Spike took another long swig of whatever he was drinking. Another precious bottle of Joyce’s wine collection. The woman had to have some hard liquor somewhere. She liked alcohol too much and her taste was refined enough to merit some of the good stuff.

Asmodeus was commonly known as “The Destroyer” and had also made a name for himself as the Demon of Lust. In the scriptures, he was written to have been in love with a woman named Sarah, who was the daughter of Raguel. Sarah had been given seven husbands, and each had fallen victim to the demon’s jealousy before they could approach the marriage bed.

Tobias, son of Tobit, wanted to marry Sarah, and devised a way, with the help of the archangel Raphael, to drive off Asmodeus so that the marriage could be consummated. Raphael was said to be Asmodeus’s fiercest rival.

But then, Rupert wouldn’t go over that part of the history with the children. Emotions like love made demons sound soft. Anything that made them any less of what they were through human eyes.

He was dizzy with his need for his mate, and damn, they’d only been apart for an hour. The strain on the claim was wearing him down. He’d felt her range of emotions with enough fury that he concluded leaving was unneeded. Christ, he could practically see that wanker of a Watcher polishing his glasses while he lectured on the evils of taking on vampire mates, whether or not they were predestined.

Whether or not he was crazy in love with the girl and would never do anything to hurt her.

She’d been going on pure rage for the past forty-five minutes. Hell, his throat was sore from the impact of her screaming. He could understand; truly he could. Willow had been cold for less than twenty four hours, and she was acting like what had happened was years in the past.

It looked that way to people who didn’t understand. To people who were in the place he’d been in just a day ago. How could they be expected to explain the level of existence they’d reached together? The place where the argument about life and death wasn’t dominating, and the worries of the world, while prevalent, were accepted with understanding rather than fear.

He’d given Buffy peace, and they were being ostracized for it. Because peace with death was something that no human was familiar with. The capability of saying goodbye to loved ones was terrifying. None of her friends could be expected to understand, but he was hoping they’d make an effort to accept what had happened in the hours following Willow’s death. The sacrifices he’d made for Buffy—for himself. He’d killed his sire…wasn’t that supposed to mean something?

They needed their connection.

Well, bollocks. It didn’t matter. As long as she came home to him at the end of the day, let the world think what it would. He knew the truth. Humans couldn’t be expected to understand. These concepts were beyond humanity.

He just wanted Buffy home with him now. He wanted to hold her as she vented her outrage, kiss her tears away, and whisper that at the end of the day, everything would be all right.

He wanted to give her the impossible. He wanted to give her everything.

They needed to patrol tonight. A sigh ran through his body. They needed to patrol, because wishful thinking did little to render the remaining two active members of the Order piles of dust. Those who wanted the name. Those who relished it.

He wondered, truly, how upset Angelus was at Drusilla’s death. From experience, Spike knew his grandsire to be very protective of those in his family—well, those that he approved of. He hadn’t shed any tears over the Master, and should Spike meet a dusty end in the next few days, the big sod certainly wouldn’t lose any sleep over it. No, he was protective of his mate. He was protective of those he sired; Drusilla and that wankerish Penn that had disappeared decades earlier.

Spike never knew what Penn had done to earn Angelus’s respect. His grandsire didn’t fancy other men sniffing around his women, though he had given Dru to Penn a time or two just to piss Spike off. Just to show him who was boss. No, he had no idea what it took to get into the old bastard’s good graces. It didn’t matter now, though. Nothing mattered.

Buffy would be home soon. She would walk through the door and find solace in his arms, because she was all that mattered anymore. She was everything.

And the Order? Good as dust.

Spike took another long swig of wine. He wanted her home now. Wanted to wrap himself in her arms and wish the world away.

A deep shudder ran through his body.

She was near. And he could feel her with every fiber of his being. Spike placed his bottle aside and rose to his feet. He could feel her tension. That seed of doubt, amidst anger and hostility, that what she was and what she’d become was wrong. That she was something less than what she should be simply because humans didn’t understand such enlightenment.

It was impossible to come between mates, and yet he feared it. God, he feared it.

What had happened wasn’t her fault. She had cried and bled a thousand years before they reached their peak. Before he realized what he needed, despite the guise of pain and suffering. When he’d taken her, it had liberated her pain. Had let her understand the hows and ends of life. Why things happened. How living wasn’t the same as forgetting.

The minute she opened the door and her eyes found his, he was a man lost.

“Buffy…”

“Don’t say anything,” she said, walking straight for him. She grabbed his head and jerked his mouth down to hers. And he melted into her, growling against her lips, his hands sliding under her hips, thrusting into her warm softness, his body quivering with desperation.

“I need you,” Buffy gasped. “Need you now.”

Her desperation was contagious. That innate blaze burning through him manifesting into a need to be one with her; to feel her around him, squeezing him into oblivion as she rode his cock and worked magic over his skin with that wondrous mouth of hers. A resounding growl rumbled in the back of his throat and reality flew out the window. The feel of her pressed against him had him unwound. There wasn’t enough time to cart her up to bed; he needed to feel her around him now.

Somewhere he knew that everything was reactionary. Sex was the most primal way to obtain that closeness, and in the infancy of a claiming ritual, it was practically a necessity. Though the day when he didn’t want this with her, crave the feel of her around him, was the day the earth knew a final end. For him, there would never be enough of this.

Her body was wrought with tension. He could feel frustration rolling off her, her mind infused with fear and self-doubt, and his outrage at her Watcher surmounted unfathomable feats.

“Spike, please,” she whimpered against his lips, tugging at his jeans. “Please.”

“I got you,” he murmured, propping her against the front door. “I got you, sweetheart.”

“I need—”

“I know. It’s all right.” He pressed a kiss to the claim mark on her throat, smiling when she shuddered against him. “It’s okay. Lemme take care of you.”

“I’m on fire.”

“Lemme make it better.” He began a descent of her body, tonguing her nipples through her shirt as his fingers unclasped her jeans, tugging them down her legs. She’d foregone panties—shit. “Oh Buffy…”

Her skin reddened. “I didn’t want…”

“You’re lucky I din’t know this before we left today,” he murmured. “Don’ know if I could’ve contained myself.”

“Ohhhh…”

He massaged her tenderly, eyes glued on her delectable pussy. The way she trembled, the way she quivered, the way she reacted to him; the warm rush of her honey running across his flesh. He caressed her quim gently, soaking up every heated sigh and needy whimper that kissed the air around them.

“All this is mine,” he murmured, barely aware that he spoke. He drew one of his Buffy-drenched fingers into his mouth and moaned at her taste. “Mmmm…”

“Spike!”

His eyes trailed heatedly up her body. “All mine,” he growled again, sinking two fingers inside her. “Say it, Buffy.”

“Yours,” she agreed, thrusting her hips against his invasive touch, gasping as he stretched her right leg over his shoulder. “You know I am.”

He kissed her stomach, then the tender patch of skin under her hip.

“Spike, please!”

“Tell me what you want.”

A muffled cry tore through her body and she fisted his hair, directing his mouth to her center. “Please!”

“You want my mouth here?”

She sobbed softly and nodded.

He loved seeing her like this. Loved seeing her so hot and desperate. Loved her knowing what she wanted—loved that he was the one that had taught her. He was the one, the only one, who knew the haven of her body. The only one that knew how rich she tasted. How she liked to be touched. How she gasped and begged.

Spike nipped at her teasingly, then drew her swollen clit into his mouth. Her answering mewl made his blood sing, his thrusting fingers driving his cock mad with envy. He treasured everything. Every sound she made, every indiscernible whimper that tumbled through her lips, every drive against his hand. His mouth suckled at her clit reverently, eyes trained on her face.

“Spiiiike!”

“Feel good, baby?”

She nodded fervently. “So good. Ohhhh…oh my God.”

“Mmmm…love the way you taste.” He sighed into her, deftly removing his fingers from her core, capturing her clit between his thumb and forefinger, stroking her tenderly. He plunged his tongue inside her without warning, and was rewarded with a hoarse scream and a violent jerk of her hips. He lapped at her eagerly, murmuring words of devotion into her rosy flesh as his mouth greedily slurped at everything she had to give him. Her honeyed juices drove him mad; the hint of her rich blood just beneath her skin playing upon his fangs. He couldn’t get enough of her. There was never enough of this.

“Spike!”

He licked her reverentially. “So tasty,” he purred. “So juicy. My ripe li’l peach.”

“Oh god…”

“So wet for me.”

“Oh GOD!” She thrust against him madly, her eyes wide with need. “Spike!”

He grinned at her, massaging her clit speedily as his tongue worshipped her pussy. She was close now. God, she was close. He could feel her body tightening; could feel the heat within escalating toward release. She was a fireball, his Slayer. She could make mountains bow with her passion.

“Spiiiike!”

“Let yourself go, pet. You’re so close. I can taste it.”

Buffy whimpered and shook her head. “Get…up here.”

“Mmm? But I like it right where I’m at…” He lapped at her, moaning his enthusiasm. “So hot. So tight…so wet. Always so wet for me.”

“I want you up here!” she gasped. “I want to come with you inside me.”

Spike growled, his insides searing with heat. Christ, the woman would be the end of him. And he was her willing servant, counting his blessings every day that this was what the world had decided to give him. He was on his feet in seconds, commanding her mouth in a fiery kiss, helping her in the frantic struggle to free his cock from his jeans. Then god, her hot little hand wrapped around his shaft, pumping him fervently as her lips worked up and down his throat. He was going to combust if she kept that up.

“Oh God,” he moaned, capturing her wrist. “Baby, you gotta…ahhh…”

Her freed leg curled around his waist, pulling him against her, her hand positioning him at her opening. “Need you,” she whimpered. “Need you, Spike. Please!”

This wasn’t going to be a long, dragged out union. The need to pound her into the door was too great. He’d worked himself into a frenzy by quenching his thirst for her taste; the feel of her around him, squeezing and sucking him into her had his mind fogged with lust. His need for her was too rampant. She was so hot. So tight. God, she was wet velvet tightening around him with every thrust.

“Ohhh!”

“Buffy,” he moaned against her mouth, pulling back just slightly and slamming into her again. She cried out, her nails digging into his arms. She was gripping him like a glove, the slide from her wet flesh sending a fury of white-hot shivers through his skin. “Oh, Christ.”

“Harder.”

He was helpless to do nothing but oblige her. His mouth dropped to her breasts, tugging at her nipples through her shirt as his body rocked against hers. “You’re so hot,” he murmured into her. “So fucking perfect. Gah…”

“Oh God, I love you,” she whispered, linking her hands behind his neck, pressing her brow to his. “You feel…”

Spike’s eyes burned hers. “How?” he demanded. “How do I feel?”

“Perfect,” she murmured. “You feel perfect. So good. Like…ohhh, like the part of me…that’s…that’s been…missing.”

He cadenced hard against her, seizing a kiss from her lips, a hand sliding between them. “You’re a goddess,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her throat, nibbling lightly on her skin.

She made a small gasping sound every time her back crashed against the door. He didn’t know what kept the house from collapsing.

“Ohhh!”

“So perfect. So fucking perfect.” His fingers found her clit, his other arm wrapped tightly around her waist, anchoring her into his thrusts. “So mine.”

“Spike!” she gasped.

“Fuck yeh, that’s it,” he growled. “My hot, tight li’l Slayer. Give it to me. All of it. Don’ even think of holdin’ back.” His thrusts grew frantic, grasping her desperately, his mouth worshipping her throat. She felt so good. With every plunge; every parry. The incoherent murmurings that tumbled from her lips, the way she scratched riverbeds into his skin as her vaginal walls squeezed him into the next life. “Love you, baby. Love you so much.”

“Oh God!” she cried, her hips driving madly against him. “Oh God!”

“Like wet velvet. You’re so hot. So bloody hot.” His fingers manipulated her clit speedily, his cock swallowed in her warmth. God, he never wanted to leave her. “An’ you’re close. You’re so…close…I can feel it.”

“Spike…”

“Come for me, sweetling.” His fangs burst through his gums, pricking at her throat. “Wanna feel you come around me. Stranglin’ me. Wanna hear you scream as I taste you.”

“Oh!”

He couldn’t help himself anymore. The scent of her taunted him, and his fangs could no longer ignore the call of her blood. His incisors sliced through her milky flesh, his demon growling in joy as her warm essence flooded his mouth. There was nothing more sacred than this. Nothing more precious than the feel of her warm, tight body, her cry of release ringing through the air as she shuddered and came violently against him.

He snarled again as he spilled himself inside her, thrusting hard into her pussy, demanding as much from her as she had to give. It seemed to last forever, this bliss he’d found with her. That moment between desperation and completion that stretched for a millennia.

She gave him such peace.

They collapsed together as the world came crashing back, their mingled pants coloring the air as they curled in a twist of limbs on the floor. He realized belatedly that his fangs were still in her throat; he released her immediately, his arms wrapping around her, hugging her to him in reverence. Her legs were around his waist, her thighs cradling him, holding him within her as his eyes cleared and he remembered where they were.

God…

How he had lived before the claim was beyond him. He’d felt love before; now he experienced it. He experienced it with every beat that passed between them.

He had no idea how long they remained like that. Buffy breathing hard against him, her face buried in his shoulder, her hands clutching him snugly. Spike exhaled deeply and lapped at the wound on her throat, shuddering as her taste filled him. The feeling that coursed through his skin, the boundless sensation of having her in his arms nearly inspired tears to his eyes. He’d wept so hard for her, it seemed; at times, it was necessary to stop and reflect and realize where he was. That Buffy was really in his arms, and what they had, despite the chaotic world around them, was real.

Buffy trembled and raised her head after a few minutes, her eyes finding his. “Hi,” she said, kissing his lips.

“Hi.”

“That was quite a ‘welcome home.’”

Spike’s gaze twinkled. “You say it as though you din’t beg for it.”

She blushed prettily, but didn’t try to deny it. Instead, she bowed her head and focused on an imaginary spot on his t-shirt. “Is this the way it’s gonna be?” she asked. “After being away from you for an hour, I need to…have you…when I see you again?”

He grinned. “You complainin’?”

“Well, I’m just worried about what happens if we meet up in a public place rather than the privacy of my motherless house.”

“This is jus’ the claim’s reaction to it bein’ young an’ inexperienced, pet,” he replied. “Sex is the most basic way to obtain intimacy, an’ it’s the default position of the claim after separation…or a need for rekindled closeness. I guess most couples aren’t separated for any amount of time within the firs’ twenty-four hours.”

“So we work on other levels of intimacy?”

“Unless you wanna explore the many facets of voyeurism.” His head dipped and he nibbled on her throat with a purr of satisfaction. “Though don’ get it into your pretty head that our sex life will ever be in question. Not a day’ll go by when I don’ want you like this.”

“Good. The feeling’s mutual.”

Spike raised his head. “Oh really?”

“Mhmm,” she agreed with a pleased hum, eyes shining with such love it stole his breath from his lips. “I’ll jump you if I have to.”

He chuckled. “That I’d like to see.”

Buffy smiled coyly. “Well, I guess I can always tell Mom that I can’t help it if I need to have a lot of sex.”

“’m sure she’ll understand,” he agreed. “She called, by the way.”

Her eyes went wide. “Oh God. You didn’t, you know, answer the phone, did you?”

“Yeh, because I’m that stupid. No, she left a message. She’ll be back day after tomorrow.”

Something fell on Buffy’s face and she released a deep breath. “She’s not going to take this well.”

“You don’ know that.”

“Spike, she was gone for a week and in that time—”

“You need to give her more credit.” Spike shook his head. “She’s a smart bird, luv. She wants the best for you…an’ yeh, comin’ out with everything’s gonna be a li’l much, but she’ll understand. Eventually, she’ll understand.”

Buffy sighed. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she said.

“Nothin’ is wrong with you.”

“Giles and—”

“Nothin’ is wrong with you. They jus’ don’ understand.” Spike sighed and lifted her off his lap so that he slipped out of her, swallowing her moan of complaint with a kiss. “Jus’ don’ fancy talkin’ ‘bout your mum an’ your mates while I’m inside you, pet.”

“And here I was just getting comfy,” she pouted, reaching between them and taking his semi-hard cock in her hand, stroking him gently.

Spike moaned and willed his eyes shut. “You’re not playin’ fair, luv.”

“I just like seeing that look on your face.” She grinned, then sighed again and ceased her attentions, kissing his shoulder when he whimpered. “I’m not sure I understand, either.”

“Huh’s that?”

“I don’t think I understand what’s happened to me yet.”

“But you know something’s happened. An’ you know what the answer is, even ‘f you don’ know the other half of the equation yet.” Spike rested his brow against hers and sighed. “We’ll get there, baby. It jus’ takes time.”

“It’s hard to convince myself that I’m not a monster when my friend’s been dead for just a day and this is what I’m doing.”

“That’s because you’re thinkin’ like a human, an’ you’re not that anymore.” He smiled and kissed her cheek. “I have the distinct advantage of havin’ been human, luv. I know the feeling. I know it very well. An’ while I can’t tell you why it’s okay, I do know that it’s okay. We’re not like them anymore. Not your mates, not my family. Not the bloody pulsers in this town or the vamps that run rampant across the earth. We’re different. We don’ have all the answers yet, but that’s okay. We’ll find out together.”

Buffy smiled a watery smile and curled her arms around him, hugging him close. And for several minutes, they just sat together on the floor, lost in each other’s embrace.

“I love you,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his throat.

“I love you, too, sweetheart.” He released a deep breath and drew back. “An’ I have somethin’ for you.”

She met his eyes mischievously, her hand wandering back to his cock. “I’ll say.”

He caught her wrist with a chuckle, shaking his head. “You randy li’l minx.”

“Well, yeah. And by the way, did you hear that? I could’ve sworn I heard the pot calling the kettle something.”

Spike smirked and helped her to her feet, tucking himself back into his jeans before helping her straighten up. “Come here, pet,” he said gently. “I keep meanin’ to give this to you an’ forgettin’.”

Buffy’s eyes sparkled with interest. “What is it?”

“It’s in the other room.”

The gift itself was sitting on the sofa in a brown grocery sack. Spike released a deep breath. He’d told her a half-truth: his failure to give this to her before now hadn’t been a matter of forgetting—the timing had never seemed right. And perhaps the timing was far off now; he didn’t know. But he wanted to do something for her. Something that spoke for his feelings and gave her some comfort in her identity—that no matter what else changed, there were some fundamental things about her that never would.

The most important things, for instance, never would.

“Sorry about the wrappin’,” he said, grabbing the sack from the couch.

“It’s an actual prezzie?”

He looked down. “Yeh. It’s…look, I know a thousand things have gone wrong since I came back into your life. I know that it…I know it’s not gonna be easy, convincin’ your mates that I’m not the anti-Christ an’ your mum that I’m not in your life with the sole intention of sullyin’ your virtue. I know that the things that have happened in the last day are gonna be with you for a long time, an’ I know that you’re worried about what it means…for you. I know it might’ve been easier if I’d never met you. I’m not completely thick…I know it.”

Buffy looked as though she was ready to cry. “Spike—”

“But I also know that you love me, an’ I know that you know that I love you. That’s why it’s not easy, sweetling. Love never is. But I promise to always make it worth it. No matter what we do or what happens…” He released a deep breath. “I’ll never regret what happened to bring me here.”

“Spike, I—”

He handed her the sack. “You’re an amazin’ woman, Buffy.”

She took the sack but didn’t look at it. Her eyes wouldn’t budge from his. “I’ll never regret it, either,” she told him. “And yeah, you’re right. It might’ve been easier if we’d never met, but I’d never wish that. Never.”

Spike smiled. “Open your prezzie, luv.”

She held his gaze a minute longer before turning her attention to his gift, her eyes going wide in amazement as she lifted a worn teddy bear from the brown-paper. “Oh my God.”

“You like it?”

“Mr. Jenkins!”

Spike grinned ear-to-ear. “You remember the doll’s name?”

“It’s not a doll, it’s a bear. You kept Mr. Jenkins?” Delight filled her eyes. “Oh, Spike…I…” She turned her attention to the bear and snuggled it to her chest. “I’ve missed you so much!”

“I take it you’re talkin’ to Jenks, there.”

“I can’t believe you kept this!”

“Of course I kept it. It was the firs’ thing you gave me.” He smiled bashfully and turned his attention to the floor. “Figured Jenks might wanna come home now. You gave it to me so I wouldn’t forget you.”

She nodded. “I remember.”

“Told you I never would.”

“He didn’t let you.” She rubbed the bear’s head affectionately. “Mr. Jenkins is magical like that.”

“He was a good pal over the years.”

“I can’t believe…I can’t…oh, Spike…” She placed the bear on the coffee table and rushed to her lover’s arms, cupping his face and kissing him tenderly. “You know,” she said softly, “whenever I thought I’d imagined you…when I was little…before you came back…I’d remind myself that Mr. Jenkins didn’t get up and walk away on his own.”

“Yeh?”

“And you gave me Mr. Gordo.”

He grinned. “That I did, luv.”

She kissed him again. “Thank you.”

“I love you, Buffy.”

“I love you, too.” She paused a minute, worrying a lip between her teeth. “We need to go patrol.”

He didn’t want to budge, but he knew that it was necessary. The last thing they could afford to do, especially with the fresh wounds of the night before, was grow comfortable in the newness of the connection they shared. Especially with his demon’s need for blood in turn for the sins his family had committed against his mate. “Yeh.”

“There’s just one thing.”

“What’s that?”

Buffy smiled and gently pushed him to the ground. “There’s something I gotta do.”

The next thing he knew, she was straddling his hips, her mouth wrestling long, needy kisses from his as her hands fumbled with the zipper of his jeans. His cock sprang into her waiting grasp the next second, and his entire being was swallowed in warmth.

“Oh Christ!”

“Mmmm,” she murmured in agreement, sliding down his body, her hand pumping his length rhythmically. “I never start something without finishing it.”

“Buffy!”

Her tongue traced the underside of his erection, her mouth closing around his sensitive head and suckling sweetly. “This time,” she said. “There will be no pulling away.”

“Oh God.”

She paused just a second and his body screamed in protest. Spike watched in awed fascination as she turned Mr. Jenkins away, so he was facing the entry. “This isn’t for the eyes of childhood toys,” she said, lowering her head and swallowing him again.

The sight of her hot mouth around his cock was quite possibly the hottest thing he’d ever seen. He was a man lost. So, so lost.

God, he loved her so much.

“No pulling away,” she murmured, lapping at him sweetly.

He’d never pull away from her. Never.

No matter what the future held, what they had now was forever.

He would battle for it until the end of the world. There would be no rest. He had the one thing worth fighting for. And nothing—nothing—was going to take her away from him now.

 

“Mom…there’s something I…something we need to tell you.”

Joyce set down her forkful of spaghetti and shot a petrified look to Spike, whose eyes were glued to his plate. “Oh God,” she gasped. “You’re pregnant.”

Buffy’s gaze widened comically. “What? No!”

The night, needless to say, was not going as she’d hoped. Matter of fact, from the moment her mother walked through the door, nothing but calamity had followed.

It didn’t help that Joyce’s first glance of Spike was of him necking her daughter.

Buffy hadn’t been to school in two days; Willow’s funeral left her emotionally drained, especially seeing that Xander hadn’t looked at her throughout the entire service. Thus, when they came home, the Slayer had collapsed on the sofa and fallen asleep while watching Spike’s selection of film. According to her mate, right as the credits began to roll, she began moaning and fidgeting from a bad dream, and to calm her, he had laved the claim mark with licks and kisses.

That was how her mother found them. Not the best way to make an introduction.

Joyce hadn’t been scheduled to arrive until that night, but she’d left the convention early for want of being home. Buffy and Spike had planned initially to have a nice supper ready for her when she walked through the door as to make a good impression, but had to rush around in lieu of her early arrival and settled instead for spaghetti.

And now they were seated around the seldom used dining room table, frozen in awkwardness.

“Not pregnant,” Buffy emphasized. Then frowned, turning to Spike. “Can I even get pregnant?”

“Between mates? Hasn’t happened yet,” he said, taking a long drink of wine. The same wine he’d bought to replenish Joyce’s stock. He’d earned a glare or two, but the woman palpably noted that he was old enough to indulge.

That and then some, but they hadn’t told her that.

And now that she needed to, Buffy was at a loss. She and Spike had discussed what they would say, but not how to say it. Neither one of them were particularly talented at this sort of thing.

Joyce was scrutinizing Spike with a look that shot daggers. He didn’t seem to mind. He wasn’t the epitome of comfort, but he was handling everything pretty well.

“We haven’t met before,” Joyce said suddenly, taking a sip from her glass. “Have we?”

Buffy and Spike exchanged a glance.

“Yeah, Mom,” the Slayer replied. “You’ve met him.”

“The memory’s old…I can’t place you, but I know I’ve seen you before.” Joyce’s eyes narrowed. “Just how old are you, William?”

“Old enough for you to be worried about your daughter, were I anyone else,” he answered honestly. “An’ I don’ mean to make this into a movie of the week, but I love her. I wanna get that out. I love her, an’ we’re…well…”

“Well, I just don’t accept that. I’ve been gone for a week, and when I left, there was no one in her life. How can you be in love to the point where you think I shouldn’t worry? She’s eighteen years old!”

Spike nodded. “I know how old she is.”

“It’s not like that,” Buffy countered.

“Of course, honey. In these scenarios, it’s never ‘like that.’”

They were getting nowhere fast. She had to think on her feet. There was no way she was letting Spike leave her side tonight. The funeral had been hell, and though she had reconciled and made peace with Willow’s passing, the part of her that was burdened with human suffering was screaming for penance. She needed her mate to hold her tonight, and that was something her mother wouldn’t allow as long as she was thinking on a human level.

She wasn’t letting Spike leave her side. Not tonight. Not ever.

“There’s something you do need to know,” she said again. “It’s not ‘like that,’ and I can tell you why.” A pause. Her mother was staring at her as though waiting to be dazzled, and she knew then that there was absolutely no way to cushion the blow. There was nothing that could be done. Nothing to do but say it, and hope that the woman knew her daughter well enough to know she wasn’t crazy. “I’m a vampire slayer.”

Joyce’s face blanked. Spike took a bite of his spaghetti and a sip of his wine. He glanced to Buffy quickly and flashed her an encouraging smile.

There it was. The worst was over.

And it was officially the longest silence of her life.

However, when Joyce sighed and leaned forward, the next words to come out of her mouth were the last thing Buffy would have ever expected.

“Well,” she said with a small smile. “It’s about time you told me.”

Buffy blinked. “What?”

“Sweetie…I know that.”

“You know?”

She nodded. “Mr. Giles told me…a year ago.”

“He told you.”

“Yes.”

“He never told me that he told you.”

“He didn’t want you to feel like he’d betrayed your trust, but apparently, it had been weighing down on him…what he’d have to say to me if you were…killed.” She swallowed hard and took another drink of wine. “He called me in for a private conference that day that your history class went to the museum…he called me in the day that he knew you wouldn’t be there. And he told me everything.”

“Well, doesn’ that beat all?” Spike shook his head, tossing Buffy an appraising look. “Wily old sod, your Watcher.”

Buffy was absolutely dumbfounded. “I don’t understand,” she said shakily. “If you knew…then why didn’t you—”

“I wanted you to come to me.” Joyce glanced down. “Mr. Giles convinced me you would one day. He said it was important to you that I know, but you didn’t know how to tell me…or if I’d believe you…and I admit that much was a leap of faith. But he had a woman with him who practices witchcraft, I believe—”

Her eyes went wide. “Ms. Calendar?”

“Yes! That was her.”

“So, let me get this straight. Giles and Ms. Calendar and you have all been buddies in the fact that Giles told you my secret and you guys kept it a secret from me that my secret was out?” She shook her head. “I’m getting a headache.”

“He wanted the best for you.”

“Giles tends to take liberties where the best is concerned.”

“He thinks of you as a daughter, Buffy. Really, I hadn’t realized how much you needed a father until I heard the pride in his voice. The way he talks about you—”

“And you’ve been playing for a year that you had no idea that I was going out and potentially getting myself very dead every night?”

A shadow fell across Joyce’s face. “If you think this has been easy for me, young lady, you’re sadly mistaken. You chose not to trust me with your Calling. I chose to let you come to me. We’ve been keeping secrets from each other. I don’t think it’s any surprise that mothers and their teenage daughters don’t tell each other everything. Does that excuse it? No. You did what you did because you felt it was right; so did I. Okay?”

Buffy didn’t have anything to say at that. She glanced to her mate, who took her hand and squeezed.

Spike. Her pillar of strength.

“I take it you knew of Buffy’s Calling all along,” Joyce observed, her eyes trained on the vampire.

He smiled ironically. “Well, not until three or so years ago.”

She blinked. “I’m sorry?”

Buffy shook her head again, not looking up. “Mom…William…Spike’s a vampire.”

The woman dropped her fork and stared at her daughter in horror. “What?”

“Din’t exactly segue into that one, pet,” Spike observed dryly.

Buffy shook her head. “He’s a vampire.”

“Then what—”

“Mom, do you remember when I was snatched by a lady at a toy store when I was four?”

Joyce was visibly taken aback by the question, especially coming after such a groundbreaking revelation. She drew in a deep breath and shot an uncertain glance to Spike. “Yes,” she said slowly. “What does that…”

Buffy knew the instant it hit her. Knew the second that memory clashed with knowledge, and she was thrown from the present to fourteen years prior. She saw her mother’s eyes awash in relief, holding her so tight the world would not rip her away again. She saw Spike standing a few feet away, his eyes burdened with what he knew was to come. The pain of what she could now, as an adult, identify as loss. The lonely mourning of his demon as he reconciled his fate to turn away and wait for her until she was old enough to truly be his. She saw her mother crying. Remembered the lecture she received later that night about not talking to strangers. About not letting go of Mommy’s hand when they went out. Remembered going to sleep that night, thinking of Spike and wondering if his promise of someday could be trusted. If she would indeed ever see him again.

She wouldn’t have thought her mother the type to forget a face, but then again, it had been over a decade. And she wouldn’t have expected Spike to have remained frozen in time. A picture of eternal youth and vitality.

“Oh my God,” her mother gasped. “It was…oh my God, I remember you.”

Spike ducked his head and took a bite of his chilling spaghetti.

“You’re the one that saved Buffy. You brought her home to me. You…” Her eyes darkened. “You’re a vampire?”

“I was with a woman then who saw things,” he said, not looking up, his voice soft but audible. “Pictures. Words. Future events. She was my maker, an’ I’d been with her for a hundred years. She saw Buffy…an’ she knew Buffy was mine. So she snagged her from you an’ brought her to me. She thought I was s’posed to make her my bedtime snack.”

Joyce gasped again. “She was going to—”

“I’m not a nice bloke, right? I’ve done my share of bad. I’ve done things I don’ want you or my mate to ever know about. My past isn’t dainty. I’m not sorry for a lick of it, except for how it hurts her. How it…makes me less than what I oughta be.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Dru brought Buffy to me ‘cause she saw that she was mine. She jus’ din’t know how.”

“Yours?”

“When I got in that night, an’ she was there, it all changed. Her eyes flashed.” Joyce inhaled deeply. Buffy and Spike exchanged another glance. “Her eyes flashed gold,” he concluded, watching the woman suspiciously. “Accordin’ to vampire creed, that—”

“Your mate.”

“Okay!” Buffy sat back, throwing her hands up. “That’s it. You know about vampires and mates?”

“Well, did you expect me to not do any research after I found out what you are?”

The Slayer just shook her head. “How is it that my mom knew about vamps and mates before I did? Me, the mate of a vampire!”

Spike shrugged, unbothered. “Irony?”

“I didn’t know that slayers could be mates of vampires, though,” Joyce said. “I don’t…”

“That seems to be the Council’s best kept secret,” Buffy retorted. “All slayers have one…a vampire mate. We’re technically of the same mold…just opposite sides of a coin, really. Also, I’m the first slayer that we know of to have actually been found by her mate, as well as claimed.”

“But vampires…I thought…”

“Yeah, well, the PTB don’t just assign any vamp to a slayer. Something about redemptionist vampires—”

“Which is rot, ‘cause I’m not a redemptionist,” Spike added.

She shot him a look that he chose to ignore. There was no way he hadn’t felt what happened the minute they made their union whole, beyond what they’d already discussed. She’d felt it as well as he had. The cleansing. The baptism of prior sins. Her past of former wrongs was gone and it had bothered her for the awakening that she had mistaken for apathy.

Spike’s sins had been much greater than hers. They were both clean now. Spiritually cleansed by uniting. And since he came back into her life, he’d done nothing but perform small miracles that spoke volumes for everything he wanted to refute. Not redemptionist? He’d slain his sire without blinking, and felt bad only because of what it meant for the monstrous life he’d once led. The way he’d willed himself to do what had once been unthinkable without feeling anything but the expected wail of his demon as his maker fell to dust.

“Stop it,” he growled good-naturedly, when she wouldn’t break her incredulous stare.

“You’re in denial.”

“An’ I’ll be here for a while. Want a souvenir?”

Buffy rolled her eyes and shook her head, turning back to her mother. “We’re mates,” she said. “I know it seems like this is all fast, but believe me, the past few days have been…” Lifetimes. “…not just days to us. And mates—”

Joyce nodded. “Sweetie, I read up on everything. There wasn’t a piece of vampire history or lore that I didn’t ask Mr. Giles to get me a book on. Mates are fiercely protective of each other. It’s an unbreakable bond, one of the most powerful unions that can ever be accomplished. But they don’t always love each other…”

“We do,” they answered together.

She smiled wryly. “I can see that.”

Buffy worried a lip between her teeth. “So…are you okay with this?”

“Well, it seems that I don’t have much of a choice.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want you to be okay with it.”

Joyce sighed heavily and glanced to Spike thoughtfully. “You really love her. And will provide for her—”

“Hello! It’s the twentieth century. I can provide for myself!”

“Yes,” her mate agreed readily. “Always.”

The woman shrugged and took a bite of spaghetti. “Then you have no quarrel with me.”

Spike shot Buffy a smirk, who sighed and returned to playing with her noodles. “Charmer,” she accused, smothering a grin.

“What can I say, pet?”

“He does have a certain air about him. I’ll probably even overlook the fact that he’s undoubtedly been staying here since I left.” Joyce shook her head, smiling when the Slayer froze in horror. “And…if what I’ve read about mates is true…”

“We’ll be outta your hair as soon as I can find a place,” Spike offered.

“One week away and my baby’s moving out,” Joyce sighed, shaking her head.

“Yeah, well…it was bound to happen sometime. I mean, there’s college and everything.”

“Oh!” The woman finished off her spaghetti and wiped her mouth on her napkin. “Which reminds me…are you two going to see Willow anytime soon? I picked up some brochures on UCLA. She asked me to see if their…what? What is it?”

Buffy wet her lips. “Mom…there’s something…something else…happened while you were gone. Something terrible.”

Something that was so far in her past that she hadn’t thought of it right off. The human in her collapsed in guilt. Her best friend was gone, and she…

Spike took her hand and squeezed.

She wasn’t human anymore. And death was a part of life. She saw what others didn’t and felt what others couldn’t. Her entire existence had altered, and it didn’t make her any more or less of what she was. She knew that.

The part of her that was human, though, and based on purely human emotion felt she was a traitor. The rest of her knew better. The rest of her made up for it.

It didn’t make telling her mother any easier. It didn’t stop her tears from rekindling. It didn’t make the sobs she still had to cry for Willow any less real. Death was a part of life. That concept was so above humanism that she wondered if she would ever grasp it and hold. People said it; they never truly understood it.

Spike had brought her out of the cave, and she understood. Some things simply were the way they were.

She would patrol tonight with her mate at her side, and he would tell her again that it was all right. And then they would go to the library, and prepare for whatever was in store. Petty squabbling ended now. If nothing else, they owed Willow that.

They owed her that to save the world she’d lived in.

If there wasn’t a plan, they’d make one. She wasn’t giving the world to Angelus.

She’d be a memory before she let him win.

Chapter Thirty

Mysterious Ways and Means

 

Buffy was fidgeting uncontrollably as the library doors grew closer.

“You don’ have to explain anythin’ to them,” Spike told her reasonably. “’F they don’ wanna hear it, there’s no bloody point in hashin’ it all out.”

She shook her head and drew in a deep breath. “I just really don’t have time to spend half the night defending our relationship,” she retorted. “I can’t believe Giles—”

“The Watcher knows where the priorities are.”

“He’s officially gone off the deep end. You didn’t see him when I left earlier, Spike. He was livid. He was about ten seconds away from ripping out a Bible to cite the many reasons I was going to Hell for having ever looked at you.”

The vampire frowned at that. “Din’t know Rupert was evangelical.”

“He’s not. That’s how crazy it got.”

“I know, luv. I felt it.”

“He blames me for…” Buffy pursed her lips and glanced down. “I know I’ve made mistakes. I know it. I had to look at my mother tonight and tell her that Willow was gone and it was because…well…because we didn’t know better. It’s my job to know better, and Willow’s gone because I didn’t.”

“It doesn’ make it your fault. Don’t ever think it.”

“I don’t.” And that was the scary part. Any culpability she felt for the part she played in Willow’s death had washed away completely with her new sense of self. Another way she felt more than human and less than humane, but knew also that there was nothing to be done about it. It was just something to get used to. “Anyone who got her message that night would’ve reached the same conclusion. I know it. And I know that I see things that others don’t. I feel things that others can’t right now, because of…what happened. But Giles thinks it’s my fault.”

Her vampire shook his head. “I don’ think so.”

“Spike—”

“The wolf din’t blame us, did he? The one bloke among the lot of them that had a bloody reason to start throwin’ nasties came down on our side.”

“Yet another reason why everything is so irreversibly screwed up.” They stopped at the library doors together; Spike squeezed Buffy’s hand as she inhaled deeply and released a trembling sigh. “Back into the fire, huh?” she asked. “Is there any way we can do this without them? Stop Angelus and Darla without the consent of my Watcher?”

“’F it was jus’ my grand-pappy an’ the wonder-bitch, yeh. Bloody Angelus had to go get delusions of grandeur.”

Buffy drew in another breath, as though preparing for a marathon. “Okay, then,” she said. “Here we go.”

The scene inside the library had changed very little since the last time either of them set foot across the threshold. There were two new faces, yes, but otherwise, the dismal appearance of everyone ready to greet them remained untouched. Giles was at the counter, looking over his books. Oz was at one of the tables with Xander and Cordelia, immersed in pizza and research. Jenny Calendar was coming out of the cage with an armful of goodies. She was the only one to immediately notice their entrance and stopped to flash Buffy a friendly smile.

Giles looked up after a minute, his eyes grim. “Good evening,” he said.

“Hi,” Buffy retorted, eying Xander with as much kindness as she could muster through lines of hostility. They apparently had everyone’s attention now. “Ummm…okay, I’m gonna just say this and get it out there. Spike’s here because he’s on my team. Our team. My mating him had absolutely nothing to do with Willow’s death—it was something that was predestined; it couldn’t be stopped. Would I have stopped it, had I the choice? No. Spike isn’t responsible for what happened anymore than I am. He can’t take the blame for his entire race, and it’s—”

The Watcher held up a hand. “Buffy, it’s all right.”

“No, it’s not all right to make us feel like criminals.”

“I know.”

“I mean, this terrible thing just…what?”

A tight smile formed across his lips. “I know. It was wretchedly unfair of me to have treated you the way I did.” His eyes met Spike’s. “I’m sorry.”

Buffy slumped in amazement. “This entire night is an episode of the Twilight Zone. First my mom, now you?”

“I feel Xander and I were…reacting on the basis of those who weren’t there to do anything at all,” he explained. “I’ve thought about it most extensively…the fact that you were there and we weren’t gives us the opportunity to speculate what could have been had we been there. But those are childhood daydreams of heroics. That night was not about heroics.” He nodded to Spike. “Sorry to say, the timing of all this is most unfortunate. You were an easy scapegoat.”

Spike blinked, bewildered. “Thanks, mate.”

“All this after the silent treatment today at the funeral?”

“Shame?” Xander suggested, shrugging. “We’re sorry, Buff.”

The Slayer just stared at him and shook her head. “Today is definitely a day for the record books,” she decided.

“That went rather well,” Spike retorted.

“Now that the unpleasant matter is out of the way,” Giles interspersed gravely, “we do have the issue of the impending apocalypse to contend with.”

“Could’ve been doing this two days ago,” Buffy muttered.

Spike flashed her a look. “Sweetheart…”

“I know, I know.” She threw her hands up. “Forgiven, forgotten. Apocalypse time. What’s the what? Do you have anything new?”

“Asmodeus sounds like a bitch?” Cordelia offered, shrugging. “A really big bitch?”

“Feel threatened?” Xander teased.

“A bit. I think I have the bitch territory pretty well covered, thank you.”

Oz released a steady breath and rose to his feet, book in hand. “Raphael was said to be Asmodeus’s greatest rival,” he said. “But there’s not much about him in the Book of Tobit.”

“There’s word of his involvement in assisting Tobias to defeat Asmodeus,” Giles continued. “And he describes himself as ‘One of the Seven Holy Angels.’ Many chronicles of the hierarchy of archangels place Raphael below Michael, who is said to be the voice of Israel.”

Spike held up a hand. “In other words, the ringleader of the others. Yeh, Watcher, we know that much. I don’ know how much stock you can put into those passages, though.”

“Well, we know Asmodeus is real,” Xander said. “Why wouldn’t Raphael—”

“’m jus’ sayin’, the existence of one thing doesn’ prove the existence of another. Classic bloody case of post hoc ergo propter hoc. The Watcher knows it doesn’ work that way.” He waited a beat before Giles nodded his agreement. “Asmodeus existin’ doesn’ mean rot for the other things in that text. Of all the prophecy the Watchers Council looks over, biblical rot doesn’ get a nod…mostly ‘cause it can be disproved, or there are counter texts with better evidence to back it up. You don’t know how much you can read into it.”

“You closet Bible scholar,” Buffy said jokingly.

The vampire shrugged. “Mentionin’ somethin’ historical an’ twistin’ it with fiction is how stuff sells, sweet. Make the masses believe it, an’ they buy. Jus’ look at pop culture if you have any doubt.”

“Regardless, for every great power there exists an opposite,” Giles retorted. “If Asmodeus exists, which he must, then a power of equal but opposing force must likewise exist. For the sake of argument, we’ll call that power Raphael.”

Spike nodded. “Fair enough. What’s it got to do with anythin’?”

The Watcher cleared his throat. “Well, all we have right now is speculation. We have no idea how Angelus intends to open the jar Asmodeus is alleged to have been trapped in, or even where he and Darla relocated.”

“The texts that we’ve uncovered suggest that it would take a significant amount of black magic as well as a strong malevolent source to reverse the magic on the jar,” Jenny added, glancing up from her book.

“How do we know it’s a jar?” Xander demanded. “If all these things are subject for debate, how can we trust anything?”

“We can’t. In this, we’re going on faith.” The teacher flashed a wary smile in Giles’s direction. “Rupert and I feel that emphasis should be placed on Angelus and Darla. Obviously there will be a back-up plan should they succeed in raising Asmodeus, but if we stop them before they have a chance to open the jar, there’s no reason to worry with the extremes necessary to bottle a half-angel.”

Cordelia’s brows arched. “And if your plan of magic and wonder doesn’t work? Which is, honestly, more likely. We are on a hellmouth, people. If something can go wrong, it will go wrong. I think that’s in the contract.”

Jenny nodded. “We know. Working on maybes isn’t doing anyone any favors, but that doesn’t mean we should just ignore the symptoms of the problem and saddle up for something worse. Not if we have a chance to stop it from escalating now.”

“And in the meantime,” Buffy asked, “if we don’t find Angelus and Darla, what do we have that we can throw at Asmodeus?”

“We’re working on that,” the teacher replied.

Xander offered a dry snort. “How reassuring.”

“Jenny has dabbled enough in the dark arts to hold her own,” the Watcher said defensively. “If worse comes to worse, she can…she has the ability to…”

Spike held up a hand. “Ummm, excuse me, but…are you outta your bleedin’ mind?”

“Hey!” Giles and Jenny objected together.

“Your Plan B is to have that slip of a thing channel the power of an unknown entity that we’re callin’ Raphael for kicks? Do you have any sodding idea what that could do?” They stared at him blankly. He chuckled dryly and shook his head. “The lot of you are completely barmy. Get two forces of that much power together an’ you’ll be fortunate if this pissant town isn’t wiped off this miserable earth.”

“Hey, wait a second,” Xander interjected. “We do this kinda thing all the time!”

“Not like this, you don’t,” Spike retorted. “Not with powers like this. What the lot of you have seen is Buffy fightin’ the baddies with nothin’ but her strength to back her up. The world’s about to end, an’ she stops it…usually by herself. Gettin’ two powers of equal force in the same place, an’ you can kiss this bloody town goodbye.”

Cordelia frowned. “And yet I fail to see why that’s a bad thing.”

Buffy’s brows arched. “Do you want to be the one to go knock on every door and tell people to pack up and leave because the Book of Revelation is about to land in their backyard?”

There was a long pause. “No, I think I’ll pass on that.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“The point is,” Giles intervened, “while there are plenty of theories, there is nothing definitive to speculate what we might expect…though Spike’s point is well taken.”

“Another reason why we want to focus our energy now on stopping Angelus and Darla before it can happen,” Jenny added. “Though in the meantime, I’m going to be preparing for the worst.”

“Should Asmodeus be summoned successfully, I rather doubt summoning his equal would do the people of Sunnydale any more harm than Asmodeus himself.”

Spike bristled. “I still say the lot of you are barmy.”

“If you have a better idea, please, feel free.”

“Why not just banish him again?” Buffy asked. “I mean…why do we need to summon the power of his equal to do the fighting for us? Asmodeus is a demon. I’m the Slayer. Either find a way for me to kill it or do whatever was done to him all over again.”

“The jar that Asmodeus is legend to have been trapped in is very rare.”

“So? Find something to trap him in and work on that instead. Don’t even bother with Raphael.”

“The text indicates that the only way to contain Asmodeus was with the help of his equal,” Giles argued.

“Yes, for a guy named Tobit. Not for us. Not for a slayer, a vampire, a werewolf, and a woman who practices witchcraft. Plus he was enslaved by Solomon with that ring-thing, so I’m thinking the Great and Powerful Oz might not be so great and powerful.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Oz observed. “I like to think I just play it cool.”

Spike snickered appreciatively.

Buffy flashed the wolf a smile before turning back to Jenny. “I want you to research how to banish him…or trap him in something that we can banish. If that doesn’t work, we’ll go to your nuclear explosion of an idea.”

The Watcher arched a brow. “What do you propose we banish him in?”

“I don’t care. Just find something.” She grabbed Spike’s hand. “In the meantime, we’re gonna patrol. See what we can do to make sure you don’t have to turn this town into a science project gone wrong for Dungeons and Dragons enthusiasts.”

“After Angelus and Darla,” Oz said, rising to his feet. “I’ll go with you.”

Buffy and Spike exchanged a glance.

“No,” they said together.

“I have a right to go,” he replied softly. “Furthermore, you can’t stop me.”

The Slayer drew in a deep breath, her protest dying on her lips. She didn’t know what to say; if there was anything to say. Above anyone, Oz deserved vindication. His world had been Willow. He had music, yes, and smarts, but Willow had been his motivation for getting out of bed every morning. For her, he’d started doing his homework, because he knew that she hated to see brilliance put to waste. Half the songs he’d written for Dingoes Ate My Baby in the past two years were inspired by his love for her. Oz wasn’t a very verbal guy—his music and his actions always spoke volumes for how deeply he felt.

He hadn’t said much at all in the past few days, but he was broken inside. Anyone who looked at him would know that.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Giles volunteered softly, stirring Buffy from her reverie. “Oz—”

“I need to be there when it happens,” the wolf said.

“I understand that. But I don’t think…the best way you can help is to stay here. Buffy and Spike—”

“Yeah, okay.” Oz’s shoulders drooped and he returned to the table, his expression illegible.

“It’s just that—”

He held up a hand. “I know.”

An awkward silence fell over the library. Giles cleared his throat and turned back to the Slayer. “You two best be off,” he said. “Come back here for a report before you head home.”

Buffy nodded. “Will do.”

“Be careful.”

She smirked. “Aren’t I always?”

A worried look overwhelmed the Watcher’s face, and he glanced to Spike. “Make sure she doesn’t go looking for trouble, would you?”

“What?” Spike retorted, incredulous. “You think I have a bloody say in what she does?”

“He’s kinda whipped,” Buffy agreed, shooting her mate a grin.

Giles sighed. “You’d think having a vampire watching over your slayer would make you feel better.” A pause. “Or wait. No, you wouldn’t.”

Buffy’s hand tightened around her mate’s, and they turned together. “We’ll be back soon,” she said.

She didn’t breathe again until they were in the vacant hallway, walking down the long corridors in blissful solitude. A heavy weight compressed her shoulders and her insides spooled with dread. The meeting should have lightened her spirits, but she couldn’t see the half-full. With as long as she’d been doing this, with as long as the world had been her duty to defend, she couldn’t remember Giles having ever approached something from such a radical angle. It bothered her that she was the calm one in this.

It bothered her because she knew not to underestimate the Powers. They seemed terribly preoccupied with making sure that she would at no point ever know peace. The rollercoaster ride of the past few days wasn’t slowing down. Rather, they’d come to a lull; a trek up a hill before the world started spiraling around them once more. With as much as it seemed had already happened, the rest felt as though it needed to be over now.

“What is it?” Spike asked.

“This bothers me.”

He chuckled briefly. “Gotta be a bit more specific there, pet.”

“Well, Giles…he wants to—”

“Ah. That.”

“He’s never suggested anything like that. Summon an archangel? I feel like I’m caught in a Tim LaHaye book.”

Spike snickered appreciatively. “There are jus’ names that stir more of a response than others,” he said. “I think Asmodeus is one of the more recognizable of the noncanonical demons. Rupert’s jus’ trippin’ all bloody over himself.”

“He’s supposed to be the calm, collected one.”

“He’s only human. Asmodeus is likely the largest thing he’ll ever tackle.”

Buffy released a deep breath and shook her head. “God, I hope so. After this, I so need a vacation.”

“Anywhere you wanna go, pet. Jus’ gotta say the word.”

She smiled. “I think after this, we’ve earned it.”

“My girl deserves a honeymoon,” he agreed. “As for now, we have my fam’ly to locate. Come on, luv.”

That rush of dread surged again. She refused to call it a premonition; she refused to give it that much power over her. If it was a premonition, she wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it. If it was a premonition, chances were it would come true. “Do you think we’ll find them?” she asked. “Do you think there’s a chance of that? They disappeared again…we couldn’t find them the first time, and now they’ve disappeared again. Why do we think we can find them? I mean, we don’t even know if they’re alive.”

“They’re alive, pet. You know it; else you would’ve mentioned it back there.” Spike paused. “They’re still out there.”

She licked her lips. “I’m terrified.”

“Buffy—”

“If Asmodeus is released—”

“We’ll deal, sweetling.”

“I…so much has changed.” She glanced down. “I’ve lost so much, but I still have a lot to lose.” You. You and the world. “And I’m terrified.”

Spike smiled softly. “You think I’m gonna go quietly now?” he demanded. “I finally got what I’ve been waitin’ for…well, more than fourteen years, pet. I’ve been waitin’ for you forever. Angelus isn’t gonna best me now. Won’ bloody allow it.”

She raised his hand to her lips and brushed a kiss across his skin. “I love you.”

“Love you, too, baby.” He smiled. “It’ll be all right.”

“I wish I had your confidence.”

He kissed her brow and squeezed her hand. He flooded her with warmth, despite the cruel presence of doubt.

She had the world to lose. The world and her mate. Her mate that gave her reason.

But Spike was right. If Angelus wanted a fight, she would bring one to him.

There would be no quiet defeat.

 

 

The town was eerily silent. There had never been silence like this.

In her time, Buffy had grown accustomed to the many moods of her local graveyards. There was quiet—she knew quiet. That false sense of respect that the ground attempted to emanate; a distraction that disguised the true nature of things beneath the earth. She knew how cemeteries were supposed to look. She knew the deference she was supposed to feel when walking alongside the dead. She had lived, after all, for so many years as just a girl.

Graveyards had long since adapted a new meaning for her. Their moods were interchangeable, and it was impossible to forecast the upcoming patrols based on trends, despite the want for consistency.

“Do you feel anything?” she asked him, squeezing his hand subconsciously. There was something comfortable simply in the awareness of his presence.

Spike shook his head, popping a cigarette between his lips. “Not a bloody whiff.”

A long sigh rumbled through her throat, and she shook her head in frustration. “There’s no point in this,” she said. “I need to feel like we’re doing something, but we’re accomplishing absolutely nothing. How are we supposed to track down the Order if they won’t play by the rules?”

There was a huff at that. “Rules? Sweetling, Angelus makes up his own sodding rules.”

“Then there’s no point to this.”

“It makes you feel like you’re doin’ somethin’, I s’pose.” At her look, he shrugged. “Well, okay. But more so than sittin’ at home, yeh?”

“I suppose.”

“Really?”

“No. We’re wasting time.”

“Buffy—”

“If this all comes down to the big thing, and my Watcher’s best idea is invoking the Holy Spirit…literally.” She released a deep sigh. “I’m sorry, I’m not over that just yet. He’s supposed to be so rational, but he…”

Spike squeezed her hand tightly and brushed his lips over her temple. “Already told you, luv, we’re not gonna let this be the end. Sod all if I let bloody Angelus get the better of me.”

“We’re not getting anything done out here, are we?”

He wisely ignored the fact that she was repeating herself. “Not really, no.”

Buffy wet her lips and glanced down. “And yet, if I went home, I’d feel like I was ignoring the problem.”

“Classic conundrum, yeh?” He smiled grimly and squeezed her hand again. “I got somethin’ to show you, luv, if you want to not pretend like we’re gettin’ somethin’ accomplished out here.”

“Something to show me?” She quirked a brow. “I didn’t give you more than one cherished childhood toy when I was four, did I?”

Spike chuckled and shook his head. “’S bigger than a bloody bear,” he said, tugging her toward the graveyard’s exit. “I wasn’ gonna say anythin’.”

“Then why are you?”

“Couldn’t help it. Jus’ got everythin’ put together this afternoon.”

“And you were able to keep it in this long?” she teased. “I’m very proud of you.”

“You think you’re so cute when you’re condescendin’, don’ you?”

“I know you do.”

Spike waved a dismissive hand. “That is neither here nor there.”

“You like being put in your place by the girl who’s…what…a hundred and fifteen years younger than you?”

He smirked at that. “Gotta admit, luv…’s a bit of a turn-on.”

“Perv.”

“You love it.” He pinched her ass. “Come on. Gotta show you the surprise, yeh?”

“Yeah…when did you have time to put anything together? We were with each other all day.”

“You fell asleep around three, remember? Had to entertain myself somehow.”

Buffy quirked a brow. “You undertook a multi-part project that has stages while I was asleep?”

He shrugged. “I’m amazingly resourceful like that. Come on, sweets.”

They didn’t walk far, though it perplexed her that whatever surprise she had coming to her required a complete change of venue. In fact, when they took the turn that led south of Revello Drive, she felt the first rush of anxiousness race up her spine. Spike was nothing if not inventive. He had already made the impossible seem possible simply by being with her. He offered her hope when she had none.

Offered her the world when she was terrified to acknowledge that their story could have a happy ending. Happy endings were so far from her experience, she didn’t know if she could accept it even if it was what fate handed to her. She’d constantly be waiting for the other shoe. For the half-empty. Comfort would be a foreign luxury. After all, she was the Slayer, if not in right any longer, but in philosophy. Slayers didn’t get to see the bright side of life. They were too busy trying to preserve the world so that everyone else might enjoy it.

“That’s not you anymore, sweetheart,” Spike said softly.

Buffy blinked. “What…did I say that out loud?”

“You din’t have to. We’re mated now, remember? You send off vibes like that an’ I’m bound to pick up on them. Point bein’, that’s not your responsibility anymore. Savin’ the world.”

“Spike—”

“I’ve told you. Once this apocalypse is over, I’m takin’ you away. Some place exotic where you aren’ obligated to do anythin’ except relax an’ get shagged sideways whenever I feel like it.”

She perked a brow. “Whenever you feel like it, huh?”

“Well, I am frontin’ the cash for this trip, aren’ I? You could show a li’l appreciation.”

“So, in other words, I’m whoring myself to get away from the Hellmouth. Nice career move, Buffy.”

Spike flashed her a dangerous glance. “You so much as look at another bloke the way you look at me—”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Oh please. The thought grosses me out more than it does you.”

“Slayer—”

“You’re perceptive until it comes to matters of logic. I see how you play your little game.” She jerked him to a standstill and all but mauled his mouth with a hungry kiss. “I don’t know if I’ve told you this in the past…oh…ten minutes or so, but I love you, you big doofus.”

Spike warmed at that and kissed her again, teasing her senseless with the whispers of his tongue massaging hers. “Love you, too, kitten.”

“So much that you wanna show me this elusive prezzie you got me?”

He grinned and stuffed his hands in his pockets as they continued walking. “’S not jus’ for you, you know,” he said. “’S for the both of us…if you want it, that is.”

He didn’t lead her far. In retrospect, they were only a couple of blocks away from the cemetery she patrolled most frequently. Spike tugged her to a halt after a few minutes and directed her attention to a dark, modestly sized house at the corner of the street.

“There you are, luv.”

Buffy blinked in confusion. For whatever reason, it took her a few belated seconds to notice the worn ‘for sale’ sign propped in the front yard.

A thrill ran through her body. “Spike…”

He smiled gently. “Do you like it?”

“Is this…?”

“It’s yours if you want it, sweetheart. Called the owner today while you were sleepin’.” He glanced to the pavement and shuffled anxiously. “I’ve been in a few times. Belonged to a tyurack demon for a few years. Bloody annoyin’ sod who still owes me a couple hundred, but I s’pose I got my own back from filchin’ off him as much as I did. Pretentious as all hell, so he always had the best booze. I—”

“Spike? You’re rambling.”

He flashed an awkward grin. “’m nervous.”

“You bought a house?”

“Not yet…I wanted you to see it firs’.” He released a deep breath. “I gave him an offer so the bloke knows I’m interested, but it’s so bloody pitiful that there’s no way he’ll accept, so we’re not committed to anythin’. I jus’ saw this one was for sale an’…why are you lookin’ at me like that?”

Buffy smiled. “Because you’re adorable.”

Spike scowled and released a small growl that was more obligatory that truly wounded. “Take it back.”

“No. You’re adorable.” She pressed her lips to his cheek and squeezed his hand. “I told you I don’t care where we live—”

“You’re a chit. You say you don’ care, but the second I make a decision, I bloody well know it’s gonna be the wrong one an’—”

“Spike.”

“Right.” He nodded. “Shutting up.”

“I thought you told my mom that you hadn’t found a place yet.”

“This was s’posed to be a surprise,” he reminded her. “An’ I haven’t signed anythin’, so technically we’re still lookin’.”

“Spike—”

“But the bloke’s already moved out so we can look inside. Don’ need an invite.”

Buffy felt herself nodding before her mind could catch up, and the next thing she knew, Spike was manipulating the door lock with a bobby pin that he plucked off her head. She was grounded with a numb sense of realization.

“Oh my God.”

“Yeh,” he drawled, straightening and opening the door for her. “Might be bloody elementary, but MacGyver knew his stuff.”

“No, I mean…” She drew in a deep breath as they stepped across the threshold into the vacant house. The room looked big and lonely upon first glance, and she found herself mentally compiling what to put where based on furniture pieces that she didn’t even own. The house was modest but larger than she had expected for their first place together; a large living area stretched to the left, the dining and kitchen area at the right. Splitting the two sections was a hallway that undoubtedly led to the bedroom and the bath. “This…”

Spike shuffled nervously. “Do you like it?”

“I’m…I’m actually going to have my own place.” Her eyes lit up and she turned to him with a large, beaming smile. “Oh my God!”

“So—”

“I’ll take it!”

“You haven’ seen it all yet, luv—”

“I don’t care. This is perfect.” She cupped his cheeks and kissed him heatedly. “I can’t believe you did this.”

He smiled softly. “I din’t do anythin’ but open the paper.”

“But you…” She broke away from his embrace and turned back to the room, stretching her arms demonstratively. “This is ours. We have…oh my God, you can afford this?”

“Of course I can.” His eyes twinkled. “Contrary to popular belief, I did do some investin’ over the years.”

She quirked a brow. “Not enough to buy a castle, though.”

“Enough to buy you a nice house for however long you wanna stay in this pissant town.”

“However long…?”

“Told you I wanted to get you outta here. This…’s not much…jus’ until you’re ready.”

Buffy exhaled a deep breath and simply stared at him. “You’re something else.”

He prowled forward and wrapped his arms around her waist, tugging her into him with an impassioned growl. “Wanna shower you with gifts, luv. ‘S not a castle jus’ yet. Gimme a few years.”

“Spike…” Her vision blurred and she glanced down. “It’s absolutely perfect. I can’t…why did you tell my mother tonight that you were still looking?”

“Din’t know if this was what you wanted, pet. ‘Sides, it was s’posed to be a surprise, like I said.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “When the battle’s over, I wanted us to have a place to come home to.”

“When the battle’s over…”

He nodded. “An’ Angelus is dust.”

Buffy released a deep breath and nodded. “This is amazing. I can’t even…” She turned to him, her eyes shining. “I can’t…” She paused for a minute, then wiped her tears away. “Sorry. Stupid girly thing.”

Spike smirked and his gaze raked her body appreciatively. “I happen to like your girly things,” he murmured, leaning inward to nibble on her lips. “Point of fact, I think I’m quite enamored with ‘em.”

She smiled. “They seem to like you, too.”

“Mmm…” He cupped her breasts, walking her back toward the wall, pressing himself fully into her as her legs hiked up around his waist. “They certainly are…” He tugged at her nipples through her shirt. “…responsive.”

Buffy play-slapped at his hand and wagged a finger at him. “Bad.”

“The baddest, baby.”

She released a small mewl and thrust herself against the hardness grinding into her center, reflecting briefly on how effortlessly he could make her lose all semblance of control. The slightest touch and her body was left in want. The claim had brought her to life in ways she couldn’t fathom, and as Spike had prophesied, she found herself in need of his touch every waking second. “We should probably get going,” she murmured, her voice lacking conviction as his mouth worshipped her throat. “Get…”

“Buffy…” He pulled his head back, his eyes flashing with need. It amazed her that he could still look at her like that. Amazed her that the feelings she felt him feeding her blood were all for her; that his feelings were as powerful as they were.

She had to remind herself every now and then that this was something he had waited for. Sure, she’d heard him say it a thousand times, and with as little time as he had been in her life, she couldn’t imagine the lonely years before him without the whisper of his presence. After all, he had been there all along. He had watched her grow up. He had protected her from badness without truly stepping in. Her life thus far had been brief, and though she hadn’t always been able to see him, Spike had been with her for every step. Every step minus four precious years. He was one of her earliest memories, and she knew somehow that when the world ended once and for all, she would be holding his hand.

She recalled the night he first came back into her life. The night his eyes had flashed for her and everything had changed. It hadn’t been too long ago, but god, it felt as though she had aged a thousand years since then. She remembered his short-lived control, the intrusive presence of his fingers inside her, breaking her virginal body with passion that hurt more for its newness and her fear than actual pain. She remembered trembling as she raced home. She remembered looking in the mirror the second she was back in the sanctuary of her room, then collapsing with relief when she felt him outside her window.

A lifetime ago. She loved him now. She felt she had loved him forever.

Buffy released a deep breath and lowered her mouth to his throat, unwinding her legs from around his waist and sliding to the floor, her body shivering when he whimpered in protest. “Shhh…”

“Sweetling, I—”

As early as tomorrow, this all could be over.

A long shudder seized her and she shook her head, kissing away Spike’s confusion as she coaxed him to turn until his back was pressed against the wall.

“Wanna give this place a good christening?” she asked, her gaze turning devious.

He smirked. “Jus’ so we feel at home, yeh?”

“Oh, totally.” She tugged at his belt, nibbling lightly on his lips. “Guess we can call this the pre-christening christening. I’m sure we’ll need to try out all the rooms once everything is final.”

“Make a day of it,” he agreed, a long gasp tearing through his throat as his cock sprang into her waiting hand. “Move the mattress with us as we decide where we want the bed.”

Buffy quirked a brow, squeezing his length, her teeth skimming the claim mark on his throat. “Where we want it? I was thinking the bedroom.”

“Ahhhh…” Spike’s eyes fell shut and he thrust into her touch with a small whimper. “Nah…’s what everyone’ll expect.”

“Mhmm.”

“God, Buffy, please…” His hands fell to the hem of her top. “Need you so bad.”

“You have me.”

“Buffy!”

She squeezed him again with a grin. “You have me.”

She raised her arms and her shirt was gone the next second. His eager mouth fell to her breasts, tonguing her heatedly through her bra as her small hand stroked his cock. He rumbled into her with fervor as he thrust into her touch.

“Such a hot li’l hand,” he gasped. “Buffy, please!”

Buffy brushed a kiss against his lips. “I love seeing you all squirmy,” she murmured, nipping at his throat as she worked her way slowly down his body until she was face-to-face with his raging predicament. She grinned mischievously, curling one hand around the base of his erection as her other teased the weight of his balls. “Squirm for me, baby.”

“I…did you jus’ call me ‘baby’?”

She shrugged, her tongue curling around his sensitive head. “Was just trying it on for size.”

“A-and?”

“Feels strange coming outta my mouth.”

Spike released a long, strangled sigh and thrust forward. “Your mouth is perfect,” he whimpered. “Everythin’ about you is perfect.”

“Mmm.” Buffy pressed a series of hot, wet kisses along the underside of his length, licking at the base before lapping back to his head. “You’re just saying so ‘cause you like what my mouth is doing right now.”

“B-Buffy—”

She drew him all the way into her hot cavern until he brushed against the back of her throat, then slowly slid him out again. “You know, I think I’ve gotten pretty good at this.”

“D-do you?”

“Mhmm,” she agreed, grinning inwardly when he moaned at the vibrations she sent through his body. “All things considered…” She licked at his skin. “I haven’t been doing it all that long.”

Spike heaved a deep breath. “I can’t believe I lived without it.”

“See?”

“Buffy…”

Her tongue swirled around him once more as her hand pumped what she couldn’t take into her mouth.

“Buffy, please! You gotta…bloody hell, stop!”

She glanced up. “Stop?”

“Wanna be inside you.” Spike grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her onto her back. “Want your sweet li’l quim stranglin’ me into oblivion. Wanna come with your sweet li’l titties bouncin’ in my face as you ride me.”

She whimpered and nodded eagerly.

“Christ,” Spike gasped, stroking himself furiously as she disrobed. “You drive me outta my mind.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” she replied, stripping her slacks down her legs. “Spike, please—”

“I—”

He tugged her to the ground the next second, his jeans shoved down to his ankles. His duster was off the next minute and splayed beneath his body; a makeshift mattress for their needs.

Very makeshift, though definitely better than nothing.

Buffy released a deep breath as she crawled over him, carefully removing his combat boots, then extracting his legs from his pants. Her heart was thundering as she slid her body over his. For some reason, she found herself inexplicably tense. With as intimate as they were, with everything they had already done, there was something about seeing him in such need that never failed to wrack every nerve in her body.

“I haven’t been on top before,” she reminded him as she straddled his thighs, taking his length into her hand and stroking him gently.

“Well, not with me lyin’ down,” he retorted cheekily, stripping off his tee. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“Uh huh.”

“Jus’…” He maneuvered her hips until her seeping entrance was hovering over his cock, then found her eyes and held as she sank down. A shared moan ripped through the air. “Oh, fuck.”

“Uhhh…”

“Feel so good, baby. Every time,” Spike panted, raising his head to lap sweetly at her breasts through the lace of her bra.

Buffy whimpered and worried her lip between her teeth, rocking her hips sensually against his. “Never…Spike…I…”

“Shhh, sweetling.” He ripped her bra away the next second, laving a wet path around her nipple. “Remember what I told you about dancin’ the other mornin’? Jus’ like that, pet. Jus’ like that. ‘S natural. Jus’ ride me.”

She flushed and wiggled, moaning when her actions seated his erection deeper within her. “I’m just…I was just thinking a few minutes ago about how long you had to wait for…well…us, and I guess I got…I mean, I’m—”

Spike smiled and cupped her cheek tenderly. “Silly girl. You’re perfect. You’re absolutely perfect. An’ I love you so much I’m surprised I haven’ dusted from it.”

A shiver raced across her skin and she raised her hips, moaning as his cock slipped out of her. “I love you, too,” she said, sliding down again the next second until her pussy was pressed against the base of his erection, their curls intermingled. “Oh my God.”

“Oh, bloody hell.” He threw his head back and thrust up into her needily. “So hot. So fucking hot. That’s it, pet. You got it. You got me. Ohhh, yeh, that’s it. Squeeze me real good.”

Her vaginal muscles contracted around him as her hands found his shoulders, her hips developing a natural rhythm. She pressed her breasts against his chest; a sharp jolt shooting through her body. She felt stretched wider than she’d ever been, though she honestly didn’t know if it was because of the position or the feel of truly being in control. It was amazing. Amazing how he could fill both her body and a void that she hadn’t even known was tearing her apart.

Meeting the deep azure of his eyes, though, she conceded that a simple change of position in their lovemaking didn’t make much of a huge difference in his innate pull. Spike had a hold on her that couldn’t be comprised simply of exercising authority that she felt too inexperienced to grasp.

Though she believed him when he reassured her doubts. After all, she felt what he felt, now. She could feel everything.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered, tugging at one of her nipples as his other hand scaled down her belly. “So amazing.”

Buffy smiled, intensifying her thrusts as the spark he had ignited in her body started to burn. “Reading my mind?” she gasped, tossing her head back as he lapped at her breasts.

“I feel what you feel, too, baby,” he murmured, slipping his thumb over her clit. God, she was such a puddle of slayer-goo in his hands. “Feel every. Delicious. Thing.”

She nibbled at his lips, slowing her movements to a measured, steady cadence.

Spike whimpered and his eyes widened. “Buffy?”

“I wanna try something.” She seized his wrist and guided his touch away from her pussy as his cock slid out of her. A long gasp of complaint rumbled through his throat and he reached for her with desperation. “Shhh.”

“Buffy!”

Her hand found his length, navigating his spongy head to stroke her clit. The contact sent sharp jolts through her body; her eyes went wide and she mewled in pleasure. “Oh, my God!”

“Holy fuck.”

“Oh my God.”

Spike’s gaze positively burned. “You are the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he growled, searing her skin completely with his sinful caresses as she rubbed his cock against her sensitive pearl. “You like that, pet?”

“Ohhh…”

“Like usin’ me to get off?”

Her eyes locked with his. “Spike—”

“No. Keep doin’ it.” He licked his lips, his hand circling his erection, pumping himself in time with her movements. “Bloody hell, I could watch you all day.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded, stroking his shaft furiously. “Buffy…Buffy!”

She nodded and positioned him at her opening once more, encasing him in her sheath with another long moan of completion. “Ahhh…”

“Nothin’ like the feel of you,” he murmured. “Love you, baby.”

“Love you,” she agreed, her hands finding purchase at his hips as she slid herself up and down his cock with new desperation. “Oh God.”

“That’s it. You’re close, aren’ you?”

She glanced down at him, watching him through hooded eyes. Watching as he swallowed her whole with his gaze. As he released a slew of obscenities that only served to make her blood burn hotter than she thought possible, she leaned forward so that her breasts dangled just above his mouth.

“Tease,” he growled, suckling a nipple between his teeth.

“You love it,” she replied, gasping as his fingers pinched her clit again. “Oh!”

“Come for me, baby. Wanna feel you coming hard around me. Wanna hear my name on those gorgeous lips of yours. Scream it, Buffy.”

“Guh!”

“Scream it!”

“Spike!”

For a minute, she could’ve sworn the walls around her vanished, the floor beneath her ceased to exist, and it was just her and Spike. Just the waves crashing through her blood; just the feel of the vampire beneath her thrusting up into her desperately as he spilled himself within her.

No world to save. No demons to defeat. No baddies to slay. He stole away the pain of reality for a few wonderful seconds. There was no want for anything more. There was just this.

When she came back to herself, she was curled in his arms, his lips caressing her brow as his hands traced cool patterns over her body.

“I’ll take it,” she said after a few long, recuperative moments, releasing a contented sigh.

“Take it?”

“The house. I’ll take it.”

Spike peered up at her through one eye. “You haven’ seen the rest of it, yet.”

“I told you I’d take it when we first got here.”

“Now you’re sayin’ it again.”

“Yes.”

“So we’re takin’ it?”

“Well, if you introduce me to every room like that…”

“You’re the one that jumped me, luv.”

She nodded her agreement, pressing a kiss against his chest. Had it happened like that? She couldn’t remember, and it didn’t matter. She felt herself in need of him all the time, so it was entirely possible. “What can I say?” she murmured. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“Can’t resist my sexy bones, can you?”

“Nope.”

She settled against him comfortably, closing her eyes to will the world to stay away for just a few more minutes. To keep the outside knowledge from bursting forward again; to keep the battle she was dreading on the doorstep.

To keep the bad from surging toward them again. She had already endured so much bad. Spike provided light in the midst of her dark. She needed to hold onto the light. She needed it so much.

Just a little while longer.

It didn’t seem, after everything, too much to ask.