Spike zoomed through the desert as fast as he could, trying to beat the sun. He hated leaving Buffy and Dawn in Sunnydale but it was now or never. The moment he'd heard the rumblings about a Demon Lord in town, Spike had hopped on his motorcycle and shot off for the oasis. They might not give him what he wanted, but he had to try. He hoped Buffy found his note - two nights travel each way if he was quick enough, and time bargaining. He didn't want her to think he'd abandoned her. And he did want her to have her blanket back, even if the smell of warm Buffy all over it made him ache.

With less than half an hour before sunup, Spike was turning off the engine. He was taking a huge risk - nowhere to hide in this desert once the sun came up. He'd better find the damn place, and get in. Stepping away from the motorcycle ticking as it cooled, Spike centered himself. Solemn and still, he waited and listened for the hum of power. Catching the end of it, he turned and concentrated on an empty swath of sand. Slowly, a shimmering began to expand in front of him. When it was big enough, Spike steeled himself and stepped through. The energy crackled around him for a moment, and then he was out of the brightening desert and under a great blue enamel dome.

He'd forgotten how beautiful it was, in here. Vines curled up and down the pillars, with great deep flowers sleepily bobbing and yawning their fragrance at him. The lights reflected off the blue - a shade he'd only ever seen here - in the closest experience to direct sunlight Spike had enjoyed in a while. There was a pool of water beyond one set of columns, lustrous and still, with more plants draped around its edge. The vampire took a moment to absorb what was around him, inhale the peace, and then turned to the women he knew were waiting for him.

"Vampire," said one.

"You return," said her sister.

"And this time," said a third, cocking her head.

"You are not so dark inside," finished the first.

Spike knelt. "I am here on behalf of a Slayer, my ladies."

All three women laughed, and Spike felt them rummaging in his head, his heart, flicking aside some memories like paper trimmings and picking others up to examine like bugs.

"A half-demon," the middle woman began.

"In love," said the third.

"With a Slayer!" crowed the first.

"True,"

"Real,"

"Love." The first whispered it, then.

"What would you have of us?" the three asked, their features shuddering and changing on their faces, hair growing and shrinking, curling and straightening, dark and then light.

"A Demon Lord has come to Sunnydale," Spike murmured, shaky from their exploration inside him. "She is weak - you saw why. She cannot fight it alone."

"No."

"No."

"No," they breathed.

"I ask for protection. I will carry it to the warrior girl. You know I speak the truth," Spike said, full of fear that they would say no, cast him back into the blazing sun of the desert and leave Buffy alone to fight a being even he might run from.

"Protection,"

"For the Slayer."

"The Slayer who was not allowed to stop fighting."

"Yes," Spike whispered, his eyes tingling.

"What will you give us?" asked the first sister.

"What do I have?" asked Spike.

He felt them begin to pry into his inner self again, but suddenly pull back.

"YOU," breathed the first, eyes widening even as her irises shifted from green to brown.

"are important," said the second.

"The Slayer's consort, if you make the right choices," said the third, ceasing to shift for a moment, her voice sharp and clear. "The Slayer's damnation, if you make the wrong."

Shocked, Spike blurted out "What choices?"

All three smiled, and it was not a nice smile. "Our price must be nothing, but we will tell you no more," the last sister told him. "Choose wisely." The women advanced on him then, inexorable and terrifying.

"This,"

"Will hurt," they told him.

"Carry it well," he heard, and then an incredible pain shot through his arms, his legs, into his chest and out his throat - and suddenly he lay in the dark, next to his motorcycle.

"Bugger," Spike croaked as he sat up. A buzzing sat in all his limbs, as though splinters of light were lodged anywhere they could find purchase inside him. It was not pleasant, and Spike lurched to his feet, using the motorcycle for support. As gingerly as an old man, he straddled the bike and gunned the engine. Roaring off crouched over the handlebars, Spike was not looking forward to having to stop and wait for daylight to come and go. He didn't want to be trapped, thinking about what could be the wrong choices. And more than just to get rid of this awful sensation, he wanted to be back with Buffy.

 

***************

 

Groggily, Buffy poured cereal (from a fresh, un-Xandered box) into a bowl, glad Dawn had finally gotten out the door. It took all Buffy's energy to get the teenager off to school. She hadn't had a nightmare-free night since Spike was over, and it was getting to her. Luckily no more gross frozen blood bodies had shown up, and she'd only had to dust three vamps in four nights of patrolling. Even school was... less horrible, although she still didn't get her Romantic Poetry seminar. Poems should be easy, right? But to her, right now, they were just a bunch of too big words strung together in random lines..

Buffy had barely sat down with a spoon when the kitchen door burst open and Spike rushed in under his blanket-thing. As he dropped it, Buffy stood up and unconsciously moved towards him.

"Spike," she heard herself saying. "You look terrible."

He laugh-coughed, and tried to grin. If Buffy was tired, Spike looked exhausted. He was dusty and his face wind and sand abraded, and his skin was tight from not feeding. Buffy felt herself reach out her hands to him, aware that Willow had manifested in the doorway behind her but not entirely caring. "Spike," she asked, "where did you go?"

"Went to see about a bauble for a girl," he said, and put his shaking fingers in Buffy's. She reflexively closed her hands about his, and in an instant they felt fused together. A rushing went through the Slayer, as though she was being shocked by electricity, but somehow pleasant. Spike, however, let out a howl of torture so awful Buffy could feel it in her teeth. Locked together, this continued for timeless seconds, minutes, hours - Buffy didn't know. Until abruptly, Spike collapsed and Buffy's hands were her own again. She could hear Willow yelling in the background, and looked down with a ringing detachment in her ears. Pale violet writing was raised all over the skin of her forearms, her hands, what she could see of her feet. Lifting her arm up, she touched her face and felt the curls of lettering there too - and then it was gone. Buffy's skin was back to its bare, golden norm, and Spike was crumpled at her feet.

"What the hell was that?" Willow was shouting as Buffy went down on her knees to Spike. "What did he do to you? What kind of spell was that, he's a vampire!"

Buffy shook her head. Spike was out cold, and still looked like roadkill. "I don't know," she said quietly to Willow. "But..." she assessed herself for a moment. "I think I feel... great." Buffy smiled and resisted the urge to stroke Spike's stiff blond head. "I think it was something good."

That shut Willow up. She stood there, staring, until Tara joined them. The other witch stopped right as she saw the two on the floor. "Oh, Buffy," she sighed. "Your aura. It's - so much clearer. Stronger outline." Then quieter "What happened to Spike?"

"I don't know," replied Buffy, "but whatever it was, he's a disaster. He needs to stay here, for today, and he needs some blood." She hefted Spike into her arms and his duster flowed around him and down to the floor. Buffy saw Tara smother a smile, but didn't mind. They probably looked like some ridiculous parody of a romance novel cover. Buffy carried the vampire to the couch, calling over her shoulder "would one of you mind going to the butcher's for him?"

"No - I mean, ok, we can go," stammered Willow, and taking Tara by the arm, made a beeline for the doorway. Not for the first time, Buffy saw Tara shoot a disgruntled look towards her oblivious partner. She filed that away under "talk to Willow about at some point" and turned back to Spike as the door closed.

He always looked so much... easier to care for when he was unconscious. Nothing offensive was coming out of his mouth, and Buffy could just appreciate how beautiful the lines of his face were. As she appreciated, she remembered the kiss outside of the Bronze in detail, and began to blush. Urgh, she was totally obsessing over him physically, which would've been fine except he loved her and she didn't feel the same way blah blah blah... To encourage Spike in the slightest would be unfair to him. Buffy huffed a little. She did prefer being around him to anyone else right now - why did it have to be so complicated? To avoid that line of thought, Buffy got up to get her homework. (Although, she still thought there should be some magic homework-doing thing, just for Slayers.) That way she could do something productive, and stick by Spike. She owed him, after all, because whatever had transferred between them felt great. It was like arm floaties when she was 5, buoying her up so that a little dog paddling was enough to keep her afloat. Just this was a magic set of arm floaties.

 

***************

 

Tara stayed quiet the whole way to the butcher's. A confrontation with Willow was looming, and she was frustrated with herself for continuing to avoid it. Besides, right now it was more important that she tell Willow how even though Spike's energy gift had strengthened Buffy's aura, it was still frighteningly dark. Waiting for the right moment, she'd let Willow rant about Buffy's "thing" for vampires and how Spike might have just harmed her, but Buffy stupidly trusted him. When Willow told her that she couldn't possibly understand because she hadn't been around for evil Angel, Tara held her tongue. She even held her tongue as Willow retold a version of being kidnapped by Spike that even Tara knew was highly edited - Xander was completely left out, for instance. When they got to the butcher's and Willow was faced with doing something for the person she'd been verbally whaling on the whole walk, Tara gracefully stepped in. She ordered a few bags of pig's blood and paid, which was lucky, since Willow hadn't stopped to get her wallet. It was only on the way home, when Willow started on a different tack that Tara finally lost her temper.

"I mean, how can Buffy not be worried about whatever Spike gave her?" Willow raged. "She was covered in writing I didn't recognize, and then it went away. What kind of spell does that? I've never heard, or read about it, and it could be bad! Buffy just doesn't understand how dangerous magic can be! She's so-"

"No!" Tara finally said angrily, all thoughts of Buffy's aura flying out of her head. She stopped on the sidewalk, turning to face her girlfriend. "You're one to talk! You don't seem to care how dangerous magic can be! You've been abusing it, and toying with it, and building up your ego for weeks now. I asked you not to do magic for a week, and you haven't been able to!"

"What?" Willow asked. "I haven't done any magic since we rescued Dawn from the Bronze!"

"Don't LIE to me, Willow," Tara said, now low and fierce. "You haven't done anything big, but I know you've been doing little tiny spells for convenience." Tara shook her head. "On you, the whiff of a spell is always there."

"Tara-"

"I ignored it because I thought those little magics were like... I don't know. Nicotine patches for a smoker! That it was unfair of me to expect you to quit cold turkey. But now..." Tara started walking again. "You're angry because Spike did something magical that you're unfamiliar with. That he might have helped Buffy more than you could. Which is ridiculous, because you haven't tried to help Buffy."

"Yes, I have!" Willow almost yelled it. "I brought her back from the dead, didn't I? I went through so much to bring her back!"

"From heaven," Tara cut in. "You brought her back from heaven. And when she didn't come back all shiny and full of puns, you left her to deal with it on her own. So tell me, Willow, when you ignore what I want and lie to me, why should I stay to deal with you?"

Willow had begun to cry, but Tara kept moving forward. She sped up a little, a weeping Willow in her wake. When they got to the front door, Willow shot upstairs trying to muffle her sobs. Tara stifled the urge to go after her, to pet her red hair and tell her she was there. To tell her that she could have another week to wean herself off magic. To offer to help research Spike's spell. It was too late for that, and Tara knew that the voice in the back of her head was right. It was time to leave, and with that acceptance Tara felt unexpectedly clear. First things first, though, so she turned to Buffy. She was sitting at the desk, staring at a book but obviously not reading. Spike still lay on the couch, deader than usual.

"Buffy," Tara said softly. "I got some blood. Do you want to come into the kitchen and microwave a mug?"

"Oh, thanks Tara," said Buffy. She trailed the other woman into the kitchen, where Tara passed her a bag of blood and put the rest in the fridge. As Buffy got a mug down for Spike, Tara coughed a little.

"Buffy, I'm going to be moving out," she said. "I don't really want to talk about it, and I'm sorry. But I can't be around W-W-Willow anymore."

Buffy turned, confused. "Tara - why? What happened between you two?"

"Willow has been using magic to make things her own way," replied Tara. "Using magic on me. You should talk to Giles about it. I just wanted to tell you, because -" she stopped. "Because if you need me... need to talk to someone who isn't as close to you... you can call me. Dawn can call me. I'll call her. Both of you." Tara cut herself off and took a deep breath.

"Um... thank you," said Buffy. "I - I always thought - we don't have to stop - being friends. And I know you're really important to Dawn."

Tara gave her a wan but genuine smile, and went upstairs. Buffy stared after her for a moment, and then turned back to the mug and the bag of blood. Mechanically she opened it, fill the mug, placed it in the microwave. Set the timer. Voices began to come from upstairs, raised but indistinct. Buffy could hear crying, and slamming. She knew she should be reacting to this news more, but she didn't feel like Willow's best friend or Dawn's big sister. She just wanted all this heavy stuff to stop. Emotions were too difficult, and she had a big bad on the horizon and a vampire to feed. Right as the timer dinged its doneness, Buffy heard feet pounding down the stairs. She heard the front door slam, then get wrenched open again only to close with another crack of sound.

Wearily, she walked into the front room to find Spike sitting up. He looked tired, but a little amused.

"Trouble in paradise, eh?" he said, catching sight of her. "A little lovers' spat? Haven't seen much of that from those two, now."

"Tara is moving out," Buffy said shortly. At first disposed to be glad it was now just her and the vampire, his readiness to pry irritated her. Breakups weren't funny, or did he need to be reminded of Drusilla?

Spike looked like he was going to say something else, but then saw or smelled the blood. His face roiled and he started to vamp out. His body tensed and Buffy could tell her was struggling to keep his forehead non-bumpy. This lack of control was unusual for Spike; he really must have not eaten for days. Even though Buffy felt a hint of her old revulsion, she stepped closer to him and held out the mug.

"It's ok, Spike," she said. "Your face... I don't mind." She did mind, a little, but was trying to keep in mind that Spike's current state was on behalf of her. Even though she didn't know exactly what he'd done or where he'd been, she was pretty sure it wasn't a kitten poker bender.

Spike grabbed the mug from her and started drinking noisily, face still half-vamped. Buffy wrinkled her nose and turned around. Blood was just so gross! After a minute, the sounds stopped, and she turned back to Spike. Hurt was all over his face for a second, before he wiped it away and replaced it with a sneer.

"Please Slayer, I want some more," he said in a Cockney accent. Buffy rolled her eyes, although inside she felt a little bad for making him self-conscious. She took the mug and heated up the rest of the bag in the kitchen. Spike accepted his second serving without comment, and drank it without vamping or slurping.

"You can just set it down on the table," Buffy told him, when he was done drinking. "We should get you up to the shower, you're filthy."

"Buffy, love," Spike waggled his eyebrows, "I thought you'd never ask."

"Gross, Spike," Buffy knew she'd walked right into that one, but his coating of grime was just too much. "Let's go." She held out her arm and the vampire hauled himself painfully to his feet. Buffy knew enough to not hurt his dignity by carrying him like she had out to the couch, and just put her arm around his back. He settled onto her shoulders and they headed up the stairs.

"You know, I wasn't so gross the other night," Spike said into Buffy's ear. "Outside of the Bronze, after we'd done all our little tra-la-las." Buffy considered dropping him down the stairs, but decided it was too much effort.

"That was a one time thing, Spike. You helped me stop dancing and I was still all singy-Buffy and... that was it," she told him. Even as she was firm with the guy, Buffy was imagining how good that kiss felt. And how hard he'd felt against her - she tried to cut those thoughts off at the pass. She started to blush a little anyways, and when they got to the bathroom door Spike nuzzled her ear.

"I can tell you're thinking about it," he murmured, sexy despite the fatigued undercurrent to his voice. "A bit of a blush in your cheeks... maybe somewhere else." Without taking a beat, Spike delicately licked the curve of Buffy's ear. Heat waves broke straight down her body, and God help her but Buffy wanted to get into the shower with him. She thought about the feel of his ridged penis through his pants and imagined him nude, soapy and slick. His hands all over her.

Buffy's blush intensified and she quickly propped Spike up against the bathroom doorframe. Keeping her face away from him, she turned on the shower water. "Uh, I'll get you a towel," she said, and slipped past him into the hallway. She took some time choosing a towel from the linens closet, and when Buffy turned back to Spike her blush was mostly under control. "Here," she said, and thrust the towel out at him. He took it, grinning.

"You sure you don't want to join me, pet?" he said. As he stepped towards her, his legs buckled a little and he caught himself on the doorframe.

"Even if that WASN'T the last thing on my mind, I don't think you could handle me right now," Buffy said, crossing her arms.

"Fair enough," Spike responded. He got himself into the bathroom and began to close the door, then looked at her again. "Although, if I was feeling myself, I would do plenty more than just handle you." He winked one gorgeous blue eye and shut the door, effectively getting the last word.

Buffy stood in the hallway, definitely annoyed but even more aroused. A stray thought came to her mind: was this how Anya felt when she was around Xander? Then it would make sense that she always wanted to have sex, although how anyone could feel wet for Xander was beyond - Buffy decided to end that line of internal dialogue. Some things did not need analysis. Although when getting in a shower with Spike had become more palatable than imagining sexy Xander, Buffy didn't know.






You must login (register) to review.