Buffy opened the kitchen door and entered her house—and was instantly surrounded by scared and teary-eyed Potentials.

"Buffy," Amanda started to say, but thought better of it.

Kennedy, however, was blunt. "We lost at least two girls."

"I know," Buffy said. She sat down at the island and turned away from the young girls. She didn’t want them to see how affected she was by it, because it was kind of scaring her. She was sad that Molly had died, but she knew it wasn’t her fault.

But Kennedy wasn’t finished. "We lost Molly—"

"I know!" Buffy stood up and turned on them, anger in her voice and eyes. "But Molly was very stupid. She didn’t do anything! She was scared and shocked and it got. Her. Killed!"

Kennedy stood her ground, while the others shrunk back into their little group.

"She had the knife in her hand and she still did nothing," Buffy continued, calming her voice and dropping her gaze. "She could have at least tried to stab the minister guy. Bur she didn’t."

"You can’t expect everyone to just fall in line behind you because some of them aren’t ready," Kennedy argued. "Rona got her arm busted, my face is all bruised and all you can think about is waging your little war."

Buffy slapped her. Amanda and Chao-ahn gasped, but Kennedy still defied the Slayer with her eyes.

"That’s because this war is the only thing that matters right now!" Buffy told them, not feeling even an ounce of guilt for hitting one of the Potentials. Hell, they needed to be beat around if they were finally going to start realizing they could get killed and hurt easily. "This war is what will determine the survival of mankind, your survival. So don’t give me anymore crap! Because it’s likely that if you’re not ready, every one of you will die, too."

With that, the Slayer stormed out of the room, slamming the basement door behind her.

The room was silent for a moment, then Chao-ahn said, in Chinese, "What the hell is going on?"

Faith walked in from the dining room, coming to stand beside Kennedy. Seeing the looks on the Potential’s face, she asked, "What’s up?"

Kennedy looked at the basement door for a moment, then at the other Slayer. "I think she’s breaking."

Faith frowned and looked back at the door, more concerned for B. than she would ever admit.

Buffy sat down heavily on the last step and put her head in her hands. She sighed. "Stupid girls…"

"Got a problem, love?" a voice asked from the bed.

"No," Buffy said, "they do." She stood up and walked over to him, glad for some company other than teenaged girls and the Scoobies. She needed some time to think; and Spike had always been good at telling her what she was thinking.

As she sat beside him on the cot, he handed her the cig he had been smoking. She looked at it. In her early twenties and she hadn’t even tried smoking, not once. Spike had offered her some on occasion, but she had never accepted.

She took it, bringing it to her mouth and sucking in deeply. She coughed and choked, making the blonde vampire chuckle.

"Don’t laugh," she warned. "I’m not in the mood."

"I heard your little outburst upstairs. And that slap. Was it Kennedy? Gotta say she’s been asking for it since day one."

Buffy smiled a little. "Yeah, she does deserve it. And yeah, I did have an outburst. It’s just been so hard to keep them safe and prepare them for battle. I don’t even know if they’ll be ready."

"Come the time," Spike said, "they’ll be ready."

"Maybe."

She took another drag, this time not coughing. They were silent for a long time, both just contemplating their surroundings.

Then Buffy said, "You know how many times we’ve had an apocalypse since I moved here?"

"Nope," Spike admitted. "I’m waging it’s a lot."

"Eight. Or maybe more."

"And this one makes nine," Spike finished.

Buffy threw her half-finished cigarette onto the basement floor and stomped on it with her boot. "And I don’t know if I can stop this one."

"You will."

"Whenever we have an apocalypse, I either die, win, or end up sending the people I love to Hell. And this First Evil thing is much more powerful and resourceful and tricky than all the other big bads we’ve faced put together."

"Hey!" Spike said, mocking insult.

Another tiny smile played at the corner of Buffy’s lips. "Sorry."

"’S all right. I know I’m not exactly bad anymore. But we’ll get through this. The whole gang. And we’ll kill this thing and have a happy ending. Just like in those sodding fairy tales."

"Fairy tales are true, you know?" Buffy said. "Except instead a cute little Hansel and Gretel, you get a big demon making my mom burn us at the stake, and creepy Gentlemen taking your voice away."

They were silent again, both lost in thought.

"What if I’m not ready to fight this thing?" Buffy whispered.

Spike looked at her, seeing not the powerful Slayer, but a vulnerable young woman. He was surprised when he saw tears in her eyes, ready to fall down her cheeks, but he didn’t know what to say.

"You’ll… We’ll get you ready," Spike finally said as he took her hand and lead them to the open space where the Potentials used to train before they became too numerous to all fit.

"So, what? We’re gonna train or something?" Buffy asked.

"Or something," Spike answered as his left foot shot out. Buffy ducked under it and followed through with an elbow to the back of his head.

As he fell to the ground, Spike tucked into a ball and rolled back up, sending a punch into Buffy’s gut. She fell back and hit the wall, kicking her leg and catching him in the jaw. Before he could recover, she punched him in the nose and head-butted him. He slammed his fist into her kidney and cringed when she yelped and fell forward.

She turned onto her back and flipped to her feet. They circled each other for a few seconds, both sussing out the other’s weaknesses at the moment. Buffy’s left side hurt where he had attacked her kidney and Spike’s nose felt like it always did when she went for it: like shit.

They attacked at the same time. As Buffy swung her fist into the air, Spike’s foot shot out to trip her. Buffy’s fist connected with his jaw and his foot swept her legs out from under her, and they both fell. Spike rolled into a crouching position just in time to see Buffy’s head connect with the edge of the metal cot and the Slayer crumpled to the ground.

"Buffy!"

He crouched down beside her and pulled her small frame into his lap. A small pool of blood had gathered on the floor where Buffy’s head had rested, and he feared a concussion. But Buffy opened her eye and stared up at him, wide-eyed and slightly dazed. When he removed his fingers from her hair, they were stained with her crimson blood, but she simply sat up and leaned her back against the cot.

A small laugh escaped her lips.

Spike stared at her in bewilderment. Here he was, scared shitless for her, and all she could do was snicker.

"I hardly find that funny, love," Spike told her.

"I’m sorry, it’s just…" She snorted. "It’s just, you should see the look on your face."

Spike was aghast. "Slayer, you could seriously have gotten hurt—"

"Yeah, but it wasn’t—"

"Are you trying to give my unbeating heart a stroke?"

"You know very well that unbeating hearts can’t have strokes—"

"Still, give a man a chance to—"

"Oh, shut up." She reached over and pulled him into her. Their lips met with a searing passion, and they both sighed in release. Her back strained against the metal cot, but she pushed all pain and thoughts out of her head. This was what she had needed.

He pushed her backwards until she was forced to lie down on the cot, and her shirt lifted up to expose her bra. His hands gripped her breasts, sending shivers of desire soaring through her body. It had been so long, and she was so broken.

His tongue sought entrance into her mouth, and she led his hands down to her pussy, where she needed to be touched the most.

Spike didn’t decline.

He unzipped her jeans and his fingers found their way to her clit, and he began to massage her through her panties.

"Oh, God." Soon Buffy was panting and mewling, having forgotten how good Spike’s fingers were. "The tings…you do…" She moaned throatily when he taped her clit once and pinched it—hard. "You…oh, God…so good…"

She kept up her random-word-tirade as he continued his abuse of her womanhood.

He isn’t even touching my flesh. How can it be so good?

Because you missed these things you took for granted, a little voice said in her mind, and she realized then that it was true.

His tongue danced along her neck, and she couldn’t take it anymore. She flipped them over with a twist of her pelvis—at the same time sending jolts of pleasure all through her body at the contact. "I need you," she quickly explained, before unzipping his jeans and freeing his erection. As he ripped away her lacy panties, she stroked his cock, making him squirm.

He grunted. "God, Buffy. So…oh…yeah, like that…"

She dropped down onto his cock, and they both froze. As they stared into each other’s eyes, Spike’s hands gripped her hips and forced her to rock her pelvis against his. Her breath became shallow and quick, and she let him in to the hilt. She squeezed her inner muscles slightly, just the way she knew he liked it.

Apparently, the soul in him didn’t change what he digged in bed.

His hands tightened on her hips, bruising her flesh—in that good way—and she fell. Her hands stopped her from falling directly on top of Spike, and she stayed in that position, one hand on either side of his head. They closed their eyes and let themselves be taken away by the familiar sensations.

Before long, they both crashed, creating waves of pure light behind their closed eyelids.

When she finally opened her hazel eyes, she found herself looking directly into Spike’s blue ones.

She opened her mouth to speak, but movement to her left—in the direction on the stairs—caught her attention. There was Faith, all female swagger and raised eyebrows—staring at the two of them in bed.

Neither Spike nor Buffy moved, just stared at Faith. "Hey, don’t let me interrupt," the brunette said, raising her hands in an innocent gesture.

She nodded, staring at Buffy. "Yep, definitely looks like you’ve been getting your naughty on, B."

She blew a kiss to the two tangled people on the cot, then headed upstairs. Buffy knew she would keep her mouth closed about this until the blonde Slayer figured out what to do about the situation, and she was instantly and forever glad to have Faith back in her life.

Buffy collapsed on top of Spike, laughing softly. She heard him chuckle, then he began to stroke her hair in lazy patterns.

"So, what now, pet?"

"Now? We sleep." Buffy rested her head on his chest and smiled, convinced for the first time in a long while that she wasn’t broken.