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No one dared move.

Willow stared at Spike. Spike stared at Willow. Buffy watched Tara’s eyes flick anxiously between the two. Buffy wouldn’t have liked to gamble on which one Tara would defend if it came to a fight; but judging by the annoyance in Tara’s expression, Buffy figured Willow might just be out of luck.

As her jealousy grew, Willow’s wintry glare dared Spike to explain himself to her satisfaction, an uncanny shadow falling across her as she furrowed her brows in threat and her mouth set into a hard line. Like a gunslinger with an itchy trigger finger, her hand kept darting into her bulging Hello Kitty bag and touching something inside. She looked torn between wanting to believe Tara wouldn’t do anything with a vampire – a male vampire at that – and expecting the worst, however ridiculous that might seem.

Spike met her challenge with a fatalistic defiance. He squared his shoulders like a great hero preparing for his last stand, ready for anything she might launch at him, but it was Tara that broke the tense High Noon tableau.

She wiped the tears from her face. “Willow. This is not what it looks like.”

Spike! Say something! Buffy urged him. She could kill you – me – us!

“Right,” he agreed. He approached Willow cautiously. “You see; it’s like this, Red. Tara was just a bit upset…”

“Be quiet.” Willow snapped. Her pupils dilated as they flooded with magic, infusing them with a dark fire that burned viciously within as her hair turned from burnished copper to a sombre autumnal auburn. The air around her began to warp, rippling into shimmering waves and through the crack of the door, Buffy saw black, apocalyptic thunderheads gathering, cutting off the soft, creamy light of the sun that moments before had soaked in through the cobwebbed windows.

In the distance, thunder rumbled in portentous warning.

Uh oh.

“Bugger.” Spike stepped back, swiftly putting his chair between himself and the angry witch, as if that would protect him from the very dusty death Willow was threatening. So much for going down in a blaze of glory, Buffy thought.

“Willow!” Tara put herself in front of Spike, spreading her arms out to make her defence wider. “No! It’s not like that! It’s Buffy. We found her. She’s in Spike’s head.”

Willow scoffed. “You expect me to believe that? I read it in the crumbs, Tara! There was a cage thing. He’s probably been holding Buffy captive all along!”

“A cage in Spike’s head.” Tara explained. “It’s a spell!”

“Yeah, right,” Spike added. “Like I said, we found this witch. Out patrolling.”

“And Tara?” Willow asked him pointedly.

“No, you’ve got it all wrong.” Tara said calmly, wiping her eyes again. She moved slowly towards Willow as if she was trying to soothe a nervous pony. “I came here to help them.”

“He’s upset you, Tara!” Holding out her arm, Willow made the Heartstone materialise in her palm, transported up from her bag with a snap of her fingers. She narrowed her eyes at Spike. “I’ve been wanting to give this a try!”

She directed her will at the Heartstone, feeding it with all her anger and hate. It glowed in response, turning a deep, flaming red that lit up the crypt until it looked like a corner of the fiery bowels of Hell; but instead of absorbing the energy, the stone dissipated the magic, discharging it over its surface in snapping crackles of static electricity. Its power was not meant for her.

“Oh…” she said, her demeanour lightening as her sweeter side re-emerged. The dark clouds lifted and through the open door the soft, ambient light began to flood in again.

Until someone stepped into it.

Zelda.

She snatched the stone out of Willow’s hands. “I think you’ll find this belongs to me!”

“Hey!” Willow protested, stunned by the sudden appearance of the stranger in the middle of her quest for justice.

Zelda held the stone aloft. Her expression was triumphant. “Arda! I’ve missed you!”

“Who are you?” Willow snapped, her pupils beginning to darken again.

“You!” Zelda snarled, pointing at Spike, ignoring Willow completely. “I’ll destroy you and your slutty girlfriend!”

Look who’s talking! Buffy said indignantly, willing Spike to defend her honour.

Spike did no such thing, preoccupied as he was by Zelda reaching out her hand to zap him…

But nothing happened.

Zelda looked down at the stone. It appeared to be dead, lifeless in the witch’s hands. She shook it, she knocked on it, she grimaced at it, but she made no impression on it whatsoever.

“No!” she screamed. She glared at Spike. “That spell! That fucking spell! You picked it up together, didn’t you? I should have fucking known! It bound you!”

“Bound? I’m not quite catching your drift.” Spike told her.

She tried one more time to generate enough power for a spell, but it was too late. She’d been shut out forever.

“Arrgh! This is useless!” Zelda took one last look at the stone and then launched it into the wall, where it left a hefty dent before crashing to the hard stone floor with all the bounce of a bowling ball being dropped from a great height. On impact it cleaved in two, but as the magic forming it lost its focus, cracks appeared and it disintegrated into powder.

Whatever hold the stone had claimed on Buffy suddenly vanished and she was hit by a wave of vertigo that also sent Spike staggering backwards into the sarcophagus. Through the painful cloud of her lurching head, she felt him try desperately to steady himself against the stonework, but the dizziness had shot his spatial judgement to hell and his reach fell short of the lid. He crumpled onto the floor and fell forwards, convulsing and tearing at the air as reality began to wrench at their bodies.

She could feel herself separate from him, sinking as she grew heavier with flesh and bone. An overwhelming need to move made her gather her strength and crawl forward with a heave, pulling herself along arm over arm. When she was clear of him, the spinning sensation finally passed, taking with it the keen edge of Spike’s predator senses but exchanging them for the intense buzz of life his body was lacking. With relief, she flopped to the ground, gasping. If she’d had any lunch, she would have lost it right then, but freedom was well worth the price of the discomfort.

“Buffy?”

When Buffy’s stomach had recovered enough to look up, she found that Tara was kneeling beside her, trying to make her lie still. Beyond the young witch, Spike was kneeling with his head hanging low, his arms shaking as they barely kept him upright. He looked as terrible as she felt.

The sight suddenly made Buffy terribly angry that Zelda could have done this to them. She fought off Tara’s gentle push. “I’m okay, I’m okay!”

To prove it, she climbed unsteadily to her feet, staggering as she discovered she wasn’t used to the way her body moved anymore. Each step she took was stiff and awkward, her legs feeling lighter than they ought to be; but there was too much to do to be concerned with trivial stuff. She rounded on Zelda and Willow, crossing her arms, hoping that if she looked serious enough, they’d ignore the giveaway wobble in her legs.

“Buffy! Are you alright?” Willow asked as if the last ten minutes hadn’t happened.

“I’m fine,” Buffy told her sharply, tuning to Zelda instead. “No thanks to you.”

“Huh. Do you realise what you’ve done to me?” Zelda was furious. “I’m nothing, whore! I’m nothing!”

Buffy wasn’t going to argue with that. “You’re not going to get a lot of sympathy here.”

“I’m a fucking mortal,” Zelda ground out between clenched teeth.

Propelled by the force of her temper, Zelda grabbed the nearest weapon to hand – an ornamental urn – and charged Buffy with it. Buffy stood her ground, but as Zelda raised the urn to strike, Spike appeared from behind Buffy’s shoulder and tackled the witch to the ground. The urn cracked, but rolled away intact.

Unlike Spike, who yelped and held his head as his chip fired. He stood up gingerly, and Buffy could see the pain in the tightness of his eyes, but he nodded, indicating he was still backing her up.

“Welcome to the real world.” Buffy yanked Zelda to her feet and slung her to Spike, who caught the witch in an arm-lock.

“I’ll die!” No match for Spike’s strength, she wriggled in his grip. “All because of you!”

“I’m paralysed with not caring.” Buffy stepped right up close, tilting her head as she analysed the witch’s response. “I think you’d better leave my town.”

Her words made the witch stop her struggle, but Zelda was no less angry. “No fucking way are you telling me what to do!”

“After what you did to us,” Buffy looked to Spike for his support and she knew how he felt just from the look in his eyes. “I think you’re getting off easy.”

When her gaze drifted reluctantly back down to Zelda, she found herself caught in the woman’s stare. Zelda might have been powerless, but she hadn’t lost all of her skills and she pushed Buffy effortlessly into the ultimate staring competition; a battle fought solely in their heads. With winning or losing all in the mind, they locked eyes on each other, sizing the other up; seasoned slayer in her prime versus centuries-old but embittered witch.

The moment lengthened like elastic. Minutes became hours; hours became days; days became years or even millennia, it didn’t matter, the outside world had gone and all they had left was their war. Neither blinked; pain was irrelevant. Zelda’s will matched Buffy’s strength for strength and they both struggled for supremacy, neither yielding, neither gaining advantage. Stalemate.

Desperately and without even knowing how she did it, Buffy reached out psychically, searching for anything that could give her an edge. Immediately, the dark touch of Spike’s consciousness was there, bolstering her effort, allowing her to push Zelda away…

With a gasp, Zelda crumpled. “Okay. I’ll leave!”

Buffy, almost as shaken as her opponent, gasped, “There’s the door.”

Zelda straightened. “Then tell your boyfriend to let me go.”

“Boyfriend?” asked Willow with surprise as Spike released Zelda with a gentle shove, which caused him to wince as his chip gave him another warning buzz.

Buffy motioned for Willow to stop. Stop talking. Stop thinking. Stop even going down that idea street. “Why does everyone always think that? Spike and I, we’re not…”

“Because it’s true? “Zelda laughed darkly. “If he’s not your boyfriend, then what were those disgusting noises that interrupted my spell?”

“We were… pretending!” Buffy pleaded to Willow. “It was a cover or something. We were patrolling!”

Spike shook his head. “Buffy, I think the game’s up. We…”

“Give me a break,” Zelda cut in. “The Heartstone bound you.”

“Huh?” Buffy still didn’t really understand what the witch meant.

Zelda spoke slowly as if Buffy was being incredibly stupid. “It only binds people in love.”

The colour drained from Buffy’s face and she looked around at the others, searching for some other answer – Spike looked smug; Willow looked confused; Tara looked sympathetic, and that just made Buffy more determined to deny the allegations even though she knew they were true.

“We…” Buffy started, not knowing what to say. “We were… We aren’t responsible for that stone. We didn’t know it would bind us. It could have bound anyone.”

“It bound you because you wanted to be bound to each other,” Zelda stressed. “That’s what it does.”

“Oh no…” Buffy looked at pleadingly at Tara, at Willow again, desperate for them to deny what Zelda had said, but Willow just stared down at the gritty, glassy dust that was the remains of the stone. Buffy didn’t dare look at Spike, although she could feel his intense gaze willing her to come clean.

When no one bailed her out, Buffy sighed, maybe she could just pass this all off as an infatuation. “Okay! Willow, Spike and I, we… Since I came back it’s been so hard. Being with Spike made it easier.”

“It’s okay, Buffy. I understand.” Buffy was sure Willow was trying to sound reassuring, but it wasn’t going to work while she still looked so freaked. “We don’t always choose who we love.”

“Looks like someone had a secret.” Zelda’s grin was smug. She turned to leave, tossing one last comment over her shoulder, “Have fun with it.”

Buffy folded her arms and looked away, ramming down the urge to slap the witch into next week. Clenching her hands into tense, tight fists, she waited until the crypt door slammed shut, then finally admitted to her friends, “I was going to finish it.”

Spike humphed in response, but didn’t say anything else – thank god. Buffy didn’t know what else to say, especially to him. Just because the feelings were there, it didn’t mean indulging them was wise. She loved Spike – kind of, sorta, if she really faced the elephant lurking in her sub-conscious. Perhaps if she kept telling herself, the awful truth might sink in and she could get over the feelings as quickly as possible. The Heartstone had opened her eyes and wouldn’t let her deny her burgeoning feelings anymore. Stupid stone.

Holy crap. She loved Spike!

It was new and raw and delicate, but the feelings were developing and had been all the time she’d been in his head. That spell of Tara’s had worked like good compost, letting them grow unchecked in spite of herself…

Tara’s spell.

She turned on Tara. “What did you do?”

Tara did her best rabbit-in-headlights impression. “D…d… do?”

“When you did that location spell, you did something else, didn’t you?”

“I did. I did a spell,” Tara admitted. “Nothing big, just a charm.”

“You cast a spell on us?” Buffy couldn’t help it. She felt betrayed. All of the feelings she’d admitted to and they were all just a spell. She looked at Spike. He’d turned away, avoiding her.

“I… I didn’t. I cast it for Spike. I just wanted to help him out.” Tara stuttered. “You must have been affected instead.”

Willow looked crushed. Buffy thought she would crumple into tears at any moment. Her lip was quivering uncontrollably. “You did that after everything you said to me?”

“It wasn’t like that,” Tara begged her. “I didn’t impose my will. I was just trying to get him to see that he could be happy.”

“And how was it supposed to do that?” Spike asked bitterly, staring pointedly at Buffy over his shoulder. She bit her lip. Was it too late to late to pretend that none of this happened?

She met his eyes. The old cliché was true: they could have been alone. Tara and Willow became irreverent and she didn’t even hear what Tara said to Spike in reply. His gaze locked her to him and she was lost. She realised right then that however sensible the decision was to end this, she wasn’t going to find it easy to fight what her heart wanted. To soothe his hurt, she tried to tell him everything she felt, sending everything over to him without words to make him understand why this was so difficult; the topsy-turvy doubts and certainties, the morbid fears, the out and out knowledge that they shouldn’t be feeling this way, but cushioning it all with the truth there was something inside her that contradicted all that.

“We’ll talk,” she found herself telling him. It wasn’t enough, but she needed to stall for time. They needed that talk, it was only fair.

He nodded, prepared to wait – for now. He didn’t look convinced, but this wasn’t the time to bare her soul.

Avoiding Willow, Tara gathered up her bag. “I think I’d better go. You’ll be okay now.”

“Tara? Tara, honey?” Willow asked with soft, pleading eyes.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t think I can…”Tara looked at her feet, her hair tumbling over her face. “I think we have to be over.”

“Tara,” Willow burst into tears, but no one moved to comfort her. “I… I don’t know what came over me.”

Tara scuttled to the door, avoiding Willow’s hand hopelessly reaching out to her. “You scare me, Willow. I love you, but I can’t do this now.”

With that she was gone.

Spike leaned back against the sarcophagus and lit a cigarette.

Buffy caught his appraising look. “Gimme that.” She took the cigarette from Spike’s fingers and took a long drag of her own.

“Buffy?” Willow forgot about her heartbreak for moment, her mouth falling open in surprise.

Spike looked quite shocked too.

“What?” she challenged them. “I just fancied some.”

“That’s how it works, isn’t it?” Spike said acidly.

“I think I should go,” Willow said. She’d paled and the tears were staring to flow.

Buffy stopped her. “Willow? Will you be okay? You want me to come with?”

“I’ll be fine, Buffy. I need to be alone right now.” Willow’s smile was feeble. “I think you two have a… a lot to talk about.”

“I’ll be back later.” Buffy nodded. She stole a glance at Spike; he was still annoyed by the look of it. Willow was right, they needed to sort this out right away. “Will, don’t tell Xander, okay?” she said quickly. “Not yet. I need some time before I take on that one. Or maybe never. Do you think I can get away with never?”

“Maybe we could find a easy to break to him gently?” Willow sniffed, glancing at the door.

Spike snorted. “Try a bazooka.”

Buffy glared at him. “On the other hand, maybe there’ll be nothing to tell.”





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