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I almost didn't post this tonight. I'm having a week from hell and I'm just not in the best of moods and I'm also in a fair amount of pain.. so if everything isn't the way its supposed to be I apologize in advance. Thank the little spider again, because I wasn't going to post.

[A/N: Damn, okay, so I thought I was going to start on the “action” part of this, and it was pointed out that I haven’t really been slouching on that, and that I also shouldn’t worry about how the story is unfolding to just tell it and let it be. So I’m going to do just that. Tell the story and let it flow. I hope everyone is still enjoying this. Title is a Chinese proverb (ok so I couldn’t resist the alliteration). Quotes are as attributed and the disclaimers are still in full force and effect.]

Previously: Wesley brought some information that Giles (and Dawn) is itching to get at, and Spike found some surveillance equipment in the house. This is the following day.

38. Preparedness prevents peril.

Let us presently go sit in council,
how covert matters may be best disclosed
and open perils surest answered
Julius Caesar, act 4, sc 1

“Danger! What danger do you foresee?”
Holmes shook his head gravely, “It would cease to be a
danger if we could define it.” said he.
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, (Watson and Holmes) “The Adventure of the Copper Beeches”


Having spent part of the early morning while the girls were all asleep stripping wires and neutralizing the recording equipment on the first floor, Spike was reasonably certain that the house was once again secure. After discussing it briefly with Buffy, they had decided together that leaving the one camera, the one aimed at the front door, was the lesser of all evils. After double checking one last time, making sure he’d gotten all the cameras and bugs, Spike headed up the stairs to finally get into bed with Buffy.

He stopped short, with his pants almost half off, when he realized Buffy wasn’t alone. At some point, while he had been downstairs working, Dawn had crawled into bed with her. Half-hopping about, his foot stuck in the leg of his jeans, Spike swore, nearly falling on the two sleeping girls. The noise woke Buffy up and she sleepily giggled at his predicament.

“Go ahead and laugh missy.”

Sitting up, she giggled more, finally catching sight of his dilemma. He was half laying on the bed, one foot caught in the jeans, completely exposed to the gaze of anyone in the room. Tossing one end of the light blanket over him Buffy got out of bed. Grabbing a pair of sweats from the pile that Tara had given her earlier she watched while he struggled out of the jeans.

“Here” was all she said then leaned over to kiss his bare chest. Spike froze, his body instantly craving hers. He growled low and with a hint of a whine to it, reaching for her hand, as she pulled away from him.

“We can’t” was all she whispered at him, pointing at the still sleeping teenager.

Drawing on the sweats and standing in the same motion, Spike pulled her toward the door. “Can’t in here.” When she resisted, he picked her up, hooking his hands underneath her hips. “C’mon kitten, where’s it written we can only do this in a bed?”

Wrapping her arms around his neck and locking her ankles behind his back, Buffy leaned in to run little kisses around his chin. Spike worked his hands up to hold her around her lower back, his fingers splayed wide against her skin. Every step he took brought his erection closer to her center, rubbing against the soft material of her shorts. He stopped, needing to kiss her, at the same time grinding his erection hard against her. She wiggled closer, unconsciously sliding her hips up and down, whimpering when he started to walk again.

The first step down jarred her clit against him hard, and Buffy arched up against him, desperate to hold on. His hands had slipped down inside her shorts, cupping the globes of her ass tightly. They were both gasping for air, little noises emerging from their throats, echoing softly in the close hallway. The trip down the stairs nearly ended in a heap when halfway down, the first of Buffy’s orgasms rippled through her and Spike nearly faltered when she clenched her legs tight around his hips. His name hissing from between her lips, her fingers digging hard into the muscles in his shoulders, Buffy writhed against him, as they teetered on the stairs. Regaining his balance, Spike stepped down hard purposely, watching the look on her face.

The rest of the trip to the first floor was a blur – surrounded by her heat, her feel, her scent, Spike was drowning. Drunk on all of her. His step lurched sideways down each riser reeling from the sensations. She affected him like no one else he’d ever met, human or otherwise, not even Drusilla had captivated him this way. He wanted to bury his erection inside her, slide into her and never let go. To crawl inside her skin, stay there warm inside her forever.

Reaching the bottom step, Spike nearly dropped her again as his feet hit the floor too soon, expecting another step down. Buffy clutched him tighter, almost crawling up his body, a second orgasm rippling as his cock rammed hard against her clit.

“Ssspppiiikkkee.”

And that was it, he could go no further without being inside her. Forcing his hands down, Spike ripped apart the soft material shielding her. Letting the now useless rags drop to the floor, he lifted her higher, wriggling his hips to try and get at least partially out of his sweats.

The tip of his cock peeked over the seam, seeking her wet heat, his mouth on hers, devouring her. One handed he half pushed the sweats down, just enough to free himself and let her slide onto his straining cock.

“Gggaaaaahhhh.” He groaned into her mouth, tightening his hold on her ass. “Wet . . . drenched. . . god.”

Somehow he made it into the kitchen, Buffy hanging on, impaled on his cock. He didn’t need to thrust, just walking while embedded in her depths, rubbing against her clit, was enough. Slamming against the basement door, Spike cursed a blue streak then thrust in and out, keeping them both teetering on the knife’s edge.

The rest of the way down the stairs to his room was vague, hazed by the sensations. He held off coming by reciting Latin declensions in his head, something he hadn’t needed to do in nearly a hundred years, while Buffy whimpered and moaned in his arms, gritting her teeth every time he bumped against her clit.

Finally reaching the bedside, Spike raised his knee and Buffy shrieked at the contact, which released the tenuous grip he had on his control. Not loosening his hold on her, Spike began thrusting, driving into her hard. Buffy had nothing to hold on to except him. It was over in instants.

Dropping down onto the bed, their bodies still entwined, they jolted through another series of orgasms, both of them shaking from the force. Rolling over onto his back, Spike didn’t let go of Buffy, pulling her over to rest on his chest. Her chest was heaving, her body shook by small tremors racing through her muscles. His breathing started to match hers and he could feel the beats of her heart slow down and then settle. Buffy was covered in a light sheen of sweat and Spike inhaled deeply, thinking he’d never get used to this. The after . . . when she was putty in his arms, content to just lay there against him, every curve of her body melting into the angles of his. His right hand came up to run lightly down her back and it was only then that he realized she was still wearing the tank top. A soft chuckle rang through the air, and she mumbled something incoherently against his skin.

“Sleep kitten” he rumbled at her, brushing a kiss against the top of her head. She was already more than halfway there, but her arm came round to hold onto him, as she nuzzled a soft kiss into his chest.

Spike closed his eyes, content to just lay there, holding her.


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

Tara was the first one up. She was still tired, restless from another night spent tossing and turning, trying to sleep next to an oblivious Willow. She didn’t understand the redhead anymore, didn’t understand what was happening between them. Didn’t know if she could fix things or even if she wanted to. She’d been thinking hard, for the last couple of days, in and around life that just kept happening around her thoughts. Willow’s display yesterday preparing their breakfast was probably the single most disturbing thing she’d ever seen. And that was saying a lot, especially since this was the hellmouth.

Demons, vampires, werewolves, witches, they were all in some way easier to deal with than inanimate objects floating around in the air becoming breakfast before her very eyes. She’d told the three other adults, trying not to “tell tales”, but out of genuine concern for her girlfriend. What bothered her most, was Willow’s inability to understand she’d done anything wrong. Okay, so maybe she could concede that fixing breakfast wasn’t really harmful, but all in all, it wasn’t any easier or faster. It still took time and energy, just maybe a different method, but the ends were still the same. Breakfast got put on the table.

No, what really, truly deeply disturbed her was what Willow had done to her and Dawn, and her complete disregard for their feelings, their thoughts and really, their persons. Leaving what she’d done for Buffy out of the equation, Willow had stripped both Dawn and herself of a basic human right. They were thinking, feeling beings, and they had free will. Willow had stolen that from both of them.

Willow had broken one of the basic covenants of Wiccan practice. The fact that she’d done so to rescue Buffy was almost . . . . in Tara’s mind that was the problem. She knew Dawn would have risked anything to get her sister back. Same with Giles and Spike. And, if she were completely honest with herself – balancing the scales, she’d probably be willing to do almost anything also. But Willow never should have just assumed that. She should have asked.

Once again, Willow had done something without really thinking it through, unconcerned about the consequences. And like Spike had said, and she agreed, there were always consequences. Always some sort of payment.

Heading down toward the kitchen to start breakfast, Tara found Buffy’s shorts shredded in the hallway just at the bottom of the stairs. Staring down at the remnants of her summer pajamas, Tara looked up toward the top of the stairs, then gingerly peeked into the living room. Breathing a sigh of relief that ended in a knowing little giggle, Tara shook her head, continuing on her way into the kitchen.

One thing about living here, life was never dull. There was always something new and strange to look forward too.


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

Footsteps overhead and a stirring woman in his arms finally woke him. Buffy stretched beside him slowly coming awake. Spike was tempted to just fall back into sleep, when an unfamiliar, heavier tread shook the floor above him. Listening hard to the noises above them, Spike hoped it was the watchers west invading his territory, because if it was the whelp, he was feeling in the mood to shove his nose in that judgmental shit he’d been tossing around earlier.

Not that he’d expected much better from the boy, but Buffy didn’t deserve the kind of shit he’d been sending her way. Spike didn’t understand the lack of tolerance nor the complete inconsideration for the girl’s feelings. Christ, she’d only been back, from what they thought was a hell dimension, just over a week. . . . and the whelp expected her to just jump right back into being herself. . . . did any of these people actually know this girl? Did any of them pay attention to anyone but their own selves?

Spike rolled over, resting his head on his elbow, watching Buffy going through her waking up ritual. He didn’t know about before, but now, she would get this little scrunch to her face, stretching out like a little kitten then cuddling back into a little ball. Lately, she’d taken to nuzzling up against him, holding on while her situation crashed back. He knew it bothered her, being here, facing life, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Spike was going to do everything in his power to keep her here, with him, to keep her safe for as long as possible. And if that meant working with Rupert Giles or Xander Harris or even, Angel, Spike would do it. Hell, he’d even consider working with Riley Finn if it would keep her safe. Realizing the train of his thoughts, Spike bit back a growl. Probably draw the line at the last two.

Watching her swim toward wakefulness, he came to a hard truth. He loved her. Oh, he’d said it often enough, but now, in the quiet, watching her come awake in his bed, he realized just how deep that feeling ran within him. There probably wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her. He’d already gone against his natural inclination – patrolling for her memory – taking care of her sister. And yeah, if it came down to it, he probably would swallow his pride and work with Angel or Finn.

Reaching out a hand, he cupped the side of her face, running his thumb across her cheek. His voice was low and gentle, but he wasn’t saying the words for her to hear them, he was saying them because he needed to say it. He needed to say out loud . . . “would do anything to keep you safe, Buffy, anything.”


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


Tara had just finished her own breakfast when Giles and Wesley walked in the front door. Jumping up, she made somewhat nervous motions about fixing them something to eat, but Giles shooed her away, saying “I’m perfectly capable of finding my way around this kitchen. Sit and relax.”

Running water into the kettle and bypassing the overly sugary cereal choices, Giles vainly looked around for something not so juvenile. Settling on the discarded donuts from the day before, he inquired “Buffy and Spike up yet?”

“Uh. . . um . . . no. I don’t think so.” Her eyes glanced toward the basement door. “I’ll get Spike.”

Opening the door just enough to slip through with a shy smile at both men, Tara only went halfway down the steps before she stopped and wrung her hands. “Spike? Buffy? Are you awake?”

“Yeah we are. We’ll be right up.” Instead of Spike answering, Buffy’s voice sounded sleepily as the sheets and blankets rustled.

A quiet giggle sounded in the air, making Tara smile. “Okay.”


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


They were dressed and up the stairs quickly. Spike was just buckling his belt when Buffy opened the door, brightly saying “morning Giles, Wes.”

He shook his head. Girl was always going to surprise him. Spike just tilted his head at the other two Englishmen, heading straight for the refrigerator. Buffy perched on one of the stools, a banana in one hand and a piece of Tara’s toast in the other. Waving the banana about, she said “what’s up guys?”

“We wanted to talk more about what we discussed last night.” Giles figured there was no time like the present.

“Right then, so talk.” Spike took one of the blood bags from the refrigerator and tossed it into the microwave.

Wesley stared at it, aware it was human blood and turned questioning eyes to the others.
Tara was the first to respond to the unasked query. “Spike got badly hurt the other night fighting the Cwn Annwn. Nearly lost his right hand.”

Spike opened a cabinet, finding none of his mugs then went toward the dishwasher. Without much thought, while he waited for the blood to heat, Spike started unloading the clean dishes. Wesley gaped at him a moment, not really certain he was watching William the Bloody perform domestic chores.

Catching sight of the look on Wesley’s face, Buffy giggled then brought them back to why they were invading her house at ten in the morning. “So what’s the what?”

“Yesterday when your sister encountered the Huntsman he said something to her, which she repeated” Giles realized they hadn’t really discussed this by the look on Buffy’s face, but continued, “as best she could. Wesley believes he’s translated a part of his message.”

“Rupert you didn’t tell us she had tea with the bugger.” Spike sipped his blood, gauging the level of Buffy’s aggravation.

“In all the concern about Wesley’s arrival and news, I thought we could wait until the morning.” Giles glanced from one to the other, understanding he was going to have to make up for the deliberate omission on his part.

Conceding the point for a moment, Spike let it go. Buffy wasn’t so forgiving, but waited silently. She wasn’t so sure she wanted to get into it with Giles in front of Wesley.

“So what’s the translation?”

“Word for word – it was ‘warnings from my lord. Red Willow is dangerous.’”





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