Half and half


Chapter 1

As imagined reunions went, this one wasn’t even in her top one hundred. The love of her life was sprawled across the office desk with his head buried in Harmony’s ample bosom, one hand clutching her long blonde hair and the other buried somewhere between his body and her open thighs. Her enthusiastic if slightly choked cries of “yes, yes, just there, Blondie Bear”, and his breathy growls, were the only sounds in the room; apart from a squeaky protest from the leather coat rubbing against her shiny high heels as they scrabbled for purchase against his back.

With his eyes tightly shut, and his body thoroughly enjoying the sensation of touch for the first time in what seemed like forever, he could almost imagine that it wasn’t Harmony beneath him. Instead of the overpowering scent of Poison he could convince himself that the smell was the delicious primal perfume of Slayer.

When the body underneath him froze - and not in a good way – he opened his eyes and raised his head in puzzlement. Harmony stared at the doorway, eyes wide with horror. Almost in slow motion he disengaged himself, righted his clothing and stood up. His whole body now prickled with awareness but his mind refused to catch up. Spike turned around. No, it couldn’t be…

But it was.

Buffy.

A beautiful, dangerous and very pissed off Buffy. Half dressed as usual, hair longer and lightened by the sun, skin tanned, healthier curves and beautiful big eyes…eyes which were now rapidly filling with tears.

“Me and Dawn thought we’d visit, you know…since we found out you weren’t actually dead," said Buffy. "But it’s obvious you’re busy right now.” And with that, the woman of his dreams - and sometimes nightmares - ran out of the room leaving only the sound of her feet skittering away from him.

“Fuck,” breathed the stunned vampire as he leapt towards the door, Harmony’s annoyed shout of “Hey!” ignored. A steely arm shot out to grab him just as Buffy darted into the lift at the end of the corridor.

“Spike, what can I say? If I’d only known you were otherwise occupied, then I would never have helped her to look for you, but she seemed so eager to see her champion again.” Angel attempted to look sorry but Spike knew better; no amount of acting ability could hide the gleam of triumph in the bastard’s eyes.

“Get off me or lose an arm, Angelus.” With that Spike tore out of Angel’s grasp and raced after her.

But she was gone.


***

Buffy burst out of the lift and into the downstairs foyer area where she’d left Dawn with the effervescent Lorne. He had welcomed them both like long lost friends as soon as they entered Wolfram and Hart, even though they’d never actually met before. And, while she would normally have staked a green, horned demon with red eyes for laying a single digit on her baby sister, he had charmed them both. His hugs and air kisses had eased the tension the sisters were feeling, and his cries of delight that ‘Spikelicious’ would be in for such a surprise when he saw his ‘lovely girls’ had been more than encouraging.

Surprise was right. Now her chest hurt, she couldn’t breathe properly, and her vision was distorted by prisms caused by all the tears that kept getting in the way. ’Stupid tears.’

Dawn shot up from the comfy leather sofa where she and Lorne had settled for a good gossip. “Buffy, what’s wrong? Where’s Spike?”

“I can’t believe he could do that to me again. At least he showed a bit of taste with Anya, but Harmony? Couldn’t he have moved on to someone with a bit more class,” Buffy snapped as she wiped the tears from her eyes with a clenched fist. “And what does that say about me? Come on, Dawn, we’re leaving. Right now!"

Lorne was quite frankly puzzled at the Slayer's words. “Sweetness, whatever you saw you mustn’t doubt his feelings for you, believe me. I’m an empath demon and I’ve spent enough time with Spike to know that he’s completely, and pitifully, in love with you and the little sugarplum here. Besides, what trouble can he really get up to as a ghost?”

Buffy met the gentle demon's gaze whose confusion was mirrored in her own eyes. “A ghost? What are you talking about? What I saw didn’t look very spiritual to me, and I’m sure there was more orgasm than ectoplasm on their minds.”

Dawn gasped. Then snapped her mouth shut.

As the meaning of Buffy’s words sank in, the demon couldn’t repress his reaction, despite seeing and feeling her obvious distress. “He’s really back? That’s wonderful! You don’t know how hard it’s been for the poor boy. He’s been clinging on by his fingernails to this world as Hell was tugging at his ankles.” Lorne took the distraught Slayer by the arm and signaled for Dawn to follow. “Come on, darlings, let’s go and meet Fred then we can tell you all about Spike’s recent adventures. Something tells me that if you run away again then there might not be another second chance for you both…and I so love a happy ending.”

***

When Spike finally plucked up the courage to enter the lounge area where Team Angel liked to hang out, his eyes automatically sought out Buffy. She was talking animatedly to Gunn and Wesley and barely glanced at him before pointedly looking away. Unsurprisingly, Angel loomed nearby ready to repel boarders. Pirate Spike merely shot him a death glare before heading straight for the alcohol.

Spike was still seething, and more than a little hurt at Angel's actions. Hell, he'd even thought that they'd reached some sort of understanding, if not the beginnings of actual friendship. All that had flown out of the window on the Slayer's arrival which, come to think of it, must have been minutes after Harmony had opened the flash-in-a-box and his old - slightly shopworn - body had merged with his ghostly one.

Yes, Buffy had arrived, and Angel had taken complete advantage of Spike's stupidity by leading her straight to him. And what had possessed him to want to shag Harmony anyway? He knew what. Fear. Being a spirit had been terrifying. Not being able to affect anything around him. Not to be able to feel or touch. Harmony was in the right place, but definitely at the wrong time. Now he was going to pay for it.

Lorne was, as usual, being the perfect host, as he mixed drinks at the bar from an impressive display of bottles lined up along the curved counter. He was hindered rather than helped by Harmony who, true to form, was all cleavage and hippage - like jello on springs.

In her white trash meets Donna Koran suit, seamed stockings and red high heels, the vampiress was a bag of nerves. Her earlier shock was cushioned only slightly by her reasoning that, as a valued employee of Wolfram and Hart, she would be protected against unauthorised dusting by a jealous slayer. She was still keeping well out of reach though, angling her body every few seconds so that an airborne stake would have to penetrate several guests - and some very solid furniture - before it found her delicate heart. Her strange contortions were oddly mesmerising to all who watched.

“Ah, sweet cheeks, come on in,” said the demon cheerfully. “We’ve decided to celebrate the Slayer’s state visit by bringing the cocktail hour forward just a tad. What’ll it be, my blue eyed boy? A Neg, single malt and berba weed perhaps?”

Spike nodded and smiled slightly. “Sure, Kermit”.

Avoiding Buffy, he collected his drink after pointedly fishing out the colourful umbrella and fruit ensemble that adorned it. Making his way to a sofa by the window he hoped to get a better reception from his two other favourite females. The lovely Fred, just about his only friend here; sweet, determined, a good listener and with more brains than everyone in the room put together…and Dawn.

“Hello, Bit,” he said. Spike stared at the carpet as if awaiting a prison sentence. Loose limbed, Dawn rose up to enfold him in a tight embrace. “Oh, Spike, I’m so glad you’re not dead...er, I mean deader than you were. Oh, you know what I mean. It so sucked not having you around. I missed you, we missed you,” she said in a rush. Standing in the curl of her arms Spike had to close his eyes for a moment to stop from making a complete prat of himself. He was on the verge of bursting into tears in front of everyone. In front of her.

Dawn leaned in so she could whisper into his neck. “You know you’re in Buffy’s bad books big time, you idiot. But Fred and Lorne have explained why you couldn’t get in touch and how close we came to losing you forever. You’ve got some serious grovelling to do but at least we’ve persuaded her to stay for a bit, long enough for you to sort this out I hope. And Harmony? That’s just…well, words fail me!”

Spike gazed in wonder at the girl. “Such a smart little bit you are. What did I do to deserve your friendship?”

Dawn gave him a sad smile. “I could say the same, Spike.”

In the months leading up to his rather spectacular exit at the Hellmouth, Spike had been in no fit state to repair their once close relationship. A relationship that had turned so sour. Now Dawn was the one holding out the olive branch. He felt blessed.

Perhaps he should have incinerated himself sooner.

She buried her head into his shoulder with a loud sniffle, no doubt leaving a trail of snot on his black T-shirt. He couldn’t have cared less.

“We thought you’d left us for good,” she murmured softly.

“Nah, can’t get rid of me that easily, pet. You know I’m just too good looking and athletic to kill off.”

Angel snorted from across the room, and Buffy’s mouth twitched slightly.

Together, Spike and Dawn sank down into the soft leather of the sofa. He was sandwiched between her and Fred, who smiled at him reassuringly, protectively. Fred was patting his hand as if she couldn't quite believe that he really was a solid entity. All their combined efforts…and the solution was in a friggin' cardboard box!

***

It was nearly 11 p.m. when the gathering wound down and assorted demons, half demons and humans prepared to either go to bed or hit the streets looking for a few hours of action. Dawn and Fred opted for sleep, as did Harmony. She’d been pointedly ignoring Spike all night, much to his great relief.

Buffy was talking quietly to Angel; he’d finally made his move and they were sitting with heads bowed towards each other. She was frowning slightly but held one of his large hands in both of hers. They seemed unaware that anyone else was in the room. Spike felt the familiar dull ache of incurable jealousy. He was so sick of being second best. It didn’t help that he knew he'd be throwing himself at her feet fairly soon and begging for forgiveness.

Later. When she was alone.

He called out after Gunn and Wesley as they headed towards the fine collection of lethal weapons ranged inside a Plexiglas case in the next room. “Wait up, lads, I feel the urge to kill something."

“So do I,” muttered Angel.

***

Angel had spent an uneventful few hours patrolling with Buffy. Most of the time had been spent trying to convince her that getting involved with Spike again was not a good idea. But he wasn’t blind. She hadn’t stormed out of the building as he’d hoped, and her reaction to the other vampire’s presence was all too plain to see. Angel had watched her pupils dilate at the recent gathering, heard her pulse quicken when Spike walked past, and smelt the telltale pheromones acting as a silent plea vibrating along invisible spider web threads; all reaching out to the only object of her desire.

Angel knew that, had he been less agitated and self absorbed, his worthless grandchilde would have easily sensed her distress and longing. He only hoped that their mutual pigheadedness would prevent them from ever giving in to their desires. If there was anything he could do to prevent Buffy throwing her life away, he would – even if that included dusting Spike. Her terse “there is no me and Spike” had lacked conviction and she’d refused to answer any further questions. Never one for expressing himself very well, he’d eventually given up trying to convince her to leave LA immediately and they’d spent the last hour walking the streets in uncomfortable silence.

***

At 3 a.m. Buffy sank gratefully into her bed. She’d seen no sign of the others during their patrol; she suspected this was more by Angel’s design than by accident as he’d steered her rather quickly away from certain routes. They did manage to pick off a small group of vamps, though she couldn’t help but notice that she and Angel did not fight well together; she’d nearly staked him a couple of times when he’d got underfoot. He was too used to fighting alone.

Not like Spike. Spike had anticipated her every move, just as she had his. Whether they were kicking the crap out of each other, or standing solid against a common foe, they’d always been connected. God, but she’d missed that.

Angel had wasted no time in launching into a long list of reasons why she should stay away from Spike - which was presumptuous much. It certainly wasn’t his place to tell her what to do with her life and, well, if she still desperately wanted her volatile vamp back then that was her business. Angel had rejected her long ago for all the right reasons but she wasn’t in the mood to be as noble. She’d done noble. Noble was overrated.

The room she now rested in was on the top floor of Wolfram and Hart, one of several guest suites available for VIPs who either couldn’t, or wouldn’t, use a normal hotel; Dawn had an equally large room next to hers. The perfectly laundered bed linen smelt of lavender, and splashes of colour radiated around the white walls from a genuine tiffany lamp depicting clear glass dragonflies suspended in vivid patches of green, yellow and blue. The rest of the large, thickly carpeted room disappeared into soft shadows. French windows opened onto a balcony where the never-ending noise of the overheated city drifted up from the streets far below. She couldn’t imagine who the last occupant of the room had been. Perhaps it had all been arranged just for her - so pretty, so deceptively comforting.

She still couldn’t get over how easily Angel and the others had accepted this place as their base. It was like going to a school built on top of a Hellmouth. Sooner or later you just knew that all manner of beasties were going to come pouring out to bite you on the collective ass.

Speaking of asses, Spike and Harmony’s impromptu lovefest had well and truly jolted her out of all the eager fantasies she’d had about seeing him again. The searing hope she’d felt after her Slayer dream a month ago, convincing her that he was unalive and well, had eventually been swamped by the fear that he didn’t want her any more. That fear had only grown when Willow and the coven in England had finally confirmed that Spike had, indeed, returned to this earthly plane and was currently residing in Los Angeles. And with Angel, of all people. Surely he would have moved heaven and earth to be back by her side by now…or at least sent her a postcard?

Unless he’d had enough of her hot and cold behaviour.

Maybe he had moved on with Harmony. At least she wasn’t complicated and wouldn’t give him mixed signals or find it hard to express her feelings, or beat him to the edge of dust. It had taken all Dawn’s persuasion and, surprisingly, Willow’s for her to swallow her pride and get on the plane to see him. Now she was just hurt and angry…and she didn’t know what to do next.

Buffy had almost headed straight back to the airport. Almost. Only Dawn’s pleading, Lorne’s soothing reassurances and Fred’s hesitant but heartfelt description of his recent trials at the hands of Pavayne had stopped her. That, and the knowledge that she couldn’t leave things unfinished between them, not without some serious discussion about their future first. Deep, deep down she knew that he wasn’t the only one that had some serious apologising to do.

“Why can’t anything just go smoothly for once?” she asked the night at large.

As if on cue the faint smell of cigarette smoke trickled in from the balcony.

“Thinking of us, pet?” drawled that oh so familiar voice. A flick of embers sailed over the balcony then Spike came slinking towards her, fingers flexing as if half expecting a fight. The way she felt right now she’d be happy to oblige, already imagining the satisfying crunch as she punched him on the nose - again. Anything to distract her from the rising panic in her breast, the growing fear that she’d lose control and fling herself into his arms.

“Um, been meaning to explain, apologise for earlier.” Moving to the edge of her bed his eyes were illuminated by the lamp. Soft blue fire like marsh gases flickered in the dark, the ethereal yet angular bones of his face too striking to be real…but then he wasn’t real, was he?

’He walks in beauty like the night,’ she misquoted in her head, or maybe she meant, ‘Creature of the night’. It was easy to get confused when he looked at her like that.

“I’m so sorry, Buffy. I know I’ve cocked things up with you again, as usual,” Spike said contritely. “But I’m really glad you’re here…and looking right gorgeous as well, what with all the resting an’ eating proper and all.” Taking a steadying breath, Spike pushed on. “That thing with Harmony was a moment of madness, I swear. You are mine and I am yours. You’re all I’ll ever want.”

Spike’s gaze traced her contours under the sheet and his head was suddenly filled with very pleasant memories. Her body fused with his, nipples taut against his cool tongue and her secret desires revealed to hard clever fingertips. A slow smile formed as he stared.

Buffy blushed as she correctly interpreted his look and pulled the bedding up to her neck. In her confusion she took a deep breath, ready to attack him with words, to wound past any forgiving.

“Shh, no you don’t,” he whispered, cool fingers pressing lightly on her lips.” No need to shoot me down in flames, love. Already been there, thanks. We’ll talk tomorrow, yeah?” Leaning over to replace his hand with his mouth he kissed her gently.

When Buffy opened her eyes he’d vanished. So he didn’t get to see the unguarded love blazing brightly within them.

***

AN: Okay I know I should have put Spike/other on the warnings - but I really didn't want to give away the beginning of the chapter. Am I forgiven?

Chapter 2

***

The next time he saw Buffy was in Fred’s impressive laboratory. Knox, Fred’s tall spaniel-like assistant, was darting between a computer and a sealed glass case, eagerly demonstrating something or other to the Slayer. Fred was there too and gave him a swift knowing smile. On closer inspection Spike could see that the case contained his amulet and it was emitting a faint pulsing glow.

“Here, should you be messing with that? I don’t fancy going back in the magic lamp – never know when I’ll get a good rub again.”

Buffy rolled her eyes.

“Oh, no,” Knox responded. “We don’t think that you’re connected to it anymore, not since becoming corporeal anyway. It seems to be a one time deal; the power it took to destroy the Hellmouth - and contain and then release your essence - seems to have completely drained it.”

“Yes,” added Fred. “We think it behaves like a giant transformer, converting energy from one form into another. These scrolls,” she brushed her slim hands across a few rolled up pieces of parchment, making them rustle, “seem to indicate that the amulet was specifically created to work only on humans blended with additional supernatural power, like that of a demon.”

“You mean any stupid sod of a vampire could have closed the Hellmouth?” exclaimed Spike incredulously.

“No,” Fred hastened to explain. “The extra boost needed for a task as ginormous as closing a Hellmouth was provided by your soul, and your willingness to die for the greater good. How many ordinary vampires would have done that, do you think?”

“Well, that’s all right then,” Spike muttered.

All eyes turned to the door as Dawn entered the room slightly out of breath. “Hi, guys,” she said, beaming at Spike. “This place is so cool. It even has its own slushy machine on the fourth floor, and I’ve been lost like seventeen times trying to find you.” She hopped up onto a worktop, blithely nudging several thousand dollars worth of scientific equipment with her behind.

Knox gave her a startled look before darting forward to retrieve a glass jar - filled with something indescribable - that Dawn was just about to send crashing to the floor.

“Baby Loxlar demon brains,” he explained. “They’re so hard to come by.” Knox carefully placed the jar away from Dawn’s hyperactive body. “We were just discussing Spike’s amulet,” he told the youngster. “We’ve been trying to see if we can reproduce its energy transmitting properties under laboratory conditions.”

“Damn bad idea,” growled the vamp.

“But what if we could recharge it safely, Spike?” Fred spoke up excitedly. “If we can understand how it works then we’d have an amazing weapon against the next demon army that comes to town. And if the wearer could control the amount of energy released then bingo! No need for flamey self sacrifice.”

“Anyway,” added the young man despondently, “we haven’t been able to work out how to recharge it in the first place, or with what kind of energy. All we know is that it has to be mystical in nature.”

Dawn and Buffy looked sharply at each other. Buffy gave a slight shake of her head, and got a small nod of agreement from Dawn in response. Spike watched the exchange with a frown. He realised that it was highly unlikely Wolfram and Hart were in the dark about Dawn’s unique ‘keyness’ and, coupled with Fred’s enthusiasm for the project, it was just a matter of time before geek boy started sniffing around Dawn. They’d all have to be a bit careful here.

Buffy beamed brightly. “Well, I’m famished. Come on, Dawn, let’s grab some lunch.” And before anyone could respond she’d hauled her sister out of the lab, steel doors swinging in their wake.

Spike, ignored throughout by the Slayer, gave a soft growl and slowly followed them out before veering off in another direction. He needed to be on his own where he could gather his thoughts. He needed a plan…and Buffy couldn’t avoid him forever.

***

Buffy and Dawn were queuing in the enormous staff canteen for a selection of unhealthy fast food, carefully avoiding the demon snacks, - some of which seemed to be undercooked to the point of being, well, still alive.

“So, have you spoken to Spike yet?” asked Dawn, knowing full well she hadn’t.

“It’s complicated,” muttered Buffy eyeing her burger with suspicion. “He’s still a jerk,” she said finally. “I’d forgotten how much. You tend to remember all the good stuff about people when they’re dead - or dust in his case - not the immature, infuriating, insensitive, evil vampire stuff you should be remembering.”

“Oh, get over yourself, Buffy. Of course he’s all that – he’s Spike - well, except the eeevil bit. Not evil, Buffy, you know that. And, he’s a man as well as a vampire, so hey, double handicap. He still loves you to pieces - anyone can see that - the question is when are you going to tell him how you really feel?”

“Told him once.”

“When?”

“In the Hellmouth, just before he got cremated.”

“And?”

“And nothing. He said ‘no, you don’t, but thanks for saying it’.”

“Oh, Buffy, talk about a last minute decision.” Dawn sighed, sympathising with her sister but seeing all too easily how she really needed to work on her communication skills with Spike. “I bet he thought you were just being kind, you know? The condemned man’s last wish and all that.”

“Yeah, that’s what he thought.” Buffy’s sigh echoed Dawn’s.

“Well, we’ve travelled half way across the world for this little reunion so I expect to see results.”

Buffy just stared down at her plate as if it contained the secrets of the universe. The clatter of cutlery and chatter of the employees around them faded into the background as she tried to calm herself.

“Why didn’t he try to see us, Dawnie? Why did he just stay here without a word that he was back?” Buffy looked as if she was going to cry.

“What I’d like to know is why no one else mentioned it,” said Dawn. “Come on, eat up and then it’s off to shop till we drop.”

“Dawn, we’ve just come from London. We’ve bought more new clothes and shoes than even I could want. You can’t possibly need any more things.”

“Yes, Mother.” Dawn smirked. “But I was thinking we needed something a little more vamp friendly this time. You know, a splash of red satin, a bit of leather, something that makes a statement.”

“The ‘I’m a complete slut, crush me against your un-beating heart, you sexy bloodsucking beast you’ kind of statement?”

“See, now you’re getting it.”

***

Spike was sitting casually in Angel’s vast office when she eventually found him; black booted feet propped up on the desk and duster draped over the large swivel chair. He was wearing his usual T-shirt and jeans belted with a silver buckle that gleamed. His hair was a little mussed up, with little tufty curls reminiscent of his crazy in the basement look. He looked a bit tired and was reading a battered paperback.

“If you’re lookin’ for his lordship he’s out mingling with his subjects,” he said, not glancing up.

“I know. Harmony was most helpful about telling me where everyone is. I didn’t even need to threaten her much.”

“Yeah, she’s trying hard to fit in.” He sighed. “It’s not easy for her, what with being basically stupid an’ all.”

“Didn’t stop you ‘shagging’ her though.”

Spike groaned. “Look, I’m unbelievably sorry about that. I’d just got my body back and needed to check if it was still in full working order…so to speak.” Before he knew it she’d flown across the room and he was reeling back from a fierce uppercut.

“Yep, you feel corporeal enough to me!”

“Fuck, Slayer! I’ve had it with you hitting me.” He pressed one hand to his throbbing jaw as the other bunched into a fist, ready to retaliate.

“Whasamatter, Spike? Left your lightning reflexes behind in that cheap costume jewellery?”

“Ah.” Understanding dawned. Buffy couldn’t express herself with words so she was talking with her body instead. It was the way she dealt with all difficulties that arose between them. He was a bit disappointed that she could slip back so easily into their old games, but if that’s what it took to get past this stalemate then so be it.

Spike rose from the chair and shifted into a fighter’s stance, anticipating her next punch. She wore a slightly mischievous smile, one he hadn’t seen for too long. They both moved to the centre of the large room, circling each other like boxers in a ring. At some invisible signal the evenly matched fighters met in a violent flurry of blows and kicks, punctuated with grunts of pain and sharp barks of laughter. So began their violent dance, neither holding back…and it felt so good.

After twenty minutes or so of smacking each other around - and wrecking the office - Spike roared with pleasure as he sent the Slayer flying backwards over Angel’s desk, where she disappeared in a shower of paperwork.

“Right! That’s it, Big Bad! You’re going down.” Wielding a ruler like a stake she jumped up onto the desk and sprang the ten feet needed to reach the grinning vampire. Instead of retreating Spike caught her in his arms and fell backwards.

“Plastic rulers don’t make good stakes, pet.”

“Nonsense, that was just to lull you into a false sense of security.” She smirked before settling firmly on top of him. He lay within the tight grip of her thighs, one of her hands outstretched to stroke his face while the other absently brushed the ruler back and forth over his heart. They just stared at each other until he slowly reached up a hand to cup the back of her skull, gently pulling her down to his waiting lips.

Just as their mouths met, it all ended.

The room bleached white around them, the light of an exploding sun reaching out to pierce them cell deep as they clung together...and a single whisper, like a tattered ghost, sighed “too late” as they plunged into nothingness.

***

Half and half

Chapter 3

***

When Buffy was finally aware of anything, her first thought was that something felt terribly different. All her senses had shifted. Her body and mind were somehow rearranged, her ‘self’ twisted into a new shape and she knew that part of her was missing; the Slayer part. This wasn’t some weakening drug from the Council of Watchers in her system. It was a missing limb feeling of loss.

She was lying on her back and, by moving her head very carefully to prevent the dizzy sick feelings from getting any worse, could see that she was still on the floor of Angel’s office. The next thing she became aware of was Spike, fully fanged, crouching on the floor a few feet away. As she blinked, trying to focus properly, he stealthily moved closer until he hovered just inches above her.

It took a moment to realise that the ridges were smoother than usual, the teeth a bit longer and sharper, and his eyes weren’t just the golden yellow of a big cat but more the banked furnace of molten lava. The hand that reached up to hover above her face had long claws, his arms and torso were all sinew and corded muscle and his colour a pale blue grey locked beneath translucent white skin. Somehow Buffy knew that this was the pure demon that dwelled in Spike.

‘Ohmygod!’ Her heart skipped several beats then started a wild thumping. Demon Spike smiled and gently rested his palm on her chest, feeling the vibrations pulsing through his fingers.

“Hello, love.”

Before she had collected her wits enough to react the demon flicked at her neck with the tip of one razor sharp claw. Not the fatal slash she might have expected - if she’d had time to expect anything - but an almost genteel little nick. He leaned down, gazing intently at her all the while, and placed his mouth over the scarlet beads of blood welling up. Sighing, his fearsome eyes closed in pleasure, and instead of sharp incisors she felt the cool rasp of a tongue against her throat, cleaning away the red smears, tasting and sealing the pinprick wound as if it had never been there.

“Mmmm. Delicious darlin’. Tell me, are you just as biteable all over?”

That sounded so like the Spike she knew that Buffy finally responded and pushed him away as hard as she could. He sat back and just grinned at her.

A figure entered the room carrying a bundle of something. Before the door closed again she could just make out the sounds of someone shouting, followed by a short burst of gunfire and an answering scream.

“Spike?”

A very human looking Spike strolled over to where she still lay sprawled on the carpet. Instead of his usual clothes - which the demon beside her seemed to have acquired - he was dressed in black sweatpants that were entirely too big for him, a white Lacoste T-shirt and trainers. He wore his leather coat over the top of it all as if to desperately hang on to his bad boy image.

“No time for napping, Buffy. There’s trouble.” He jerked his head to the doorway. “And you, stop starin’ at the girl and go and see what’s going on.”

The demon gave Buffy a lewd wink and disappeared into the corridor.

“What on earth is going on, Spike? And why are there two of you?”

“Yeah, it’s a bit hard on the old noggin’ working out what’s what. Near as I can tell every human/demon hybrid is now split neatly into two separate beings. Most are running about the building looking lost or getting themselves killed. Ordinary humans seem to be unaffected, as are the pure-bred demons. There's a bit of a battle going on right now.”

Buffy absorbed the news before asking the obvious question. “So, where’s my Slayer half? I can’t feel her in me anymore, Spike.”

“Beats me, love. One minute you were both laying side by side unconscious, and then the Slayer just sprang up when I went to see if you were all right. I tried to stop her leaving and that’s when I found out I wasn’t quite as strong as I thought I was. Fetched me a right clip round the ear, she did, and then went bounding off before me or my demon could stop her.”

“Does this mean you’re William now?”

“Not really, pet. William hasn’t been preserved in aspic all these years, he’s been along for the ride together with my vampire self. He just didn’t have much influence is all,” not demon Spike admitted ruefully, “although his stubborn ability to abandon all common sense when it comes to matters of the heart seems to have stuck. We’ve sort of blended now, my demon didn’t mind the company and ‘Spike’ is the end result. I can feel echoes of the demon but only a little of its power. Guess if our supernatural ties were severed completely I’d just be a heap of dry bones on the floor.”

“Can I call you William for now? Spike One and Spike Two is just going to confuse me.”

“No problem, pet. Now, where's Dawn?"

Buffy was quick to reassure him that her sister had already left the building before she’d come looking for him. Upon returning from their hurried shopping trip they'd bumped into Fred and, despite being nearly wiped out from jet-lag, Dawn had persuaded her new friend to take a break from boring science stuff and go with her to her father's house on the outskirts of town. This devilish scheme meant that Buffy could no longer put off her mission to seek, and hopefully not destroy, the disgraced vampire. Dawn also knew that Fred's innate Texas charm would make the meeting with the father who 'wasn't' a much more pleasant experience.

At least it was one less problem to deal with, although it didn’t stop Buffy worrying. If trouble was on offer, Dawn usually found it.

William, seeing her bite her lip in thought, reached to brush her cheek with one forefinger. It still felt cool on her skin, alive but not. Buffy didn’t know if she was disappointed that he wasn’t a warm living mortal again. ‘Still can’t have everything…and he’s still the handsomest, hottest vampire - or whatever - on or under the earth.’

Reading her change in thoughts perfectly, William gave her a mock innocent look, blue sky eyes gleaming under dark lazy lashes, his perfect lips twitching with amusement. Demon Spike silently reappeared just as the couple were gravitating towards each other.

“No time for that, we’ve got trouble of the worst kind. Angelus,” the demon said laconically.

William snapped to attention and swiftly went to the bundle he had brought in earlier. A collection of guns, stakes and knives emerged from the rolled cloth.

“Guns?”

“Yeah, love, with silver bullets in them. Spotted a werewolf out there earlier.”

“Oh.”

A familiar voice and many footsteps could be heard approaching along the corridor outside. “So, I was paying my respects to the wench when the little she-devil lamped me with a tankard of ale. Got me so vexed I just drank her up then and there on the table. Never seen a tavern empty so quick in me life.”

Angelus.

Buffy started to shake. William and Spike exchanged a look and both reached for a stake.

“No, please, if you kill Angelus then won’t Angel die?”

“Might not have any choice in the matter, Buffy.”

“I know. Just try not to, okay?”

Then the demon in question filled the doorway, his arms stretched out casually to fit the frame. Rather than the fluid, almost ethereal qualities Spike’s demon showed, Angelus was a true monster. Thick ropes of muscle twisted around a body not luminous grey but blue-black, shot through with dull red lines glinting along a body map of arteries. He looked like a flayed corpse on steroids. The eyes which regarded Buffy under heavy brows fairly glowed with amused malice.

“Fee-fi-fo-fum, I smell the blood of the Chosen One. Or should I say the little Sunnydale tart who I reckon currently lacks the strength to give me a good kicking? Come here, darlin’. I’ll even give you a quick fuck before I dash your brains out, can’t say fairer than that.”

Taking in the other occupants he beamed at the other demon, who was looking relaxed but expressionless.

“Ah, it’s my old buddy Spike. Tell you what, we’ll just tie up little Willy Wanker here and see he comes to no harm, then you and I can take turns with the girl. Be just like old times.” He smirked at ‘William’. “An’ you might want to compose a farewell sonnet or some such to your soon to be lost love.”

William’s eyes widened slightly but otherwise he didn’t move a muscle.

Buffy raised her stake and drew her body into a defensive stance, ready to protect herself with every ounce of strength she had. She wasn’t afraid to die, not anymore, but it would be on her terms and certainly not his.

Spike moved to stand alongside Buffy. He still felt fairly strong and he still had all the moves, but between them they were definitely no match for Angelus…and they both knew it.

With a nod to demon Spike, Angelus stepped into the room. The doorway immediately filled with the curious eyes of a ragtag entourage of demonic office workers, all eager to witness a nice spot of carnage. “Better restrain the young pup, don’t want him interferin’ in this because, well, if he dies then you’ll be nothing but dust.”

“Angelus, you always were a complete wanker,” stated demon Spike as he smiled nastily at him, “and it’ll be my pleasure to turn you into greasy pulp.”

Angelus just threw his head back and roared with laughter. “Oh, this is just too much! Two love’s bitches, and both of them too stupid to realise when they’re not wanted. Do you honestly think you can beat me, boy?”

“Don’t think it, know it! You might be bigger but I’m quicker, and I’ve been aching to do this -” Spike darted forwards to plant a solid punch in his opponent’s gut. “…for a long…” Angelus bent with the force of the blow. ”…long…” Spike brought his fists together before crashing them down on the back of demon’s neck. ”…time.”

Angelus fell down to one knee, hand outstretched to the floor to prevent himself falling further. He shook his head a bit, like an old seasoned boxer who’d just been unexpectedly dazed by a lucky shot from the young contender. A devastating kick against his temple from a scuffed black boot knocked him back to his senses and he rose up with a snarl.

In a move that belied his size Angelus hurled himself against Spike, crashing them both to the floor and successfully pinning the smaller demon securely underneath him. His large clawed hands wrapped around Spike’s throat and he squeezed, his thumbnails digging deeply into the flesh below the Adam’s apple. He was unprepared when Spike slapped both palms against his ears…hard. With his eardrums bleeding from the ferocious blow Angelus clutched at his head, allowing Spike to shove him off and leap back to his feet.

“Go!” Spike rasped to Buffy and his weaker alter-ego. “I’ll catch up.”

William grabbed Buffy and hauled her towards the door, only to face the group of demons who were staring at them with a mixture of nervous confusion and deadly intent. There were at least fifteen of them, most of which Buffy didn’t recognise. They were a collective nightmare of scales, slime and fur - even feathers. Without her powers - and with William only retaining a fraction of his - their only chance was to charge the door and hope that they could break through without any fatal injuries. Then run like hell.

A commotion at the back of the group announced a new presence and Buffy caught glimpses of swirling blonde braids and flashes of silver. As a gap appeared, she could clearly see the Slayer…who looked just like her! She was lashing out with quicksilver speed at anything stupid enough to get close. Each of her hands gripped an unnaturally sharp looking letter opener and she used them both at once to slash at the hides of any creatures that didn’t back away fast enough. The Slayer’s lips were drawn back in a savage grin and her eyes glowed with anticipation.

William was the first to recover and, smiling slightly in thanks, he tugged Buffy out into the corridor. With a last astonished glance, Buffy finally gathered her wits and allowed herself to be pulled out of their present danger.

The fugitives ran for their lives. Behind them they left Spike and the Slayer doing what they did best - creating mayhem and having a thoroughly good time in the process..

***

Half and half

Chapter 4

***

An hour later and they still hadn’t found any way out of the building.

A tight grey fog clung to every window from the outside, making it impossible to see anything of the streets beyond. Perhaps it was some kind of mystical lockdown, put in place to contain whatever was going on. Whatever it was, it was keeping them from leaving.

Their priorities at the moment were to stay safe, find a way out and/or get help. It was a strange feeling, knowing that she couldn’t just charge at the bad guys and let her fists do the rest. This damsel in distress thing sucked.

The carnage they encountered on their journey was horrific. Body parts liberally littered corridors and rooms, and the sticky red trails lining the floors and walls were a grim testimony to the weaker being preyed upon by the stronger. Here and there a body lay ripped open under a soft blanket of dust, revealing where a vampire had turned on its human host, not understanding that their victim’s death would result in their own. After seeing several disturbing examples of this it became apparent that the varying states of decomposition in each corpse depended on how long ago they were turned. Before them now was a young woman - with barely a sign of decay - gazing sightlessly at the ceiling, an expression of disbelief still on her face.

Buffy gave silent thanks to Spike’s demon for being so very different; if nothing else this was further proof that he was in a category all of his own. Okay, so Angelus probably had Angel stashed away somewhere safe, but she had no doubt that he would eventually get some payback on his souled counterpart without actually killing him. The thought wasn’t pretty. She knew she would have to persuade William that they needed to rescue him soon, and had an idea she knew exactly what his reaction would be.

Who knew there were so many hybrids around? Buffy wished now that she hadn’t tuned out whenever Giles had rambled on about demons. Their origins had always seemed unimportant. Where she could find their vital organs, now that had been important.

One office they passed contained a familiar Mantis Lady, making a leisurely feast of a young male lawyer, his polished leather shoes the last bit of him to be daintily crunched in the creature’s mandibles. A sad little briefcase lay open to one side, spilling evil secrets and a Tupperware lunchbox.

Further away a series of growls and howls indicated that several werewolves were fighting, probably each other. Unlike ordinary wolves they preferred their own company and were very territorial. Buffy was thankful for that; a pack of them working together would be very hard to deal with.

Angel’s office was on one of the top floors. If they used the elevator then they could be sitting ducks for whatever was lying in wait when the doors opened, so they made their way down to each level via the stairs. They could hear the sound of gunfire and screaming. William reckoned that the special ops team was picking off some of their more hostile co-workers, and not wanting to be caught in ‘friendly fire’ he thought it was time to regroup.

“In here, Buffy.” Before she knew it William had opened a door and shoved her through it, just as the sound of a hunting horn and multiple footfalls reached them. Manic laughter that could only belong to Angelus followed.

They were in a janitor’s closet. Trapped.

“Oh great, William. I feel much safer now!” Pressed up against a firm body on one side, and an unimaginably dirty mop and bucket on the other, she could hear the demon posse draw closer outside.

“Button it, Buffy,” her companion hissed quietly, “know what I’m doing here.”

Fumbling in the dark William groped around the cleaning equipment until he found what he was looking for.

Another door.

Pausing only to unscrew a container and splash a little cleaning fluid on the walls to mask their scent, he grabbed Buffy’s hand and led her through the hidden exit.

***

Buffy found herself standing on a landing at the top of a staircase leading down. Dirt coated everything, from the cracked green linoleum on the floor to the dark wooden handrails. A few portraits of directors long past hung on the walls in perfect alignment, virtually invisible under the grime. She thought that even a good clean wouldn’t improve their looks. Heavy glass wall lights shaped like wavy seashells gave off a dull glow and Buffy wondered just how long an electric bulb could last.

It was utterly silent.

William took her hand and they began their descent.

At her quizzical look William spoke in a low voice, he was nervous but determined to make this journey. “You know I was a ghost, right? Well, I’ve spent a lot of time below stairs, seeing bits of this place that I would really have preferred not to. I kept finding myself in the basement, meetin’ other spirits in a lot worse shape than me. Took to exploring when I had no other options and found this forgotten bit of Wolfram and Hart, all buried away from the fancy modern world. This isn’t a normal place, love. Normal doesn’t really apply here. I found myself a little hidey-hole a couple of floors down so we can get a bit of a rest there and maybe work out some kind of a plan.”

Buffy gave his hand a gentle squeeze; she was tiring rapidly now that her adrenaline levels were finally dropping and a rest sounded lovely. Planning? Well, that was another matter as General Buffy had well and truly left the building, leaving jet-lagged and wiped out Buffy behind. She fervently hoped that William's plans turned out a lot better than Spike's usually did.

Two levels down and the floor beneath them changed for the better. White marble patterned with black diamonds led them past thick oak doors with tiny brass nameplates. When they reached the office of T.G. Patterson at the very end William led her inside.

More marble led towards an imposing teak desk dominating the far wall. A reddish brown leather chair was pushed back behind it, as if the occupant had just left for a moment. A very large Chesterfield sofa in the same colour, with wide, round, studded armrests was standing lengthways near the middle of the generously sized room. It looked deeply inviting to the exhausted couple.

“There’s an executive washroom through there if you need it.” William nodded towards a closed door to the right of the desk.

Buffy did need it, and badly. Although the taps sputtered for long minutes before giving up a trickle of water, she was grateful to wash away some of the dirt. She wasn’t stupid enough to drink it though. There was a perfectly wrapped bar of yellow soap and, bliss, toilet paper - the shiny, scratchy kind that could survive sixty years, and a nuclear blast, and still be uncomfortably usable.

Thirsty, but otherwise feeling much better, Buffy joined her companion and took a good look around. Apart from some long dead plants in heavy brass containers the room appeared to have escaped the passage of time.

An awkward silence reigned as they both wondered ‘what happens now?’ so William took the opportunity to use the washroom to get a bit cleaner, leaving Buffy to her thoughts.

He returned to find her stretched out in the squashy depths of the sofa, pretending to be asleep. She had taken off her shoes, but nothing else. He also noted that she had left plenty of room for him.

Shucking off the trainers that he’d had to find when his demon had appeared wearing all his clothes during the Great Change, but leaving on the clothes he'd pilfered from a gym bag in Angel’s office, William carefully lay down next to her. He was glad he’d insisted on keeping the coat that he now spread over them.

“Know you’re awake, kitten. Let’s just rest, yeah?” Buffy gave a weak giggle and opened her eyes. He opened his arms and wrapped her up in them.

***

William took his time, his hand making soothing strokes down her back until he felt her body relax against him. Her face was buried in his shoulder so he kissed the top of her head, his lips brushing against her soft blonde hair, enjoying the faint remains of perfume from the shampoo she always used. He was painfully aroused but he moved his groin so that it wasn’t touching hers. No, this had to be taken slowly. When she was ready.

So lost was he in his inner dialogue, he didn’t notice when Buffy had shifted until her pouting little face came into his line of vision.

The pair stared intently at each other.

It would be easy to admit to loving William the 'man', the man who was now looking at her with his heart in his eyes. Here was someone who had willingly agreed to undertake a journey with a demon, and had managed to keep a large part of himself intact for over a hundred years. A man who had been able to influence and educate a primal being, to find a way for them to coexist. A man who had never lost the capacity to love and who gave that love selflessly without any expectations of having it returned.

And what of the demon? She couldn't discard him. Couldn't cut him out and cauterize the wound. The demon gave Spike his energy, his joy, his determination to succeed in the face of ridiculous odds. It was Spike who would poke holes in her defences by any and all means. Spike would defy God and the hoards of Hell, and endure any pain to protect what he considered was his.

Together they had both been willing to die to save the world; there were no half measures with these two. So she would tell them both. That she loved them equally and if they were still willing to have her then she would be theirs.

A world of sorry’s lay between them and she didn't know if she could find the right words to make amends. Spike or William, it didn't matter really, he …they…were home to her. And underneath his battered walls, laid low by her own wrecking ball of denial and distrust, still lay the firm foundations of pure granite.

Of course she said none of this out loud, and such deep thoughts were making her head hurt. No. She would take this slowly, would keep things light for now. In the meantime new improved Buffy would be playful, but not too playful. William would learn to trust her, then she would be honest about her feelings and he would finally believe her. And, rule number one, for new Buffy there would be no using of William for sex. She didn't doubt that he'd be willing, but sex just messed everything up. No, they would clear up all misunderstandings between them before they got physical again.

Playful, yes. Total jumping of sexy William? No! I can do this. Can't I?

Whatever thoughts William had been having, he for once kept them to himself. A raised eyebrow was his only response as she refocused on his face, the arms around her twitching slightly as if expecting her to bolt at any minute.

“I'm not sleepy any more!”

“Is that so?” The low rumble of his voice was already undermining Buffy's resolve to behave herself.

“Yeah, that’s so. Although I should probably dip this in disinfectant first!” Grasping his erection – playfully, of course - through his sweats, she squeezed just this side of painful.

“Uhh, Buffy it didn’t get that far, I swear.” William gave a little whimper. Her hot little hand was driving him to distraction.

Technically it was true, but they both knew that another minute in that office with Harmony and it would have been another story.

“Good, because this is mine!” Scratching lightly over the soft material covering his hard length, she felt him twitch underneath her fingers.

“Oh god, Buffy, please!” His tormented entreaty was torn from his lips.

Stroking became groping. Good intentions struggled to stay but found themselves overwhelmed and vanquished as lips found lips, and tongues touched in welcome.

Buffy forgot about being mad, forgot about impending danger, and was seriously in danger of forgetting her name. Only aware of the fingers making her nipple rise up and crinkle under them, the hand that was slowly making progress between her thighs, the tongue that gently explored her mouth. The delicious tongue that rasped against the swell of her breast.

Wait, that’s two tongues!

Buffy froze.

Struggling to break free she turned her head to see the rapturous eyes of Spike gazing back.

***

Half and half

Chapter 5


William was panting slightly as he tried to control the urge to drag her back to him, despite knowing that pleasure was definitely off the menu with their unexpected guest trying to make it a threesome. And Spike? Well, Spike was staring at Buffy as if she were the perfect dish of ice cream, in every flavour, with sticky blood syrup and a sugared wafer stuck rakishly at one side.

The delicious pudding in question had gone beet red in embarrassment and was struggling to join the edges of her blouse together. Her dramatically heaving bosom was making it difficult to find the buttons and refasten them. Not deterred, the demon slid agile fingers between her legs, cupping the part of her that was still tingling from William’s recent attentions.

Buffy slapped him, eyes wide.

William winced as he adjusted his own clothing and sat up, understanding why Buffy would react like that but feeling a twinge of sympathy for the being that would never be accepted, the being that was a part of him.

The girly slap hardly registered but the meaning behind it was plain. Don’t touch, don’t ever touch, and the demon that had given up everything to be hers merely closed his eyes and forced a slow smirk to appear.

“So, still beneath you, am I?” And with that he stood up and strode to the door. Picking up a canvas shopping bag he returned and dropped it none too gently in her lap, a flood of coke cans, muffins in cellophane wrappers, bars of chocolate and salted peanuts spilled out. Without another word Spike turned back towards the door.

Standing quickly and grabbing his arm before he could march back out, Buffy babbled, “Spike, I’m sorry, really sorry. You surprised me, that’s all, and I overreacted a bit. Please don’t go, and thanks, thank you for the food, and for saving our skins with Angelus. Thank you for finding us.”

He looked into her eyes for a long moment then raised his hands to do up the last little button on her silly scrap of a shirt. Noting that she was holding completely still he smiled a little ruefully. “Would never hurt you, Buffy… mustn’t hurt the girl.” He looked so sad. She felt like the biggest bitch on the planet.

Backing away he reached the enormous desk and lightly hopped onto it, lying on his back as if on a familiar sarcophagus back in a snug crypt. He raised his hands to overlap on his chest and closed his eyes. The pose and the severe lines of his face reminded Buffy of the marble knights resting for eternity in corners of Westminster Abbey back in London. Warriors of stone, like Spike. Yet Spike was only dead in the literal sense and she had just wounded him, she just didn’t know how deeply.

With a sigh she rejoined William, grabbing a much needed diet coke and tucking herself by his side. He put an arm around her but didn’t make any other moves. She was aware of William’s need to comfort, tempered perhaps with just a little disappointment in her. She was mentally kicking herself. So much for showing that I accept them both with no hesitation.

While the concept of loving the man and the demon was fine when they were both in the one body, it was a bit harder when they were two separate beings. And she had to admit that the unadulterated demon was a little scary. Being with one physical Spike would be so much easier. I'll make things right tomorrow, I promise. With her brain awash with naughty thoughts involving all three of them and a can of whipped cream, Buffy finally dozed off.

***

Someone else was in the room. A whisper of sensation brushed over Buffy as she lay with William at her back. Forcing herself to wake she focused on the figure moving stealthily across the room. It was her, padding towards Buffy on dirty bare feet. The Slayer who wore Buffy’s skin and face was not wearing much else. A bloody ring of demon scalps skirted her hips, held in place by a thin leather belt. Trophies. The only other covering crude stripes and patterns running over her body, drawn in smears of lipstick and eye-makeup. Her hair a mix of tangles and dreadlocks studded with cheap hair clips, a glittering bird here, a piece of dream-catcher there, a little green plastic frog with swirling eyes peeping over one ear.

The Slayer smiled, little sharp teeth bared in greeting. With a swirl of her gruesome new outfit she ran over to where Spike lay asleep. Gripping one of his ankles, she violently tugged him off the desk. The demon roared as he smacked the floor, hard. Without pause the Slayer dropped on top of him, her knees on either side of his waist, one forearm pressing down on his throat as the other hand pressed against his chest clutching a stake. Blinking in astonishment Spike recognized his attacker and gave a huge grin, just before jerking her down into a fierce head butt.

Smacking the stake away with one fist he backhanded the slightly stunned female with the other before rolling her underneath his body. The Slayer shrieked as he tried to dominate her, writhing and arching to get free. He just laughed as she raked him with her nails.

“Oh, I just love a bit of foreplay, pet.”

The Slayer had now twisted onto her stomach and was desperately trying to reach for the weapon, but he had her. Yanking her up by the waist Spike kneed her legs apart and pressed her head down to the floor with one strong hand while the other fumbled with the buttons on his jeans. Brushing away the bits of fur and feathers covering her delectable arse he roughly pushed two fingers into her quim, jagged little thrusts, twisting slightly on each push up inside her. She was soaking wet. She was also hissing at him in displeasure, while all the while moving in time to his touches. Leaning right over her back he removed his fingers and pressed at her entrance with his now released and very eager cock. Then he stopped.

With a small moan of defeat the Slayer deliberately pushed back against him till he was all the way in. Growls of lust filled the room as Spike withdrew a little before slamming back into her flesh. Her thighs parted further as they found a rhythm and he staked the Slayer. His Slayer. He pushed in as far as he could go and leaned over her back to grip the back of her neck with his fangs, not piercing just holding her in place. They undulated in their mating dance, shadow puppets copying their movements on the walls. With a shriek the Slayer came, Spike following her over the edge moments later.

Without pausing for breath they separated. Spike rolled onto his back and the Slayer wasted no time in straddling him. Ripping his T-shirt, she nipped at his chest and neck until his erection was again stiff and proud. Like the carved figurehead of a ship she arched her body back and sank down, taking him all the way inside her.

Spike smiled up at his beautiful savage, a smile full of joy. She grinned back, right before striking at his neck with her teeth. A howl of triumph erupted from Spike and he sank his fangs into her neck as she sucked on his. They jerked wildly as another orgasm took them both.

“Mine!”

A feral little grunt of agreement that could only mean “Yours” filled the otherwise silent room.

***

William and Buffy were sitting bolt upright, not once able to take their eyes off the couple on the floor, now lying unconscious in a possessive knot of arms and legs.

‘Oh shit, shit, shit! They claimed each other. Buffy’s going to kill me, slowly. Wait, Slayer did it first! I’m the injured party here, except I’m not. She’s mine! The Slayer claimed us!’

He waited for the explosion from the blonde by his side.

Buffy tried to squash a surge of jealousy. ‘That skanky Slayer has just had sex with my demon! Terrific sex, and with my body…which she is showing entirely too much of!’ She blithely ignored the fact that she’d rejected said demon scant hours before. Shades of Faith wearing a Buffy suit paraded across her mind. She wanted to cry. She wanted to reclaim what was hers.

The fragile girl took a deep breath then looked at William. The Slayer obviously hadn't heard her internal no sex yet speech - or if she had then she was totally ignoring it. She'd had no moral difficulties whatsoever in laying claim to the demon half of Spike. Buffy acted on instinct - she must do the same before that uninhibited ho-bag turned her eyes towards William. Standing, she slowly removed every stitch of clothing and stepped between the splayed legs of her stunned lover. Gripping his face on either side she tilted his head and leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“Mine!”

All his Christmases had come at once and with a whoop of delight William tumbled backwards, his girl gripped tightly to his heart.

“Yours, Buffy. Always yours.”

****

Half and half

Chapter 6


Some hours later, Buffy woke up. William's body had become her mattress and his coat their leathery blanket. She felt snug and safe. Tilting her head up she watched him sleep, lush lashes fluttering under the weight of dreams. Buffy hoped that they were sweet ones. As if in answer to her unspoken thoughts her lover began to murmur her name - a low rumble of want that sent goose bumps racing down the back of her neck.

“I’m here, William,” she whispered.

These moments were precious. This wasn’t the first time that she had studied the beautiful vampire as he lay oblivious beside her, but this time she wouldn’t be scrambling away at the first signs of wakefulness. Too often his drowsy, affectionate gaze would melt away as she grabbed her clothes in preparation for flight. His response had usually been a deep sigh and a choice barb or two unleashed to sting her in the tail as she retreated from his crypt. And what had she been running away from? Love? Commitment? Herself?

It seemed so stupid now, her denial of this wonderful creature.


***

William had been a revelation. He’d seen right through her act of seduction and need to possess and had quickly stilled her in a tight band of arms and legs. Stronger than her. Wiser.

“Kitten, you don’t have to prove anything, let’s just take this slowly, yeah? I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.”

Instead of taking from each other, they had given. Kisses and caresses were exchanged as she peeled off his clothes, moans smothered as they tried not to wake the other couple resting in plain view. Finally naked, William had brushed her hair away to get a better view as she nibbled and licked the smooth length of his cock, reacquainting herself with soft skin and the oh so hard muscle beneath it.

Determined to concentrate on his pleasure first she had brushed away his sneaky, wandering hands before taking him into her mouth, her tongue probing and caressing every wonderful inch. Even through gasps of pleasure he managed to arrange her body so that he could touch her at the same time. The nerve endings in her inner thighs had set up a desperate twitching as he stroked along each in turn with one finger before slowly pushing it up inside her, followed carefully by another. Such a long time since she had been penetrated like this, and the rush of fluid that followed allowed him to reach further, to rub harder against secret places that only he knew about, his thumb lightly brushing her clit in teasing counterpoint. As their movements sped up she soon began to contract helplessly against his hand. Moving her head down, she swallowed as best she could while a wave of pure sensation rolled down from her womb to the tip of her sex. William jerked helplessly into her throat as she swallowed his essence down. When he had recovered sufficiently to begin sucking her juices from his fingers with a dreamy smile, Buffy kissed her way up his body till they rested face to face.

“I love you.”

“Love you too, kitten.”

Luckily, William had retained some mystical powers of recovery where it really counted and he was already eager for more. Reaching down he gently parted her tingling flesh and nudged at her entrance.

“May I come in?”

“Please, yes, I need you inside me, William.”

“Oh, Buffy.”

She sat astride him and sank down just as he thrust upwards, filling her right up.

Together they danced until exhaustion finally forced them to rest. And not once did they look away from the joyful tears that streaked down both their faces.

***

Buffy dimly wondered if it was day or night outside. Certainly she felt much more refreshed now and almost eager to plunge herself back into the chaos that lay beyond their peaceful little hideaway. Both Slayer and Spike had disappeared. Off on another adventure, no doubt.

In the cold light of whatever, she could finally contemplate the Slayer’s antics without gritting her teeth; after all, if she hadn’t jumped Spike, Buffy would probably still be pussyfooting around both males, too nervous to make a move. Would last night’s claiming affect her when the Slayer was back where she belonged? Perhaps Spike had only really wanted the Slayer anyway, a sort of demon to demon deal?

A gentle kiss on her nose broke her train of thought. William had opened his eyes and was watching her very carefully. A slight smirk and almost imperceptible tensing of his arms around her were the only signs that he was at all nervous.

“What’s whirring round in that head of yours, Buffy?”

“Nothing bad, honest. I just have to um... pee!”

Releasing the embarrassed girl to let her dash to the washroom, he chuckled to himself. “Who said romance was dead?”

Minutes later she was back, but instead of finding an excuse to get dressed, the stark naked woman ran back and launched herself on top of him.

“Ooomph! Watch it, girly, you could have damaged something important with your luscious self.”

“You think I’m fat?!”

“Luscious, beautiful, breathtaking!”

His eyes crinkled in amusement as his fingers darted around her body, poking and tickling, sparing not an inch of sensitive Buffy body. She was laughing and cursing and wriggling in vain to get away.

She was happy. She liked this feeling and wanted more.

Just as playtime was ending, and William was giving her his sloe-eyed come hither look - which was playing havoc with her libido - the door flew open.

A grumpy and rather wet Slayer appeared, closely followed by an equally damp and very mirthful Spike. The Slayer’s hair was still a total rat’s nest and Buffy seriously doubted that anything short of sheep shears would remove the tangles. She was wearing a cropped red top with ‘little devil’ written across the front in rhinestones, and a pair of black stretchy shorts. The rest of her was bare. Gone were the glyphs of blood and makeup, and there were pink patches glowing on her skin from where a loofah had been liberally applied.

Spike wore his jeans and Doc Martins. His chest and back were covered in scratches and what looked suspiciously like bite marks.

“Hello, kiddies!”

William nodded towards the seething Slayer and then back to a very smug Spike.
“You like to live dangerously, don’t you? You do know she could snap you like a stick of celery?”

“Ah, but that’s half the fun with this one. Besides, much as I enjoy the smell of blood and gore in the morning, she was getting a bit ripe even for me. And that little scalp number she was wearing will go rancid without proper curing. Any demon with half a nose and a head cold would be able to track us down.”

Spike looked knowingly at Buffy. “You know, you seem to be all covered in juices too - I could be persuaded to take another shower if you need anything rubbing 'til it's squeaky clean.”

Buffy opened her mouth then shut it again. This was undiluted Spike, amusing, infuriating and very, very gross! Any declarations of undying love were definitely going on the back burner until he started behaving himself.

Gripping the black coat around her, gathering her clothes as she went, Buffy haughtily marched back into the washroom, leaving an exposed William under the now very interested gaze of the Slayer.

“For fuck’s sake keep her away from me, or Buffy will go nuts.”

Spike laughed and steered the now lip-licking Slayer to the big chair by the desk. Plonking her in his lap, he proceeded to nip and nuzzle the bite marks on her neck until she was completely distracted and William could get dressed in peace.

Buffy got changed in record time and came out all brisk and businesslike.

“Right, we need a plan to rescue Angel!”

***

"Are you out of your bleedin' mind?"

"Buffy, you can't be serious!"

Spike and William just stared at her. Both were wearing matching expressions of hurt and more than a little outrage. Even the Slayer looked completely disgusted. The Slayer, who in the past 24 hours hadn't managed anything more than a few grunts to indicate that she was aware of what was going on, had obviously understood this much. Buffy had gone insane.

"Wait. I know what you're all thinking and you can stop it right now!" Buffy took a deep breath. The silence was chilling.

She raised a hand and started counting off her fingers. "First, we need to know what the hell is going on, and at the moment Angel may well have some of the answers, or at least know what Angelus plans to do next. Second, Angel could be being tortured and need our help. Third, we need to gather all the good guys together if we want to stand any chance of sorting this mess out - and that includes Angel. Fourthly, we're not just going to find him because 'he's the great love of my life’ and you're just 'convenient.'” She glanced at each of them in turn before finishing. “Have I missed anything?"

"Yes!"

Buffy raised an eyebrow at Spike who was openly smirking at her now.

"What?"

"Bitch!"

Buffy gave him her best look of disapproval, but couldn't keep it up, she started laughing. As the hostility in the room evaporated, and she secretly gave herself a 'high five', part of her was a little surprised that they were still willing to follow her lead but, superpowers or not, she still had what it took. Hah, take that Slayer!

William moved to stand behind Buffy and leaned in to speak quietly in her ear.

"We're yours Buffy, to do with what you will. But if you do anything stupid to put yourself in danger while you're still just human then you'll be getting a painful reminder not to do it again.” He accompanied his words with a hand softly stroking her behind, punctuating his sentence with a little smack.

As he came back into her field of vision to give her a meaningful look, Spike called out from across the room.

"And I'll be helping him."

***

Half and half


Chapter 7


A short while later Buffy, William, Spike and the Slayer cautiously re-emerged from the closet. Silence reigned. A sickly yellow glow permeated the fog outside the window in a pale imitation of daylight. The floor was wiped clean of last night's bloodshed and a couple of plastic yellow signs marked two freshly mopped areas. ‘Caution Wet Floor!’ they proclaimed, with a little symbol of a man falling in midair.

"Guess they didn't have a sign for 'Danger - Slippery Entrails.’"

Buffy screwed up her mouth at Spike's gallows' humour and they moved swiftly towards the staircase. Their mission, to find Angel.

Before setting off the group had made a hit list of all the places where Angelus might set up his new power base; based on his predilection for torture, and his massive ego, they knew he wouldn't be holed up in some random office. In the end William had come up with the best suggestion.

"We could try the control room. Security can see every inch of this building, well, the new bits of it anyway. We can look through the cameras, find out where all the action is and take it from there."

At the next bend they paused as they heard a metallic scraping and a wet squishing sound. Rounding the corner cautiously they were confronted by a small group of ragged figures. Their shoulders were hunched as they applied wet mops to the floor in perfectly synchronized, semi-circular sweeps. They didn't even look up. As one they nudged their buckets with one foot and moved to the next splattering of red. The water lurched, pink and frothy. There were three females, each wearing a faded floral print dress, and a tall skinny male clad in a pair of tatty overalls. Dyed black hair escaped a bun, a wedding ring spun loosely on one hand, damp shoes and boots, wrinkled stockings in unflattering tan. Grey skin and dead eyes. They weren't human. Not any more.

Spike spoke quietly. "Zombies, pet, they won't bother us"

With a pang of sympathy for the Wolfram and Hart staff who would spend eternity cleaning up after their evil masters, Buffy brushed past the sorry assortment of once-people and caught up with the others.


***

The control room was a shambles and completely deserted. A bank of screens showed a fuzzy snow, those that weren't smashed up. A tangled spaghetti of wires overlaid everything. A listing table displayed an assortment of broken coffee mugs, an overflowing ashtray, and a pair of metal framed glasses twisted into a little bow. Damn.

"Yes! In here, Buffy."

William's grinning face appeared from the far side of a tall filing cabinet. Curious, she followed him into a tiny room. One desk, one chair and one state of the art 21" monitor. In perfect condition.

"Angelus doesn't know everything, he just thinks he does, and we are going to nail the bastard."

Sinking into the chair he gave a little flourish of his wrists, like a concert pianist ready to play, and pressed the mouse. The first picture to come up on the screen was the bathroom in Buffy's suite. Spike gave a low growl and Buffy completely agreed with him, she suddenly didn't much care what had happened to the security man who'd been spying on her. With a quick flick William ran through an array of tiny pictures, dismissing some and clicking on others to enlarge them; some of the images were too horrible to linger over and he swiftly moved onto the next. When he clicked on one that showed the large, state of the art gym, they could see a sizeable group of humans huddled together.

Wesley and Gunn were with them, moving purposely among them, talking and issuing orders. A medical station had been set up and a few people lay in a row on white judo mats; some were asleep, others were clearly in pain and being consoled by their workmates. Several black clad men were facing the door. They were armed to the teeth and looked grim.

Moving on for now, William at last found Angel. He was in the main boardroom looking completely disheveled, with hair sticking out every which way and shirt unbuttoned at the neck and cuffs. He was seated on the biggest chair in the room, at one end of an enormous highly polished table. In one hand he clutched a bottle of very expensive whisky and, in the other, one of Harmony's ample tits. She sat on his lap with her arms around his neck, wearing a coy expression and not much else. A couple of bored looking vamps were sitting at the other end of the room playing cards.

Spike started to cough and moved out of the room, Buffy could hear his raucous laughter from the other side of the door. William struggled to keep a straight face.

"Er… still think he needs rescuing then?"

"I'm not jealous, even if she is a man stealing slut of the highest order. Besides, what has she got that I haven't, apart from big breasts and the morals of an alley cat?" Buffy scowled and her own firm bosom heaved prettily against her folded arms. Something struck her then.

"Has Angel lost his soul?"

"Don't know, Buffy. Why don't we ask him when we get there?"

Further exploration failed to turn up Angelus. There were a series of lock and key symbols on three of the picture boxes that William couldn't open. He suspected that one of them would show the 'interview rooms'; they were warded by magic to keep demons in and curious employees out. He had never ventured there but suspected that they would closely resemble the Initiative set up and, for that reason, he had left the area well alone. The two other places he couldn't penetrate were the science labs - which was a bit of a puzzle - and the mysterious area in the building known as the White Room. By process of elimination Angelus had to be in one of these three places and he had a pretty good idea which one he'd go for; Angelus always did like a bit of interrogation, especially when he didn't require any answers.

They took the decision to go to the boardroom while Angel was so lightly guarded. They considered going to the Gym first but Wesley and Gunn were obviously needed where they were, and they didn't entirely trust the soldier types who were milling about in the room.

It was still very quiet and Spike speculated that most of the demons had inbuilt body clocks that compelled them to sleep during daylight hours. Both Spike and the Slayer were well used to being active during the day, although Spike knew he would get a bit grumpy if his sleep pattern was disrupted for too long. William could also feel the presence of the sun outside as it pressed on his senses, willing him to seek a dark corner and find oblivion until the moon rose pulling him, and all her other children, back up into the night. The Slayer didn't seem to be affected, one way or the other, and darted ahead of them with little snarls, ears pricked for trouble.

After a fairly uneventful journey the group reached the boardroom. Heavy double doors in fine patterned walnut barred their way, without windows to spy through to see what was going on inside. Spike smashed a booted foot against the lock and the doors flew open, the others flowing in to confront the two guards. With a bloodcurdling cry the Slayer leapt on the two terrified vamps that had risen from the table. A stake flew into the chest of the furthest one before the Slayer tore the head off of the closest one with her bare hands. She grinned as the dust settled.

"Could of left me one, Slayer," grumbled Spike.

Angel looked at them blearily, his arms still full of a now wide eyed Harmony. His bloodshot eyes settled on Buffy and he gave her a toothy smile. It wasn't pleasant.

"What have we here, another golden haired doxy? Come to join old Liam fer a drink and a cuddle have you? Not much meat on your bones but I'd wager that pretty mouth of yours knows its way around a man." He waved his arm out expansively, sloshing whisky across the carpet as he did so.

Harmony gave a squeak and tried frantically to remove herself from his lap.

"Now, now, my wanton little wench, there's plenty of me to go around, so don't you be going anywhere." Liam clamped a big meaty hand around the wriggling girl to keep her still. He leered at Buffy without a trace of recognition, then his eyes settled on the Slayer.

"Ah, and you have a twin too. This is a rare treat, and she looks like a wild one." He narrowed his eyes and looked at William. "I'll not pay more than a shilling apiece for your screws, and that's generous, but I seem to have an itch that needs scratching and a raging horn for a warm pussy to plunder."

Spike strode up to glare right in his face. "Don't say another word or you'll find your 'horn' shoved up your arse!"

Buffy stood there with her mouth open. This thing with the puffy face and the piggy red eyes was Liam. She'd heard that as a human he'd been a drunken womanizer - hell, Spike had told her enough times - but she'd clung on to the idea that if Angelus was the monster then somehow Angel must be the man inside. After all, Spike hadn't actually known him before he'd been turned. All her beliefs were crashing down on her head.

"Um, I know I'm missing something here but if you’re Liam, and Angelus is your demon, then where the hell is Angel?”

A light mist seemed to slowly appear at the wall behind Liam and a pale, very unhappy figure, walked through it into the room. He was half transparent and wore a familiar woeful expression. A thin line of light ran from his body to Liam's.

"Hello, Buffy,"

"Christ, it's bleedin' Jacob Marley!" Spike snorted, and for the second time that morning he tossed his head back and laughed uproariously.

***

Authors note: Many thanks to Limerickgirl for casting her clever Irish eyes over Liam's speech patterns. Common 18th Century slang has been used and if the meanings aren't clear then just mention in your review and I'll happily explain.

Chapter 8

Half and half


You could hear a pin drop. Well, you would have been able to if Spike wasn’t wheezing with mirth in the background, and if Harmony hadn’t wriggled so hard trying to escape both Liam and Buffy that she’d ended up in an ungainly heap on the floor, revealing that she was in dire need of a bikini wax. Or if said Liam hadn’t started singing a very flat rendition of Wild Rover, punctuated by noisy glugs of whisky. It was a proverbial pin, the kind that froze Buffy to the spot as she tried to make sense of the scene before her. If anything the spirit of Angel drooped even further under her incredulous stare.

“You’re Angel?”

Gathering his dignity as best he could, Angel sent a glare around the room before turning soulful eyes onto Buffy.

“Buffy, can we talk... please.”

Without waiting for a response he turned and walked purposely back through the wall, leaving only a shimmering thread to mark where he’d gone.

Blinking, Buffy noticed a door a few feet from where he’d disappeared. She took a deep breath and marched towards it. On the other side was a small kitchenette with all the usual trappings: glasses and cups, coffee maker, microwave, and a fridge. Angel was standing in the middle of the room staring at the floor.

“So are you going to explain? Can you explain? Because I’m a bit confused right now.”

Buffy looked at the figure who had once held her heart and wondered why, deep down, she wasn’t more surprised at the way this was turning out.

“I’m not Angel.”

“What!”

Okay, she was wrong.

“Well I am, just not in the way you think.”

“Okay, enough with the cryptic. I want an explanation and I want it now.”

Buffy put her hands on her hips, her eyes going hard as she stared at the miserable apparition in front of her.

Angel gave a short laugh but there was no humour in it.

“First, I must tell you who I am not; I’m not that foul-mouthed drunk in the other room, nor am I that murdering bastard Angelus. In fact, I can safely say that we’re not even remotely related. Except by magic.” Angel paused and took a deep-breath; this was going to be hard. “Seems the gypsies who cursed Angelus required something a little purer than Liam’s soul to keep a good grip on the demon. Mine isn’t even the first soul he was cursed with. Each time he gets to lose it – and that’s happened more times than you know - another gets pulled in to take the place of the one before... after all, wouldn’t really be fair would it, being punished forever for being a good man. And I was a good man, Buffy, a man of God, someone who believed in justice and righting wrongs. I fought evil in all its forms until my life as a human was ended. Lucky me, my soul was strong and I was chosen to continue the fight from within Angelus.”

Buffy was stunned.

“Why didn’t you tell me this before now?”

“I didn’t know,” he said quietly. “I know these things now, I know lots of things that I shouldn’t and I think that the Higher Powers are making the best of this strange situation so that I can tell you, and it’s important that you know... the truth. A soul gathers to it remnants of memories from previous lives and at the moment I can remember the man that I last was. Now that I am almost separated from Liam and Angelus I can be more myself for a little while, but when we are entwined again I will forget everything.... it’s better that way. All I’ll know is the struggle to do the right thing despite the demon crawling around inside me. It, it just gets so tiring sometimes.”

Angel stared into her eyes and she could see a deep well of sadness there.

“But wouldn’t I have noticed if Angel had a different personality each time he got a new soul?”

“The personality of the Angel that you loved was influenced by his soul, true, but is mostly constructed from the best parts of Liam - and yes, he wasn’t all bad, just weak - plus the raw power of Angelus. You could say that Angel is in my custody at the moment, for his own safety. I am still chained to Liam by the curse, and our common link with humanity, but severed from Angelus by this latest magic.

“I’m sorry, you don’t deserve to be trapped like this.”

“I didn’t choose it but I do it willingly, Buffy. I can channel his strength for good, I can make a difference. Don’t feel sorry for me. At its best, a soul is the essence of strength and purity and an unending connection between the living and the dead. They are the stuff of stars, of creation and renewal, little sparks, some burning more brightly than others. If my soul can influence a fierce demon and bend it to do good rather than evil, is that not worth a little suffering?”

Buffy chewed her lip in thought, lost in memories of her first love, how right it felt at the time. She’d thought she’d found her soulmate.

Buffy couldn’t help blurting out her next question.

“Do... do you know anything about the first soul the curse chose? Who it belonged to?”

Angel looked very uncomfortable. She could tell that he really hadn’t wanted to be asked that question. Finally, he gave a sigh.

“It seems that those gypsies had a rare sense of humour for a people who had just had half their number wiped out by ‘The Scourge of Europe’. They chose the strongest and most innocent soul with a connection to the vampire family. They wanted retribution. Darla was a selfish whore, Drusilla was broken before she was turned; her soul was weakened and needed time to recover, and Liam might as well have not had a soul for all the good it did him. No, the curse chose the best soul for the job. It selected William’s.”

“What?!”

With a dual shout, William and Spike, who had only been eavesdropping until now, came bursting through the door.

Time stood still as the four occupants of the tiny room stared at each other. Even Spike, who could normally be guaranteed to insert his sarcastic humour into any grave situation, seemed at a loss. He just narrowed his eyes at Angel, determined to get to the truth of his words. It was William who reacted first though.

“Oh God!”

He started to shake.

Turning horrified eyes to Buffy, he whispered, “I’m so sorry.” as he turned and fled.

“Sorry? Why sorry?”

Buffy didn’t hesitate as she ran from the room to find him.

***

William hadn’t gone far, she found him crumpled in the corridor. He sat against the wall, arms protectively covering his head as it rested on his knees.

Buffy carefully slid down next to him. She wanted to hold him but the tension in his back showed that he was on the edge of bolting again.

“So, we really are soulmates then.”

She had tried to sound casual but her voice cracked a little.

William looked up, eyes sparkling with tears.

“Soulmates!” he snorted. “Don’t you realise what this means?”

“What?, I thought you’d be pleased to know that you were the real love of my life all along.”

Buffy was getting upset. Why was he reacting like this? Like he hated the idea.

“Oh, Buffy love, of course it makes me happy knowing that you were drawn to William’s soul from the beginning, but all this time I’ve been able to blame Angel for all the bad things that have happened to you, when in reality it was All. My. Fault.”

“Wow, that’s some ego you’ve got there, mister. How do you figure that one out?”

“Don’t you see?” When Angel’s soul took a powder after his ‘moment of pure happiness’ it was really my soul that went swanning off! I guess you can rely on a twenty-eight year old virgin to get an attack of the vapours over his first sexual experience and bollocks everything up. I released Angelus.”

Buffy had heard enough. Wriggling to position herself in front of William, she slowly but firmly prized his knees apart and nudged her way between them. He raised his arms in the air as if not quite knowing what to do with them but then gave up, gently bringing them down around her shoulders. With his face hidden in the crook of her neck, she could feel wetness on her skin.

“Shhh, William, it’s all right.”

“No, love,” he mumbled, “it’s really not.”

Buffy moved away a little so that she could cup his chin and tilt his head to face her. This wasn’t the time for guilt, especially when it was so misplaced.

“It wasn’t your fault... Hey, it was your soul that forced Angelus down for over a hundred years. It was your soul that showed Angel that he could be a white hat and try to atone for some of the wicked things he’d done. And if your soul hadn’t finally been released after finding pure happiness in my arms then it would still be attached to him now. Not in its rightful place, in you and completely clause free.”

William shook his head before replying. “All I know is that, even with a soul, Angel didn’t do right by you. First he pervs over a fifteen year old girl after a century of wallowing in self pity, then he baffles her with cryptic messages but no actual help, then he leaves her to drown at the hands of the Master. Finally, and this is the best bit, he takes advantage of an innocent girl and has sex with her. I always thought Angel was a useless prat for not protecting you better, and now I find it was my weakness that allowed it to happen.”

Buffy gathered her thoughts, all these revelations were making her head spin but the important things were perfectly clear.

“You’re not weak, and remember what the Angel-ghost said; a soul is not really a person. If Angel lusted after a little girl then I bet Liam was right there with him, and if Angel was sometimes less that helpful then I bet it was Angelus dragging his heels for his own purposes. You could only achieve so much given the material you had to work with.”

William gave her a rueful smile. “That’s true.”

“And, hey, bonus points, by the time you were joined with your much nicer Spike demon, you were able to adjust to the shock much faster. It only took ‘two weeks moaning in a basement’ according to Angel.”

“Pillock, what does he know?”

“So, are we good?”

Buffy looked at him hopefully, her hand had snaked round to stroke the back of his neck. She smiled, willing him to smile back.

He stared at her solemnly for a long moment then purposely moved forwards to join his lips with hers.

“Yeah, we’re good.”

***

After some heavenly kissage - which was in danger of becoming more heated - Buffy stood and pulled William up with her. They returned to the room where they’d left the others.

Spike was standing at the near end of the long table, arms outstretched. The reason for this became apparent when the Slayer, her feet wrapped in yellow dusters, came running along the highly polished surface towards him. Gathering speed she crouched low like a skier to slide the rest of the way, flipping off the end of the table to be deftly caught by a laughing Spike.

Buffy grinned at their silliness, wishing that she could sometimes be the one with dusters on her feet.

Spike, his arms full of Slayer-monkey gave the couple a knowing look.

“All sorted then?”

Buffy, gripping William’s hand, gave him her best smile.

“Yep, all sorted.”

Angel was standing in a corner, arms folded, wearing a slightly bemused expression. A heavy snoring from under the table gave away Liam’s whereabouts and Harmony could be heard trilling something about giving it to her one more time in the kitchen.

While it was true that Angelus could return at any moment, right this minute Buffy didn’t care. She was running low on energy and she could only take so many revelations in one day. William didn’t look any better.

A fully clothed Harmony burst in with a flourish. And a tray piled high with food.

“Look what I found. Food for the hungry rescuers.”

She looked at Buffy hopefully, desperate to be included in any and all plans to get out of this place. Nervously, she put out dishes containing olives, pretzels, chips and dips, coffee and cream and a jug containing warmed blood.

“Oh wait, be right back.”

Diving back into the kitchenette she re-emerged with a plate containing two upended halves of an orange, each skewered with cubes of cheese and pineapple topped off with glace cherries. They were threaded onto cocktail sticks in porcupine fashion.

“I found this old British recipe in a book back there. The Family Circle Book of Home Entertaining.”

“Bleedin’ hell, Harmony, this isn’t a party.”

For once, Buffy couldn’t find it in her to be mean to the young woman. “Thank you, Harmony, these cheese stick thingies look great.”

Harmony beamed at her and began pouring the coffee out into cups, each had a wrapped mint chocolate placed in the saucer next to it. Spike rolled his eyes but moved forward to grab the blood. He was starved and had been starting to worry about just what creature he’d have to find and kill to get some sustenance. William and the Slayer didn’t need to eat and merely nibbled, the Slayer tentatively trying everything out until she discovered the pineapple pieces. With a blissful smile she sucked on the sweet juice until Spike had to turn away. Angel looked at the food scornfully and Liam was still dead to the world. Buffy ate her fill, gulping down the hot strong coffee between bites.

“Not joining us, Harmony?”

“Um, no thanks, I think my demon has been eating enough for the both of us, I feel quite full.”

Buffy chose not to let that revelation ruin her appetite, deciding to believe that there was bagged blood elsewhere in the building rather than think about a Harmony demon running about feeding on stray humans.”

After popping the chocolate into her mouth, Buffy slapped her palms on the table in a businesslike manner.

“Right, break-time over, meeting now. So what’s on the agenda? Get Liam and Angel to safety…” Harmony raised her hand nervously. “…and Harmony.” Harmony put her hand back down with a relieved grin. “Find the information to get us all put together again and out of here, and neutralise Angelus and his gang before they can do any more harm.”

Harmony carefully put up her hand again.

“Yes?”

“Shouldn’t you also be rescuing your little sister?”

“Dawn? No, she left the building with Fred before all this went down.”

“Yes, they did leave, but when I was down at reception I saw them both come back in ten minutes later.”

Buffy suddenly felt very sick.

***

Chapter 9

Dawn lay very still. From her vantage point inside the cage she could see the two men as they dipped in and out of view in the main room. Knox and the big man who made her skin crawl. Hamilton. Whatever drug she’d last been exposed to was slowly wearing off but Dawn still felt all floaty. Moving her head carefully, not wanting to draw attention to herself, she looked at her prison. She was on a sterile mattress on the floor with no bedding; there was a steel toilet and basin, a tray of untouched food and a blue plastic cup…and that was it. She was alone, Fred was gone.

They’d almost made it to the taxi cab when Fred’s phone had started ringing. A breathless Knox had entreated her to return to the lab. He’d discovered something about Spike’s return, something huge, and could she come straight away. Not wanting to be left out of the loop Dawn had rushed back in with her. They’d swept past a bemused Harmony without explanations and taken the lift.

There was no warning. They stepped out and were engulfed in a cloud of gas, and everything was hazy from there. At some point Dawn had been strapped to a table and Spike’s amulet had been placed round her neck. There was a laser of some sort aimed right at her chest. Then there was white. Then blackness consumed her.

The two women had woken up in a large cage to the sound of shouting. Hamilton, his suit ripped in several places, held the slowly choking scientist up against the wall with one hand.

“Fix this now.”

“I can’t.”

Swiftly turning to the young women he unlocked the door and entered, taking up all the space. This was a man who enjoyed violence. Cold expressionless eyes locked onto Fred.

“You’re the big brain, get out and help him.”

“With what? I don’t understand.” Fred shrank back until her body pressed against the bars of her prison.

Lunging at Fred, Hamilton grabbed a handful of hair and tugged. She immediately clawed at his eyes and when he gripped her wrists, tried to knee him in the balls. Dawn leapt into action too, incensed. She kicked out her heel into his kneecap, a blow from the side that should have done some serious damage. It was like hitting a stone wall. Shoving Dawn hard, so that she fell back onto the mattress, he then backhanded Fred. She went completely limp. Grabbing her light frame he threw her out of the cage before following. Dawn rose and tried to make it to the door but he slammed it shut and locked it. A small canister appeared in his hand, aimed at her face.

“Goodnight, Freak.”

***

‘Buffy, please find me, please make everything be alright.’ Dawn repeated the litany in her head while doing her best to appear unconscious.

They were talking.

“You’re a fucking moron,” growled Hamilton. “One simple instruction, that’s all you were given, lure them back up here then wait. We had our people primed to extract the Key properly, but no, you had to go all Frankenstein and try your own damned experiments on the bitch. Now our mages are in ribbons and the Senior Partners can’t even get through to the photocopy repairman, let alone conduct business. Billions, we’re losing fucking billions of dollars while you stare at this piece of junk and wring your hands!”

“I don’t understand. It should have been perfect. A simple energy transfer - trap the Key in the amulet, ready to open any portal at will. Simple.”

“The only simple thing around here is you, but right now you’re all we’ve got. I promise you, you’ll be spit roasting in your own personal Hell for this. For just how long depends on you.”

“What about Fred?”

“Fred is off in La-La land right now. Who knew she’d go off the deep end so fast?” he muttered.

“She…she’s alright though?”

“Wherever her head is now, she can’t be touched. No, boy, this is your mess - you clean it up. You’ve got one hour.” He leaned in close. “Then I’ll be back to give you a little motivation.”

Hamilton clenched his fists as he glared at Knox one final time before striding out of sight. A door slammed.

Knox’s shoulders slumped forward, barely catching the table in time to keep his legs from giving way. He gazed blankly at the amulet. The lazy swirls of green light twisting around it seemed to be mocking him.

Dawn knew something that they didn’t. She could feel part of the Key moving just underneath her skin. In all her brief, fabricated existence, she had never once felt this way before, only believing that she wasn’t normal because other people believed it. Even when teetering on Glory’s tower waiting for the end of the world, a little voice inside had been screaming, “No, wait, there’s been some mistake!” But now she knew that she was also ‘other’ and it scared her – though felt strangely right.

Knox would soon be drawing conclusions and start to look for the missing ingredient, and there was no way she was hanging around for that. If Buffy couldn’t be here to save the day then she’d have to save herself; after all, the Summers were a tough lot. Dawn glanced at herself, ‘Key’; keys were important weren’t they, they solved things, unlocked things, now what was she missing? There was no use in pointing at the bars and saying “Open Sesame.” No little holes were going to open up for her to just step through, and she should know…she’d already tried it.

She gave a small smile at her clothing. Buffy’s eyes had nearly popped out of her head when she’d seen what she was wearing, but then her sister had grinned, hugged her and whispered, “Give Dad hell.”

While still mourning Spike, the sisters had wandered through all the interesting bits of London, imagining him strutting along the streets as if he owned the place. They’d seen many a glimpse of leather and bleach in the goth clubs, and Dawn had insisted on buying some clothes so that she would fit in. It was this outfit that she had chosen to wear for her visit to see ‘Dad’ - a tight black tank top printed with a skull and crossbones in bright pink, a black and pink tartan mini skirt and purple spiderweb patterned tights. Her boots, though, were the finishing touch.

She’d spotted the docs on Camden Market; not new, but they had steel toe caps and one of them had a little pocket where you could slide things out of sight. They were black and a bit scuffed - and had taken forever to lace up and try on in the crowded street - but they’d fit perfectly...

Of course! Why had it taken so long to remember? Drawing her leg up slowly, she undid the popper on her boot and wiggled her fingers inside. There. In a little leather pouch lay her present from Spike, a gift given shortly after they’d broken into the magic shop to find out about her true origins. He’d made her swear not to tell Buffy. “She’ll have my guts for garters, pet. This’ll be our little secret, only to be used in emergencies, right?”

He’d then spent several hours teaching her how to use them, making her practice over and over again until she got it right.

Dawn held the spring steel hand-pick set in her hand and couldn’t help grinning. The gift had travelled with her from the Hellmouth, had survived her anger at the giver and had ultimately been the source of precious memories when there was nothing else left. Spike had given her more than he knew.

Now that she had the means to escape all Dawn needed was an opportunity. Knox was just out of sight but she could hear him whimpering to himself. It was deadly quiet except for a faint ticking and the pounding of her heart.

Eventually her prayers were answered. Knox gave a long sigh and, perhaps realising that he’d better do something positive, and soon, moved purposefully away from the worktable. His footsteps receded into the distance. Uncurling from her position, Dawn moved stealthily. What had Spike taught her? Carefully inserting the correct slivers of metal into the lock, she turned and wiggled them, then added the next pick and felt the mechanism give a little. Good. Another more forceful turn and she was rewarded with a soft click. Eureka!

With barely a sound Dawn was free. ‘Now, think ‘Spike’, think sneaky, don’t you dare bump into anything.’ On her hands and knees the trembling girl crept past the metal tables, around the tall stools, over the cables and to the door. She inched her hand up to the handle, slowly pulling down as she rose.

Half way through the door she glanced back to see Knox staring at her. They both froze. With a sudden flare of adrenaline Dawn reacted first. Yanking the door open she darted through it…and ran as if her life depended on it.

***

Previously...

Harmony carefully put up her hand again.

“Yes?”

“Shouldn’t you also be rescuing your little sister?”

“Dawn? No, she left the building with Fred before all this went down.”

“Yes, they did leave, but when I was down at reception I saw them both come back in ten minutes later.”

Buffy suddenly felt very sick.

***

Reaching out blindly for the edge of the heavy table, Buffy gripped it, praying that her legs wouldn’t give way. All this time and Dawn had been here all along. While she’d been laying in William’s arms - and speculating about Spike’s - in their little hideaway, Dawn and Fred had been at the mercy of monsters. She didn’t doubt her sister’s bravery and resourcefulness, and knew that Fred had a brilliant head on her shoulders, but they were both fragile humans. Just as she was.

Buffy had William and Spike, who did they have?

The young woman who’d managed to hold it all together so far could feel her courage unravelling, faced with no answers to a barrage of unasked questions.

Where is she? Is she safe? How can I find them?

Through the pulsing blood rushing in her ears, Buffy fought to stay upright. William was staring at her in concern, sharing her fears, and no doubt adding a few of his own. Spike was cursing loudly. A hard boot lashed out and a chair flew into the wall, bursting in a shower of splinters and stitched leather.

Harmony shrank back. Disturbed by the noise, Liam stirred from his position on the floor and tried to sit up while clutching at his head. Angel hovered sorrowfully, already accepting the worst.

William took a step forward but it was the Slayer who reached Buffy first - wise eyes filled her teary vision, understanding everything. The Slayer gently pressed a palm to her heart and, with a voice hoarse from lack of use, said just two words.

“Sister...Strong.”

Whether she meant that Buffy was her sister and was strong enough to deal with this, or whether she was referring to Dawn, Buffy didn’t know, but she was grateful for the words nonetheless.

Buffy rested her hand briefly over the Slayer’s and gave a weak smile of thanks before standing straight to face the others.

Given their predicament it was clear that they couldn’t stick together, so it was decided that Harmony and Liam would have to be taken somewhere safe; they would only be a liability in any search. William and the Slayer would escort them to the gym where Wesley, and the less evil employees, had set up their base. Buffy and Spike would go and find Dawn.

William had initially wanted go with Buffy but, as she pointed out, Wesley would be more likely to trust him than a demon version of him, and she wasn’t going to risk Spike being dusted on sight. They also needed the Slayer’s strength in case they met any nasties on the way, so she was elected the group’s protector.

Spike knew the building and he would watch Buffy’s back while the two of them went to the science labs, one of the few areas that had been blanked out in the surveillance room.

Angel had tried to stop them going off on their own. Although he didn’t say outright that she shouldn’t trust Spike, it was clear that he was dying to.

Buffy gave him a look, daring him to open his mouth.

As the larger group headed off, supporting the barely upright Liam between them, Buffy turned to Spike.

“I do trust you.”

With a wry smile he caught her hand and, with a little bow, placed a kiss on her knuckles.

“You can always trust me, Buffy,” he murmured. Raising his head a little he gave her a wicked look. “But when Dawn’s all rescued, safe and sound, then all bets are off.”

A startled look, a pause, then laughing, Buffy released his hand and walked ahead.

“I’m counting on it,” she threw back.

With an expression of disbelief followed by the inevitable smirk, Spike followed... an extra swagger in his step.

***

Knox had chased after her for several long minutes, calling out to her every so often in an increasingly jumbled mixture of panicked pleading and threats. Luckily, his white lab coat hadn’t been concealing the body of an athlete, and he didn’t seem to be gaining on her. If there was one thing she was good at it, it was running away. Well, that and screaming, and running seemed like the best choice right now. She dimly heard an unearthly roar followed by a very unmanly shriek, which gave her an extra burst of adrenaline, her boots fairly flying down the passageways. Dawn kept on going until a stitch in her side finally forced her to stop to catch her breath. Slumping forward, feet splayed apart with hands gripping knees, she willed the pain to go away.

There was silence, except for the pounding of her heart, her ragged breathing.

Finally, raising her head, she looked around. The outside windows revealed only a fuzzy grey mist. She felt trapped. Rows of identical offices, another corner, another set of stairs, no people. It was like being in a giant mausoleum, and why would she think that? This led to thoughts of Spike’s old crypt with its tatty furniture, soft shadows and designer cobwebs. Funny how a tomb could make her feel safe, but then it was home to one of the two people who she knew would willingly die for her - and that made her feel both sad and incredibly grateful.

The sound of a door closing and a key being turned penetrated her rather scattered thoughts. Slipping quickly into the nearest room, Dawn dropped down below the frosted glass panel.

The tap of expensive shoes drew nearer...

Holding her breath, she waited. The steps stopped. A shadow filled the glass and paused.

Just as Dawn thought it was all over and that she’d been discovered in the inevitable way that nightmares always worked, the shrill ring of a mobile phone nearly made her jump out of her skin.

The figure flipped open the device and listened for a long time.

Finally he started speaking. It was Hamilton, as she knew it would be.

“You’ve managed to get through! That’s good... You already know? Alright ... No, sir, I haven’t got any answers out of her yet... I know... seems her mind was more fragile than expected... but if anyone can sort this out it’s her. Yes, no more Mr Nice Guy, I’ll see Knox and if he’s still useless then I’ll end the worm. Angelus? Can we trust him? Alright, that might work; he can deal with the white hats before they try anything stupid. At least that much went right in this fucking fiasco... Another codex? Great, that’s all we need... No, it’s no problem, I’ll get it. Yes, sir... I do know what will happen to me if I screw up... Goodbye.”

An audible snap and the shadow hovered for a long moment before moving away.

Dawn waited until she heard the familiar pinging noise of a lift door closing before she dared peek outside.

He was gone.

Moving silently she tried each door until she found one that was locked. Again, the lock-picks were proving to be the best present ever. God bless Spike, the vampire boy scout. Not that scouts are known for their breaking and entering skills but he did say he’d eaten one once, and he’d look so cute wearing the uniform. Shaking those absurd thoughts out of her head she concentrated on the lock until it gave up its secrets, allowing her to enter the room.

***

Buffy and her demon moved swiftly. Still not daring to take the elevators they raced up each staircase towards the science labs. Spike kept all his senses on full alert while Buffy just concentrated on keeping up, ignoring the burning in her calf muscles. At times her companion had stopped, seemingly concentrating for signs of danger, his hand loosely encircling her wrist until she realised that he was surreptitiously monitoring her pulse rate with his fingers.

“Spike, I’m not an invalid,” she snapped, pulling her arm away. “Let’s go!”

“Easy now, Buffy, don’t doubt your determination, but your body can’t take its usual punishment. You’ve got to pace yourself as a human would.”

“I’ll take all the breaks you want after we find Dawn.”

“Suit yourself.”

Another few twists and the now silent couple reached the lab; the door was ajar.

“Dawn’s scent is strong, stay here - and that isn’t a request,” Spike growled softly.

Buffy glared at her bossy protector but wisely kept her mouth shut and gave a slight nod.

Spike silently slipped inside.

After a few seconds Buffy followed him in.

He was standing in the middle of the room, clawed hands flexing by his side, nostrils flaring and a very dangerous look in his eyes.

Taking in the details of the empty room Buffy saw the opened cage, the disturbed mattress and upended tray of food. There had been a struggle. On a nearby counter lay various pieces of scientific equipment. Moving closer she could see a blackened disk on the end of a chain, faint wisps of green flowed in and out of the filigree patterns. It was the amulet she’d given Spike, the same one that had destroyed him.

Green?

“Dawn?” Her heart stopped.

“Wait, no Slay… er, Buffy, her girl scent is strong in here and I can tell that Fred has been here very recently, that weasel in a white coat too. Knew he was taking too much interest in her, should have snapped his neck straight away.” He paused. “There was someone else. A human, no, that’s not right. A demon, but masked somehow, it leaves almost no trace which means it’s probably powerful. We’ll have to watch our step.”

“What else can you tell?”

“Fear and blood. Fear from the girls and the boy, Fred’s blood, but only traces. We need to find them and quickly.”

“What about this?” said Buffy, pointing to the amulet.

“Well, that would be mine, wouldn’t it? A token from the fair maid to her black knight.”
“Spike, I didn’t, I mean I’m sorry…I didn’t know, I wouldn’t have…”

As Buffy’s vision filled with tears, Spike stepped close and wrapped her in his arms.

“Hush now, you did the right thing, made me a hero you did. I can’t complain, not many demons can claim to have saved the world, can they? Besides, I’m back and you’re here, what could be wrong with that?”

He stepped towards the glowing trinket and carefully picked it up by its chain.

“To be on the safe side I won’t put it round my neck.”

Slipping it very gingerly into a front pocket of his jeans he looked down, slightly anxious.

“Dawn, if that’s you in there, do me a favour and don’t go exploring. Oh, and please don’t fry anything important.”

“I thought you said...”

He grinned. “Oh, our niblet is out there sweetheart, am just teasing. C’mon, let’s go, I can track her from here.”

Taking her hand they hurried to rescue Dawn and Fred.

***

Dawn found herself in another office just like the others, the only difference being that the whiteboards on the wall were covered in what appeared to be mathematical equations and formulas. A faint movement caught her eye and she could just make out the toe of a shoe sliding out of sight behind a large desk.

“Fred?”

Tiptoeing forward she moved until the crouching figure came into view.

It was Fred. Her hair was dishevelled and a large bruise ran down one side of her face, lower lip split and puffed up at one side. Her clothing was torn at the shoulder revealing more bruises. She gazed at Dawn but didn’t speak. In her hand she clutched a marker pen.

“Fred?” she tried again.

Still no answer, but the slight flicker of her eyes as she looked past Dawn betrayed her.

“It’s okay, he’s not here.”

Fred gave a wonky smile, wincing as the cut reopened a little.

“Am so glad to see you, Dawnie.”

“What did that bastard do to you?”

“The man has women issues, I think. Wanted me to find a way of harnessing the power of ‘The Key,’ which I take it has something to do with you.” She looked pointedly at Dawn. “Anyway, I faked a breakdown before I went nuts for real. Had some practice at that in Pylea, long story, have to tell you sometime.” She made light of it, but the way she repeatedly swallowed while talking showed that she’d been truly frightened.

“So what’s with all the numbers and squiggles?”

“Had to appear to be workin’ on something.” She brightened up at the question. “So far I’ve written down the formula for toothpaste, my Momma’s recipe for tequila chicken wings, and a discredited theory for cold fusion. Didn’t want to put down my own ideas as they might just work.”

Laughing, Dawn took her hand and helped her to her feet. Fred swayed a little until her head stopped swimming. “Well, pardner, I think it’s time we hightailed it out of here before the bad man returns, don’t you?”

“Couldn’t agree more,” said Dawn.

***

It happened so fast. One minute they were tracking Dawn and the next Spike and Buffy were staring into the eyes of an enormous creature blocking their way. Covered in black fur, the beast reared up to tower several feet above them, its massive jaws opened wide, displaying powerful long teeth and strings of saliva.

“What the f...! I don’t believe it, you made another bloody bear!”


***