~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
~Part: 11~
Duncan opened eyes he'd closed as the powerful orgasm swept through him, and looked into Methos' eyes. He sat up and reached out for the other man, who was still kneeling between his legs. Methos took his hand and allowed Duncan to pull him forward so that he straddled Duncan's legs and leaned against his chest.
Duncan put one hand behind Methos' head and pressed it down to him. Methos kissed Duncan, allowing the other man to taste himself. The kiss started out slow and gentle, and became deep and urgent as the heat quickly built between them.
Duncan pulled away. "My turn," he whispered huskily. Methos shivered, the deep timbre of Duncan's voice washing over him.
Duncan reached out and began to unbutton Methos' shirt. He pushed it away from his chest and leaned forward to kiss and nibble at his chest, to lick and suck on his nipples. Methos groaned as Duncan worked his nipples into hard nubs.
Duncan slipped his hands around Methos' waist and ran them down over his ass, tugging him closer, making Methos moan, his straining erection captured between them. He felt Duncan smile against his chest.
"What's so funny?" he asked.
"Problem?" Duncan asked.
"Nothing you can't fix," Methos replied tartly.
Duncan pushed him back far enough so he could get his hands between their bodies to unbutton and unzip Methos' jeans. Methos hissed as Duncan slipped his hand inside Methos' boxers and dragged his fingers over the other man's erection.
"I wasn't a Doctor," Duncan said. "But I'll do my best."
"I'm sure you will, Highlander," Methos groaned. "Just do it soon, will you?"
"Don't be impatient, Methos," Duncan teased. "Good things come to those who wait."
"I'm going to come in your hand if you don't...Oh, gods!" he cried, as Duncan raked a nail over the tip of his cock. "Duncan!"
"Get on the couch," Duncan instructed.
Methos pushed himself up and fell back onto the couch. Duncan sat up and untied Methos' boots and pulled them and his socks off his feet. He started to roll to his knees, and realized the awkwardness of his half-dressed position. He kicked his own jeans and boxers off, and then pulled his socks off before kneeling in front of Methos.
"Lift your hips, Old Man," he commanded. Methos raised his hips and Duncan pulled his jeans and boxers off, tossing them onto the growing pile. He took a minute to appreciate the view of Methos sprawled on the couch, dressed only in the open shirt that bared his hard chest and firm stomach, his cock jutting from the nest of curls between his thighs.
Duncan reached out and cupped Methos' balls in his hands. Holding them as if he were weighing them, and then closing his hand around them and gently kneading. He curled the fingers of his other hand around Methos' cock and ran it up the length of it, and then back down.
"Duncan," Methos hissed, as Duncan pleasured him. "Take your sweater off." He reached out and tugged at the light sweater Duncan was wearing. Duncan grabbed the hem and lifted the sweater over his head. Methos moaned in appreciation of what he saw.
He reached his hand out and ran his fingers over Duncan's shoulder and down his chest as far as he could reach. He'd seen Duncan's naked chest before, lusted after it, but never had he dreamed he'd ever be able to touch it like this. The sight of the naked man kneeling before him made his body tense.
"Jesus, Duncan, I'm going to come from just looking at you!"
"I don't think so, Methos." Duncan reached out and wrapped his fingers around the base of Methos' cock.
"Son of a...!" Methos cried, as Duncan stemmed his orgasm. "Duncan!" he cried in desperation.
"I haven't had a chance to taste you yet." With a sadistic smile, Duncan lowered his head and licked the tip of Methos' cock. He took the head into his mouth and sucked on it, his tongue swirling around the ridge. He lowered his mouth over Methos, taking him deeper as he continued to suck and press his tongue against the underside.
Methos grabbed Duncan's head and instinctively bucked his hips, trying to find release. Duncan placed his free hand on Methos' hip to hold him down and sucked harder. Methos rolled his head against the back of the couch. Duncan's mouth on him felt so good it hurt. He dug his fingers into Duncan's hair and pulled it free from the clasp holding it back.
Without warning, Duncan let go of Methos' cock and placed both hands on his hips. He took Methos in until his cock head brushed the back of Duncan's throat, and then he swallowed around it. Methos cried out as his body tensed and stilled, and then he came, filling Duncan's mouth and throat with his release.
Duncan swallowed, and continued to suck on Methos until he was clean, before letting the softening flesh fall from his mouth. He looked up at Methos, who was staring down at him through half-lidded eyes, his hands still buried in Duncan's hair. He was afraid to say anything, afraid that if he broke the spell they were under Methos would realize that this had been a bad idea.
Without a word, Duncan rose to his feet and grabbed the beer bottles off the coffee table, briefly wondering how they had managed to stay upright, and then dropped onto the couch beside Methos.
He looked at the two bottles, trying to remember which was his, and then shrugged. "Beer?" he asked softly, holding one of the bottles out to Methos.
Methos considered the warm beer, and then reached out to take it. He lifted his arm and placed it over Duncan's shoulders. Duncan shifted so that his back was resting against Methos' side, his head leaning against Methos' shoulder. Methos placed his hand on Duncan's chest, his thumb absently stroking him. They sat in companionable silence and finished their beers.
Eventually, Duncan shivered. "Bed?" Methos asked without moving.
"Yeah," Duncan agreed slowly. He pushed himself to his feet and held a hand out for Methos'. Methos took the proffered hand and allowed Duncan to help him up. They set the empty beer bottles back onto the coffee table, and Duncan pushed Methos' shirt off his shoulders. He dragged it down his arms and tossed it onto the pile at their feet.
He let his eyes run over the body of the man standing before him. "You're beautiful," he whispered, as his hands followed the path his eyes had taken.
"Duncan." Methos' voice trembled. He'd held his feelings for this man inside for so long, and it felt like a damn had burst, allowing them all out to flood his awareness.
"Methos." Duncan pulled the other man to him and they held each other tightly, desperately, both afraid to let go.
They eventually made their way to the bed. Duncan turned out the light before sliding beneath the covers to join his lover. His lover. He liked the way that sounded. Methos was lying on his back, and Duncan rolled to his side and rested his head on the other man's shoulder, his hand tracing patterns on his stomach.
Duncan was almost asleep when Methos' voice reached him. "I wonder if this hotel has any rooms with king-sized beds."
He smiled, allowing himself to hope that meant Methos was staying.
***
Willow appeared at the Magic Box at four o'clock in the afternoon the next day. She was hoping to run into Spike, but if he wasn't there, figured she could get some studying done and take a nap on the couch in the backroom before everyone else arrived. The bell rang as she pushed the front door open.
"Hello, welcome... Oh," Anya sighed. "Hi, Willow."
"Hi, Anya." Willow smiled, knowing Anya's reaction wasn't personal, just a result of her desire to make more money. "Hi, Giles," Willow greeted the Watcher as he stepped through the beaded curtain closing off the backroom.
"Willow, hello. What are you doing here so early? The ritual isn't until midnight."
"I know, I just..." Her voice trailed off as Spike stepped through the beaded curtain behind Giles.
"Red," he smirked.
"Spike." Willow blushed.
"Ah." Giles nodded, realizing what brought Willow to the shop this early. He shook his head as he placed the crystal balls he was carrying onto the shelf.
"I'm going to heat up some blood," Spike was saying. "You want anything?"
"Maybe a, uh, bottle of water," Willow replied, as she continued into the shop and followed Spike to the kitchen. When she got there, a bottle of water was sitting on the counter and he was pouring a bag of blood into a mug to heat it up in the microwave.
"Thanks." Willow opened the bottle and took a sip. Her throat suddenly felt very dry.
Spike turned around and leaned against the counter, his legs crossed at the ankle, his arms crossed over his chest.
"So, uh, how are you doing?" Willow asked to fill the silence. "How was patrol?"
"Patrol was quiet. You're beautiful."
"Oh, well that's...huh?" Willow's eyes widened in surprise.
Spike just smiled. The microwave dinged and he took the mug out. He drank the blood, looking at Willow over the rim of the mug. Her porcelain-white skin was flushed a delicious pink, and he could hear the roar of her blood. It called to him, and he wanted nothing more than to sink into her, feel her heat surround him as he sank his fangs into her neck.
He shook his head to clear it of the fantasy, and finished his blood. He rinsed the mug out and placed it in the drainer.
"You need to study or something?" he asked, indicating the bag in her hand.
"Oh, well, uh, no. I mean...I brought homework...in case you weren't here," she admitted.
"Ah." He smiled. "What are your plans then...since I am here?" he asked, and Willow blushed. "Are you going to have your wicked way with me, Red?" Spike continued to tease her, breathing deeply of the scent of her arousal, of the blood coursing through her veins.
"Spike," Willow protested. "Don't tease."
"Why not?" Spike asked. "I like seeing you get all flustered. You blush so prettily."
"'Cause." Willow shook her hair back. "It's not nice to get a girl all worked up and not satisfy her." Willow turned on her heel and walked out of the kitchen, leaving a now-flustered Spike behind.
Spike recovered and followed Willow into the backroom, where she was sitting on the couch, her book bag and shoes on the floor, her feet tucked under her. She was looking expectantly at the doorway when he came through, and was now staring at him.
Spike walked over to the couch and stood gazing down at Willow. They were both silent, each drinking in the sight of the other.
"Wanna sit?" Willow asked shyly.
Spike's nostrils flared. "Wanna do more than that," he said.
Willow boldly let her eyes travel down Spike's body to the erection pressing against his jeans. "Me too," she whispered.
"Cor, Willow." Spike lowered himself to the couch beside her. He placed his arm along the back of the couch behind her head and leaned into her, lowering his face to hers. Willow tilted her head, raising her lips. Just as Spike's lips touched Willow's, the beaded curtain was thrown aside, and Duncan and Methos entered the backroom.
"Oh, sorry, are we interrupting?" Duncan asked, as he stopped short.
~Part: 12~
"No!" Willow squeaked in embarrassment.
"Yes!" Spike growled against her lips.
"Interrupting what?" Methos asked, casually shouldering past Duncan, his hands stuffed into the front pockets of his jeans.
"Spike!" Willow couldn't help but giggle at his response.
Spike buried his face in her neck. "Need to shag you soon," he whispered, and Willow blushed as a fresh wave of arousal flooded her body at his words, and at the breath that tickled her neck. "Bloody hell," Spike groaned, as the scent filled his nostrils.
"Your own fault," Willow hissed. "Stop saying things like that!" She slapped his arm.
"Ah." Methos nodded to himself as he caught sight of Willow and Spike sitting on the couch, nearly wrapped around each other. "Young love," he said, his voice just this side of mocking. "I'm sure they'll weather the MacLeod storm just fine." He wandered about the room, looking at the training equipment.
"Uh, Giles said we could use the training room," Duncan explained their presence. "Is that alright?"
"Of course!" Willow said, shivering as Spike's tongue trailed over her neck. "Please." She waved one hand to encompass the room, and used the other to try and pry Spike's head out of her neck. "Make yourselves at home."
Spike muttered to himself as he sat back in resignation and pulled Willow's legs over his lap to hide his full-blown erection. Willow shifted on the couch to make herself more comfortable, before turning her attention back to the two men who had entered the backroom.
"So, what, uh, what's up?" she asked curiously, watching Duncan remove his coat and hang it on a hook. Methos pulled his gaze away from the Highlander and glanced over at her.
"Mac's gonna warm up with a kata, and then we're going to spar," he explained.
"I meant, uh, does this mean you're helping us tonight?" Willow asked. She wasn't sure yet whether she trusted them. They'd come into town to research demons, and then it turned out they had a bit of fighting experience. And they had secrets they weren't willing to share with her. Although, it wasn't like she didn't have any secrets of her own...but still!
Methos locked eyes with Duncan, and then looked away. "Looks that way," he sighed. He still had misgivings about this course of action Duncan was intent on pursuing. Mac had managed to convince him that telling these people their secret wouldn't be the end of the world...they had managed to keep the Slayer's identity secret, after all. And besides, two of the group already knew they were Immortal.
He'd even persuaded Methos that helping them in the upcoming battle to keep the mouth of Hell closed would be in their best interests. Methos could understand that. It was the rest of it that Methos was having a hard time accepting. He wanted to keep Duncan alive. And he was pretty certain that adding demons to the list of those potentially gunning for Duncan's head was *not* the best way to accomplish that goal.
"Is it so bad?" Willow asked.
"Which?" Methos asked, his eyes on Duncan as the other man removed his shoes, socks, and sweater, leaving him wearing a dark green t-shirt and a pair of loose gray pants.
"Uh, which which?" Willow asked, confused by his response.
"Is which bad, helping you, or telling you our secret?" Methos clarified.
"Oh, well, I meant helping us. Is it your secret you're worried about?" Willow asked. "Oh, um, do you, uh, wanna sit, Adam?" she asked politely, as she pointed to the other end of the couch next to Spike.
Methos looked at the couch critically, and then strolled over to join them. He took his coat off, dropped down onto the seat, and slumped into a boneless sprawl, laying the coat over his lap. "It's his bloody head I'm worried about," Methos softly replied, as he watched Duncan begin the kata.
"Well, it's a nice head," Willow commented, perplexed by the statement. "If you don't want to help us, or tell us your secret, why does he?" she asked.
Methos was silent for a long moment before he spoke again. Duncan claimed he wanted to give Richie's death some meaning, fearing that he'd never be able to absolve himself of his culpability in being the instrument of death for his beloved student. *Despite* Methos' insistence that the best you could hope for was to accept it, your mistakes, your shortcomings, and move on. But, oh no, that wasn't good enough for Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. And what did it all boil down to, in its simplest form?
"Redemption," he sighed deeply.
"Oi, not another one," Spike muttered, shaking his head in disgust.
"Spike," Willow chastised, lightly knocking her knuckles against his chest.
"What do you mean?" Methos asked the blond.
"We know, uh, someone who is also seeking redemption," Willow explained before Spike could respond.
"Ah." Methos nodded. "And how's that working for him?" he asked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
"Uh, well, he's got a long road ahead of him," Willow replied, ambiguously.
"Endless, more like," Methos muttered, his gaze slipping back to the Highlander.
"So does yours brood, too?" Spike asked.
"Spike!" Willow poked him again.
"What?" Methos pulled his attention back to the conversation.
"In our experience, it seems that you can't seek redemption unless you can work up a proper brood. And Angel, the redemption-seeker in question, is the king of brood. Just wondered if your redemption-seeking git broods too," Spike replied with a smirk as he grabbed Willow's hands to keep her from slapping him again.
Methos smiled to himself as he watched Duncan perform his exercise, his eyes following the other man's every move as he worked through the forms. "Often," he replied softly, almost reverently.
"So, uh, if you don't want to help us, or tell us your secret...why are you?" Willow asked.
"Because he is," Methos rolled his eyes. "Can't leave him alone for one bloody minute or he'd be getting himself into some sort of trouble."
"I'm right here," Duncan muttered, after a particularly powerful hiss and stab. Methos didn't change expression, but small crinkles appeared at the corners of his eyes.
"How long have you been friends?" Willow asked.
"About five years...on and off," Methos replied softly, his focus still on Duncan.
Spike gave Methos a considering look, and then looked over at the man practicing in the middle of the training room. Something about the two men seemed...slightly off. "Something happen last night?" Spike asked.
"Excuse me?" Methos turned towards Spike, his face a blank mask.
"Did you run into trouble or anything?" Spike pressed, still trying to put his finger on the difference he sensed.
"Oh, yeah, four vampires in one of the older cemeteries," Methos nodded. "Dusted."
"Were you hurt?" Willow asked worriedly.
"Scratch," Methos admitted. "Nothing much. All healed now."
Willow just stared at him. "Even scratches don't heal that quickly," she said softly.
"Mine do." Methos cocked an eyebrow and gave a self-deprecating smirk. "Looks like Mac's almost ready," he changed the subject, leaned forward and untied his boots, removing them and his socks. He stood, laid his coat on the couch, and pulled the Henley over his head.
"What is he to you?" Willow whispered to herself, as she also sensed a new...tension in the air. A heightened awareness.
When his head cleared the shirt, Methos glanced over at Duncan to see the other man staring at him. Methos smiled; a little quirk at the corner of his lips that you might have missed it if you didn't know him, and ran his fingers through his hair as he dropped the shirt onto the couch and picked up his coat. *My* redemption, he thought to himself.
Duncan removed his own sweat-soaked t-shirt and used the dry material at the hem to wipe the sweat off his face and neck, and then dragged the shirt over his chest and stomach. His eyes locked on Methos', he tossed the shirt beside his sweater and picked up his coat.
Spike grinned as he caught the increased pheromones permeating the air. Something had changed, all right.
"What?" Willow whispered, noticing his smile.
Spike just tilted his head, without taking his eyes off the two men, indicating that Willow should watch them. With a frown of confused concentration, Willow turned her attention back to Duncan and Methos.
As one, both men pulled their swords out of the sheaths hidden in the lining of their coats. Willow squeaked and jumped at the hiss of steel. They dropped their coats and moved to stand in the middle of the floor, bowed their heads to each other and, with small, knowing smiles, began their practice.
The clang of metal against metal, panting breaths, and bare feet whispering across the mats were the only sounds to be heard, as they struck and parried, dodged and blocked, their moves smooth, fluid, graceful, resembling not so much a fight, as a dance. Their chests shone with sweat, their muscles clenched and bunched, and small rivulets of blood ran where a sword point had nicked. Willow watched entranced as the cuts healed before her eyes.
***
"H-how did you do that?" Willow asked, when the two men finally stopped sparring. Spike said nothing, just rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. "Uh, towels," she interrupted herself and pointed to the shelf in the corner where the large sink stood, as a drop of sweat ran down Methos' nose and dripped off of the tip.
Methos walked over to the shelf and grabbed a folded white cotton towel, and then paused. "This work?" he asked of the sink.
"Uh, yeah," Willow replied, nodding her head, her mind still on the healed cuts.
He tossed the towel towards Duncan, and then turned on the taps. He checked the water temperature, and ducked his head beneath the stream of water, letting it sluice the sweat off of his face and neck, and wet his hair.
Duncan wiped the sweat off of his face and neck, and then pulled the towel through his hair, watching Methos' butt as the other man bent over the sink. Methos stood up and threw his head back, showering Duncan with water.
Duncan sputtered as water droplets splashed his face, and then wiped them off as Methos turned to grin at him. "Sorry," the older man lied, as he reached for a towel. "Didn't know you were there."
"You're full of...it," Duncan replied, stepping up to the sink to wet the towel he held. He wiped off his chest and arms. Methos took the towel out of his hands and wiped down his back. When he was done, Duncan rinsed out the towel and returned the favor.
He looked up to see Willow's wide green eyes following his every move as she finally realized what Spike had noticed earlier. His eyes switched to the blond, who was staring at him with a wide grin splitting his face. He wondered if it was too late to pretend they were just friends...and then wondered why he'd even want to. They'd never been 'just friends', anyway.
With a wink at Willow, Duncan lowered his head and kissed the back of Methos' shoulder. Methos jerked his head up in surprise, as a faint blush suffused his normally pale skin. He wasn't a man easily prone to shock, but Duncan had managed to do it twice now. As if last night hadn't been enough, now the other man was actually kissing him in front of people!
His eyes caught and held the eyes of their audience. Spike was smirking, trying not to laugh out loud at the expression on Methos' face. Willow was grinning at him, but her face was redder than his was. He hoped.
Methos turned around and grabbed the towel out of Duncan's hand, and tossed it into the sink. He took the younger man's face between his hands and pulled him down for a kiss. Duncan resisted for a moment, and then relaxed against Methos, his hands coming up to grip the other man's shoulders as he parted his lips to Methos' clever tongue.
"Oh...my," Willow moaned, as she watched to the two half-naked men kiss. She'd never imagined that she would ever witness such a display, much less find it...arousing. Spike grabbed her chin and pulled her face around to his, taking in her dilated pupils, her ragged breathing, and her increased heart rate.
"Ah, Red," he groaned, and covered her lips with his own. Willow wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself onto his lap. Spike pulled her close with one arm as the other cradled the back of her head.
~Part: 13~
The beads jangled and both couples guiltily jumped apart. "Willow," Anya said as she slipped through the beaded curtain. "Buffy called. She's going to take a nap and then do a quick patrol after the sun goes down, before she meets us here at ten."
"Oh, uh, okay," Willow replied breathlessly, trying to casually wipe her mouth with the back of one hand while she pushed Spike's hand out of the back of her shirt with the other.
Duncan and Methos leapt for their shirts; Methos pulling on the Henley and Duncan his sweater. Duncan extracted the same cloth from last night out of his coat pocket and wiped his sword down before slipping it into the hidden sheath in his coat lining. He'd have to clean it later, when they got back to the room where he'd left the kit. He handed the cloth to Methos who wiped his own sword down and sheathed it.
"Giles is going to go home for something to eat and to rest before the upcoming battle," Anya continued. Willow handed Methos the nearly-full water bottle that was resting on the bag at her feet when he looked at it longingly. He tipped it back and drained it with several large swallows.
"And I'm going home to meet Xander for some orgasms, in case we all die tonight," Anya finished chirpily. Methos choked on the water, spitting it across the training room. "Bye!" Anya waved and left the room.
"Did she just say what I thought she said?" Methos coughed, wiping the water off his chin. Duncan grabbed a towel and wiped up the spilt water from the floor, and then looked at Methos worriedly. "Don't worry, MacLeod, I won't die," he chided his friend... and lover. Duncan just shook his head.
"Uh, yeah." Willow blushed again. "She, uh, yeah." She nodded.
"Maybe we should head back to the hotel," Duncan proposed, as he pulled his socks on and slipped into his shoes. "Getting something to eat and some rest in before tonight sounds like a good idea." He looked at Methos suggestively.
"I'm kinda hungry, too. We can show you a good restaur... Oh, never mind." Willow blushed a deeper crimson. "You didn't really... I, uh, I gotta go...somewhere." She jumped off Spike's lap and ran out of the room. She ducked into the kitchen and tucked herself into a corner.
How could she be so stupid! She was mortified. She covered her face with her hands and prayed that they would just leave without giving her the opportunity to embarrass herself further.
"Red?" Spike's voice sounded awfully close.
"What?" she groaned through her hands.
"You all right, luv?" he asked.
"No! I'm an idiot," she moaned.
"You're not an idiot." Spike pulled her hands away from her face and tugged her against him.
"Yes I am! I'm stupid and I can't do anything right!" She bounced her forehead off Spike's chest as she slipped her fingers through the belt loops at his waist.
"Bollocks!" Spike said brusquely. "One, you're just feeling some pressure because of tonight. But you're gonna do fine, Red. You always do," he tried to reassure her.
"Whatever. What's two?" she asked with a little pout.
"Two?" Spike asked, confused. The feel of her warm body pressed against his was doing all sorts of interesting things to him.
"You said 'one', so what's two?" Willow spoke into his chest.
"Oh, uh, the other reason you're feeling, uh, out of sorts, is the hormones running through your body." His hands slipped down to her ass and pressed her against him. "Lust unsated can be very, uh, distracting."
"What do we do about that?" Willow asked. Spike stiffened. "The, uh, distraction part, I mean," she clarified.
"Given more time and fewer clothes I'd show you what we should do about it," Spike whispered in her ear, making Willow shiver. "As it stands, we're going to have to live with it until B'az is history. Unless you want to skip dinner..."
"Is she all right?" Duncan asked. He leaned against the doorframe, his coat hung over his arm. Methos slipped into the kitchen and leaned against the counter. He had his coat on, his hands once again stuffed into his pockets.
"No," Willow pouted at the same time Spike said, "Yes."
"Would it make you feel any better if I kissed him again?" Methos asked. Duncan looked at him in surprise, but Methos just smiled, and it was Duncan's turn to roll his eyes at the older Immortal.
Willow opened one eye and tilted her chin up so that she could peer at Duncan and Methos over Spike's shoulder. "May-be," she replied.
Methos laughed. "You know," he said. "We really do need to get something to eat before heading back to the hotel. We'd be honored if you'd join us."
"You're just saying that." Willow's eye disappeared as she buried her head back in Spike's chest. "I'm too embarrassed to eat. You go on. I think I'll just stay here and dig a hole so I can bury my head."
"Piffle!" Spike tightened his grip on Willow's butt, picked her up and carried her out of the kitchen. "You need something to eat so you can keep your strength up for tonight."
"Spike!" Willow squealed. "What are you doing?"
"Taking you out for something to eat," he replied.
"No, wait! My bag!" Willow protested.
"We'll be back. You won't need it during dinner," Spike brushed her protests off.
"Spike, wait!" Willow cried, grabbing hold of the railing as they walked up the steps to the front door.
"What now?" Spike asked as he allowed her to pull them to a halt, not wanting to rip her arm out.
"Uh, shoes," Willow whispered.
"What?"
"I need my shoes," Willow said a little bit louder.
Spike tilted his head to the side and Willow bent her leg and lifted her foot so he could see that it was covered in a white sock. "Are shoes absolutely necessary?" he asked.
Willow smiled. "Yes," she replied. "Some places won't even let you in without shoes," she whispered conspiratorially.
"Well, bugger!" He turned around and carried her back down the steps. "All right, go get your shoes on," he said, as he set her down on her feet and Willow scurried into the backroom. "Two minutes, Red!" he called after her, as he grabbed his leather duster off the chair he'd thrown it over and swung it on.
Willow slipped her shoes on and grabbed her jacket. She checked her pockets to make sure she had money, ID, and keys to get back in the shop. She pulled her jacket on as she stepped through the beaded curtain.
"I'd kill for a beer right now," Methos was moaning to Duncan.
"Are you still thirsty?" Willow asked, only blushing slightly when both men turned their full attention on her.
"Parched," Methos smiled at her.
"There's, uh, more water in the fridge," Willow said. "If you want water, that is."
"I'd love one," Duncan smiled.
"Me too," Methos added.
"You have to stop doing that," Willow practically whimpered, as she slipped into the kitchen and grabbed two water bottles out of the fridge.
"Stop doing what?" Duncan asked, as Willow handed him one of the bottles.
"Smiling," she said, handed Methos the second bottle, and walked past Spike towards the front door. "They're lethal."
"Pretty smiles turn her on," Spike said with a smirk, as he turned to follow her, the scent of Willow's arousal wafting behind her.
"Spike!" Willow protested.
Duncan and Methos just looked at each other, wondering what they'd gotten
themselves into.
"You wankers coming, or what?" Spike asked, the smirk still adorning his face as he held the door open.
Duncan and Methos strode out of the shop and onto the sidewalk. They opened their bottles of water and gulped half down at one go while Willow locked the front door.
"Don't mind Spike. He only gives nicknames to people he likes," Willow said as she started down the sidewalk ahead of them.
"Willow!" Spike whined.
***
Five minutes later, Willow led them into an Italian restaurant the Scoobies frequented. The tables were covered with red and white checked tablecloths and candles were stuck in the tops of jars. A jukebox near the kitchen played a variety of old and new tunes.
"Hi, Jane!" Willow called to one of the waitresses, a tall brunette who was obviously pregnant, and then conducted an entire conversation with the other woman wholly through hand motions. When they were done, Willow escorted them to a booth in the back corner.
"What was that all about?" Duncan asked, as he slid into the booth across from Willow.
"What? Oh, that!" She blushed at the attention. "Just making sure our table was free. We, uh, come here a lot," she explained further at Duncan's confused expression. "Spike doesn't, uh, like garlic, so we sit as far away from the kitchen as we can, and this has sorta become our unofficial table."
"You come to an Italian restaurant, but you don't like garlic?" Methos teased, as he settled himself beside Duncan.
"Allergy." Spike winked at Willow, as he took his duster off and hung it on the hooks beside the booth before sitting next to her.
The waitress came around and handed them menus, chatted for a minute, and took their drink order. After she left, Spike leaned back in the seat and drummed his fingers against the table top. He needed a cigarette. He tried to remember how long it had been since he'd had one.
Without lifting her head, Willow covered his hand with hers, silencing his fingers. Spike stared at her hand, and then turned his over so that he could twine his fingers with hers. He looked up to see Methos smirking at him over the top of the menu.
"Shut up, tosser," Spike growled, glad vampires didn't blush.
"What are you having?" Willow asked, as she closed her menu.
"Not very hungry, luv. I'll just have some of yours," Spike replied.
"Oh, no you don't, mister!" Willow shook her head. "You say that every time. And every time you eat over half of it!"
"That's just 'cause I know you won't finish it." Spike grinned. "Don't want it to go to waste."
"Yeah, right!" Willow responded just as Jane returned with their drinks. After a few minutes of casual conversation, she took their food order and whisked the menus away. When they were left alone, Willow searched for something to say. "So how do you like Sunnydale?" she asked.
Both men stared at her, wondering what they could say about a town they'd barely had a chance to explore, but that boasted a Hellmouth and hundreds of demons. Spike laughed at their inability to find the words.
"What?" Willow asked.
"It sits on a Hellmouth, luv." Spike squeezed her hand. "Not like they came to see the sites, like the sunken church and the blown-up high school. Though, hey, they will get to see that one," Spike said, and then sipped his beer.
"Well, its got other stuff. Like, uh, houses, and shops, and a university, and The Bronze..."
"Oh, yeah!" Methos grabbed onto that. "We were at The Bronze the other night. I was really hoping to be able to try a beer from a, uh, local brewery," he said. "They didn't seem to have anything like that." He sounded disappointed, and stared at the label on the bottle he held in his hand.
"Nah, you need to go to Willy's to get that," Spike said offhandedly.
"Willy's?" Duncan asked.
"Demon bar," Spike explained. "Just stay away from the Yak urine. They claim it's a delicacy, but that stuff's disgustin'!"
The sip of beer Methos had just swallowed shot out of his nose and mouth. "Oh, gods," he coughed, as he cleaned himself up with napkins Willow handed him. "That stings."
"Are you all right?" Duncan pounded on his back.
"He does that an awful lot," Spike muttered.
"Knock it off, MacLeod!" Methos twisted away and slapped at his hands. "You trying to knock my lungs out?"
"Would it shut you up?" Duncan asked softly.
"Ha, ha! Jesus." Methos took a tentative sip of the beer. "I thought you were joking about the Yak urine." He made it sound like an accusation.
"Would I do that?" Duncan asked innocently.
~Part: 14~
"So, you two," Methos tried to change the subject. "Been together long?"
"Never," Willow muttered, with a deep sigh. "And we better not die tonight or I'll kill Anya for jinxing us." Spike froze, the bottle of beer halfway to his mouth. Willow closed her eyes as silence descended over the table. "Did I, uh, just say that out loud?" she asked.
"No!"
"Absolutely not!"
"Say what?"
"Oh, Goddess," she groaned, a fresh wave of blood suffusing her skin. "Please let me go dig that hole," she begged, as she leaned her head against Spike's arm. "Better yet, you go dig it for me, you've got vam-, uh, v-very much more strength than me." She caught herself. "Big strong man. Jane!" she cried out, as the waitress approached their table with a tray of food. "Thank the Goddess you're here!"
"Have you been babbling again?" Jane asked with a smile, as she handed out three plates filled with pasta stuffed with various cheeses and meats and covered in red and white sauces.
"Worse," Willow moaned.
Jane just laughed as she placed an empty plate in front of Spike. "Can I get you refills on your drinks?"
"Got any Yak urine?" Methos asked, picking up his knife and fork.
"Oh, God!" Jane screwed up her face. "Don't tell me you let Spike take you to Willy's and you actually *drank* that stuff? Ugh!" She shivered. "That stuff's disgusting." She picked up her tray and walked away, leaving everyone giggling except Methos.
"Does everyone know about Yak urine *except* me?" he asked.
"You know now." Willow tried to make him feel better.
"You knew about Yak butter," Duncan tried to say with a straight face.
"You guys are a laugh a minute," he groused, as he cut into his pasta.
***
After they finished eating, and the plates were cleared away, they ordered coffee.
"Decaf for the witch," Spike reminded Jane. After she left the table, Duncan looked between Willow and Spike.
"You, uh, don't mind him calling you 'witch'?" he asked Willow. The term seemed to be one of endearment, but it was strange enough for him to comment on.
"Oh, no!" Willow smiled. "I am a witch. Wiccan, to be exact."
"Yep, my little Jewish Wiccan." Spike put his arm over her shoulder and pulled her against him.
"Watch it, buster." Willow poked him playfully in the ribs. "Anyway, that's my big secret." She shrugged. "It's not so bad. Unless you don't like witches." She noticed the glance the two men shared. "Oh, Goddess, you don't like witches!" Willow's eyes got big.
"Uh, no, Willow." Duncan laid his hand over hers on the table. "Just one witch, sort of, who's given us a bit of trouble in the past."
"You don't want to burn us all at the stake, do you?" she asked, memories of the time her mother and the other good parents of Sunnydale had been possessed by demons and tried to burn her, Buffy, and Amy at the stake ran through her mind.
"Gods no! No," Methos replied firmly. "Honestly, Willow. We have nothing against you personally, or even witches in general. Like Mac said, just one particular witch. Well." He shrugged and smiled. "Unless you turn us into rats or something."
Willow pounded her little fist on the table. "That was not my fault!" she insisted. "I did *not* turn her into a rat! I just can't turn her back."
"Uh, luv," Spike tried to calm her down. "They don't even know Amy."
"Oh, that's right." Willow seemed to be mollified, but then she looked up at them. "You, uh, don't know Amy, do you?"
"No!" both men denied, shaking their heads 'no'. "But I sense a story," Methos added.
"It's not a happy story," Willow grumbled.
"Just give 'em the short version, Red," Spike encouraged.
"The short version?" she looked at him as if he were nuts. "You know I don't do short versions. I get babbling and my short version ends up longer than the long version!"
"Right! I'll tell 'em, shall I? Okay, Amy. Bint turned herself into a rat and Willow can't figure out how to turn her back human again. How's that?" He looked down at Willow.
"Short," Willow replied. "I never would have been able to do that." Her lips curved into a small smile.
Methos and Duncan stared at the two of them as if they were *both* nuts. Willow turned that smile on them, combined with innocent green eyes, and they couldn't help but smile back at her.
"So, rat," Methos said.
"Yeah, but I bought her a nice big cage with a wheel and everything," Willow said, smiling at Jane, as the waitress returned and unloaded their coffees.
***
"So, you're a witch," Duncan mused after taking a sip of coffee. "I suppose you have a secret, too?" He looked at Spike.
"Don't we all?" Spike sneered.
"Are we sharing now?" Methos asked wryly.
"I don't see why not," Duncan replied. "We know Willow's secret, Spike already knows our secret, and in a couple of hours, the rest of them will, too. No sense keeping it a, uh, secret anymore, is there?"
"No, I don't suppose there is. Except for the fact that it's not very private here," Methos cautioned.
"Oh, I can fix that!" Before Spike could stop her, Willow mumbled a few words under her breath. "There, no one will be able to hear us now."
"Are you bloody nuts?" Spike exploded. "You're supposed to be working some big mojo tonight and you waste your strength on a soddin'..." He struggled to find the word he wanted. "...*privacy* spell!"
Willow narrowed her eyes. "Don't you yell at me! It was a simple spell, and I'm fine. Besides, after we're done here we'll go back to the shop for a nap before everyone gets there at ten, and I'll be *fine*, Spike. I will."
Spike didn't look convinced, but he let it go. "*Fine*!" he snarled, and then looked at Duncan and Methos. "I'm a..."
"No!" Willow cried, slapping her hand over Spike's mouth.
"What are you doing? I thought we were sharing?" Spike's voice was muffled behind Willow's hand.
"Them first," she said.
"What bloody difference does it make?" he asked, pulling her hand away from his mouth.
"Because they came here to get information on demons, and we don't know why they wanted it, and I don't want them to jump to conclusions when you just...spit it out like that! That's why."
"I already know their secret, Red. It's not like they're rogue demon hunters or anything," Spike tried to placate her.
"Them first." She remained adamant, worried about what they might do to Spike if his secret frightened them. They carried swords, after all.
"That's all right." Duncan broke the stalemate. "I don't mind going first. As I said, Spike already knows our secret anyway, and now we know yours." Duncan took a deep breath. "We're Immortal."
Willow stared at him with her mouth hanging open. "Oh," she said. "Spike's a vampire. He's got a chip and can't hurt humans. Is that why you healed so fast?"
Spike rolled his eyes and threw his hands up in the air. Methos tried unsuccessfully to stifle a grin.
"Shut up, pillock," Spike growled.
"Are you sure he gives nicknames to people he likes?" Methos asked.
"Yeah," Willow replied distractedly. "Immortal?"
"Yeah," Duncan nodded. "Vampire?" he indicated Spike.
"Yeah," Spike spoke for himself.
"Vampires, and Witches, and Immortals, oh, my!" Methos said.
***
"Did you have to tell them about the soddin' chip?" Spike growled, as they tried to get comfortable on the couch in the backroom of the Magic Box. Spike was lying with his back against the back of the couch, and Willow was spooned in front of him, her head resting on his arm.
"Yes," Willow insisted for the tenth time. "What if there are humans in this force the Pan'kr bring with them? You won't be able to defend yourself against them. They needed to know that."
"Oh, bloody hell," Spike grumbled, knowing she was right, but hating it. Hating the bleedin' chip that made him less of a demon.
Willow moved around as she tried to get comfortable, and her butt rubbed against his groin. He'd been semi-erect most of the afternoon, the scent and feel of Willow filling him with desire. He breathed deeply, and let the scent of her fill his nostrils again. She smelled sweet and spicy, like vanilla and cinnamon.
"Spike?" Willow choked his name out as she felt him harden behind her. She couldn't remember what it felt like to not have feelings for Spike, to not want him, and the tension coiled in her belly had been building all day. For the past three days, actually; since the night she'd licked his neck when he carried her to her dorm.
"Yeah, luv?" he asked, his hand sliding beneath her shirt to tickle her belly. He almost groaned as her heartbeat sped up, her breath quickened.
"Should we, uh, oh, Goddess!" she moaned, as his hand slid up to cup her breast, his thumb stroking her nipple to a hard nub.
"Should we what?" he teased, as his hand moved back down her belly to the waistband of her jeans. Willow let out a wordless keen of anticipation as he unbuttoned and unzipped them.
"Should we do *this*?" Her voice rose on the last word as Spike slid his fingers beneath her panties, his other hand dipping into her shirt from the top and slipping beneath her bra.
"Oh, yes, luv," he said, his unnecessary breath coming in heaving pants as his fingers simultaneously tweaked her nipple and eased between her slick folds. "We most definitely should do this."
"Oh...Goddess!" she cried, reaching behind her to grip his hip, pressing herself back against him, coaxing his finger deeper. "Spike, please!"
"Want more, luv?" he growled, the scent of her arousal perfuming the air.
"Yes, Spike...oh!" she cried, as he slid a second finger inside her, and then closed his mouth on the sensitive skin of her neck, and sucked.
***
"What was that all about?" Duncan pushed Methos up against the door to their hotel room as soon as it closed behind them, his hands slipping beneath Methos' coat, his palms flat against the other man's chest.
"I don't know what you're talking about, MacLeod," Methos replied, his heart beating a staccato inside his chest as Duncan manhandled him.
"Your hand," Duncan growled. "On my thigh. Cupping my groin. All through dinner." He gave an additional push against Methos' chest, and then let his hands slide down the other man's stomach.
"Oh. That." Methos smirked as Duncan pulled his shirt out of his jeans and slid warm hands back up to his chest, thumbs caressing his nipples to hard disks.
"Yes. That." Duncan lowered his head and licked Methos' neck. "Did you think that was funny?" he asked, and closed his teeth over the spot he'd just sensitized with his tongue.
"No," Methos groaned, his hands coming up to grab Duncan's hips. "But I thought it could be fun," he purred.
"Christ, Methos," Duncan groaned, as he dragged his lips over the soft skin of Methos' neck, and jaw, and cheek, until he encountered his lips. He licked Methos' lips, like a kitten with a saucer of milk, and then slipped his tongue between them.
Methos slid his hands around Duncan's hips and cupped his ass, pulling him closer, as he parted his lips and let him in.
~Part: 15~
When Duncan and Methos arrived at the Magic Box at ten o'clock, everyone else was already gathered around the table.
"Hi!" Willow chirped and waved at them as they removed their coats and laid them over the counter.
"Hi, Willow," Duncan smiled at her. "Everyone."
"Looks like *you* got plenty of rest," Methos grumbled.
Willow blushed. "Enough," she replied.
Spike snorted into the mug of blood he was sipping from. "And you, did you two get plenty?" he asked when he put the mug down. "Rest, I mean," he sneered.
"Enough," Duncan replied, an uncharacteristic smirk playing around his lips.
"Speak for yourself, Highlander," Methos complained. "He snores," he added, at the curious looks directed their way. "Is that caffeine?" Methos nodded his head towards Spike's mug hopefully.
"Uh, no," Spike said. "O-neg. There's another packet in the fridge if you want one," he smirked.
"Blood?" Methos asked, disgust evident in his voice.
"Hello, vampire," Spike reminded him, rolling his eyes.
"Try watching him dunk his pizza in it!" Xander shuddered.
"Sod off, tosser!" Spike replied automatically.
"Oh, yeah, right." Methos nodded, and turned to Willow, who was holding a Styrofoam cup. "He likes him, right?" He indicated Spike and Xander.
"Oh, sure." Willow nodded seriously.
"Do not," Spike muttered.
"Is *that* caffeine?" Methos asked pitifully.
"Yes!" she giggled. "Want some?" she asked mercifully.
"Yes, please!" Methos took the cup from her and took a sip. It had cream in it, but he didn't care. "Hey, I thought you weren't supposed to have caffeine!" he suddenly remembered.
"I'm not!" Willow giggled at the same time Buffy said, "She's not!"
"I swear, I'm gonna tear that yahoo's lungs out next time he gives her caffeine just 'cause she smiles pretty at him," Spike growled.
"I'll smile pretty at you, Spike," Willow cooed, as she leaned against him.
"I think I'm gonna hurl," Xander said.
"Put a sock in it," Spike muttered distractedly, his thoughts on Willow.
"If you're quite through, can we get to work now?" Giles asked the assembled group.
"Sure, Giles," Buffy smiled at her Watcher, pulling her eyes off Duncan.
"Sure thing, G-man!" Xander gave a salute. Giles just rolled his eyes.
"Sorry, Giles." Willow bit her lip to stop from giggling. She probably shouldn't have gotten the caffeinated coffee, but she wanted to be awake for the battle. And the other side effects would have worn off by then. Hopefully.
"Very well," Giles said. "May I presume that some of us have already shared our secrets?" He looked at Willow and Spike. Willow blushed at the scrutiny.
"Uh, yeah?" She tried to smile. "We were at dinner and, uh, it just came up!"
"It just came up?" Giles repeated, skeptically.
"Sort of," Willow replied. "You know how Spike is always calling me 'witch'?" she asked.
"And they wanted to know why?" Giles guessed.
"Yeah." Willow gave an apologetic little shrug.
"All right, I can see how that might have 'just come up', but how did Spike being a vampire 'just come up'?" he asked.
"Oh, well, uh..." Willow looked up at Duncan and Methos for help. Duncan was fascinated by his nails, and Methos was engrossed in the books on one of the bookshelves. Willow wrinkled her nose at them before continuing. "We sort of figured that since they knew my secret, and Spike knew their secret, that..."
"Wait!" Buffy cried. "*Spike* knew their secret? How come Spike got to know their secret?"
"Not now, Buffy." Giles patted her arm absently.
"Why am I always the last one to know stuff?" Buffy asked rhetorically.
"I don't know stuff." Xander raised his hand.
Spike snorted, and Xander screwed his face up.
"Me neither," Anya added.
"Great," Buffy muttered.
"You were saying, Willow?" Giles encouraged a return to the subject at hand.
"Uh, where was I?" she asked.
"They knew your secret, I knew their secret," Spike summarized.
"Oh, right! So we decided to, you know, go all the way." Willow blushed as she realized what she's said. "I mean, tell the rest of the secrets to the ones of us who didn't know the, uh, secrets," she said. "I think. Was that right?" she whispered to Spike.
"Close enough, luv," Spike assured her. "Now, about that going all the way," he whispered in her ear. Willow poked him in the side with her elbow and blushed a deeper crimson.
"Fine." Giles shook his head, and looked up at Duncan and Methos. "So, you now know that Buffy is the Slayer, I am her Watcher, Willow is a witch, and Spike is a vampire. Perhaps it's time for everyone here, who doesn't already know, to learn your secret."
"Can I tell? Can I?" Willow bounced in her seat.
"I'm not sure that's a good idea, Willow," Giles replied. "They, uh, will probably be able to explain it, uh, better."
"Fine," Willow pouted.
Methos, remembering how Willow had forbidden Spike to tell them he was a vampire, and then just blurted it out after she found out they were Immortal, smiled to himself at her reaction. He looked up when he felt Duncan's eyes on him.
"The floor's all yours, Highlander." Methos leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest.
Duncan took a deep breath. "We're Immortal," he said, and then paused to give them a chance to assimilate this new information.
"Huh?" Xander replied, his eyes wide.
"What's that?" Buffy thought she must have heard wrong.
"Wow!" Anya responded. "Really? I've heard about Immortals, but I never had a chance to meet one. Well, that I ever knew about. Hey, can you imagine if I granted a vengeance wish against an Immortal? Talk about the rest of your life!"
"And they can heal really fast!" Willow jumped in excitedly.
Giles sighed and shook his head at the rate secrets were being thrown about. "Yes, and Anya's an ex-vengeance demon," he added, wishing he still had a bottle of scotch in the shop.
Methos and Duncan both stared at Anya. She waved her fingers at them.
"Emphasis on the word 'ex'," she added. "I'm a productive member of society now. Right, honey?" She elbowed Xander in the side.
"Absolutely, An!" Xander quickly agreed.
"And they can heal really fast!" Willow said again, when everyone ignored her.
"Yes, we can," Methos agreed, with a smile for the redhead. "We can be hurt or killed, but we will heal, and we will revive, though it will take a few minutes, or more, depending on the damage. There is only one way to bring us our final death." He paused. He and Duncan had discussed the wisdom of telling these people how to kill them, but decided that the safety of the surviving Immortal was worth the risk.
"And that is by decapitation," Duncan continued the explanation. "We won't recover from that. If that happens, the survivor will be defenseless for...a while." The recovery time for each Quickening was different. Methos taking his 400 year old Quickening might recover much faster than Duncan taking a 5000 year old Quickening. "It could be several minutes; it might be much longer."
Silence blanketed the room.
"Wow." Buffy was the first to break the silence. She felt like she had just been punched in the gut. Finding out that Immortals existed was like...wow.
"Ditto," Xander said.
"So, how old are you?" Anya asked. "'Cause you've held up well."
"I am over 400 years old," Duncan replied. "Adam is...older."
"Wow," Buffy repeated.
"I'm over 1000," Anya said. Everyone turned to look at her. "In case anyone cares."
Methos looked around the group sitting at the table. The Slayer, the Watcher, the witch, the vampire, and an ex-vengeance demon. "What about you?" he asked Xander. "Any secrets you want to share?"
"Who me? No, no secrets!" Xander replied.
"He was turned into a soldier one Halloween," Spike said.
"He was possessed by an evil hyena spirit," Willow added.
"He was almost eaten by a giant praying mantis," Buffy said.
"There was the time..."
"All right!" Xander held out both hands to stop them. "I think they meant *relevant* secrets."
"Well, the soldier thing is relevant," Spike muttered.
"How so?" Methos asked. He didn't know whether to be amused that this group of individuals who were going to be fighting to save the world in less than two hours could still joke, or to be frightened. Very, very frightened.
"I, sort of, retained some of the knowledge of the soldier. How to use weapons, tactical, and...other stuff," Xander said.
"Useful," Methos replied.
"It's come in handy," Xander said, remembering the Judge.
"So." Duncan took a deep breath. "How did a vampire and an ex-vengeance demon end up helping the Slayer?"
"It's a long story...," Giles began.
"Chipped by the soddin' soldier-boys, couldn't bloody feed," Spike muttered.
"Giles, another Giles, from a different reality, stole my power source, I became human," Anya shrugged.
"...or not."
"So, vengeance demon." Methos seated himself next to Anya. "What was that like?"
"It was a great gig! I granted wishes to scorned women. There was this one time, this woman's husband had..."
"Perhaps we can discuss the perks of being a vengeance demon *after* we've reviewed our plan of attack," Giles interrupted her.
"Of course," Duncan said, trying to smooth things over.
"Hold that thought," Methos whispered.
Everyone turned their attention to Giles and he filled the two newcomers in on their battle plan. When he was finished, it was decided that Duncan would assist Buffy to eliminate the Host, while Methos would help the others fight the demon forces expected to be rallied against them.
"Why don't we gather our weapons now?" Giles suggested. "We have a weapons trunk in the back," he explained to the two men. "You're welcome to help yourselves to any of the weapons available."
"Thanks, but we have our swords," Duncan replied.
"And a wicked-looking dagger!" Buffy added. "Very cool."
Duncan sat next to Methos as the others vacated their seats to load up on weapons and to double-check magical supplies. He crossed one leg over the other and straightened his pants leg. Methos studied him, and could tell there was something on his mind.
"You all right?" He nudged the younger man with his shoulder.
"Yeah." Duncan nodded without looking at Methos, and then lifted his head, piercing Methos with dark brown eyes. "You'll be careful, right?" He was having second thoughts about embroiling Methos in this.
"Always, Highlander. You too." Methos squeezed Duncan's leg.
Duncan nodded. Both men looked up as Buffy approached. She placed two wooden stakes on the table in front of them.
"Just in case."