sure if that was truly for the best. Buffy needed to be strong, to be prepared, both mentally and physically, for the inevitable. And this bleary eyed girl before him was anything but emotionally equipped for the proverbial battle between good and evil.

Spike was a vampire. He followed his blood, which didn’t always flow in the direction of his brain. It made him rash, impatient, and left him with a hair trigger temper that could rival that of a pestered bull. He was also loyal; one could even say to a fault. He had stayed with his Sire for over a century, spent nearly half of it tending to her because of her illness. So naturally, when it came to those he loved, he was a rottweiler, fighting fang and nail to protect them.

And as he gently ran his hand over her head, he wondered if maybe his blinded devotion had somehow ruined his Slayer. Perhaps these past months had made her too dependent on him, made her weak. Now that he had finally attained the coveted position in her life, now that he was finally her confidant, her friend, her once and returning lover, it terrified him to think that he had spoiled her. Spike didn’t want to be the rock that she finally smashed herself up against.

But what could he do? Spike couldn’t cut himself out of her life; abandon her in a time of need. He refused to. It simply wasn’t in his nature. And no matter how gently he did it, he couldn’t push her away either. Buffy needed him. That much he was sure of. But that was where lied the moral quandary. Where exactly did the line between needing support and total dependency exist? Spike was enough of a man to admit that he hadn’t a fucking clue.

Buffy abruptly broke through his musings with a melancholic chuckle. “This might sound really insane, and I might regret saying it later, but I kinda miss the wannabe evil geek squad.”

“You mean the Sundance Kid downstairs and his dead chums?” Spike asked, tilting his head at her out-of-the-blue remark.

“Yeah, I mean, before Warren went all gun toting maniac anyway,” she replied softly.

Spike noted how her body was becoming slack against his, her previously bone crushing grip was loosening as she continued on with her tangent.

“Don’t get me wrong, for the majority of the time they were more a pain in the ass than actually dangerous. But when those losers were the biggest threat in this town, Dawn, my friends, they were safe,” she went on. “Yeah granted, I was a total mess and we were all beyond dysfunctional, but for most of it, everyone was safe.”

Unsure as how to respond to her bittersweet confession, Spike returned to the matter at hand. “Us adults can take on the Preacher all on our own, pet. The kiddies can stay home,” he suggested.

“No,” she firmly replied. “As much as I wish it wasn’t the case, they have to come with us. We can’t just keep avoiding the inevitable, Spike. They’re gonna have to go out and fight sometime. At least this way their first taste of battle won’t be against the Ultimate Evil.”

She paused, putting space between herself and the vampire. “If these girls don’t come out of this alive, what good are they gonna be against an army of Uber Vamps? I’m not doing them any favors by keeping them under my wing.

“If I keep coddling them, if I keep holding back and never take any risks, I might as well spare them the misery and kill them all in their sleep. Because that’s what I would be doing, Spike. If I took them to face the First without single battle under their belt, I’d just as well be leading them to the slaughter.”

“Luv…”

“No,” she adamantly refused to hear out whatever sympathetic argument he had. “I know what I’m talking about. I wish I didn’t if that’s any conciliation.”

“‘S not,” Spike mumbled under his breath.

Buffy ignored the comment. “I have to take them with us,” she repeated firmly. “They have to know what it’s like. They need to know how to cope. The shellshock. The chaos. The fear. The temptation to just throw in the towel. The girls need to feel it, know it, fight it,” the Slayer fervently rattled off before lowering her voice to a whisper. “And maybe even love it just a little.”

Spike’s brows instinctively shot up at the statement. He quickly relaxed his stunned expression as the logic of it sunk in. After all, hadn’t he been the one to enlighten her on just how much in love she was with the prospect of death? His now famous ‘death wish’ theory. Never in his unlife had he hated being right as when he had found Buffy’s body at the bottom of that tower nearly two years ago, when she had lived up to the suicidal Slayer stereotype.

Buffy continued on with her strained rant, ungracefully flopping down on the bed. “They gotta get used to having blood on their hands, to actually fight a demon and have the guts to kill it. I have to get them ready. I have to make them hard. I have to,” Buffy’s voice quivered as she finished, her glossy eyed gaze looking up to meet with Spike’s.

The vampire slowly took a seat next to her, silently taking her hand in his. “I know, pet.”

Buffy nodded and then shook her head, not sure if he really understood. “You try not to get anybody killed, you wind up getting everybody killed,” she muttered, staring down at the floor.

Gently clasping her chin, Spike lifted her averted eyes to align with his. “I know,” he firmly restated, dropping his hand when he felt her ease slightly.

Buffy exhaled haggardly. “I just need to figure out a plan so I don’t actually get everyone killed,” she rasped.

Yanking her hand out of his, she slammed her fists at her sides, making both the mattress and Spike jump at the unexpected physical outburst. “God, I hate this!” Buffy exclaimed in frustration. “Why do I gotta always be the one to decide who lives and dies,” she pitifully whimpered.

“‘S all part of the Slayer package,” he sadly stated. “Suspect it’s in the fine print,” he lightheartedly added.

Buffy glanced up at him and smiled. “Think I should sue?”

Spike smirked. “Don’ think there’s a court in this dimension that’ll take your case.”

“Stupid human courts,” the Slayer muttered with mock dejection. “I never signed on any dotted line,” she added indignantly.

“Neither did I,” he softly mentioned, giving her his best supportive smile. “Jus’ the lot we’ve been dealt.”

Buffy watched as the vampire stood up and looked around the room. “Best start on that brainstorming, pet. The troops are waitin’ for their General,” he said as headed to the door.

“Spike?”

The vampire turned at the sound of his name. “Yeah, luv?”

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Spike returned her puzzled look. “Thought you needed to suss out the particulars for tonight’s mission?”

“And that requires your not being here, why?” Buffy wondered.

“Figured you needed some space,” he answered without hesitation. It wasn’t as though his assumption didn’t have precedent. When it came down to it, the Slayer gig was a solo one. And Buffy had played the part to a tee. She always made the tough decisions on her own. It was how she did things. How she functioned.

“Not from you,” she whispered pensively. “Stay?”

This time he hesitated. She wanted him to stay and play the part of sounding board to her brainstorming. She wanted his advice. The Slayer wanted his reassurance.

Spike paused, rendered motionless as his rational mind engaged in a tug of war with his heart. If it hadn’t been for her little breakdown moments before, he would’ve done as she asked without reservation. He could never deny Buffy anything. And that was the problem. Again she needed him and again his concerns of her dependency resurfaced.

Buffy’s small voice broke through his ruminations. “Can you just stay and help me pretend it’s not all on me?”

The vampire tensed. The whole situation was just so alien to him. Buffy never shirked her responsibilities and she was never one to share the burden. Yet here she was, bringing him into the fold. Maybe that’s what it was, the uncertainty. Maybe it was simply because he was on uncharted grounds.

“But it is all on you, luv,” he countered softly.

“I know,” she hoarsely admitted. “I know. But can we just pretend? Just for a while?” she requested with gentle urgency. “Can you just hold me?”

Those were the magic words. That and the desperation in her sparkling hazel eyes. Without further prompting, Spike took his spot next to the Slayer, pulling her into his arms as they reclined against the array of pillows at the head of the bed. Buffy snuggled against his chest, her head lightly propped on his shoulder, her warm breath tickling his neck.

Soon after becoming comfortable, Buffy began to voice her plans, her back up plans and every minute detail that crossed her mind.

As Spike listened on, providing the obligatory hums and grunts as indication of his participatory listening, his mind was distracted by his ongoing moral debate. Was Buffy really just opening up? Was she breaking through the protective Slayer shell? Did she understand that though he would always love her, support her, Spike could never really lighten the weight that was her sacred duty? Was she really ‘just pretending’?





********


“Buffy wanted to know if you got the Ghora eggs?” Willow asked as she entered the kitchen, spotting Anya at the sink, her back turned as she was seemingly washing a few dishes.

The ex-vengeance demon tensed at the unexpected intrusion, her tight posture sagging as a weathered sigh escaped her lips.

“Yeah. And I already paid the demon off. So you can tell Buffy she no longer has to be inconvenienced with Anya and her unseemly underworld dealings,” she informed the witch bitingly, vigorously scrubbing an already clean plate.

Willow flinched at the other woman’s acidic disposition. ‘Geesh. What’s gotten into her?’

“Okay….” the redhead replied, backpedaling. “Buffy just wanted me to touch base, but clearly I’ve come at a bad time. So I’ll be going…somewhere else.”

Anya placed the gleaming plate on the drying rack, wrangling with a tea towel to dry her hands as she spun on her heels, narrowed eyes boring into the sheepish looking Wicca. “Actually, I changed my mind. Don’t say anything to Buffy. I wouldn’t want to burden the Slayer with my lowly problems what with all the teens she has to neglect to train, and the up and coming battle with the First she hasn’t even prepared for. It’s amazing Buffy can even find time to repress all that mounting sexual tension that is on the verge of sending poor Spike back over the cuckoo’s nest.”

Willow paused at the underlying accusations. “Hey,” she uttered disapprovingly. “I know I speak for Buffy when I say…Hey!”

The ex-demon abruptly threw her arms up in the air. “Of course. I state the obvious and get nothing but denial and recriminations.”

Willow sobered and held up her hands defensively. “Whoa. Okay? Let’s just calm down. Clearly, you’re upset.”

Anya’s brow arched as she shot the witch a dubious look. “You noticed? Well that would be a first.”

“What are you talking about?” Willow asked, becoming slightly annoyed with the forthright ex-demon.

Anya’s inflamed indignation suddenly deflated as she shook her head in defeat. “Never mind,” she murmured. “It’s not like you care.” Her feet started to take her out of the room, but she was impeded by Willow’s unexpected grip on her arm.

“Anya? What happened?” the redhead inquired, genuinely concerned.

Anya yanked her arm out of the other woman’s grasp. “What happened was I spent an afternoon digging through the debris that was once my happy life. You remember, that little shop I partly owned? The same profitable and gratifying business you ran to the ground with your need for vengeance?”

Sensing herself about to cave into another guilt cycle, Willow took in a deep breath and stood her ground. She wasn’t going to apologize for something that she was beginning to make peace with. She was about to inform Anya that maybe it was time for her to let go of the past as well when the other woman continued on with her tirade.

“And who did Buffy, in her infinite wisdom, decide to leave me with to assist in my search for demon contraband? None other than Xander. Wasn’t that considerate of her?” she added, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Willow sighed. “Anya, Buffy and I had to go to the hospital…”

“I know. You guys rushed out of here so fast you couldn’t even be bothered to leave the rest of us a note,” Anya said, cutting the witch off. “I had to find out from Faith that you guys had left. Faith! ”

That had been the part of the whole insulting situation that had bothered her the most. Did she mean so little to these supposed friends of hers that a fugitive, a once mortal enemy, the Scoobies’ own freaking Judas Iscariot held more clout than she did? After everything they’d been through together, after all she had suffered in her futile attempt to be one of them, after giving herself completely to Xander only to have it thrown back in her face, after all that, Anya was not even worth a common courtesy.

“So is this what your hissy fit is all about?” Willow asked, incredulously. “Because we didn’t tell you we were leaving? God Anya, what are you like five years old?”

The ex-demon scowled. “No. That’s not it.”

“Well then tell me. What is this about?!” Willow snapped back. “Because I am really close to going back on my new good witch oath and turning you into a…” she faltered, unable to think of something that would intimidate a millennial ex-demon. The witch smirked when a relatively innocuous yet malicious thought came to mind. “A bunny. A fluffy, floppy eared, button nosed bunny rabbit.”

Anya gasped, utterly horrified. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh. I would,” Willow said resolutely, giving the other woman her patented resolve face. “So spill.”

It was Anya’s turn to heave out a sigh. “I had to spend a whole afternoon with Xander, which wasn’t exactly the best way to give him space after I’d delivered him one hell of an ultimatum this morning. It was quite awkward.

“And Buffy knew. She knew that a day of Andrew videotaping me and Xander rummaging through the shambles of our past with about a dozen teenage girls acting as our own live studio audience would be extremely unbearable. Buffy knew and she didn’t care.” Anya stared steadily at Willow, who was a little lost for words.

“It’s not that she doesn’t…she…Buffy’s just got a lot on her mind right now. You can’t expect her to be on top of everything,” Willow struggled to clarify, excusing her friend’s behavior.

“So I have to just accept the fact that I’ve become nothing more than an afterthought to you people?” Anya asked, appalled by the news.

“You’re not an afterthought,” the redhead disagreed.

“Oh no?” Anya instantly retorted. “So tell me Willow, what exactly did Buffy want to touch base on other than the Ghora eggs?”

A remorseful expression crossed the witch’s face. “She wanted to make sure the Potentials were okay.”

Anya nodded, not surprised by Willow’s answer. “I never really was one of the gang. To you, I was just Anya, Xander’s loveably strange yet tactless girlfriend. And even though I made you all a part of my bridal party and allowed you to loiter for hours on end at the Magic Box, we were never really friends.”

“That’s not true,” Willow countered.

Anya shook her head. “Yes it is,” she sternly insisted. “So it might hurt a bit, but I guess I should be used to being overlooked.”

The guilt that had been mounting within the Willow since she had stepped into the kitchen intensified tenfold. “Anya…”

She went on, her voice rising with aggravation. “Xander, on the other hand, is one of you. He’s an original Scooby. So I get why Buffy brushed my problems off like they were nothing. But what about Xander?! Do you have any idea what it was like for him today? Having to be with me when he had very important thinking to do?”

Willow blinked, twice. “That’s very…umm…considerate of you to say, Anya,” she said wondering who the hell this woman was standing before her because it surely wasn’t Anya. For as long as Willow had known her, the world selfless had never been used to describe the ex-demon.

“Who’s being considerate?” she asked, slightly bemused. “Having him hang around me all day means it will take Xander an extra twenty four hours before finally coming to a decision, which also means I have to spend another day with this insufferable feeling of angst,” she declared, throwing her arms up in exasperation.

‘She had me going there for a second,’ Willow thought as the world as she knew it returned to normal. Well for the most part.

The redhead couldn’t help but reflect on how some of Anya’s not so altruistic ramblings had brought up a good point. She understood that Buffy had enough on her plate than to deal with the ongoing soap opera that was Xander and Anya. What worried her was that if Buffy had known that something was up with Xander, why hadn’t she asked him about it? Or why hadn’t the Slayer even come to her so she could do a little best friend snooping of her own?

Willow wasn’t sure if she was being fair to Buffy. The First was the biggest thing they’d ever gone up against. And if anyone knew it, it was her. Willow had, after all, tried to play conduit to the Ultimate Evil, hadn’t she? Didn’t that ever blow up in her face.

The witch knew Buffy had issues about letting people in, but this wasn’t like that. There was something off; her not checking up on her friends, her not seeming to truly care. In the past, even with the pressure of saving the world Buffy had still been there for her and Xander. When Tara had been brain sucked by Glory, Buffy had still been supportive. Hell, it was their friendship, their strong emotional bond, tested only hours before the fall of the Initiative, that had managed to defeat Adam.

So maybe that was it. Maybe this time around it was too much for Buffy to bear. So much so that some other aspects of her life were kind of trailing behind.

‘Then explain Spike and why that relationship isn’t lagging?’ the small, annoying voice piped up in the back of her head.

Willow rubbed at her temples as she glanced over at Anya who was staring down solemnly at the tiled floor.

Could it be that Buffy was replacing her and Xander with Spike? Is that why she acted like she didn’t care? Willow dismissed the notion immediately. It wasn’t fair of her to think that. Someone could argue that she was committing the same friend substituting crimes as Buffy, but with Kennedy as her main distraction. She knew that her relationship with the Potential was different than with what she had with her friends. She figured Buffy felt the same way.

Perhaps they were all a little guilty of neglect when it came to their friendships.

“Tell Buffy the girls are all accounted for and that they are all in one piece,” Anya said, making her way out of the kitchen.

As if pulled from a trance, Willow’s gaze followed the other woman. “Where are you going?”

Anya shrugged. “I haven’t had a chance to look through the stuff we brought back. I thought I could get Dawn to help me sort it.”

The witch nodded, finding her answer acceptable.

As Anya entered the living room, her somber attitude melted away to that of confident delegations. “Since there’s no point in wasting a potentially productive hour sitting around waiting for Buffy to grace us with her presence, why don’t we all get up and help me sort out these boxes,” she announced, gesturing to the half dozen large cartons of supplies in the room’s far corner.

A groan filled the room as the Potentials reluctantly assisted in the sorting, with Dawn and Andrew taking inventory.

Willow couldn’t help but smile at Anya’s dictatorish ways. The ex-demon had been wrong about at least one thing. Willow would consider her one of the gang, a friend.

Sensing someone enter the kitchen from the dining room, the redhead turned her head and saw Xander, standing uncomfortably with his hands in his pockets.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” she softly returned. Walking up to him, Willow wrapped her arms around her despondent best friend.

“How much of that did you hear?” she asked sympathetically.

“Everything from right about the time you threatened to turn Anya into a rabbit,” he dismally admitted. “Gotta say though, it was kinda funny.”

Letting go and taking a step back, the redhead gave him a comforting smile. “Want me to make you a sandwich? Maybe you could fill me in on the latest Anya debacle?”

Xander nodded, returning the smile. This is what he needed. Some Willow issued perspective.

It wasn’t until he started in on his love dilemma that he realized just how much he missed the closeness he and Willow had once shared before life and growing up had slowly drifted them apart. They had come a long way since yellow crayons and aquaman underoos but they were still just Xander and Willow.

So even though Anya was technically the source of his current state of misery, he had to be grateful for her spazing out on Willow since it had given him his best friend back. That and it brought him one step closer to finally making a decision.



********


A stream of grey smoke cut through the brisk night air, diluting the blackness of the clear evening sky. Faith was perched out once more on Buffy’s front porch, elbow propped up on her knee as the other leg languidly swung back and forth on the opposite side of the railing, taking long, lazy drags from the cigarette she had swiped from Spike’s duster when the vampire’s back had been turned. The racket of overly stimulated teenage girls was a mere muffle on her side of the front door, the crickets acting as the unknowing minstrels to her few magnificent moments of solitude.

Earlier that afternoon, once Andrew had finished taping her part in his End of the World documentary, the Slayer had gone back into the house. But not before using the film geek as her own personal scout, checking to see if the coast was clear of deranged ex-fiancés, so she could get back inside to rustle up some grub.

After a quick breakfast of store bought cookies and kool-aid, Faith abruptly found herself taking over for Buffy in training the Potentials. The blonde Slayer had been pulled away from the combat drills to race over to the hospital with Willow to check up on that girl that had nearly gotten herself run over when she’d been left for nothing more than road kill. So there Faith had found herself, with at least twenty girls looking to her for guidance, and Spike and Giles giving her none. It had been tense, and even a little surreal, to say the least.

Having had a pretty bizarre afternoon, she had opted to wait for the ‘big meeting’ outside, deciding that she had spent enough of her life in close confinement with estrogen tripping females. The nicotine and the wonderful sound of near silence were her only company until she was to be called back inside.

The heightened sense of awareness that being a slayer and three years in the joint had granted her, unexpectedly drew her attention to the porch steps.

“Hey.”

A dark brown gaze met hers.

“Hey,” she replied nonchalant, trying to repress the smile that was involuntarily coming to the surface at the sight of her new Sunnydale ally.

“You know those things will kill you,” Wood said, gesturing with a nod of his head to the cigarette she had in her hand.

Taking another drag, she shrugged apathetically. “In my line of work, the big C, not exactly what you would call life threatening.”

“Can you put it out anyway?” he asked in his High School Principal voice as he took a seat next to her.

Faith blew out whatever smoke was left in her lungs, stomping out the just lit cigarette with embellished irritation. “So you gonna give me detention?”

Wood laughed softly. “Nah. You’d be a bad influence on the other students.”

This time Faith allowed herself to smile. “You really know how to talk to a girl.”

He flashed her a big grin. “I’d rather shower her with gifts.”

A brown paper gift bag appeared before her, almost as though he had produced it out of thin air. “Here,” Wood said, handing it to her.

“What’s this?” the Slayer asked warily. Faith didn’t get gifts. Ergo, the suspicion.

“Just open it,” he insisted with a boyish giddiness that was bubbling beneath his cool and collected exterior.

Faith sighed in compliance and opened the bag, roughly reaching in and grabbing at whatever was inside.

Pulling out a baseball cap, the brunette quirked her brow. “Don’t know howta break this to you but hat hair doesn’t compliment my look,” she quipped.

Turning the hat over to read the emblem on the front, Faith dropped the gift as though it burned to the touch. “You son of a bitch!” she hollered, eyes flaring with indignation at the man beside her, who was finding her outrage utterly hysterical.

“You’re sick,” Faith shot at him, completely disgusted.

Picking up the Yankees baseball cap from the porch floor, he brushed some dirt off its pristine black fabric. “You don’t like my gift?” he asked with mocked affront, though the mischievous gleam in his eyes gave him away.

Faith crossed her arms. “If I accept that thing, they’ll never let me back in Boston,” she informed him.

“What if I throw in two tickets?” he wondered, pulling the bait from his coat pocket.

Faith eyed him skeptically. “You got tickets for a Yankees game?”

Wood was about to reply when she cut him off, waving her hands and shaking her head. “Wait! What I mean is you actually paid for tickets for a game that might never happen?”

“A little inspiration never hurt anyone,” he explained, looking unexpectedly bashful when compared to the smugness he had been sporting moments ago. “And I got us season tickets since we don’t really know when our schedules will open up.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Faith said under her breath as she took the tickets from his hand, ignoring the sparks that nearly crackled when her fingers brushed against his. “Season tickets, huh? Guess being principal of Hellmouth High’s gotta have some perks. Never thought you’d be rolling in this kind of dough.”

“The seats aren’t that great,” he confessed, strangely feeling the need to downplay his gesture. He was afraid his gift might backfire on him and inevitably scare the Slayer away. Maybe it was too soon. Maybe he was totally screwing things up.

“Wouldn’t we have to go to New York?”

“Yeah,” he nervously whispered, rubbing the back of his bald head. “I figured it would give us a chance to get to know each other better.”

Faith could feel a blush creeping its way to her cheeks. “I’d like that.”

Wood flashed her another huge smile, his short lived worries fading at the sight of the pink hue that was presently tinting her cheeks. “Great. Now all we have to do is save the world.”

The Slayer snorted at his casual stating of the obvious. “Easier said than done.” She paused to rethink her remark. “Unless you’re B.”

Grabbing the hat from his hold, she looked it over cautiously.

“You gonna try it on?”

Faith shook her head. “No way.” She placed the cap on his head instead. “Keep it. I’ll bring mine to the game.”

Wood’s eyes widened comically. “You wanna wear a big, red B on your head at a Yankees game?”

“Nah. Hat hair, remember?”

He visibly relaxed at the clarification.

“I’ll just wear my fave Sox jersey instead.”

“Faith I don’t think that’s such a great…” he started to protest.

“Or the whole thing’s off,” Faith stipulated, interjecting with a smirk.

“You know we probably won’t see even them play,” Wood argued, trying to get her to see reason.

“I know,” she assured, an impish grin plastered on her face. “But I gotta root, root, root for the home team,” she sang with a giggle.

“You’re gonna get us killed,” he groaned, rubbing his forehead.

“Just the price you gotta pay to ride the Faith fun train,” she impudently replied.

Wood balked, brow arched, caught off guard by her double entendre. Sure, up until this point their interactions had been wrought with mild flirtations but this, whether or not intentional, was a bit more forward than the usual teasing and banter.

The Slayer grimaced. ‘Way to sound like a skeazy ho’ bag,’ she inwardly berated.

“So…ummm…we have a deal?” Faith asked, quickly moving on from the subject of ‘being ridden’.

Wood dropped his baffled stare, sensing her uneasiness but still hesitant to respond. “Only the jersey?”

Faith nodded.

“And you wear a jacket over it?” he requested, his only proviso.

“Alright,” the Slayer agreed. “Wussy.”

He shrugged. “I’m comfortable with who I am,” he countered. “As long as I’m not being torn limb from limb by crazed Yankees fans.”

“New York will never take you back now, you know,” she informed him.

Wood shrugged. “That’s alright. We can both be hometown exiles…together.”

Faith’s face was starting to hurt from all the coy smiling. Nowadays, it was so rare for her to flash anything resembling a happy countenance that her grinning muscles, being as out of use as they were, were starting to cramp. And she loved it.

“I could deal with that,” she whispered, suddenly feeling a pull toward the man beside her.

Wood had his gaze locked on her face, glancing back and forth between her shimmering eyes and her glossy lips. “Yeah?” he rasped, edging his way closer until he felt her warm breath on his face.

He was so close, just a few millimeters away, a feather’s breadth from pressing his luscious lips against hers. Faith’s eyes fluttered shut in anticipation. She should’ve known better than to think it could be this easy.

The front door swung open, revealing a stone-faced, back to business Buffy. Not even flinching at the sight of Wood and Faith in near kiss, she called out to the other slayer. “Faith. Meeting’s starting in ten.” It was all she said before doing an about turn and marching back into the house.

The dark Slayer’s head dropped, releasing a long haggard sigh. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered to herself, keeping her line of sight anywhere from meeting with Wood’s no doubt equally mortified gaze.

Clearing his throat, Robin nodded, getting up to his feet. “We better head inside,” he said, deciding to not comment on what had almost happened between them.

Faith was unsure whether to be grateful or offended by his avoidance of the issue. The uncertainty was enough to resurrect her protective, bad girl bravado.

Taking a step toward him instead of making her way to the front door, she gave him a coy smile.

Robin stiffened as she neared him, watching her with apprehension, waiting for the Slayer to slug him for his not so smooth moves.

“Robin?”

“Uhhhh…yeah?” he warily replied.

Wood nearly jumped out of his skin when she laid a hand on his chest.

“There’s something you gotta do before we can go in,” she surreptitiously informed him.

“Yeah?” he repeated, a little more intrigued, a little less fearful.

Faiths hand traveled up his hard chest, nails grazing against the soft material of his shirt. His eyes fluttered shut at the sensation.

“Faith…” he whispered, not sure what he wanted to say.

Her hand continued on its path, past his shoulders, fingers skimming over the skin of his neck. Wood’s eyes snapped open when he felt her palm finally linger against the base of his head. He could swear she was pulling him down for another try at their first kiss.

Man was he ever mistaken.

Before Wood could even budge an inch, the light pressure from the Slayer’s hand was gone, suddenly snatching the Yankees cap he’d completely forgotten about from off the top of his head. He staggered back when she shoved it against his chest.

“The Principal isn’t supposed to wear a hat indoors,” Faith stated, taking a poignant step back. “What would the kids think?”

She smirked and spun around, strutting confidently back into the house, leaving a flummoxed Robin Wood to stew just for a second in his own juices.

He released a ragged breath. He deserved that.

A smile crept across his face. At least now they were even.
Chapter Nineteen: Forgive… Even If You Can’t Forget by Aurora
Author's Notes:
No. Your eyes do not deceive you. This is an update. It has been a very long time but I'm back. This story drew me back in when I had thought I'd completely lost the drive to write. For those of you who were loyal fans of my other fic, Master , I'm making a conscience effort to finish that story as well, which may take a while since there is a giant hurdle of writer's block in the way. Thank you for the continued support even when I had for a short time given up. Enjoy.
Chapter Nineteen: Forgive… Even If You Can’t Forget

“I know I called you all here tonight so that we could get the scoop from Giles about what he found out from the Coven in England,” Buffy began her opening speech, her face stern and voice steady.

She was the quintessential General again, standing before her troops without a single vestige of fear, completely void of the insecurity that had had her emotions running rampant just a mere hour ago.

“But that’s gonna have to wait.”

Giles considered interrupting, wondering if it was best to postpone the divulgence of Althenea’s visions to the group. His better judgment, along with the gnawing guilt, kept him silent.

Since his return, the Watcher’s attentions
had been split between numerous distractions. He hadn’t been given the chance to sit Buffy down and deliver the devastating news. Giles had yet to tell his Slayer the unforgiving truth that the demonic possession that had begun in another dimension weeks before would finally come to completion in the not so distant future.

There hadn’t enough been time.

Or so he kept telling himself.

A grimace crossed the Englishman’s face. The possibility that he was using the lack of opportunity as an excuse for his procrastination was a notion he immediately disregarded. Giles wasn’t sure how he would be able to look Buffy in the eyes and tell her that her worst fears would soon become realized. He was fairly certain however that he couldn’t tell her now, before she intended to face impending doom, when she had the lives of so many on her already burdened conscience.

The Watcher’s gaze drifted, landing on the vampire, who at the moment was standing behind Buffy, leaning against the wall. Wrapped in his iconic leather, he drew little attention, if any, from the gathered crowd as he stared down at the floor, deep in thought. Giles reverted his focus back to the Slayer when Spike suddenly lifted his head, having picked up on Giles’s curious glances.

“There’s a new player in town,” Buffy declared. “Goes by the name of Caleb and he’s working for the First. He says he’s got something of mine,” she vaguely elaborated, pacing with all the room’s eye’s following her every step. “This is what we’ve been waiting for. It’s our time to act, now or never. So, we go to Caleb and take back what’s ours.”

Dead silence pervaded the room. A mixture of fear and confusion stared back at her.

“Is this really such a good idea?” Xander spoke up.

Buffy nodded. “I know,” she agreed. “I know it looks like we’re walking into a trap.”

“I’ll say!” Anya chimed in.

Buffy gave her an unimpressed glare before she explained her logic. “But the longer we wait, the stronger the First gets. This gives us a chance to find out who we’re really up against. There’s a reason why this Caleb guy showed up only now. And we can’t ignore the fact that he sounds a lot like the Tainted guy from that bizarro prophecy either,” the Slayer reasoned. “This isn’t going to be a full on assault. I’m not bringing everyone. Just the girls who’ve been here the longest, the ones’ with the most experience.”

“When?” Rona asked, her fear masked by a steely look of resentment.

“Tomorrow at sunset. I still have some recon to do,” Buffy answered, her conviction still undeterred.

The SITs in question only nodded as though it was all out of their control, as if their fate had always been in the hands of another. Buffy fought off a wave of overwhelming despair. If only they knew how much was still up in the air. They weren’t the ones with a vaguely portentous prophecy hanging over their heads.

Buffy turned to Faith, who was currently avoiding any sort of eye contact with the man at her side, opting instead for furtive glances from the ground to the rest of the group.

“You in for some afterhour’s espionage?” the Slayer asked her darker counterpart.

“I’m game,” Faith shrugged, attempting levity when she was still feeling awkward from Buffy’s earlier intrusion on her near kiss with Robin. Ergo, the avoidance of eye contact with either the Principal or his former vampire slaying guidance councilor.

Buffy quickly delegated tasks, ignoring the unspoken sense of uncertainty radiating from the gathered group.

Xander, though still inwardly protesting the plan as a whole, was given a handful of SITs to assist on weapons detail. Anya and Dawn were to also take a few girls to finish the inventory on what had been acquired from looting the remains of the Magic Box, with specific instructions to separate weapons from magic supplies. Taking advantage of recent nightfall, the Potentials who were to join Buffy tomorrow night would continue their training with Spike in the backyard. Willow and Giles had been asked to do further research on their latest adversary, hoping to find anything that would give them an advantage in a fight.

As everyone went off to fulfill their appointed roles, Robin stood there awkwardly, unsure as to how to bring up the fact that he hadn’t been given an assignment. “I guess I’m getting everyone coffee, huh?”

“No. That’s Andrew’s job,” Buffy informed him, hoping the pest overheard so she wouldn’t have to explicitly give him those instructions. “I need you for something else.”

Robin nodded, wanting to accept whatever task she doled out, hoping to find a way to rebuild the trust between them that he had so carelessly destroyed.

“I need you to watch Spike train the Potentials,” Buffy requested. “I need to know that you can respect his authority and trust him as much as I do with those girls. If you can’t do that, if you can’t get over whatever vendetta or confusion you have about Spike and his role here, then I can’t have you as a part of this.”

Wood lifted his eyes so that they locked with the Slayer’s resolute gaze. “I can do that.”

Buffy gave him a curt nod. “Good. I’ll let him know you’re gonna be watching.”

Marching to the kitchen, Buffy headed to the door. She paused however before going out to the back porch. She turned spun around to face Wood. “We really don’t have the luxury of any distractions so just don’t say anything, okay?”

Wood couldn’t help but give a bashful grin. “Got it. Leave egos and grudges at the door.”

Buffy gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

“Mission first,” he answered soberly.

With that said, Buffy opened the back door, allowing the two of them to venture out onto the porch where Spike was hollering commands. “Strike!”

Silently the two observers watched as the girls attempted to offensively swing a sword.

“It’s a sword, Vi, not a bleedin’ baseball bat!” he shouted. “Follow through Rona. Let momentum do its job. Nice form Kennedy but you jumped the gun there. Wait for my—”

The vampire spun around, having detected the intrusion, thrown especially by Robin’s presence. “Signal,” he growled.

Buffy approached him slowly, the expression on her face completely business. Her hazel eyes however were warm and understanding.

“He’s going to watch for a while.” It was all she said. No explanation given.

Spike’s face remained impassive. He knew better than anyone that there wasn’t time for ill feelings. And obviously Buffy knew that he knew. That meant something.

“Just keep him out of my way.” It was all he said as he turned back to the group of girls. “Strike!”

Wood took a spot by the far wall, very much out of the vampire’s way. Before stepping back into the house, the Slayer exchanged a quick glance with her ex-boss, letting him know that not all was forgiven but that he was on the right track to being in her good graces.

Heading into the kitchen, Buffy was greeted by a silent Faith, waiting for her so that they could leave on their own reconnaissance mission.

Buffy released a weary sigh. Another soul she had to forgive before she could divert all her energy into defeating the First. Though she had skirted around apologizing for her not so warm reception of her fellow Slayer, Buffy knew that before she could order Faith into battle, she had to bury the hatchet. This little op of theirs was her perfect opportunity to do so.

“We good to go?” Faith hesitantly asked.

“Yeah,” Buffy confirmed. “We good.”


*******


The Slayers made sure to keep their distance as they stealthily followed the lone Bringer, silently communicating to one another when they finally saw where exactly it was that the First’s minion was heading. Once they cleared the forest, a vineyard spread out before them, with a quaint little house in the Northwest corner, most likely a winery, which was the Bringer’s final destination.

Buffy could spot other minions meandering around the building, keeping guard of the grounds, a few even patrolling the nearest rows of grapevines. Guardsmen were only necessary if someone had something to guard. What could the First be keeping stashed away in such an innocuous locale? What was it hiding?

Buffy signaled to Faith for them to head back, having seen enough. Quietly trekking across the wooded border of the vineyard, the Slayers picked up their pace, eager to discuss what they had found away from possibly any eavesdropping Bringers.

“Who knew the First Evil was such a wino?” Faith said, breaking the silence as they headed back to town. “What’s it want with all that hooch?”

“It doesn’t make any sense,” Buffy agreed. “Why hasn’t Caleb come after us yet? I mean the First knows how weak our defenses are. It got passed them before, right under my nose. Why keep all your man power here instead of using it to get rid of the only thing standing in your way of total world annihilation?”

Buffy couldn’t wrap her mind around what she had seen. She knew she had to confer with Giles, to get a different perspective on the matter. All she knew for certain was that it didn’t follow any form of logic she was familiar with. Nothing anyway she had encountered in her years as a Slayer.

Faith scratched her head. “Man things were easier in L.A. At least you know what to expect with Angelus.”

Buffy couldn’t have asked for a better cue.

“Willow told me you helped him out. She said you even went on this mind walk thing to get him back,” she commented, her tone purposefully light and void of any accusation.

Faith remained in step beside her, though somewhat unnerved by Buffy’s blameless interest, keeping her eyes focused ahead of her. “Yeah. Was a real trip.”

“How is he?” Buffy asked, her voice straining slightly with concern.

Faith glanced at her side, eyeing the other Slayer suspiciously. “He’s alright. Well… as good as he can be I guess, considering his recent personality transplant. He’s got a nice set up in L.A, though. His crew’s pretty decent too,” she answered, unsure exactly what Buffy wanted to know. “Nah, Angel’s got things covered,” she added, feeling that the other Slayer may truly need a bit of reassurance.

Buffy grinned. “Good. I’m kinda relieved you were able to help him out.”

The unexpected gratitude however made Faith stall momentarily. “Really?”

Buffy couldn’t help but feel like a total bitch for putting that look of astonishment on the other woman’s face. “Really,” she affirmed. “I know I wasn’t exactly what you would call welcoming when you first got here.”

Faith let out an involuntary snort. “No shit.”

“Still,” she continued to argue. “You didn’t have to come to Sunnydale. Wesley busted you out to help Angel and you did. Debt served.”

“Is this you trying to get rid of me, B? Lettin’ me know I’m off the hook or something?”

“No,” Buffy blurted, really not wanting to give Faith the wrong impression. “I’m just saying that I shouldn’t have gone on attack mode when you showed up with Willow, considering you’re sticking your neck out for us when you really have no reason to.”

“I got no where else to be,” Faith quietly replied, her confession exposing a bit of her vulnerability.

Buffy released a steady breath. “I know but it still doesn’t mean you had to come here,” she said, finding that forgiving the other Slayer may be easier than she had initially expected. “Which, by the way, I’m glad you did.”

Faith quirked a skeptic brow. “Really?”

“Really,” she assured, again. “I already owe you one. I know you had something to do with Robin’s newfound change of heart.”

The other Slayer shrugged at the accolade. “Just gave him some Slayer insight. That’s all.”

“Uh huh,” Buffy responded unconvinced. “So what’s the deal with you two?”

Faith faltered at the question. “I…There’s nothing…We’re not…”

Buffy held up her hand, a suppressed chuckle in her throat. “Never mind.”

Faith sighed, thankful that she didn’t have to categorize her affiliation with the principal turned demon hunter. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Finding their way back onto Rodello Drive, Faith eyed Buffy warily. “So are we like pretty much square? No more hard feelings?”

“Totally cool.”

“Not to spoil the mood seeing as you’re being all with the forgiving,” Faith tentatively began. “But mind if I ask you something?”

Buffy didn’t hesitate. “Shoot.”

“What’s the motivation, B? I mean, I’ve done some pretty messed up stuff and you and I both know we don’t have to be best buds to save the world,” she wondered, knowing that genuine forgiveness was a stretch between herself and the other Slayer.

Buffy came to a stop. They had arrived back at the house, which was eerily quiet, completely turned in for the night. “I know,” she admitted, her gaze travelling up to the window of her room. She knew a certain vampire would be waiting for her. “But I need us to be okay in case we don’t.”

Faith was taken somewhat aback by the statement. Buffy never spoke in terms of even the possibility of failure. She never realized it was in the other Slayer’s vocabulary. “This thing we’re up against, it’s the real deal, huh B?”

Buffy nodded somberly. “Yeah,” she exhaled.

Silently the two women entered the deceptively peaceful house, an unspoken truce firmly established between them. Going their separate ways, Buffy to her upstairs sanctuary in Spike’s arms and Faith to an empty a couch, neither would reach sleep easily. One Slayer would shed silent tears, finally allowing herself to legitimately feel the forgiveness she had desperately longed to possess. The other Slayer would dwell on what she had seen in the vineyard, her mind unable to let go of the riddle that was the First’s apparent headquarters.

Lost in their ruminations, neither woman was aware of the man in the room with them. Vampire and Principal both had found it impossible to fall asleep, too engrossed in the object of his personal affection, too consumed with his conflicted emotions. The four wrangled with their respective worries, letting precious sleep slip away as the night progressed to day.


TBC
Chapter Twenty: The Terrified Elephant in the Room by Aurora
Chapter Twenty: The Terrified Elephant in the Room

“It just doesn’t make any sense.”
The Slayer paced the downstairs dining room, her Watcher and Wiccan best friend watching on as she anxiously attempted to reason the First’s latest defensive strategy.
“I do agree it would appear that the First is guarding something at the vineyard,” Giles concurred with Buffy’s initial assessment.
“What do you mean ‘appear’?” the Slayer inquired, the gears in her head still turning.
The Watcher exhaled noisily. “It could very well be a ploy, Buffy. Some ruse to pull you away from this safe haven we’ve established, giving the First, or any of its minions, free reign to a house full of Potential slayers.”
Buffy nodded thoughtfully at the possibility, though she didn’t think it was the case. “Let’s face it, Giles. The First could wipe us out at any moment if it really wanted to, especially now that it’s got Caleb doing Its dirty work,” she countered, brow furrowed in contemplation. “There’s something more here. Something we’re missing.”
The room grew silent as its occupants took a moment to mentally work through their latest dilemma, brainstorming any probable explanations, or better yet, solutions.
The silence permitted the sounds of the morning’s activities to filter in, interrupting their concentrations. Spike’s barking commands emanated from the back porch, having stationed himself there for the SITs’ training session. Faith had joined him to assist with the girls’ form since the vampire was limited to the shaded areas of the backyard.
The noncombatant Potentials were being educated by Dawn and Andrew in the front yard. It was mostly an impromptu lesson on protection spells and a debriefing on Caleb, information which Willow had already conveyed earlier to Buffy after her research yesterday into the Preacher’s shady past.
The only other sound that could be heard was the occasional cling of a sword or clatter of a stake to the floor as Xander quietly organized the night’s arsenal. There weren’t any idle hands in the Summer’s house. Well, except maybe Anya, wherever she was skulking about.
Willow flipped through the pages she had printed off the internet, rereading them for the zillionth time. Before her were articles on unexplained murders, random abductions, and a consistent description of a preacher impersonator supplied by local authorities. She had managed to trace his crimes back through the last decade, but was unsure as to when he became involved with the First. The consensus at the table was that it could have only been recently that this alliance had been developed.
Though it didn’t give them much to work with, Willow’s findings did warn them of this new foe’s adaptability and cunning. It wasn’t just brute force they were fighting against this time. There was a sick twisted mind behind the henchman’s undoubtedly strong exterior. This was only speculation though. They didn’t have any firsthand knowledge of Caleb’s strength but it was a safe hunch. The bad guys were always stronger, but her and her friends had always been smarter. Now they weren’t too sure they would be able to play that card in this round of the game.
“He just seems so…icky,” Willow remarked as she glanced down at a newspaper article describing a town’s local police search of a suspect in the homicide of a teenage girl, said to be impersonating a man of holy orders. The description of the victim left the Witch with the shivers.
“But that’s all I’m getting from reading these,” she exasperated, lifting the pile of articles up in the air for emphasis. “I think I need to do some more sleuthing.”
Giles pulled off his glasses from his face. “What about police records?”
Willow perked at the suggestion. “I could try hacking into the system.”
“Really getting back to those roots, huh, Will?” Buffy said with a grin.
The Witch shrugged. “I think techno-savvy Willow would be more helpful in this situation. If we can get the unfiltered version of Caleb’s rap sheet, maybe we can trace back his steps and see how they connect to the vineyard.”
“Go for it,” Buffy agreed, glancing toward the kitchen, a sigh escaping her lips. “I better get outside. You guys keep digging around.”
Heading into the kitchen with the intention of taking over Spike’s training session in the backyard, Buffy paused when she heard her Watcher call her name.
“Buffy, could I speak with you for a moment?” he asked, his voice somewhat strained.
Immediately concerned by his apprehensive tone, she spun to face him. “Giles? What’s wrong?”
He regressed slightly at her show of worry. He didn’t want her frighten her, but he felt that she needed to know.
“I…uh…Are you sure this raid on the vineyard is so prudent?” he asked, hoping he could somehow eventually segue way into what he really wished to tell her.
The Watcher didn’t want to carelessly unload on his Slayer the knowledge that the demon spirit that had invaded her body weeks before, an episode which she had bravely overcome for everyone’s benefit, would finally consume her. He didn’t want to bring up the fact that the emergence of this latest player in the game was bringing them closer to the prophecy, to the fulfillment of Buffy’s projected demonic possession.
Buffy exhaled loudly at the inquiry. “Here we go again,” she grumbled. “No offense, Giles, but I’m getting kinda tired of being on the stand for making this decision. I already got cornered with the moral third degree from Xander and Dawn at breakfast. It’s not like I want this. You and I both know it has to be done. So whatever reasons you might have to not be onboard with the plan, just keep them to yourself.”
Giles balked slightly at his Slayer’s abruptness. He also was somewhat disconcerted by her fatalistic attitude. Maybe he should keep his concerns to himself. If Buffy was already losing hope before her first battle against Caleb, revealing her impending possession would be utter sabotage for the mission and, worse yet, for the Slayer’s dwindling morale.
Then and there Giles decided that he would wait until Buffy returned from the raid to inform her of Althenea’s ominous foresight. Once the Slayer had the security of knowing what she was up against, he would tell her. It wasn’t what he wanted, and it tempted fate assuming this wasn’t his only opportunity, but it was for the better.
Giles nodded in acquiescence. “Old habits die hard,” he lamented, giving her a tired smile.
Buffy’s hardened demeanor melted into a bashful grin. “Guess it’s hard turning off Watcher mode, huh?”
Giles sighed. “Unbelievably,” he muttered as he patted her on the back, turning back to the living room, leaving the Slayer to her duty.
Her second attempt to the backdoor was again dissuaded when a large commotion came from the front door. Dawn was struggling with an armful of groceries.
“A little help,” the teen called out from behind the paper bag curtain.
Buffy rushed over and took most her sister’s load. She had asked Dawn to scavenge any provisions she could from around town. The Slayer figured that it wasn’t really stealing since most of Sunnydale had been abandoned, including the local grocery store. “Where’s Andrew?”
“Here,” he grumbled, his arms full of boxes of female sanitary products. Dropping them on the floor with a huff, he glared at the two sisters. “This is a total violation of the Geneva Conventions!” he declared. “I am a prisoner of war who is being unjustly tortured!”
Buffy let out an amused chuckle. “First off, Andrew. For you to be a prisoner of war, you would have had to have fought in a war. You’re more a prisoner of annoyance,” she clarified. “Secondly, you’re free to go whenever you’d like. The First’s over using you and if it’s really horrible staying here, by all means, leave.”
The ex-Trio member whitened at the notion of being ostracized from the Summers’s sanctuary so close to an impending apocalypse.
Defeated, Andrew nodded in surrender. “Fine. But can I not be errand boy for Tampons again? That’s just cruel.”
“Fine,” Buffy agreed, still amused. “Anything else to bring in?”
“Anya’s coming in with the rest of the stuff from the pharmacy,” Andrew said, staring down at the boxes of Tampons, really not wanting to pick them up again.
Taking pity on him, Buffy pushed the groceries she had taken from Dawn into Andrew’s arms. “Help Dawn take these to the kitchen,” she ordered. “I’ll deal with the girly products. Wouldn’t want you to catch any cooties.”
Relieved beyond belief, Andrew traipsed after Dawn, struggling with the heavy load of bags. “Dibs on the Twinkies!” he called out after her.
As Buffy picked up the colorful packages from off the floor, Anya raced through the front door, nearly knocking the Slayer over. “Where’s Andrew?”
“Gee Anya, thanks for the offer, but it’s fine, I got it,” Buffy sarcastically greeted, balancing the boxes in her arms.
Oblivious to the Slayer’s derision, Anya rummaged through the plastic bag she had in her hands. “Why would we need athlete’s foot cream?” she asked, pulling out the offensive bottle. “What kind of First Aid station am I going to be able to put together if the doofus can’t even get useable ointments?”
Buffy was surprised by Anya’s level of commitment to her newly given task. The Slayer had figured that they would need ready First Aid when they returned from the raid on the vineyard. She had asked Anya to fully stock the house with the necessary drugs and bandages. Apparently foot cream wasn’t on the former demon’s list of necessities.
“It could come in handy,” Buffy replied in passing, dismissing the other woman’s zeal. “Andrew’s in the kitchen,” she said as she made her way to the upstairs washroom to replenish their stockpile of feminine products for a house full of teenage girls. ‘All in a day’s work…’
Anya huffed as she marched into the kitchen, ready to berate Andrew’s choice in medicated creams. The sound of Xander’s unexpected voice made her pause in the hallway, grounding her feet to the floor.
“So what’d you guys manage to scrounge up?” he asked Dawn and Andrew as they took inventory of the pillaged food.
“Twiffinkies,” Andrew said through a mouthful of yellow snack cake.
Dawn passed him a pack of hostess cupcakes. “Mostly nutrient deficient sugar bombs. The produce smelled pretty funky.”
Xander gratefully took the cupcakes. “I guess we’ll all be on sugar highs tonight. Wonder if that’ll give the Potentials an edge,” he wondered out loud. “Well, before they crash anyway.”
“You’re going tonight?” Dawn asked, troubled by the news. “I figured it was too dangerous…”
“Buffy isn’t still too sure about Wood and they needed another body, so I volunteered,” he explained, his nonchalance unnerving the teen even more.
“Xander, this isn’t like helping Buffy patrol,” Dawn began to argue, not liking the idea of her surrogate big brother risking his life so unnecessarily. “And weren’t you against the idea in the first place?”
He shrugged off the girl’s distress. “It’s going to happen no matter what I think, Dawnie. Might as well make myself useful,” he countered. “It’s not like it’s my first day, you know. I’ve helped Buffy fight tons of evil, including a hell god if you do recall.”
“And look how well that turned out,” she countered under her breadth, staring up at Andrew as he returned her uneasy gaze. “Maybe you should stay back with us. Help guard home base.”
He shook his head. “Thanks for the concern Dawn but I’m going tonight.”
The sound of something crashing to the floor pulled everyone’s attention to the hallway. Anya was standing there, fists clenched and tears brimming, tubes and boxes of First Aid products strewn about her feet.
“You coward.”
Xander blanched at the sight of her. “Ahn…”
Without another word, she stormed off, heading for the front door.
“Anya, wait!” Xander called out, discarding his untouched cupcake as he chased after his former fiancé.
Andrew swallowed his mouthful of cake loudly, watching the soap opera transpire before him. “Man I wish I’d had my camera,” he lamented.
Dawn sighed sadly and then smacked movie making geek on the back of his head. “Help me put this stuff away,” she said resignedly, hoping somehow Anya would find a way to convince Xander to stay home with them tonight.

********

Anya was halfway down the street when Xander finally caught up to her.
Grabbing a hold of her arm, he managed to get her to stop. “Ahn, can you just hold on for a second?”
Spinning around, she furiously pushed him away. “Why?” she hotly inquired. “Why should I listen to whatever dumbass explanation you might have for going out and getting yourself killed tonight?”
“It’s not like that,” Xander defended.
Anya crossed her arms, her unconvinced glare still in place. “Oh no? So this has nothing to do with us?”
Xander vigorously shook his head. “No. Of course not. Buffy needs my help.”
Anya scoffed at his statement. “Whatever you need to tell yourself,” she cynically replied. “Know what I think?”
Xander didn’t respond, knowing the question was rhetorical. If he didn’t know, Anya was sure as hell going to inform him.
“I think you’re just running away from the responsibility of having to decide. You’d rather play the odds and let fate make the decision for you,” she continued, her voice shaking with frustration. “You’re a coward, Xander Harris.”
Xander stared at her, wanting both to strangle and console her in the same instant.
“You have no idea what I’ve been going through since you forced that ultimatum on me,” he shot back. “I don’t need your self-righteous guilt trip right now, Anya.
“As much as you like to think it, you are not at the center of the universe. I am not ready to make that decision yet and because time isn’t on my side, the apocalypse keeps getting closer, whether I’m ready or not. I would be going tonight with or without the fate of our relationship on my shoulders. So can you just please cut me some slack?”
Biting back further tears, Anya nodded, head hung as she stared miserably at the ground. “Is it so hard? Am I so horrible that you’d rather go up against a stabbing maniac than rush back into another relationship with me?”
Xander remained silent. How had he reduced this once proud and confident ex-vengeance demon, the renowned destroyer of men, to this wilted, empty broken shell of a woman?
Suddenly, anger ignited inside of him, but whether toward Anya or himself, he wasn’t certain. The sight of her so vulnerable, so hopeless, made him upset. Xander found his body moving of its own volition, his arms reaching out for her, a hand lifting up her chin.
Anya jolted at the unanticipated contact, halfheartedly struggling against Xander’s hold. She stopped when his lips pressed firmly against hers. Surrendering to the feeling of being connected to Xander once more, Anya sighed when he deepened the kiss, all her previous worry and animosity vanishing in an instant.
Breaking apart, panting, he locked eyes with her, his gaze conveying the promise he couldn’t articulate with words.
Anya’s eyes widened in surprise, understanding that this kiss wouldn’t be their last.
Regrettably pulling himself away, Xander kissed her palm before turning back to the house.
Anya watched silently, the unbidden tears gliding down her warm cheek as she held back the urge to chase after him.
Without a word he had promised to come back to her.
Watching him step back into the Summers’s home, never once having glanced back at her, Anya felt an ember of hope rekindle. She only prayed that it wouldn’t be extinguished that very night.

********


Buffy placed the last box of Tampons under the bathroom sink.
Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she sighed at the bags under her eyes. Her lack of sleep the night before had left her looking a little ragged.
“Prisoner of war? As if,” she mumbled aloud, shaking her head at Andrew’s claim to maltreatment as she splashed some cold water on her face. “Andrew’s the one committing crimes against humanity with just his presence.”
“Too right, luv. A bloody sadist.”
Startled, Buffy jumped at the voice. Glancing behind her, she saw Spike leaning against the bathroom doorframe, a smirk on his face.
“Jumpy, pet?”
The Slayer smiled. “Didn’t see you,” she explained, pointing to the mirror. “And I guess I no longer register you as threatening since my Slayer senses didn’t make a peep.”
The vampire’s brows rose at the underhanded insult. “Not threatening, huh?” he asked, sauntering closer to where she was.
Buffy kept her chin up in impudence, with a grin still plastered on her face. “Not in the least bit scary.”
Spike stepped forward, until his body was flush against hers, forcing her to lean back on the bathroom counter to maintain eye contact. Placing his hands down on either side of her, he lowered his mouth until it was mere a breath from hers.
“’m still the Big Bad, luv,” he huskily whispered, emphasizing his point with a soft thrust of his hips.
Buffy gasped at the feel of the hardness pressing against her hip. “Prove it,” she dared, eyes glazed with lust.
A low growl emanated from Spike’s lips. Grazing kisses along her cheek, he brought his mouth to her neck, nipping lightly at the soft scar that marked her skin.
Groaning, Buffy wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him closer to her.
Pushing himself against her in response, Spike forced Buffy to sit on the counter’s edge, drawing her legs around his waist. Feeling her grind against him, he abandoned her neck and captured her lips in a desperate kiss.
Spike wasn’t sure what had instigated this little romp, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to stop it. He didn’t know what nightfall would bring and he wanted this moment, this small reprieve to be with Buffy. He had come upstairs looking for just that, but not necessarily expecting it to get so hot and heavy. All he had wanted was some alone time before obligation and sacred duty took precedent over all else.
Spike had spent the last night contemplating his current situation. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Buffy’s dependence of him was bordering on unhealthy, dangerous even. The little spat they had had concerning the Reverend and Buffy’s subsequent unraveling had unnerved the vampire to the core. He hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep because of it.
That morning had been a different story.
Buffy had awakened with a mission, focused and proactive, delegating tasks and debating strategy. It was like the Slayer was back in business, her warrior batteries recharged after the tactical quandary her late night recon with Faith had unveiled.
The gut wrenching fear and self-loathing over weakening Buffy, for spoiling her with love and devotion had eased during the debriefing over breakfast. Her frustration over Caleb’s contradictory actions and her fervor to solve it had given him enough fortitude to push aside his worries, but obviously not enough to absolve them.
Pulling away from her lips, Spike rested his forehead on hears, waiting for Buffy to catch her breath. “Sorry, luv. Didn’t mean to get carried away,” he rasped.
Panting, Buffy shook her head. “Don’t be sorry,” she countered in a whisper, peppering kisses along his jaw. “Impending fight’s got me all needy.”
Spike tensed at her confession.
There it was again, her neediness. It probably wasn’t what she meant but he couldn’t help but jump to those conclusions.
Her small, hot hand, however, slipping below his black cotton shirt, drawing a searing trail up his cool stomach, reassured him her need for him at that very moment was all physical. Spike wasn’t sure if that was better or worse than any sort of emotional reliance, but at least it was familiar, an evil he knew all too well. Especially with the woman currently caressing his neck with her lips, stoking a fire he had thought long ago smothered to red coals.
It was a blaze that he kept in check every night with Buffy pressed against him in her bed, one he knew couldn’t risk to burn out of control. It was what they had promised each other, to salvage what was little left between them after that same inferno had almost incinerated them completely. Having Buffy so willing and in his arms was truly testing Spike’s level of commitment to that promise. He might have gotten his soul back but he was by no means a saint.
Casting all doubts aside, Spike threw caution to the wind. He was tired of worrying, fed up with his soul and how it shifted his conscience into overdrive. He felt as though all he did now was mull over every nuance of the Slayer’s psyche or feel guilty for every misstep. He just wanted to do anything without a litany of thoughts accompanying his actions. In that moment, Spike just wanted to be.
A low growl left his lips as one of his hands roughly clutched Buffy’s hip, his mouth crashing against hers, their tongues dueling. The Slayer responded in kind, her grasp on his waist becoming rougher, her nails piercing his skin. The unexpected sting had him gasping involuntarily, permitting Buffy a few seconds of reprieve for a few breaths of her own.
Suddenly feeling severely restricted by excess clothing, the vampire clutched at the black fabric on his back and yanked his t-shirt over his head, tossing the unwanted garment aside. Buffy’s hands instinctively flew to his chest, gliding against his alabaster skin until they settled around his neck, drawing him closer to her as she snaked her legs higher up his waist.
Buffy’s lips were devouring his once more, her tongue relentlessly battling against his own, her desire so strong it filled the space around them in a heavy fog. The smell of her was suffocating and Spike relished its flavor as he drowned in it.
The sound of a belt buckle coming undone shattered through the vampire’s euphoric state. Spike could feel her hand grazing against the hardness below the denim, her fingertips so close to touching the sensitive skin.
Though his body screamed to his very core for even the slightest caress, his mind and his heart knew this was all wrong.
Suddenly it all came crashing down on him. As much as he wanted the freedom of reckless abandon, he knew that luxury would come with too high a price. One he knew he would pay dearly. Bare-chested with Buffy about to cross a point of no return, the vampire knew it was all too much, too soon, and under the wrong sort of apocalyptic circumstances. A recipe for Slayer regret the second it was over.
“Buffy, luv, s-stop,” he huskily stuttered, too soft for effect.
The Slayer’s lips continued on their unrelenting assault of his own. He could feel her one hand tightening its grip on his arm, the other clasping his ass, locking him in place, trapping him in her desperate embrace.
“Buffy…pet,” he gently implored, trying to snap her out of her stupor.
An attempt to gently pull away resulted in a rough tug back.
“Buffy…Buf—” he continued to beg only to be silenced with another suffocating kiss.
“Buffy…”
Reacting in desperation, he pushed her back with a sudden jolt, placing some distance between them.
“STOP!” he asserted, his shuddering voice sounding much louder than he had intended in the close confines of the bathroom.
The force caused her to brace herself on the bathroom counter. As though snapping out of some trance, the Slayer blinked several times, breathing heavily as she stared at the space between them, as though she wasn’t certain if what had just happened had actually transpired. Her gaze finally landed on Spike’s undone belt, which caused her to instinctively reach for her own disheveled clothes. She was too ashamed and scared to look him in the eye.
Spike cleared his throat, snatching his shirt off the floor and pulling it back on. “I better get back downstairs,” he said, refastening his belt, unable to fight the urge to flee.
“Left the girls with Faith and the Principal,” he explained. “They kept throwing mooneyes at one another. Needed a break was all.”
Buffy nodded, still unsettled over her behavior.
Ignoring the pit of the stomach feeling that what he had just experienced was the Slayer’s emotional dependency manifested physically, Spike pushed through the awkwardness and placed a kiss on her forehead. “See you in a bit, pet,” he lamely reassured. “I’ll have the troops ready in a few.”
“Okay,” she whispered, looking down at the floor.
Without another word, Spike treaded lightly out of the room, vying for the basement instead for some required moments of solitude. The Potentials were as ready as they were ever going to get. He needed to get his head together before setting off on some suicide mission to blindly fight an enemy that they hadn’t even met.
“Bloody unlikely,” he said out loud as he went down the stairs, knowing he wouldn’t be able to shake the doubt and the guilt.
How could he have let this happen?
In all honesty he knew how. The dam had finally cracked and when presented with temptation, Spike had been too weak to deny it.
Now he was left with the remorse for having instigated Buffy into something neither one of them was clearly prepared for. Not to mention a growing uncertainty he couldn’t shake concerning their future. Spike couldn’t help but wonder if they would ever reach a point where sex could just be about sex. When was everything going to stop being so bloody so complicated?
Collapsing onto the creaky cot in the basement, Spike released a long groan.
“Maybe after the apocalypse,” he sullenly surmised, covering his face with his hands, wishing he had brought with him his trusty leather duster, along with the flask of whisky he kept in one of it’s pockets, seeing as how it was being of no use to him currently in the Slayer’s room.
Meanwhile, still in the upstairs overcoming her shock, Buffy slid off the bathroom counter. As she turned to face the mirror, she was taken aback by her reflection. Straightening her shirt and fixing her hair, Buffy’s mind raced, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.
One minute she was kissing Spike and the next she was almost assaulting him. It was like she couldn’t control herself, as though all of a sudden she needed that connection so badly. Despite their decision to wait, to take things slow, Buffy had been willing to throw it all way just to forget for a while.
Recognizing how history had almost repeated itself at her own volition, Buffy began to fight back tears. She didn’t doubt Spike had seen right through her. It was why he had stopped it, to save her from herself.
Pushing the shame down inside, the Slayer inhaled deeply. She didn’t have the time for self-pity.
She paused momentarily at the door. Glancing over her shoulder, she scanned the empty bathroom. It was just another regretful memory to associate with the seemingly innocuous room. This time around, however, she was the cause of the hurt and confusion. This time around Spike had been the victim.
With that in mind, she quietly headed down the stairs, wondering if she had finally gone too far. She couldn’t help but feel that she had once again thrown her relationship with Spike off its delicate balance. This time though, she feared it would never regain the same equilibrium.
TBC
Chapter Twenty-One: A Slayer’s Hamartia by Aurora
Chapter Twenty-One: A Slayer’s Hamartia




Trudging through the forested boundaries of Caleb’s vineyard, Spike assessed the sad band of warriors marching a few feet ahead of him. All he saw were a bunch of frightened girls, ill prepared and dangerously disillusioned. Sure, he had lent a hand in training them and would eviscerate any ghoul that so much as looked at them the wrong way, but there was only so much a century old vampire could teach in a few weeks to a bunch of teenage girls. They had been doomed from the get go; he had only wanted to give them a fighting chance. Sadly, Spike wasn’t even convinced he had managed that.

No, his main point of contention wasn’t with the troops but with those in charge. He couldn’t tell if they were being arrogant with this mission or just plain old ignorant. Either way, he didn’t like the tone adopted by the Slayer and her lot. It tempted fate too much.

Aside from the obvious strategic flaw of attacking an enemy on its home turf—which to be perfectly honest Spike didn’t have any real qualms about since it was how they had always conducted their missions—he was most concerned with the Slayer’s supposed Lieutenants.

Part of the problem was in that they were being partially led by an ex-con of a Slayer who was still wrangling with her inner demons. The night’s fight was her way of atoning for the sins of her past. Though this mission couldn’t take a backseat to redemption, not with what was at stake, Spike knew that was exactly the case when it came to Faith. In his eyes, her presence in the group was a write off, just another liability to add to the growing list.

Then there was Red, Buffy’s strongest ally, opting out of raid. She could claim she wasn’t ready yet to use her magic but he thought it utter bollocks. She was the one who had opened the portal to bring Buffy back, hadn’t she? Spike could understand the volatility of magic but he also knew that running from your own demons only got the ones you loved hurt.

He didn’t even want to think of the tactical flaws involving the Glorified Brick Layer’s presence amid this miserable brigade either.

It was a pitiful sight if he had ever seen one and Spike had seen his share. What with his plethora of previous schemes having gone arse up, he knew incompetence, having employed some remarkably useless minions.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t as though he could voice these grievances. It wasn’t his call. These were the Slayer’s decisions to make, as the job title dictated. The vampire just wasn’t sure how well she had thought it all out.

Up at the front of the line, leading the pack, was Buffy, lost in a trance of leadership and liability. The façade was still intact; the Slayer was in full force, still taking charge and ready for the upcoming mayhem and bloodshed. But it was still just a façade.

Still shaken from their disastrous encounter in the bathroom, Spike was without a doubt certain he was the Slayer’s emotional crutch. He understood the cause; the weight of her burden was finally causing her to crack. While his undying love and undeterred support was all that was keeping her from completely falling to pieces, it was also what was sabotaging her, allowing her to put some of the weight on him, something Buffy never did.

The vampire prayed she could keep it together until this battle was over. They would deal with their issues and the apocalypse as they came.

Spike patted down his chest, searching his duster for his smokes.

Pack was empty.

Tossing the crunched up wrapping aside, he scoffed quietly at the absurdity of his own presence on this death march. Vampire with a soul wasn’t exactly the warrior who should be taking up the cohort’s rear.

Though, a little soullessness, with the clear mind it offered, free of debilitating remorse, would have come in handy right about now.

Irony was seriously having a laugh. At his expense.

Speaking of laughing matters, the only thing worse than the cosmic joke that was the band of misfits before him had been the scene that had transpired outside the Summer’s home no less than an hour before, when they had been given their heroes’ sendoff.

The house’s resident female refugees had congregated around those among them who had drawn up the short straws, wishing those Potentials good luck as they masked their own relief with exaggerated confidence. The fake supportive chatter wasn’t as bad as the awkwardness that permeated the front hall where the so called leaders of this doomed operation had assembled.

Anyanka and the Whelp had thrown so many furtive glances at each other that the vampire could have sworn they were communicating telepathically.

The Principal and the Jailbird had spent their time more or less reenacting a scene out of any daytime soap. After pulling Faith aside, away from prying eyes, the Principal had stormed off in a huff, leaving the Slayer quiet and solemn.

Red had spent the group’s last few minutes in the house doting over her new bird, giving Kennedy a pep talk which poorly disguised her distress with inappropriate optimism.

The Watcher and Buffy had spent the time tersely discussing strategy. The vampire couldn’t help but pick up the feeling that Giles was holding something back. Spike had quickly dismissed it as the Englishman’s usual reserved manner, repressing the urge to embrace his surrogate daughter before she faced off against unknown evil. Of course, there were some things that never changed.

Spike had remained silent throughout the whole farewell song and dance. His soured mood wouldn’t have meshed well with the apprehensive crowd.

Despite his standoffishness, Dawn had approached him and hugged him. No words exchanged. He had gotten the message.

The only person who hadn’t gotten under his skin had been, surprisingly, Andrew. The boy had stayed far enough out of the way that he hadn’t come under the vampire’s radar.

They had left in silence, which had yet to be broken as they made their way to the vineyard. If he hadn’t been so consumed with the prospective fight, Spike would have commended the SITs on actually having kept their mouths shut for a substantial amount of time.

Reaching the edge of the forest near the vineyard’s outer boundary, Buffy turned to face the group.

“We’re here. You know your positions,” she said, authoritatively detached. “We retreat only on my call.”

Without any change in conformation, the group stepped out of the woods and into the vineyard. Up in front, Faith and Buffy quickly dispatched two Bringers that had been patrolling the rows of vines that filled the estate. Xander and Spike kept to the rear, watching the back of the line as the Potentials travelled ahead of them.

Soon they found themselves in front of the vineyard’s cottage.

Spike couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable with the ease of the mission thus far. He would have expected more of a resistance at this point. Something wasn’t right.

“Someone wants us to come over for a visit,” Spike muttered.

“No kidding,” Xander agreed. “Any idiot can see that they’re not even trying to keep us out.”

Spike glared at the boy. “And you conveniently seem to fit the bill, huh?” he sneeringly replied, his patience already having been worn paper thin. “Leave the inane insight in your empty head, Whelp, and keep your insufferable gob shut,” the vampire sourly ordered as he joined the rest of the group gathering in front the vineyard’s cabin.

“Nice talking to you too, Spike,” Xander mumbled, taking a spot next to Molly as the group prepared to enter the house.

Though the annoying prat was rubbing on his last nerve, a part of the vampire couldn’t help but agree with him. Watching Buffy stroll up to the front door as if it were any other house on the soddin’ block had his instincts screaming ‘TRAP!’. What kind of ambush starts off with the attackers knocking on their opponent’s front door?

‘Might as bloody well ask ‘em for a cup of sugar while were at it,’ Spike cynically mused.

The untested group of wannabe slayers crept into the house without even breaking a sweat.

Unnerved by the ominous silence, the girls progressed forward, following their seemingly fearless leader. The unanticipated ease of the mission thus far, and its accompanying suspense, was beginning to weigh down upon them like the proverbial elephant in the room. Not to mention that the fear coming off the whole lot was suffocating to the vampire who was bringing up the rear.

Following the only light in the dim hallway, they moved toward what appeared to be a stairway to the basement, the creak of the old cottage’s floorboards trailing them as they approached the menacing glow.

‘Here we go,’ Spike thought as the group descended into the basement and into an unknown future. ‘The sodding die is cast.’


******


Chaos.

Sheer and utter chaos.

And he was loving every minute of it.

The Preacher took in a deep whiff, inhaling the stench of fear that permeated the dank basement air. It was intoxicating.

Caleb smirked as he watched the little whores scurry about, feebly fighting against the Bringers.

Didn’t they know they were of inferior stock? Being of the female breed and all?

Glancing down at the supposedly all-powerful Slayer he had so effortlessly knocked to the ground, Caleb shrugged to himself. ‘Apparently not,’ he determined. ‘Reckon it’s time I taught these temptresses a lesson in humility.’

Yanking the Slayer up by her blonde hair, he tossed her limp form into an injured Rona and semi-conscious Kennedy, causing them to crumble into a heap on the floor.

Xander, who had been posted at the cellar’s entrance to defend against any surprise assaults, raced over to the women, guarding over them as the fighting continued all around. His attempts to awaken Buffy were ineffective. The Slayer was out cold. Momentarily, the group was leaderless.

“The good Lord made you the weaker sex for a reason,” Caleb admonished from across the room, his Southern drawl thick with condemnation. “Best start following His wishes, now. Wouldn’t want to reap the Holy wrath upon your wicked selves.”

Knocking a Bringer to the ground, Faith caught sight of Xander tending to an incapacitated Buffy. Without a moment’s hesitation, she charged at Caleb, putting all her strength behind the punch that slammed into his face. The assault caused him to stagger slightly.

“Not as weak as you thought, eh Padre?” she taunted, as she launched one of her knives at him, which he easily deflected.

Caleb smirked at the other Slayer. “Well, you're the other one, aren't you? Your Cain to her Abel.”

“Wouldn’t really know,” Faith dismissed.

With her other knife in her grasp, Faith attempted to plunge its blade into Preacher’s neck. Unfortunately it wouldn’t be fast enough.

Caleb grabbed her outstretched arm, twisting it until she was locked in a morbid embrace. Faith ineffectively fought to keep her hold on her weapon, a bone crunching squeeze of her hands causing her to drop the knife.

“Was never a fan of the good book,” she said through gritted teeth as she kneed Caleb in the groin.

Stumbling a bit, the Preacher momentarily let go of the Slayer, allowing her to escape his grasp. Seizing the opportunity, he backhanded her, knocking her to the ground.

Sneering, he sighed. “Now why doesn’t that surprise me,” he remarked as he grabbed her black hair to deliver a knee to her face. “A pity too. You’d like Revelations. Right up your alley I’d figure.”

The kick he delivered to her side sent the Slayer flying across the room, causing her to crash into the stone wall of the cellar.

Pausing momentarily, the Preacher pondered his last statement. “Come to think of it, kinda up my alley too.”

With a pleased grin plastered on his face, Caleb strolled toward an unsuspecting Potential as she successfully struck down a Bringer.

“The sin of Pride,” he began to sermonize as Molly tensed and spun around to face him, pathetically holding out her sword. “Is one of the deadliest.”

Grabbing the girl about the neck, he lifted her off the ground, choking her. She desperately clawed at the hands squeezing her windpipe, her screams for help coming out as pitiful squeals.

Across the cellar, with Bringers surrounding him, Amanda, and Vi, Spike had been trapped in one corner of the room, tirelessly fighting off the onslaught of minions. It seemed as though the Preacher had sent all his lackeys after him, separating the vampire and the two Potentials from the rest of the group.

The divide and conquer approach.

Never failed, which was what Spike was currently worried about.

The girls beside him, though reeking with fear, were fighting with every morsel of their being, survival instinct fueling the training that he had drilled into them over the last few weeks. If he had the luxury to reflect on the moment, he could take some pride in knowing that he had had a part in their newfound ability to survive. Maybe he had been wrong and a few weeks with him had actually made a difference.

Regrettably, he was too busy fighting the blind bugger in front of him while keeping an eye on the Potentials beside him, making sure their opponents never got the upper hand. It was an existential level of multitasking and a near out of body experience. And it was bloody well exhausting.

It was why the sound of Amanda’s shrill voice screaming Molly’s name seemed so alien to him, so surreal. Taking a potentially fatal chance, he glanced over across the room, following the girl’s line of sight.

What he saw made his stomach sink.

The chaos around the vampire faded into obscurity as he watched the Preacher skewer the tiny waif of a girl with her own sword.

“No!” Spike hollered, fangs descending, face morphing as the rage instantly consumed him.

Acting on instinct and fury, he broke through the throng of Bringers, mercilessly carving a path through them.

He skidded to a stop when he finally reached Molly and her murderer, his mind refusing to fully grasp the sight before him.

The hunter was showcasing his prey, maniacal glee sparkling in his eyes as the limp corpse gradually slid from the steel blade, falling to the ground at the vampire’s feet.

“Always thought the Bible said it best,” he began, holding out the sword before him, mesmerized by the blood that stained it. “‘Frailty, thy name is woman.’”

Spike growled as he lunged at Caleb, landing a solid blow to the larger man’s gut. Staggering, the Preacher quickly regained his stance and threw a punch at the vampire which was easily evaded.

Linking his fingers together, Spike swung his closed fists.

“That was Shakespeare,” he spat as he clobbered Caleb below the chin, causing his head to snap back. “You cad!”

Taking advantage of his momentum and keeping his hands intertwined, Spike swiftly spun around, gaining speed, and smashed his fists into the side of the Preacher’s head. Caleb’s head jerked to the side from the vampire’s onslaught of blows, but his stance was unwavering. To Spike it was as though he was fighting a marble statue.

Caleb sighed as he turned to look the vampire in the eye.

“You will pay for your transgressions, vampire,” he stated, his tone inappropriately animated. “But at this moment, I must do as the good Lord tells us and turn the other cheek.”

The last part of Caleb’s statement was emphasized with a sudden spin in the opposite direction from which he had been facing, slamming his fist into the side of Spike’s face, sending the vampire flying across the room.

His fall was broken by barrels of red wine, which he smashed through as he landed upon them. In a wine soaked heap, the vampire remained unmoving, unconscious from the assault.

It was the sight of Spike crashing through the wooden containers, large pieces of splintered timber flying through the air, which greeted a now alert Buffy. Her squinted, sleep drugged eyes flew open as realization dawned.

“Spike!” she hollered, springing to her feet, deaf to Xander calling her name. “Spike!”

Sprinting, Buffy reached the comatose vamp, sliding on the muddied dirt ground as her hands instinctively latched onto his body. “Spike! Wake up! Get up!” she screamed as she violently shook him.

Her hands frantically skimmed his chest, ensuring that there were no accidental puncture wounds from the flying debris. “I need you to get up!” she shouted.

Xander was suddenly at her side, his hand firmly gripping her shoulder.

“Buffy we need to get out of here,” he beseeched, his eyes skirting around the dim cellar, catching sight of Faith who was regaining consciousness a few feet away.

Nodding in agreement, the Slayer glanced around her. Caleb was entertaining himself with another Potential, a girl’s name she couldn’t quite recall at that very moment. “Get Faith,” she ordered.

“Will do,” Xander responded, running over to the other Slayer, clearly injured from her flight into the wall.

Buffy’s attention immediately returned to Spike, still out cold. “Spike! Get up! We gotta get out of here,” she urgently pleaded as she peeked at the chaos about her once more.

An ice cold stare greeted her when she looked back down at the vampire. The chilling voice that escaped his lips was unrecognizable.

“Call a retreat,” he said unemotionally, sitting up.

Buffy simply stared at him, dumbfounded.

Yanking himself away from her clutches, Spike snarled. “Call the fucking retreat!”

Jumping to his feet, he ran toward the Potentials without a backwards glance at Buffy.

As if shaking off some sort of spell, the Slayer also leapt to her feet. “Fall back! We’re getting out of here! Retreat!”

When she turned to look where the Potentials were relatively positioned, most were already up the stairs, having left wounded or dead Bringers in their wake as they desperately fled the cellar. She ran toward a limping Faith, who was foolishly assisting Rona and Kennedy toward the stairs. Xander was corralling the rest of the fighting girls toward the exit, telling them to abandon their weapons and flee. Unfortunately for him, it drew unwanted attention from a certain sociopath.

Caleb hurled the limp body of the girl in his grasp across the room, which collided with Xander as he was calling out to retreat. The Preacher approached his now vulnerable victim, having knocked him to the ground.

“Usin’ that big mouth of yours again?” he asked, picking Xander up by the collar and hauling him into the air. “Always have somethin’ to say, don’t you Boy? These harlots must’a tainted you with their sin of pride,” he reasoned, cocking his head to the side. “Only one cure for that.”

Caleb reached out to Xander’s mouth, his fingers wrapping around his lower jaw, creating a vice-like grip. “Removing the diseased limb,” he stated as he squeezed the boy’s mandible in his hand.

A bone crushing sound accompanied a blood curdling scream that filled the room.

The agonized noise pulled the vampire’s attention away from the Bringer he was pummeling so that the Potentials could make their escape. Finishing the minion off with a twist of its head, Spike tossed its body aside, sprinting toward a helpless Xander.

‘Please not the Whelp. ’ he inwardly pleaded, racing over to the boy. ‘Not him.’

Remembering the Slayer’s speech weeks before about Xander being the only constant in her life, Spike knew that if the boy died that night, it would destroy Buffy and all would be lost. As upset as he was with the Slayer and her behavior, the vampire couldn’t let that happen. It was why he was charging the Preacher like a bat out of hell.

Ploughing into Caleb’s side, Spike knocked him to the dirt covered floor, which freed Xander’s jaw from his vice-like grip.

Moving quickly, the vampire picked up a dazed Xander and dragged him upstairs, trailing the rest of the retreating party, never once looking back to see if Caleb was coming after them.

Spike could hear Buffy up ahead of him, calling the Potentials to run. Swinging Xander over his shoulder, the vampire followed the Slayer’s orders and started to run for the forest.

The weight of the man he was carrying was nothing compared to the night’s real burden.

Spike knew precisely why the mission had failed. Sadly, he had no one to blame but himself.



TBC
Chapter 22 by Aurora
Author's Notes:
What if Buffy had been infected with the demon mist at the end of the episode 'Get It Done'? The story uses the possession as a catalyst, making Buffy evaluate many aspects of her life, one of which being her relationship with Spike.
Chapter Twenty-Two: Something Wicked This Way Comes


Dawn was exhausted.

Mayhem had immediately erupted throughout the house as soon as the casualties from the raid had arrived.

The stunned teenager had seen her sister for a whole of two seconds, pale and flustered, calling out orders, before she had disappeared out the door to take the worst of the injured with Anya and Willow to the hospital. Not a single word had been exchanged between them. Her sister had been there for a mere instant to unload the wounded and then had vanished, leaving the rest to contend with the panic and chaos she had left in her wake.

Immediately Dawn knew Xander had been one of those wounded. His absence and Anya’s quick departure had told her as much. Though she had specifically asked him to skip the heroics and miss out in the night’s foray, Dawn did not have the luxury to get upset. She didn’t have the time.

The entire night Dawn had raced around the kitchen and dining room, tending to the wounded. It was a task she had gladly volunteered to do when she had thought Willow and Anya would be there to guide her. Never had she expected to take on the bulk of the responsibility. The teenager hadn’t anticipated having to delegate tasks, or to prioritize the severity of injuries to determine the order of care. Dawn had never thought she would have to be one in charge, to have other girls look at her for help and for answers. The last part scared her most. It was the first time she could really relate to her sister, which eased some of the bitterness she was feeling toward Buffy for dumping this on her.

Dawn had to admit though that she hadn’t done it completely alone. Andrew had been there to help, finding her what she needed in their makeshift infirmary, remaining surprisingly focused. She had to give the spaz some credit for his composure during the insanity.

Spike had been there as well, helping her with the worst of the injuries. A few of the girls had needed stitches, which Dawn had happily allowed him to step in and take over. The irony of a vampire actually keeping anyone from bleeding to death hadn’t been lost on her either, but Spike was better at suppressing his hunger than she was at keeping down her lunch. She was still a little squeamish from the whole experience.

Though she had been grateful for the vampire’s unexpected medical know how, his robotic manner throughout the ordeal concerned her. She had expected Spike to dole out his usual sardonic encouragement, to tease the girls for being wimps while making them feel safe. Instead, he had remained silent, his movements completely mechanical. It was like he hadn’t been fully there with them, as though his thoughts had been somewhere else. It made her wonder what had happened at the vineyard.

Giles had also stayed behind, volunteering to watch over the rest of those who had been left out of the raid. He had spent most of the night in the living room with the girls shaken by the state of their fellow Potentials. His self-appointed task had been to counsel them, to comfort them. Miraculously, he had managed to get most of the girls to calm down and attempt sleep. Dawn had last seen the Watcher stepping out onto the back porch, tumbler of scotch in hand, no doubt searching for some alone time. The distraught look in his eyes kept her from intercepting his exile, leaving him to his self-imposed ostracism.

Now, hours after the initial pandemonium, Dawn was still at her post. She was patching up a scrape on Amanda’s arm as the weary girl sat on one of the kitchen stools. All the others had already been taken care of since their injuries had been slightly more urgent.

“There we go,” Dawn said as she finished wrapping the bandage around the other girl’s arm.

“Thanks,” Amanda quietly responded, slowly standing up.

“No problem,” Dawn shrugged, cleaning up all the first aid supplies. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a truck,” Amanda solemnly replied. “But at least I made it out alive.”

Dawn nodded dejectedly.

She had heard earlier about what had happened to Molly from Vi. Many of the girls she had treated were still in shock over it. With the adrenaline having finally worked its way out of their systems, many of them had broken down into tears as she had cleaned their wounds. She could still hear the soft sounds of muffled crying permeating into the kitchen. Between the loss of their friend and coming to the realization that they may actually not survive the apocalypse, Dawn couldn’t blame them for the tears. They were scared and so was she.

“You going to sleep?” she asked Amanda as she helped her up from her seat.

“Yeah. I think I saw a free spot somewhere on the floor,” she answered with a sigh.

As Dawn began to feel bad for not having better accommodations to offer the girl, Andrew came in from the other room.

“Here,” he said handing her his sleeping bag. “You can have mine.”

Amanda gave him a small smile. “Thanks,” she softly said. “But aren’t you gonna need it?”

Andrew shrugged. “It’s okay. I don’t think I’m gonna be able to sleep anyway.”

“Oh, okay.”

Dawn watched silently as Amanda stepped into the dark hallway, heading to bed.

“That was nice of you,” she said to Andrew as she continued to put away bandages and gauze.

The boy shrugged. “Like I said, there’s no way I’m sleeping tonight.”

Heading to the fridge, he pulled out a carton orange juice. Dawn noticed as he slightly struggled to pour himself a glass as his hands were a little shaky.

Stopping what she was doing, she came up beside him, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

Bringing the quivering glass to his lips, he took a giant gulp. “Yeah,” he replied with a deep exhale. “I think.”

“You freaked?”

Andrew nodded, head hanging low as if he were ashamed. “Totally,” he admitted.

“Me too,” Dawn also confessed quietly.

They stood there for a few seconds in silence, staring at the floor, neither knowing what to say.

“Are we gonna make it through this?” Andrew wondered.

Dawn sighed. “I know what happened tonight looks bad…”

Andrew released a cynical snort at the statement. “Bad is running for your life from psycho Goth Willow,” he countered. “But at least Jonathan and I had a chance. This is hopeless.”

“Don’t say that,” Dawn irritably responded, snapping her hand back from off his shoulder, upset at the nerve of Andrew’s cynicism. It was an unfair shot at Buffy and everyone else who were trying so hard to defeat the First. “I know you’re scared, but if we think that way we might as well give up now.”

“Easy for you to say,” he said huffily, crossing his arms. “You’re the Slayer’s sister. She’ll protect you until the end. You’re not the one who’s….”

He stopped, his voice catching in his throat, his gaze falling to floor.

“Not what?” she prompted, still annoyed.

“Expendable,” he finished.

Dawn was caught off guard by the statement. “Andrew you’re not…”

“Yes I am. No one wants me here. The only reason Buffy hasn’t kicked me out is because she knows I have nowhere else to go,” he argued. “I’m not a warrior. I don’t have any super powers. I don’t even have a potential mystical legacy that could one day give me super powers. If Slayers and vampires couldn’t stop Caleb and girls that got weeks of training can’t make it out alive, what chance do I have?”

He had her there.

Dawn wanted to argue the virtue of optimism in the face of adversity but couldn’t bring herself to do it. Even she was beginning to have doubts. The magnitude of the evil they were fighting, the devastating outcome of this battle, and everyone’s odd behavior had her really questioning their chances at defeating the First. There was also this foreboding feeling Dawn couldn’t shake, as though something was off about their whole operation and it would lead to very bad things to come.

“I don’t have super powers either,” she countered. “Not to mention Buffy’s already sacrificed it all for me once. I don’t know if she’d do it all again,” she dismally added, remembering back to the night the First had come to her in the form of her dead mother to tell the frightened teenager her sister wouldn’t choose her. “My chances are just as good as yours, Andrew.”

“Well at least people don’t treat like the resident Jar Jar Binks,” he retorted. “Except, you know, without the racist undertones.”

Dawn sighed at the Star Wars reference, more so at the fact she actually knew what he was talking about. “Well, you are an annoying tag a long,” she admitted.

Andrew’s jaw dropped. “I so am not.”

“Yes you are,” she assuredly countered. “You chase after everyone in the house to get them on film or you bug us to settle your childish fights with Anya.”

“Well fine!” he surrendered with an exasperated snivel. “No one likes me and I’m practically Uber Vamp chowder. Happy?”

Sadly, Dawn wasn’t. She watched as he sunk down onto one of the kitchen stools, his shoulders sagging and head hanging low. She did feel bad for the dweeb. He didn’t have a friend in the world.

Feeling empathy for the household pariah didn’t catch her off guard. They did spend a lot of time together. She couldn’t really relate to any of the other teenage girls in the house since Dawn wasn’t a Potential and Buffy always seemed to direct him her way to help out with research and other duties because no one else could tolerate him like she could and…

Suddenly Dawn’s eyes widened as the epiphany struck her.

‘Oh my God, Andrew’s my friend,’ she realized.

Her mind raced in the search for anything to refute the possibility that at that very moment this sci-fi enamored, annoyingly tactless social outcast was probably the best friend she had. Unfortunately, she came up empty.

Dawn wasn’t sure to laugh or cry at the startling insight.

Before she could begin to pity herself for her pathetic social life, she noticed Andrew started to get up from his seat.

“Where are you going?”

He shrugged. “I figured you wouldn’t want me bugging you all night.”

Dawn frowned at the explanation, her compassion returning for dork.

“You can stay,” she casually offered, taking a seat next to him. “We can play some DnD to pass the time.”

The boy gave her a suspicious look. “Are you serious?”

“Yup.”

“You know you don’t have to humor me. You can go to bed if you want,” he reasoned, not wanting pity.

“First of all, I can’t go to bed because Faith is in my bed,” she said matter-of-factly.

Andrew tilted his head in confusion. “I thought Faith went to the hospital?”

“Nope. Apparently too many inexplicably injured people at the hospital would raise questions, especially if one of them miraculously recovers in half the time of the others,” she clarified. “So she’s up in my bed recovering and Principal Wood is watching over her.”

“He so has the hots for her,” he commented.

Dawn snorted. “No duh.”

“You think it’s weird that his mom was a slayer and now he’s dating a slayer?” he wondered. “Kind of Freudian, right?”

“Eww,” Dawn responded, repulsed by Andrew’s theory. “And they’re not dating. They’re just all flirty with each other.”

“Semantics,” he countered with a wave of his hand..

“Whatever,” she dismissed. “I’ve got better things to worry about than Faith and Principal Wood’s budding romance.”

Andrew nodded understandingly. “Like Spike.”

“What about Spike?” she warily asked.

“You know, tonight’s whole Night of the Living Dead routine,” he argued. “I mean the zombie living dead, not the vampire kind.”

Dawn nodded grudgingly. “Yeah, he was out of it,” she agreed.

“I thought the First reactivated his trigger or something,” Andrew reasoned. “But when he didn’t try to kill me again, I knew that couldn’t be it.”

“It’s what happened at the vineyard,” Dawn explained. “For Spike to be this broody again, it had to have been something pretty bad.”

“All signs do point to catastrophe,” Andrew surmised.

Dawn released a ragged breath. “Definitely.”

They stood silently again as their conclusion regarding the night’s events and behaviors revealed an unknown and ill foreboding future.

It was Andrew who once again broke the silence.

“I had this same feeling at the end of the Fellowship of the Ring,” he stated. “Gandalf sacrificed himself, Orcs kidnapped Merry and Pippin, and Boromir was dead. Everything was going wrong, like they had failed.”

“Did it still work out in the end?” she asked, her tone forlornly hopeful.

Andrew frowned. “Well, yeah,” he immediately replied. “You couldn’t expect any less from the fantasy genre.”

“Oh,” she whispered, nodding at the geek’s odd sense of logic.

Noticing Dawn’s dejected countenance, Andrew quickly backtracked. “But who knows, maybe life will imitate art in our case,” he said, placing a hand on Dawn’s shoulder.

Andrew reciprocating the reassuring hand on shoulder move confirmed Dawn’s suspicions of his friend status. It actually made her feel better.

Oh yeah, they were definitely in Friendsville.

“Speaking of Hobbits, you up for some fantasy board gaming or what?”

Andrew hesitated.

“I promise I’m not humoring you,” she vowed. “I need a distraction from tonight’s insanity. I still can’t shake the bad vibes.”

The mission was beginning to unravel and Dawn knew it would soon become evident to others as well. Her feeling of unease was made worse by the fact that she couldn’t do anything about it, partly because she wasn’t privy to what had actually happened. The only thing she knew for certain was the ominous cloud that surrounded everyone who had been involved. Thus the need for a distraction and ergo the role playing board game.

Andrew accepted her explanation. “Okay, I’ll go get it but only if I get to be the sorcerer.”

“Sure,” Dawn replied and watched him race out of the kitchen to find the board game.

She wondered if she was doomed to forever make friends with vampires and immature fanboys.

‘If we do survive this apocalypse, I’m really going to have to get out more.’


*********

Faith awoke to find herself in an unfamiliar bed.

Slowly sitting up, she looked around. Posters of teenage boys she didn’t recognize and a picture frame with a photo of the Summers’s women on the bedside table told her she was in Dawn’s room. Or that Buffy was in some serious need of redecorating.
How had she ended up here?

The last thing she remembered was the retreat from the vineyard. After that it was all pretty hazy.

The Slayer continued to groggily look around. She was alone and it was dead quiet.

Swinging her legs off the edge of the bed, Faith got up and stretched, deciding she had to find anyone who was still awake. She needed to fill in a few of the gaps in her memory and to find out what had happened to the others. Plus, standing in the sickly sweet pubescent room was conjuring up feelings of teenage angst she had thought long ago reconciled.

Stepping out into the dark hallway, her bare feet lightly padded the carpeted floor as she searched for a conscious adult.

“Hey? Anybody up?” she whispered as she neared the stairs.

No response.

Faith decided her odds were better downstairs, maybe in the kitchen.

Heading down the stairs, the Slayer expected to see the living room packed with sleeping Potentials. Instead the room was empty.

“Hello?” she called out a little louder, completely thrown by the house’s apparent vacancy.

Where were all the girls? Did Buffy relocate everyone? Had Caleb come after them after their retreat?

Racking her brain for possible answers, Faith came up with nothing.

Marching into the kitchen, she took in a sharp breath when it too was empty.

A sudden sinking feeling began to grow in the pit of her stomach. Where was everybody?

“Hello?” she yelled in the dark, not caring anymore if she woke anybody up.

Again silence.

Frustration grated at her nerves, her patience waning. “Where are they?” she asked aloud. “I swear if they left me here…”

A loud thud coming from the living room silenced her.

Immediately she jumped into a fighter’s stance, anticipating some sort of attack. Yet her slayer senses remained quiet. Not even a blip despite the eerie state of the house and the absence of all its occupants.

Slowly she approached the door that lead out of the kitchen. Pushing it slowly open, Faith inspected the hallway.

Nothing.

Gradually, with fists raised and one foot in front of the other, she progressed toward the living room.

Whatever had caused the noise was gone when she entered the room.

“What the fuck is going on?!”

Suddenly she felt a tickle at the back of her neck. Spinning the Slayer caught a shadow in the corner of her eye. Faith wasn’t as alone as she had thought.

Her eyes scanned the dark room as she continued to turn around, never keeping her back to a wall for longer than a second.

“Whatever you are, you might as well come out,” Faith reasoned. “I’m getting bored of this.”

She waited for a reply, or a noise, or anything that would giver her some answers. Was she being played? Was it the First?

Another voice broke her train of thought.

She is not prepared.”

The hoarse unearthly voice surrounded Faith, making it difficult to pinpoint the direction of the source of the ominous message.

Faith continued to circle around in a spot at the centre of the room, waiting for something to pounce.

“Who? You talking about me?” she asked, figuring she might as well run with it since this thing wasn’t willing to come out and play.

“Our sister,” the voice answered.

The Slayer’s brow shot up in disbelief. Did she have a demon sibling she didn’t know about? Sadly, Faith had heard stranger things.

‘Plus mom was a total skank, so who knows?’

“Uh, I don’t have a sister,” she replied, hoping for more answers.

The voice grew angry. “Sister is not prepared! It cannot be hers yet!”

“Okay. Okay,” Faith said, wondering what rabbit hole she had fallen into where she was reassuring some ghost that their sister wasn’t ready for ‘it’, whatever ‘it’ was.

“Who is our sister?” she asked.

Instead of the voice, another thud sounded behind her. Spinning around to face the demon, the sight before Faith was the last thing she had ever expected.

The moonlight through the window illuminated a woman, of African origin, barely clothed and with grey mud smeared across her face and body, crouching low to the floor. Her dark eyes bore into Faith’s.

“Uhh, hey?” the Slayer lamely greeted, unsure what to do.

“Our sister must be purified,” the woman said, unfazed by her encounter with the Slayer.

Faith rolled her eye. “Okay, this is getting old. Who must be purified? What’s her name?” she asked with annoyance.

“She is not ready to have it.”

The Slayer threw her arms open in exasperation. “Who the hell are you talking about?!” she implored, taking a step forward.

The other woman’s body shifted, and in an instant, she sprang forward, pouncing on Faith. The Slayer was trapped, unable to free herself from the demon woman.

“What do you want?” Faith pleaded, her face less than an inch away from the woman’s.

“You must stop her before it is too late.”

With the message relayed, the woman sat up, still astride Faith, tilting her head back to release a deafening scream. Throwing her hands over her ears, Faith watched as the woman’s hair and color lightened and she morphed into a familiar blond haired slayer.

Then everything went black.

Faith’s eyes shot open, her breath erratic as her heart raced a mile a minute. She wasn’t on the living room floor anymore and the phantom woman was gone. She was staring up at a white ceiling. She could see the posters on the walls; her hands her clasping a soft comforter. She was back in Dawn’s room.

The dull ache in her head and soreness of her body confirmed she was no longer dreaming. Groaning, she sat up. Soulful brown eyes instantly met her own.

“Hey,” she meekly greeted.

Getting up from the chair he had been sitting in for the past few hours, Robin was quickly by Faith’s side. “How are you feeling?”

The Slayer dismissed his concern with an indifferent laugh. “I’m cool. You should’ve seen me two weeks ago. Now that took some serious recovery time.”

Wood tilted his head in confusion. “What happened two weeks ago?”

“You know, the usual vampire versus slayer thing. Long story,” she said, brushing off his worry. “I’m okay, really. Just a little beat up.”

Wood looked at her doubtfully. “You sure? You were tossing and turning just before you woke up. Were you having a nightmare?”

Faith shrugged. “I guess except it wasn’t really your typical nightmare. More like a trippy, cryptic dream.”

Wood nodded as though it made perfect sense. “A Slayer dream.”

The Slayer’s brow quirked with skepticism. “That’s usually B’s thing.”

“Maybe this is the first time you were ready for it, or maybe it was for you and not Buffy,” he proposed. “All I know is that my mom used to get them all the time.”

Faith’s gaze turned toward the Summers’s family portrait on the bedside table. The dream wasn’t meant for Buffy because it had to be about Buffy. Faith knew she was out of her league and needed to talk to the other Slayer or Giles. Whatever the message was, she knew it wasn’t something that any of them could ignore.

“Where is everyone?” Faith asked, changing the subject.

Wood sighed. “Buffy and Willow took a few girls and Xander to the hospital. The rest are downstairs asleep.”

Faith nodded, a few images of the past night coming back to her in flashes. She remembered Xander being hurt and she could recall helping Buffy with Kennedy until she herself had slipped into unconsciousness. After that all she could remember was the dream; the woman’s near black eyes boring into her soul as she compelled Faith to stop their sister from taking the unspecified ‘it’.

‘Definitely need to talk to Giles,’ she internally resolved, which would have to wait until morning.

“Why aren’t you in bed?”

It was out of Faith’s mouth without much forethought. When Wood broke eye contact, casting his eyes down with mild embarrassment, her eyes opened wide, grasping how suggestive her innocent question actually was.

“I mean your bed. I mean, why aren’t you in your bed?” she stumbled to clarify. “What are you doing still up?”

He smiled at her awkwardness. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh,” Faith responded as she shifted in discomfort.

Wood cleared his throat. “Faith, about earlier…before you went to the vineyard,” he began, unsure how to broach the subject of their quarrel.

“You mean when you asked me to talk to Buffy so you could come with,” the Slayer offered, knowing exactly where this was going. “And I said no.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“You were pissed,” Faith stated.

Wood nodded, laughing a little at her directness. “Yeah, I was,” he admitted. “But I was wrong. I shouldn’t have asked you to do that. You were right. It was Buffy’s call to make and I’m sorry.”

“No biggie,” she said, shrugging off the whole incident.

Wood, however, didn’t think the issue was so easy to dismiss. “But it could have been. I know how delicate your relationship with Buffy is, how you’re only now healing. You told me as much. I shouldn’t have imposed. I was just feeling so useless.”

Faith stared at him for a minute, observing the shame on his face. She couldn’t recall the last time someone had felt genuinely sorry for something they had done to her, even to go as far as ask for her forgiveness. No one had ever respected her enough to think she deserved an apology.

“You’re not useless.” she corrected. “We didn’t know what we were up against. We couldn’t leave the newbies we left behind unprotected. So you were part of the insurance policy.”

Faith felt his hand gently clasp hers, squeezing it supportively. His touch gave her instant goose bumps. “I get that now. I heard what happened…what happened to Xander.”

The Slayer exhaled loudly in response. “Yeah, Caleb’s not our typical bad guy. Got the bruises to prove it,” Faith confessed. “Can I be straight with you?”

“Sure.”

“I was relieved when you didn’t come with,” she said, watching his face for any sort of anger or betrayal.

Expecting outrage, Faith was surprised by his bemusement. “Why?” he wondered.

The Slayer inhaled deeply, feeling uncharacteristically nervous, as though she were confessing a grave sin. “It wasn’t safe and I…I mean…I would’ve been distracted with you… after we almost…Man I suck at this.”

As though reading her mind, Wood grinned slightly. “I think what you mean is that you would have been distracted by what you almost started on the porch last night.”

Faith’s scoffed in indignation. “What I started? You were layering it on so thick you coulda been icing a cake.”

“Me?” he asked, matching her level of incredulity. “You were the one invading my personal space with that ‘would she, wouldn’t she?’ psych out.”

“You got me a Yankees hat!” she heatedly rationalized. “You deserv—“

Without warning or pageantry, Wood leaned forward and kissed her.

Faith automatically froze when his lips touched hers. It felt very foreign to her that his kiss wasn’t like all the others she had experienced. It wasn’t harsh or demanding or a total grope fest. It was soft and tentative. She’d never been kissed this way before.

Slowly he drew her into the embrace, his hand touching her face, his lips gently separating her own. With the shock receding, Faith finally surrendered to it.

As she kissed him in return, it felt as though the world had disappeared, as though nothing outside of the two of them particularly mattered at that moment. The more she allowed herself to truly feel the emotions evoked by this kiss, this man, the more Faith realized that this was more than just a crush or a potential fling. She didn’t feel ashamed or indifferent; she felt special, as though one day she could be loved. That revelation would have normally sent her packing but the usual urge to flee was completely absent. The Slayer wanted her turn to be loved and this time she actual thought it possible.

Inching forward to be closer to him, Faith suddenly flinched as pain seared through her bruised side, causing her to break from the kiss. She sucked in a long breath through her teeth and held her side.

“What is it?” Wood asked with instant concern. “What’s wrong?”

Faith smiled sheepishly. “Still kinda tender,” she explained as she shifted to ease the discomfort. “Guess the slayer healing hasn’t fully kicked in yet.”

“You need to rest,” he rationalized. He moved to get up to allow her to attain said rest, when her hand flew to grab his arm.

“Uh, you should stay,” Faith stated, loosening her grip on him the instant she realized she was still holding his arm. A warm flush filled her cheeks when he looked at her puzzled.

Clearing her throat, she explained.

“It’s jammed packed downstairs and I bet there aren’t any beds left. I know I wouldn’t be psyched if I had to sleep on the floor. So you can bunk here,” she offered. “Or, you know, whatever. It’s up to you.”

Wood hesitated for a moment before nodding in acceptance. “Okay. But only because I know you’d be disappointed if I didn’t.”

Faith balked at his self-assurance. “I’m just being nice by giving up half of this bed. Do what you want.”

Wood smiled. “Don’t worry. I will,” he said as he scooted down the bed, reclining beside her.

The Slayer slowly shifted to one side of the bed to give him room. Wood, chivalrously over the covers, took Faith in his arms and held her close. Resting her head on his chest, she closed her eyes.

“Let me know if I hurt you,” he whispered, not wanting to inadvertently inflict any unnecessary pain on her battered body.

“Don’t think that’ll be a problem,” she said with a hint of a smile tugging her lips, not referring at all to any physical pain he could cause her.

As Faith began to fall into undisturbed sleep, the menacing dream that had shaken her into consciousness had now taken residence at the back of her mind. It was now lost in a sea of thoughts that revolved around the newfound feelings for the man beside her.

Unfortunately, when the memory of the dream was to later resurface, it would be too late.






TBC


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