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Chapter 26

Buffy came awake with a start, pulled from a restful sleep by the warning tingles climbing up the back of her neck. Her head lifted from where it lay, turned to the side as she rested on something cool and hard. Not entirely uncomfortable, but not exactly the softness of the bed either. She felt decidedly lethargic, as if Giles had put her through her paces and then set her out to patrol for the better part of the night.

It took her a moment to figure out what it was beneath her. The memories slammed through her body then, eliciting a horror-filled gasp as she braced herself up with her arms, away from the creature she’d lain sprawled upon.

Self-loathing filled her gaze as she stared down at the slumbering features of her enemy.

No, not her enemy. Her husband.

Spike.

She was married to Spike.

Buffy scrambled off of him, uncaring of her nakedness as she moved to put as much distance between herself and the master vampire blissfully unaware – or uncaring – of his mortal enemy's wakefulness. The edge of the bed wasn’t far enough away for her peace of mind, so she grabbed the coverlet that had been kicked to the floor sometime earlier, wrapping it protectively around her body as she slunk to a darkened corner of the room away from his prying eyes should he awaken and attempt to seek her out.

She would have dressed and escaped the room, flee the prison that he’d brought her to, but the thought of walking amongst the multitude of vampires – that even now was being hammered home to her Slayer senses – was not a quest she was ready to subject herself to just yet.

Right now, she had no idea where she was…only that she was alone, and at the mercy of a vampire that had boasted of bagging his third Slayer.

As the helplessness of her situation washed over her, the tears began to fall. Self-pity wasn’t an emotion she normally indulged in, but right now…away from her watcher, her mother, her friends, Angel – she couldn’t prevent the sobs that wracked her slender frame.

~*~*~*~*~

Spike woke to the feel the Slayer’s overwhelming sense of despair as it came to him through the claim. His eyes narrowed, realizing that she wasn’t in bed with him. Outside the room the sounds of his clan’s more amorous activities reached his ears and he inhaled deeply the scent of blood and sex lingering on the air.

For just a moment he thought of saying to hell with dealing with the Slayer…leaving her to wallow in her guilt and shame. He could be downstairs right now, participating in the sex-fest with the others of his clan, gorging on the human flesh just waiting to die at their hands. Instead of being here, locked in a room with a brassed off, confused Slayer – one that wanted nothing to do with him now that she’d gotten her memories back. The bloody bitch.

His eyes turned unerringly towards her. Images danced before his eyes…the Slayer, babbling her apologies, validating his claim.

Guess now that the sexual tension was gone, she was once more the bitch he loved to hate.

And, right now, he did. Hated the powerful creature huddled in the corner like a whipped dog, her body shaking with shame as she cried those bloody tears. Once more the rage he’d barely managed to conceal flared to life, a spark set to dry timber, threatening to engulf him in flames.

Spike sat up in bed, every muscle in his body taut with fury that suddenly overcame him. He was so close to saying, “sod it all” and gifting himself with his third Slayer – he didn’t need the aggravation of dealing with her in all her righteous indignation. If anyone had the right to be pissed, it was he. He was the one that had to go against everything he was and claim her. And not just that, oh no. Powers coerced him to bloody well marry the chit too.

It was enough to make him want to drive a stake through his own unbeating heart.

He stood, stalking towards the Slayer in all his naked glory, intent on doing just that. Was halfway there when he felt another presence at his back. Quicker than the blink of an eye, he turned and confronted this latest threat…

…and stared in shock at the half-breed.

What the hell?

He must have voiced his thoughts out loud because Doyle opened his mouth and spoke.

“Don’t look at me, man! I was minding my own business, sleeping the sleep of the well-inebriated when I was whisked from my bed and plopped in your room,” he grumbled. “And, would you mind putting some clothes on…I could do without the visual, thanks.”

Spike snorted and walked towards where he’d kicked off his breeches earlier, pulling them on over his bare legs and fastening them about his hips.

“Wanna tell me what you’re doing here, mate?” he groused, leaning against the bedpost, arms crossed over his chest.

Doyle rolled his eyes at the vampire, taking in the huddled form of the Slayer before plopping in one of the chairs in the room.

“Well, it seems your more amorous pursuits earlier this evening have resulted in the Powers having to step in and do some mind-altering mojo. Something they’re not thrilled with, by the way,” he broke off seeing the vampire’s eyes narrow on him. “Hey, just the messenger here. And, not willingly, I’ll have you know. I was minding my own business, sleeping the night away.”

“Get on with it,” Spike growled, more at the situation than at the man that had become his reluctant friend these past weeks. He knew the half-breed’s chain was being jerked by these so-called Powers, just like his own had been.

“Yeah…anyway. Guess with the erm…enjoyment, I guess you can say…your uhh, shout was heard by several of your brethren causing the Powers to do that mind-altering spell. Something they didn’t like doing because they’d already had the cloaking spell to prevent vamps from sensing her in the first place.”

~*~

Buffy lifted her head from her knees when it dawned on the Slayer that Spike was talking to someone else. She squinted in the near-dark room and tried to make out the image of the man reclined casually in the chair.

“…Powers to do that mind-altering spell. Something they didn’t like doing because they’d already had the cloaking spell to prevent vamps from sensing her in the first place.”

She couldn’t process most of what he’d said after hearing “Powers.”

The Powers were behind this?

The Slayer lurched to her feet, dragging the coverlet more securely around her naked frame as she marched towards the two men. Gone was the lost, weeping girl. In her place stood a royally pissed off Slayer.

She’d had about enough of this! She wanted to know what was going on…and now.

~*~

Spike felt the Slayer move towards them and couldn’t prevent his lips from twisting into his trademark smirk. He didn’t halt her progress, for once she was directing all that piss and vinegar on someone other than yours truly, so he just stayed where he was and watched the show.

And she didn’t disappoint, laying into the half-breed with all the righteous indignation she could muster, blasting him with her fury, demanding to know who he was and what the hell was going on.

She’d even cussed.

His smirk transformed itself to a grin before he could stop himself. Doyle was trying desperately to field the Slayer’s rapidly fired questions, frequently shooting him pleading looks for assistance. Spike just kept mum, watching the Powers’ emissary flounder like a fish out of water as he attempted to explain what had happened to her.

~*~

“So you’re saying that Ethan Rayne is responsible for this? Me being here…in the past?”

“Yes.”

“And, you’re the spokesperson for these 'Powers that Be'?”

“Erm…yes.”

“Well, as this so-called spokesperson, you mind telling me why they haven’t fixed it yet and sent me back home?”

“See, that’s the thing,” he stammered, eyes darting back and forth between the vampire and Slayer. Damn, he hated his job sometimes. “They don’t want to interfere, anymore than they already have.”

“Bullshit,” Buffy ground out, masking her shock at her foul language. But, she was pissed and something about this guy’s words didn’t seem to ring true.

“Uh…” Oh, fuck! Now I’ve got Spike’s interest too. This night was quickly going from bad to worse.

“There’s no way you can tell me that these stupid Powers, or whatever you want to call them, can’t just wave their magic wand and send me home,” she argued. “What is it you’re not telling me? And trust me, I’ll know if you’re lying.”

Her eyes narrowed on him, promising retribution if he didn’t come clean.

“Hell…look…it wasn’t my idea. I’m just the messenger.”

Doyle stood, putting the chair between him and the Slayer. He glanced over at Spike to see his eyes narrowed as well. There was no way he was going to get out of this room with his hide intact. Especially after he told them that they could have been returned home rather easily, but that the Powers had been adamant about having the legend come true. That they’d taken the warlock’s mischief spell and manipulated it for their own purposes.

No, they weren’t going to be happy. Maybe he’d leave that part out of his explanation.

He watched at they moved to stand side by side, neither aware that’d they instinctively formed a united front against him. Guess the Powers knew what they were about after all.

There was no easy way around this. He was just going to have to come right out and say it.

“You both are here to fulfill your destiny.”

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