Their Soul

By Kallysten

Chapter 31 - Holding on to the Past

A long day had passed, and an even longer night.

Buffy had thought that being cloistered in her lair, with nothing to do but worry about Spike and wait for sunset, would be the worst part. But in the middle of the morning she had finally managed to fall asleep, wrapped in his duster, in his scent, and a few hours had vanished in a dreamless slumber.

The night, however, when she should have felt more useful since she was actually doing something as she prowled around Sunnydale, had brought her no contentment. Endless hours with no success leading only to frustration and exhaustion. The few demons she had killed hadn’t brought her any relief, because they weren’t the ones who had taken her Mate and when she – quickly – questioned them they knew nothing about Spike.

She had been surprised, come nightfall, to find the Slayer back on her doorstep. The kid hadn’t asked to come along, and Buffy hadn’t proposed, but they had left together, barely exchanging more than a couple of words during the whole night. It had ended like the night before, with cups of hot chocolate shared at sunrise before the kid returned to the Witches’ place. Apparently, the Scoobies still had no clue that Buffy wasn’t bound by Spike’s orders, which was logical since she hadn’t even tried to take a bite of the kid or the Witches when they had, briefly, visited again.

Two nights already without Spike, and the second day almost gone. She had slept, again in the cocoon of leather, but this time dreams had come, in which faceless demons tortured and killed her Sire while he vainly called for her. For a long time, she had stayed in bed, staring at their sky above her, trying to decide whether it had been a Slayer dream or not. She could just hope it wasn’t.

In the middle of the afternoon, she came downstairs, still shaken from her nightmares, and tried to warm herself with some blood. There wasn’t any human bags left, so she had to settle for pig’s blood. With all her searching, she hadn’t thought of going by the hospital. And even if she craved human blood, she knew she wouldn’t go that night either. Feeding was a necessity, but not a priority right now.

Still shivering, she wandered aimlessly through the too empty house. She could have gone to the Magic Box through the sewers, but she didn’t feel like seeing the Scoobies. She supposed they were still looking for a way to get her soul back to her, and it just exasperated her. She wished they had been looking for a way to find Spike instead. But in truth, they just had no leads, even she could admit that. All they knew about Spike’s disappearance was that it had happened during the day, so it couldn’t have been vamps, that the culprits had tried to trick Buffy into believing Spike was dead, and that Spike was still a member of the undead. If the kidnappers didn’t want Buffy to look for them, then maybe they were still close. If they hadn’t dusted Spike yet, then maybe they didn’t plan to. These were the two hopes that kept Buffy sane. These, and the promise she had made to both herself and her absent Sire that she would find him.

Tired of walking aimlessly, she eventually sat down in front of Spike’s laptop that she still hadn’t bothered to turn off. She half smiled as the screensaver proclaimed: “Hands off! Big Bad’s property!”. It was soon replaced by a blank word processing page, and she was about to shut the program when she realized it was only the last page of two dozen or so. Curious, she scrolled up, and found some text. Poems, actually. Familiar words caught her attention, and she unconsciously fingered the three interlocked rings on her left hand as she read Spike’s promise to her. They had been different, then. Both souled. Both humans. How much had changed? She still couldn’t fathom life – or unlife – without him. She didn’t care so much about a wedding anymore, human conventions did not bind her any longer. But maybe he would still want to get married. He had always been a very special vampire, after all, unconcerned by what was expected from him, interested only in what he wanted. And in whom he loved.

One after the other, Buffy read the poems that her Sire had crafted. It didn’t take long for her to realize that most of them were about her, or written for her. No, not most of them. All of them. Every last word. It only fueled her love for this man so always full of surprises. And, at the same time, fueled her rage that he had been taken from her. A rage that she had no way to let out.

When the phone pulled her out of her reading, her heart seemed to take a beat, and she couldn’t help hoping that it was Spike. She picked it up before the second ring, her eyes tightly shut as she waited for the loved voice to talk.

“Hello?” she said quietly.

“Buffy, it’s Angel. Can I talk to Spike?”

She was so disappointed that she almost hung up the phone right then. Not only wasn’t it Spike, but obviously Angel didn’t know her Sire had disappeared.

“He is not here,” she said coldly.

A sigh. “Where is he?”

“Someone has taken him.”

There was a blank, and she wondered whether Angel had understood, until he finally asked:

“What do you mean, someone has taken him? Who? When?”

“If I knew who,” she replied angrily, “they would already be dead. The day before yesterday. There were traces of a fight in the kitchen, and Spike disappeared.”

“But he is alive, right?” he asked urgently. “You two are Mates, so you should…”

“Yes”, she interrupted him. “He is alive. But I don’t know where. I don’t know who. I don’t know why. I don’t…”

She forced herself to stop talking and took a deep breath. Breaking down wasn’t going to help Spike. Crying wasn’t going to help Spike. Shouting wasn’t going to do any good either.

“I’m coming to Sunnydale,” Angel said suddenly. “I’ll be there before night.”

“What for?” she asked, bitter. “For all we know, he’s not even in California anymore. I don’t need you here.”

There was a pause, and Buffy could easily imagine she had hurt the human’s feelings. She wished she didn’t care, but she couldn’t lie to herself. She did. She wouldn’t have tried to turn him in the first place if she hadn’t.

“Listen,” she added with a sigh, “I’m trying to do as Spike wishes, but I’m not sure I will be able to if you come around and he’s not there to stop me. For your own good, stay away.”

“Are you hunting to feed?”

The question took her by surprise, because it was delivered in a very calm voice and because she had just said she was doing as her Sire wanted her to. Didn’t Angel know Spike had not allowed her to hunt?

“No”, she answered through clenched teeth.

“Are the Watchers there?”

“The Watchers?” she repeated, puzzled by the sudden change of topic.

“They’re on their way to Sunnydale,” Angel said almost reluctantly. “Spike… Spike feared that they were coming to kill you. Please don’t give them any reason to decide to do so. He needs you alive.”

“How do you know about the Watchers?” she asked, suspicious.

“He told me. Two days ago. Before he was kidnapped, I suppose.”

“Why would he tell you that?”

That didn’t make any sense. At the Hyperion, after her attempt at turning the brunette, Spike had been angrier with him than he had been with her.

“Because…” Angel hesitated. “I can’t tell you, Buffy. When you find him, he will explain. Just make sure not to do anything stupid until then.”

She rolled her eyes at the almost patronizing tone he was now using, but said nothing. At least, he seemed convinced that she would see Spike again, and for that she was grateful.

“Take care of yourself, Buffy”, he said quietly. “And let me know as soon as he is back.”

He said his goodbyes, and, a little troubled by the whole exchange, Buffy hung up the phone. She didn’t have much time to think about it all however, because almost instantly someone was knocking on the door. For a half second, the foolish hope that it was her Sire filled her entirely. Then she realized that, for one thing, it was still daylight, for another Spike wouldn’t knock at his own door, and finally there were no tingles going down her back. Not him, then. She didn’t really feel like seeing anyone, but whoever it was might have some news about it, so she finally went to open it.

* * * * *

“Hey, Wills… can we say déjà vu or what?”

Xander’s mock whisper brought a half smile to Willow’s lips. Yes, the scene felt strangely familiar. Watchers, too many of them, invading the Magic Box as if they owned the place. OK, one of them had owned the place at some point, so at least he had cause. Giles seemed tired, though, as his eyes traveled around the room and his occupants, and despite his warm smile he appeared to be ten years older than only a few days before.

Before they could exchange more than short greetings, an old woman, white hair gathered in a tight bun at the back of her head, round glasses perched high on her nose, asked in a commanding voice that made Willow think she might be the new Head Watcher:

“Where are the vampires?”

She wasn’t addressing anyone in particular, and actually no one answered. Giles, however, came closer to the table where the Scoobies were gathered, followed by Andrea. The woman frowned slightly as she saw that Manon was asleep, her head resting on her folded arms, and she gently shook the teen to wake her.

“Where are Buffy and Spike?” Giles asked, his eyes resting on Willow.

“Buffy is at home. Spike… well, Spike disappeared two days ago. We think he’s been kidnapped. We can’t find him, but Buffy says he’s still alive. Well, undead rather. You know what I mean.”

There were several exclamations of surprise among the dozen or so Watchers, but all seemed to protest Buffy being left alone rather than to inquire about Spike’s situation. Giles didn’t say a word, but his gaze seemed suddenly even more lost than before.

“Has she been killing?” Andrea asked suddenly, her voice tinted with worry.

It was Manon who answered, her eyes still red from sleep. She had insisted on going out with Buffy two nights in a row, proclaiming that it was her duty to keep an eye on the vampire and that if Willow and Tara didn’t let her she would just run away. Willow suspected that her feelings for Spike might also be part of her reasons, but she hadn’t commented on that. In any case, Manon had come back each time after sunrise, unharmed, but exhausted.

“She can’t hurt anyone,” she said with a stifled yawn. “Spike… he ordered her not to, so she can’t.”

“We can’t know that for sure unless there’s someone constantly with her,” one of the Watchers, an old man, intervened.

“I’ve been with her all the time at night,” Manon defended Buffy and herself. “And she can’t go anywhere during the day. She hasn’t hurt anyone.”

Andrea’s worried gaze suddenly took a heated tint as she glared successively at Manon and the Scoobies.

“You’ve been alone with Buffy, soulless Buffy, for an entire night?” she asked incredulously.

“Two,” Manon replied, flinching slightly.

“She could have killed you!”

“But she didn’t. And she won’t.”

“You don’t know…” Andrea started, but was interrupted by the old woman’s light coughing.

“If you are convinced that Miss Summers is that dangerous, Andrea,” she said sternly, “then why did you insist for us to come here and meet her?”

To Willow’s surprise, Andrea didn’t answer, but instead blushed slightly.

“Rupert, go ahead and tell Miss Summers that we shall interview her,” the woman continued. “Do you want Chloe to accompany you?”

Willow followed Giles gaze and noticed for the first time the young woman who was among the older crowd of Watchers. She looked a bit older than Manon, Dawn’s age, maybe, but from the confidence and sense of readiness that came from her posture, there was no doubt that she was the new Slayer, the one who had been called when Manon’s heart stopped beating, ages ago or so it seemed.

“I do not need protection against my own Slayer,” Giles said strongly. “I will call when she is ready to see you.”

With that, he nodded briefly at the Scoobies, gave a half smile at Andrea, and left the store. Willow wished she had been able to warn him about how Buffy had changed, but she was really reluctant to do that in front of the others. He had to know, anyway. He was a Watcher, after all.

“Chloe,” the old woman spoke once more, “you will spar with Manon. I believe the back room has training facilities. Andrea, Matt, go with them and supervise your Slayers. Miss Rosenberg, we want to hear everything you tried to restore Miss Summers’ soul and everything you might have discovered.”

As she gave orders, in a tone that implied she wouldn’t take no for an answer, the two Slayers and the two designated Watchers left for the back room. Three of the other Watchers, the youngest it seemed, though they weren’t younger than Giles, came closer to the table, all ready to take notes. The remaining nine Watchers gathered in two groups, speaking quietly among themselves.

Willow suddenly had an awful feeling. This seemed more like a jury and executioners than like the help she had asked for. She hated thinking that, but it seemed like Spike had been right when he cautioned her against trusting the Council. And he wasn’t even here to roll his eyes at her with an annoyed ‘told you so’. If someone had ever told her she would one day miss the bleached blonde vamp as much as she missed him now, she would never have believed them.

* * * * *

The door opened, revealing a wary Buffy who was careful to remain out of reach of the sunlight. She frowned slightly when she saw him, and Giles repressed a small sigh. He was all too aware of the stake his hand gripped, and, judging by the slight flickering of her eyes, she was aware of it too. She took a step back, and he wasn’t sure if it was to get out of his reach or let him in.

“Came to dust me, Watcher?” she asked, half growl, half snicker.

He shook his head but did not move from his place on the doorstep.

“Not unless you try to kill me first,” he replied as calmly as he could, trying to gauge her reaction.

For a few seconds, she considered him coldly, and he wondered whether she was deciding if he was going to be her meal or not. For all the assurance he had displayed in front of the High Council that Buffy wasn’t a threat to him or any of them, he really wasn’t completely convinced.

“What do you want?” she asked finally.

“Just to talk with you. Can I come in?”

She raised an eyebrow at him, and her smile was oddly reminiscent of Spike’s smirk.

“You don’t need an invitation, do you? At least, not yet.”

She turned her back to him, walking toward the living room, never glancing back to see whether he was following. Giles entered the house, closing the door behind him, and joined her, sitting in an armchair across from her seat on the sofa. He wished he wasn’t glad that the coffee table between the two of them might slightly slow her down if she decided to attack him. It frightened him how easily he had started to view her as more than a potential menace. But then, the usual warmth in her eyes when she looked at him had disappeared and all he could see there was ice and anger. She was curled up on the sofa, her legs drawn under her, her hands resting on her knees, but despite the apparent calm Giles had no doubt that she was very much ready to take him down if she decided to do so. He just hoped she wouldn’t. He had been hoping so many things, lately, that at least some of them had to become true.

“The High Council is in town,” he said slowly. “They’re the ones who will decide of the actions of the Council until a new Head Watcher is nominated.”

“And I should care?” she asked with a twinge of irritation

“You should, because they are here to decide whether to kill you or not.”

She had a short, wry laugh. “Oh, I am so scared now!”

“You should be,” he lied through his teeth. “Not all Watchers are as reluctant as me to put an end to your existence. Turned Slayers never last long once the Council starts hunting them.”

Of course, he privately thought that she might be the one vampire able to destroy the Council by simply killing all Watchers or Slayers sent after her, but he couldn’t quite say that aloud.

“It doesn’t have to go that far,” he continued before she could laugh off his argument. “We have a plan to restore your soul. The High Council just wants to meet you before they make the final decision.”

“And again, why should I care?” she asked harshly. “I’m quite happy as I am now, thank you very much. I don’t need a bloody soul.”

It was just about the reaction Giles had expected. What he hadn’t expected, though, was that his ally to convince her would have disappeared before his arrival. But there might still be a way, he realized suddenly. Even gone, Spike could help.

“If you play the game, I am sure the Council will help you find Spike and whoever took him.”

Her hazel eyes suddenly turned completely gold, though her face did not change. The same controlled anger was in her voice when she asked:

“How do I know you didn’t take him to begin with?”

She hadn’t completely rejected the idea, he noticed with a small satisfaction. All he had to do was convince her that the Council hadn’t taken Spike, then get her to be more friendly in front of the nine Watchers, then show the Council why they had to pay to restore her soul and find Spike as well, and hope the Mage could help… A piece of cake, really.

“As far as we know,” he replied truthfully, “Spike is the reason you haven’t killed anyone yet. Why would we be so stupid as to take him and leave you free to kill?”

For a long moment, she was silent, her eyes unfocused as she clearly was lost in deep thoughts.

“Why do you care?” she finally asked, green again eyes looking at him quizzically. “What does it change for you that I get Spike and my soul back or that I get staked?”

Giles felt his heart break. Long ago, he had warned innocent teenagers about this very mistake, thinking that the vampire their friend had become was still the same person despite the demon. The mere fact that she was asking about his motivation reminded him all too clearly that she wasn’t the Buffy he knew. But then, she still cared about Spike, deeply or so it seemed, so why not about the rest of them?

“I’ve survived three of your deaths, Buffy,” he murmured. “I won’t go through another one if I can help it.”

“What if my soul can’t be restored?” she asked defiantly. “What will the Council do then? What will you do?”

He took a deep breath. He hadn’t planned to answer that question. Not now, at least. He knew what he had decided to do in that unimaginable and yet still possible case, but he hadn’t thought she would ask. Just the same, he replied sincerely. He wasn’t here to lie to her, or manipulate her. He was here to give her the help he felt he owed her.

“If your soul is gone for good, the Council will try to have you staked. And I… I will do whatever I can to help you escape from them.”

Her eyes widened in obvious surprise, and a small smile danced on her lips.

“You know what, Watcher? I think I like you. I’ll meet your Council and play nice. But I want Spike back before anything else happens.”

He nodded slightly. “I have to talk to them. We didn’t know coming here that we would need…”

He stopped talking as she rose to her feet and watched her, puzzled, as she went up the steps. She was back a few seconds later, now bundled in her black leather duster. No, not hers, he realized. Slightly too long for her, this one had to be Spike’s.

“You talk to them all you want,” she said disinterestedly. “I have things to do. Just know that if I find him before you, the deal is off.”

She opened the front door, and Giles realized then that night had fallen while they talked. He walked to the entrance just in time to see her walk down the street. And by her side, he was surprised to realize, was Manon.

Chapter 32 - Wankers and Watchers

Night had fallen again, Spike’s senses were telling him. Another night. The third one of his captivity.

One thing was sure, Soldierboy had absolutely no talent nor inclination for torture. The wanker had bloodied him a little the first day, supposedly to get answers to his stupid questions, but it had soon been clear that he was more relieving a few frustrations than really trying to get answers. It hadn’t been hard for Spike to hold his tongue. If a hell goddess hadn’t gotten a word from him, what were the chances of a human? The difference was that, back then, Spike hadn’t thought any help would come for him, and it had. While this time, he had been pretty sure his Childe wouldn’t take long to find him, and still, three nights later, she hadn’t come.

Apparently, the wankers had decided that they were in no hurry, and that hunger would make him talk. They hadn’t fed him, and since he had lost some blood he was getting weak faster than he should have. Which meant, no way to get out of these bloody chains. What he hated most, however, was that they left him by himself most of the time, checking only every few hours to see if he had decided to give up yet. Too much time with nothing to do but think. He had replayed his abduction countless times in his mind, the mere seconds during which a few humans had invaded his lair and taken him, a Master Vampire, as if he had been a simple fledgling. He blamed himself for his distraction, he had been so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn’t reacted as fast as he should have. And what if he had called his Childe for help? Even with the water running, she probably would have picked up her name if he had shouted. She could have helped him, maybe. Or she would have been taken alongside him.

And again, his thoughts were back to Buffy.

What was she doing? Why hadn’t she come to his aid yet? He tried to find an explanation, but all the theories he could come up with were each worse than the last. Maybe she didn’t care. Maybe she had only shrugged at his disappearance and decided than she didn’t need him. Maybe she had even taken it as a blessing, since now she was free to do as she pleased. Maybe by now she had already killed the Scoobies, maybe she had even gone back to LA to finish her business there. Or maybe the Watchers had arrived already, and captured her. Not staked her, he would have known if she was dust. Or maybe they had given her her soul back, and she was horrified that he had let drink from someone.

Maybe.

Maybe he would never know unless he found a way to escape by himself. And maybe it was better not to know.

No. She was alive. She loved him. These two things he knew, two truths that were part of him. She would come for him. She would.

* * * * *

It was the third time already that Manon had followed Buffy through the mostly deserted streets of Sunnydale. Followed, and did little else. A couple of times, she had helped dust a vamp, but Buffy usually did the questioning and the execution with the same alacrity. Her elder hadn’t said how she hoped to find Spike simply by walking around and asking questions that never got helpful answers, but Manon didn’t have a better idea, so she kept her doubts to herself. But, as much as she regretted it, she did have doubts. A lot of them. She couldn’t help worrying and imagining the worse about what was happening to Spike. And Buffy’s simple but unexplained reassurance that he was still alive did nothing to help. So much could happen, in three nights. She hadn’t been a Slayer for very long, but she had already seen more than once how different things could be at sunrise from what they had been at sunset, and vice-versa.

God, how she hoped he was alright.

Admitting she didn’t stand a chance was one thing. Not caring about what happened to him, a very, very different one. That’s why she was there, night after night. Not to keep an eye on Buffy, for she was sure that Buffy was way too distracted to hunt and feed. No, she came along to be there when the blonde finally found her Sire, so that she could start breathing normally again, instead of having that painful weight on her chest.

And now, there was something else. She had seen and heard enough since the Watchers had arrived to realize that the Scoobies’ fears were probably close to becoming true. That new Slayer, Chloe, had just been Called, but she had mentioned she had been training for years already, and she was better at fighting than Manon was. If she tried to take Buffy, she might – just might, with a lot of luck – succeed. Seeing how distracted Buffy was, it might be the best time ever to do it. And from a few words shared as they sparred, Manon had no doubt that the girl would do whatever the Council told her to. There was just no way Manon was going to do nothing but stand and watch Buffy get dusted. No way she would confront Spike, if he ever came back, with the news that she had let Buffy get killed. If that meant doing her best to protect a Vampire from a Slayer… oh well. After all, she did owe her life to one of these soulless creatures.

Slowly, the hours flowed away, and as sunrise got increasingly closer, Manon could see the change in Buffy. At the beginning of the night, she had been calm, obviously filled with a deep determination. Cracks had started to appear in the vampire’s façade sometime after midnight, anguish slipping slowly over her features as her pace quickened until Manon had trouble keeping up with her.

And again, it was morning, and they were back to Revello Drive, being nowhere closer to having found the man they both loved. Manon wished the despair she could see in Buffy’s eyes as she stared into her cup of chocolate didn’t seem even deeper than the morning before. She also wished she knew what to say to comfort the vampire in front of her. Weird, because she was supposed to stake vampires, not comfort them, not worry about them. As she left, she just repeated words she had said before, trying to believe them as much as she had the first time.

“You’ll find him, won’t you?”

There was a slight pause, and then a murmur.

“Yes. We will.”

* * * * *

Andrea was pacing through the Magic Box, and had been doing so for a good half hour already, reconsidering over and over again her decision. Not that Manon had given her much choice to begin with.

After sparring with Chloe for a little while, her Slayer had calmly announced, a few minutes before sunset, that she needed to go patrol with Buffy. Unfortunately, the High Council was in the training room then. So even though Andrea had very much wanted to forbid the child to join the vampire, she had not said a word, and only given a short nod of agreement. If she had pointed out that Buffy was too unpredictable for Manon to trust her now, it might have raised a few questions as to why she had insisted that a chance be given to the ex-Slayer. And she couldn’t actually answer that she didn’t want to see her lover’s heart broken by the early staking of his Slayer, could she? That wouldn’t have sounded serious at all. And yet, it was exactly what she was doing. Jeopardizing her own Slayer’s safety because Rupert trusted Buffy could control herself or be controlled. Of course, Manon had survived two nights alone with the vampire already, there was no reason for anything to go wrong now. Or so she prayed for.

The Scoobies, or rather the Witches, were still talking with the Council’s magic crew. From the drawn faces, it didn’t look like the discussion was going anywhere, but then, it had been almost a given that the intervention of the Mage would be necessary. These two young girls, barely half a century together in age, knew more about their art than the three persons in front of them, who together were probably three times their combined ages. The Harris couple had bailed out a moment before, Anya having declared she didn’t feel well, but Andrea suspected that had been an excuse to escape the imperturbable gazes of the nine High Council members.

The bell rang softly, and Andrea turned to the door, glad that Rupert had returned unharmed, disappointed that Manon, and Buffy, weren’t with him. He gave her a small smile as he stopped in front of her.

“Manon is with her,” he whispered.

“I know,” she replied just as quietly.

“You let her go?”

A hint of surprise in his voice, though it didn’t appear on his face as he absently rubbed his glasses clean. For any of the persons at the back of the room, they probably appeared to be talking of unimportant matters.

“I didn’t have much of a choice,” she said with a forced smile. “I can’t say we have to trust Buffy one day, and then the opposite the next.”

“Don’t worry. She’s safe.”

Andrea watched his back as he walked toward the Council, and she couldn’t help but wonder who was safe. A light shiver ran through her, and she crossed her arms, trying to warm herself, as she followed to hear what he was going to tell them.

“She will meet you tomorrow,” he said calmly, his gaze traveling on the grave faces in front of him. “She is ready to have her soul restored, but there is a condition. She needs our help to find Spike.”

Eyebrows had risen with the word ‘condition’, and heads started shaking at Spike’s name. As usual, it was Maryan McNeely who, as the oldest, expressed the opinion of the Council, though for once she didn’t need to confer with them first.

“Not only do we have to pay, and dearly, for a vampire to regain her soul,” she said, unconvinced, “but you expect us to accept her conditions? We have no use for her Sire. He, for one, doesn’t have a soul, nor has he expressed the desire…”

“You don’t understand”, Giles interrupted her, his voice steel. “We are not talking about two vampires randomly chosen among thousands of others. We are talking about a young lady who is still a Slayer and as such under the protection of the Council. We are talking about a man who, even without a soul, has been fighting our fight and redeeming himself for years.”

“We know very well who we are talking about,” Maryan said sharply. “But you seem to forget too easily they are still vampires, despite everything they have done in the recent past. And the Council’s role is still to protect the world against them and their kind.”

From where she stood a little behind him, Andrea could not see Giles’ face or his expression. She could see, however, his fists close and his body tremble. She could also hear the anger, although tightly controlled, in his voice.

“The world,” he said slowly, very low, “would not be as we know it if not for them. All of us would either be dead, or in hell and wishing we were dead. So when the girl who prevented more apocalypses in her short life than all the Slayers in the previous hundred years needs your help, you get off your collective behind, you put down your tea cups and you do everything, everything, to give her what she wants. And what she wants right now is Spike.”

There were heated protests, both about the tone he had used, the words themselves and the general idea, but he did not move from his spot in front of them. Unconsciously passing her tongue on her dry lips, Andrea moved forward to stand by his side.

“This is ridiculous,” Maryan said, incredulous, having finally found her voice. “You’re not even a Watcher, and you pretend to give us orders?! Do you somehow think you’re the Head of the Council?”

“It wouldn’t take much for him to be,” Andrea said coolly. “A few phone calls, and before you can even get back to London your chairs will have been voted to other Watchers, and they will have elected a new Head, instead of… waiting for things to happen.”

She had been about to say ‘instead of sitting on their collective behind’, but that would have probably taken away from her mild threat. As it was, Maryan seemed ready to have an attack of apoplexy, and two Watchers looked as if they had just seen their own deaths. But the most interesting was that four more looked more worried than angry, while the remaining two had already picked up that the wind was turning and were talking quietly between themselves.

Although she was observing the persons in front of her, Andrea could see, from the corner of her eye, the research table and the five persons there. They had stopped talking about magic and spells, and were all staring at what was happening between the High Council and the determined couple who had already caused the fall of a Head Watcher.

One of the youngest High Council members finally cleared his throat, getting the attention of everyone else, and requested a formal private meeting. All nine of them were soon hurrying in a more or less dignified way to the back room, and more than one glanced back at Rupert and her before they disappeared.

“What the hell was that?” he asked, turning to her, as the door had finally closed.

“That was me using my father’s methods,” Andrea replied with a small smile. “That’s just about what he did to be elected in 1979. I can’t say I’m very proud of it, but the only thing I hurt was a few people’s pride. And if it works, you just might find yourself Head Watcher when all of this is over, Mr. Rupert Giles.”

As he stared at her, his eyes widening comically, she let out a little laugh. She had been thinking about this for a few days, since it had started becoming clear that, left to do what they wished, the members of the High Council would probably decide that they didn’t need a Head Watcher above them. She had already whispered the idea into a few receptive as well as decisive ears, but she hadn’t planned to do this so soon or without telling Rupert first. Yet just to see his face right now it had been worth it.

Chapter 33 - Of Men, Mages, and Magic

It was almost noon, and Anya was getting nervous. Buffy was supposed to arrive soon to meet these damn Watchers. As if they couldn’t have gone to her place instead. No, why would they make the effort of going there when they could appear here, make Anya close the store, and have a soulless and obnoxious vampire come over?

In her millennium as a demon, Anya had met quite a few vamps, and even granted a couple of wishes to feminine members of the species. Never had she been afraid of one. Since she’d become human again, she had started being wary, but, again, she had never been afraid of a specific vampire, just cautious about the community as a whole. But hearing Buffy when she first came back soulless to Sunnydale… seeing the looks she was throwing her… That had shaken her to her bones. She hadn’t been able to sleep that night. All she had been able to think about was Buffy’s comments about pregnant women. And now Buffy was coming to the store, and Spike wasn’t there to stop her from talking or biting – because, really, how could they be completely certain that his orders still held her? The others didn’t even seem to question it, though. All they saw was their friend; all they thought of was helping her. What Anya was thinking of, herself, was how to stay alive long enough to become a mother.

She was startled when the basement door opened violently and Buffy strode in. Apparently, the vamp wasn’t in a very good mood on this fine and sunny morning, either. But then, who would be cheery after a little trip through the sewers, and why in hell was Anya worrying about the sewers when Buffy was there and Xander wasn’t around to protect his wife? She let out a little sigh when Giles stepped up to meet his Slayer, talking to her in quiet tones as he ushered her to the back room where the big and mighty Watchers were waiting. As they passed by the counter, Anya unconsciously took a step back, putting a little more distance between Buffy and her. The vamp looked at her then, and a faint smirk appeared on her lips, but she said nothing and didn’t slow her step. Soon Watcher and Slayer had walked into the backroom, and Anya didn’t realize she had been staring at the spot where they had disappeared until Willow spoke to her from her seat at the research table.

“It will be over soon, Anya,” she said in a somewhat reassuring tone. “Our Buffy will be back, and until then we’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”

Anya nodded, but she didn’t feel any better. At this point, she didn’t care anymore if they restored Buffy’s soul or staked her. She just wanted this nightmare to be over.

* * * * *

Despite her apparent calm as she followed Giles into the training room, Buffy’s anger was ready to erupt. It had been too long, way too long, since she last saw her Sire, since she last touched her Mate. Too long since she had allowed the demon to come forward and sink her fangs in living – or unliving – flesh. The lack of results of her search was infuriating as much as it was despairing. And the welcome committee that greeted her in the training room just added to her ire.

Behind the door the Watcher was closing, there were not one, but two Slayers. She didn’t know the kid at Manon’s side, but the vibes were very clear. Why hadn’t Manon told her? Or the Watcher? She had thought she could, within limits, trust these two, but they hadn’t said another Slayer was in Sunnydale. Were they setting up a trap? If that was their plan, they would be in for a surprise. Two Slayers didn’t scare her any more than one did, but she hated when people thought she was stupid. Giles seemed to notice her tension and stopped her with a wary touch on her arm.

“Scowling at them isn’t really part of playing nice,” he whispered, his head tilting briefly toward the group of people by the other end of the room.

They were all standing, as if ready to battle, most of them fidgeting a little. From her vantage point, she could see that the nine older Watchers in the middle were all holding crosses, some already pointed in her direction, others clutched as talismans. In sharp contrast to that demeanor, they all looked calm, composed, sure of themselves. But they reeked of fear. A few steps to their left, three more Watchers stood nervously, holding crossbows which were pointed vaguely in her direction. On the right, the two Slayers and their designated Watchers, or at least Buffy assumed the man next to Andrea was the new Slayer’s. All four of them had stakes, but Manon ostentatiously tucked hers behind her belt before crossing her arms as Buffy’s eyes trailed over her. The vampire understood the message and gave her a light nod. The kid was there under duress. Strangely enough, Andrea’s hold on her stake was just as unthreatening.

Buffy eyes returned to Giles, and although she knew they must be filled with gold, he seemed untouched by her glare.

“You asked me to come here to talk,” she hissed, not bothering with lowering her voice. “But they all look ready to dust me.”

Giles cast an irritated glance at the group, and there was a slight movement, crosses and crossbows now pointing to the floor.

“As long as you do not threaten them,” he said in a level voice, his eyes still on the others and not her, “they will not raise a finger against you. Of that, you have my word, and theirs.”

There was some foot shuffling, but no one contradicted him. Still cautious, Buffy advanced toward the group, stopping a few feet in front of them. She was surprised when Giles came to stand at her side and not with the others.

“Let’s get on with the show,” she said gruffly. “I have eternity in front of me, but it doesn’t mean I want to spend it with you.”

As she talked, her eyes roamed over the oldest Watchers in front of her – the High Council, Giles had called them. As he had explained to her that morning, it was a woman who spoke for them, the woman taking a step – a small step – toward Buffy now. Was it Mary? No, Maryan.

“Miss Summers, we are glad you agreed to meet us. Now if you will, we are going to do that little truth spell as I am sure Mr. Giles told you we would.”

Slowly, Buffy nodded, and her lips curled up slightly.

“Do your spell, I have nothing to hide,” she said with a shrug. “But I want you under the same charm, Maryan. Just to make sure honesty goes both ways.”

The woman flinched as Buffy said her name, but recovered quickly and gestured for one of the crossbow holders to come forward. The incantation was done in less than a minute, and immediately repeated on Maryan.

“The first question is easy, Miss Summers,” the woman said calmly, though she was slightly shaking. “Did you ever kill a human being?”

For a moment there was absolutely quiet expectancy, and then an almost tangible feeling of collective relief when the answer came.

“No.”

Smirking very slightly, she added: ”What about you?”

“God, of course not!” Maryan replied, outraged.

It took her only a second to regain her calm and ask the next question.

“Do you want to kill human beings?”

A few days ago, the answer would have been different, and probably would have put an end to this questioning. But now, all she wanted was to find her Sire, nothing more. There was the same relief when, again, she said no. But immediately widening eyes as she completed her answer.

“But whoever took Spike is dead, whether they are human or not.”

Maryan ran her tongue over her lips nervously.

“I understand your distress,” she said slowly. “But we cannot allow you to kill.”

“And how will you stop me?” Buffy said quietly. “Will you send these children after me? If you do, you won’t be able to say you never killed anyone anymore. Because you will kill them as surely as I will.”

Her eyes never left Maryan, but she saw movement on the side, where the Slayers stood.

“I will not fight Buffy”, Manon’s voice rose suddenly, breaking the deafening silence.

A little surprised, the vampire watched the red-haired Slayer drop her stake to the floor and move over to stand next to Giles, now facing the Council members instead of protecting them.

“She is afraid,” the other Slayer stated, contempt clear in her voice. “I am not. I will do my duty.”

Buffy rolled her eyes at the declaration, but before she could comment Andrea had stepped forward, coming to stand to the side, between Buffy and Maryan. The older woman seemed irritated by both Manon’s words and what Andrea said next.

“Manon is not afraid,” she said with a light frown at her charge. “If anything, I wish she was. But that’s not the problem. Our problem right now is that Buffy might kill a human, if it’s indeed a human who kidnapped Spike. But we don’t know that. And judging by the power of their hiding spell, it could easily be that it’s a demon behind all this.”

“But we don’t know that either,” Maryan interjected. “We can’t help her find them if it means she would kill humans. We cannot be her accomplices.”

There was a murmur of assent behind the woman. Andrea ignored it, and turned instead to Buffy.

“What about this,” she suggested. “We find where Spike is held, we get him back and deal with his captors appropriately, but without your presence.”

Buffy gritted her teeth as she thought over the offer. Her revenge would be pulled out of her hands, true, but Spike would be back then, so did it matter that much?

“Alright,” she agreed reluctantly.

Andrea let out a little sigh and turned back toward Maryan with a bright smile. The older woman nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving Buffy as she gauged her.

“The terms are acceptable,” she said blankly. “We return your Sire to you, if he is alive…”

“He is!” Buffy snapped.

“… and you cooperate as to the return of your soul,” Maryan finished, her voice wavering a little.

“What if you can’t do it?” Buffy asked, much as she had asked Giles before. “Will you try to stake me if my soul is gone for good?”

“If you could stop yourself from killing…”

“Could you stop yourself from breathing?”

Buffy was mildly startled by Giles sudden intervention, but it was nothing compared to Maryan’s and the rest of the Watchers’ shock.

“It is not Buffy’s fault if her soul is gone,” the man said calmly as the vampire arched an eyebrow at him. “And it is not her fault if her nature is to feed off humans. What is her doing, however, is the prevention of several apocalypses. If her soul cannot be returned, we have no right to take her life. She belongs to the Powers That Be, or however you want to call a supreme being, and only they can decide her fate.”

Smiling very slightly, Buffy faced the group of Watchers again.

“I’m not asking for your permission to feed,” she said coldly. “I’m not asking either that you promise not to kill me. The deal is this. If I cross paths with a Slayer as I feed, she’s free to try to kill me and I am free to defend myself, like any other vamp. But you don’t deliberately hunt Spike and me down, and we return the favor and don’t come after any of you. Do we have an agreement?”

Maryan blinked several times, her eyes moving from Buffy to Giles, then to Manon, Chloe, and back to Buffy. Finally, she turned a rigid back to the vampire and approached her fellow High Council members. There was a brief, heated, discussion, in low voices that Buffy would have had no trouble understanding if she had cared to. Instead, she was too busy trying to figure out whether she was making a mistake by playing this game. Was losing her vengeance and recovering her soul too high a price to pay for Spike? Of course not. And it wasn’t even sure she’d get her soul back. But that didn’t mean she was happy about it all. If only she hadn’t needed their help…

After a few minutes, Maryan turned back to her, stepping closer. She was even paler than before, and sweat beaded her forehead. She looked as if she was about to sell her soul, Buffy thought, slightly amused.

“We have an agreement”, her dry voice enunciated as the woman held out a shaking hand toward Buffy.

* * * * *

Half an hour later, the same eighteen people were still in the training room, and Buffy was bored senseless. But at least she was comfortable, while most of the others weren’t. As soon as the talks were over, the annoying part had started, namely the summoning of some Mage who was supposed to discover why she had lost her soul and how to restore it. Having a suspicion that it would take some time, Buffy had settled herself on the only piece of furniture in the room, the couch. After a while, she had been amused when Manon hesitantly asked if she could sit there too, and even more when Giles settled on her other side. It was as if they were making a statement to the other persons present in the room, claiming vehemently but without a word that they trusted her, as if that hadn’t been made clear so far.

And finally…

The lights flickered in the room, there was a loud sound, like thunder, and a tall figure appeared where there had been nothing before. Giles immediately got to his feet and went to meet the Mage, beating Maryan as she approached him too.

Buffy didn’t pay much attention to whatever was said then, but she did hear something about a price, and saw a little bundle move from a shaky hand to a blue one and disappear into the folds of the Mage’s robes. He walked toward her then, serpentine eyes the only part of him not covered by cloth, and Buffy was once again amused by the kid, who leaped away from the couch before anyone could ask her to. Buffy herself did not move, and simply observed the man – creature? - who was now in front of her, just as he observed her back. He leaned toward her, and she tried to move away, only to find that she was paralyzed by his stare. A cold, dark blue hand was pressed to her forehead for a couple of seconds, and a very unpleasant feeling ran through Buffy, as if she was being examined from the inside. Before she could protest, the hand lifted from her skin, before being pressed to her again, this time to the top of her chest, fingers grazing her collarbone, and the unpleasant feeling returned, only ten times stronger. It seemed like the contact lasted hours, but somehow she knew it hadn’t been more than a few seconds before the Mage took a step back, giving her a nod before he returned to Giles and the other Watchers.

As she watched him retreat, Buffy realized two things. She was panting heavily, and she was in game face. She hadn’t noticed either until the Mage let go of her. Frowning at his back, she listened intently, this time, to what he was saying to the humans.

“I cannot return her soul,” he said immediately. “But I can tell you how it can be done.”

He made a gesture with his hand, and a shimmering appeared in the air in front of him, slowly forming an image of the globe. Another flourish, and the image changed, as if zooming. Continents and oceans disappeared, until all that was left was the image of England, with a pulsating glow at the very south. Again, a flourish, and another zoom, straight on the light. Slowly, as if viewing the earth from a landing plane, the fields, roads, and buildings grew larger and larger. Soon, the glow was in the middle of a garden, then over a rooftop, then the image went through the roof to reveal a cozy British interior, and, on a wooden table, among other knickknacks, a seemingly glass ball that glowed softly.

“This is where her soul is,” the Mage said finally. “A spell was done to take it from her, and so that it wouldn’t be returned to her, the soul was trapped in this orb, and the orb made indestructible. Have the willing vampire simply touch it, and her soul will return to her.”

“Willing?” a Watcher repeated as he cast a worried glance at Buffy.

“Willing,” the Mage confirmed. “She has to really want it. That is the way. You paid the price, I answered your request. You don’t need me to complete the restoration.”

“But where is this house?” Giles asked him, frowning. “We need an exact location, or we could be searching in vain for years. At least the name of a town.”

Buffy only saw the Mage’s back, but she could hear his smile when he said:

“The answer is closer to you than you think.”

Again, the lights flickered, but this time there was no sound as the Mage disappeared.

For a few seconds, as the Watchers sent each other consternated glances, there was not a sound in the room. And then a feeble voice rose.

“Seaford.”

The word was pronounced by a suddenly very pale Andrea. All eyes turned to her, and she continued, her tone completely inexpressive.

“The address is 29 Park Road, in Seaford.”

“Andrea?” Giles questioned, very softly.

“I grew up in that house”, she finished, her voice now nothing but a whisper.

It was suddenly too much, and Buffy burst out laughing, startling everybody.

“Wait a minute,” she said between two giggles. “You mean that a Watcher took my soul and I’ll only get it back if I really want it?”

No one answered her, and for a little while she just kept laughing. Then the thought came to her that, if he had heard it, Spike would have found this hilarious too. That sobered her immediately. The question of her soul had an answer, but she didn’t care about that. What she cared about was finding Spike. It was time for the Council to fulfill its promises.

Chapter 34 - Trust

Manon had expected a few chosen words from Andrea after the way she had openly supported Buffy in front of the Council. But the revelation that it was her father, if Manon had gotten that right, who was responsible for this mess, seemed to have shaken the Watcher. All the Watchers, actually, except maybe for Giles who didn’t look that much surprised.

As soon as the Mage had left, Buffy had requested that the Council fulfill its part of the bargain and find Spike instead of worrying so much about her soul. As everyone else seemed too tongue-tied to reply to her demand, Giles had taken charge and directed the three Watchers who were here to do magic to join Willow in the store and see what they could do about finding Spike. He then suggested, in more subdued words but a tone just as determined, that the High Council return to its hotel and decide on a course of action regarding the recovery of Buffy’s soul. As he herded the Watchers, including Andrea, out of the training room, he had a few words with Chloe and Manon, and instructed both to resume their training and try to get along. Finally, before walking out himself, he approached Buffy. Instead of talking to her about her soul or the agreement she had with the Council, Manon was surprised to hear him comfort her and promise that they would find Spike as quickly as they possibly could.

After hosting so many people, the room felt very empty suddenly as only four remained. Chloe was talking in quiet tones to her Watcher, and from what Manon could understand she wasn’t really inclined to train with her. It didn’t matter, however, because Buffy got to her feet, and, stretching a little on the way, came to Manon.

“Spar with me,” she said, and it sounded more like an order than a request.

Manon observed her, a little hesitant. They hadn’t fought since Buffy lost her soul, and she wasn’t sure it was a good idea to do so now. The vampire seemed really irritated, and she might push Manon too far and hurt her without even meaning to.

“I’m not sure…’’ she started.

“Do you trust me?” Buffy interrupted her, her expression unreadable.

It just took a second for Manon to admit that, yes, she did. And so they started trading blows, under the cold stare of Chloe, and the attentive observation of her Watcher. Or rather, Buffy started throwing punches and kicks, and Manon started evading. Just protecting herself took all of her energy, and she had no clue how she was supposed to fight back in these conditions. Buffy was fighting harder than ever before against her, but at the same time Manon was pretty confident that she wasn’t doing so at her maximum capabilities. She had seen her train with Spike, and there was no way she would have been able to last a minute if Buffy had been fighting like that now. The question was, was she holding back on purpose, or was she so upset and distracted that she wasn’t fighting her best?

For long minutes, Buffy’s attacks were unrelenting. Gradually, Manon could feel her own moves becoming sloppier and slower as fatigue crept through her. Earlier, the vamp had claimed she would kill any Slayer sent after her by the Council. There wasn’t a doubt in Manon’s mind that she would have no trouble doing exactly that, and judging by Chloe’s frown, she wasn’t the only one who had come to that conclusion.

The sparring match stopped abruptly when Manon found herself lying flat on her back, with no clue whatsoever about how she had ended on the floor. Panting, she remained there, her eyes on the ceiling, trying to slow her heartbeat. Buffy’s face appeared above her, and if Manon hadn’t known any better she could have thought there was a little concern hiding in her gauging eyes.

“You never… never worked me that hard… even when we were getting ready… for the apocalypse”, she managed to say, a slight questioning in her voice.

Buffy shrugged. “They didn’t want to discourage you.”

As she scrambled to her feet, Manon let out a small, dry chuckle. Discouraged, indeed.

“I need some water,” she announced to the vampire. “You want something to drink?”

Just as Buffy gave her the faintest smirk and shook her head, she noticed the scowl Chloe was giving them from afar.

“I think our new friend thinks I’m a traitor to the cause,” she said, loud enough for Chloe to hear.

“Not that long ago you would have thought the same way”, Buffy replied coolly. “You would have believed anything your Watcher or the Council said.”

Manon nodded. “But I learned better. And she will too.”

Stretching her muscles carefully, Manon walked out the room, hearing the beginning of a tense discussion between the vampire and the new Slayer and Watcher. As she went through the Magic Box, she saw the research table covered with maps and books, and Willow shaking her head at what one of the Watchers was saying. It didn’t look like the hunt for Spike was getting any more successful than before, and Manon felt a tightening in her chest. What were they going to do if even with the Watchers’ help they couldn’t find Spike?

While she was in the office pulling water from the fridge, she saw Chloe and her Watcher walk by and leave the store. Not really unexpected, but faster than what she had anticipated. Her thirst satisfied, she was about to return to the backroom when Anya stopped her, asking her how things had gone between Buffy and the Council. It hadn’t seemed like it was a secret, so she told the woman what had happened. It didn’t appear to soothe her worries, but then Anya had been rather on edge ever since Buffy returned from Los Angeles.

As she was going back to training room, she was surprised to hear Buffy talking to someone. Curious as to who was in there with her, she peeked through the almost closed door, and her eyes widened as she recognized the face. She had seen the tall, broad shouldered man before. In her dreams. And in her dreams, he stood guard over Spike.

* * * * *

“I told you to get out of my town, Riley.”

OK. So this wasn’t the welcome he had been expecting. He had gone to Revello Drive earlier, and, as no one answered when he knocked, had decided to try his luck at the Magic Box. There was a ‘closed’ sign on the door, but when he had walked around he had found that the back door wasn’t locked. He had entered, happy to immediately find Buffy in her training room. She was abusing the punching bag, and by the way it was jerking around, it was a wonder that the thing was still whole. But when he announced his presence, she turned cold eyes to him that almost made him regret he had come.

“It’s not that easy, Buffy. I don’t decide where my unit is sent, my boss does. And after the high school incident, it was judged necessary for the Hellmouth to be studied.”

Buffy snorted, a very unladylike sound coming from such a pretty woman, but didn’t comment any further.

“So… I was wondering if you’d like to have a coffee with me, talk a little. When you have some free…”

She rolled her eyes at him, then turned around and started pummeling the bag again, ignoring him.

“I have nothing to talk about with you,” she said coldly. “You should leave now before something happens that one of us will be sorry for.”

Frowning, he shook his head at her back. What did she mean by that? And why was she in such a bad mood? Was she upset because she had finally realized what had happened while she was under Spike’s thrall? Or maybe she was ashamed from having told him about her supposed wedding to the vampire and didn’t know how to tell him it had been a mistake.

“Listen,” he said as gently as he could, “it’s been a long time, but we could still be friends. If there’s anything you need…”

His voice trailed off as Buffy’s fist suddenly pierced the heavy leather of the bag. Baffled, he watched the sand pour down as she pulled out her hand, and was almost surprised to realize she had turned around again and was standing in front of him.

“All I need,” she hissed, “is Spike. You’re not him. Now leave before I make you leave.”

Shocked, he raised his hands in an appeasing gesture and took a few steps back. The thrall was still in full effect, obviously. How long until it faded? Another question for Hostile 17, it seemed. Unless… Unless there was no thrall and she had genuine feelings for… No. Impossible. Sleeping with vampires was one thing, falling in love with a souled one a more difficult to understand one, but falling for Spike… No. He would never believe that. He couldn’t believe that. There had to be a thrall.

* * * * *

It wasn’t torture enough that her Sire had been taken from her, that she had to refrain from following her instincts, that she had to cooperate with the damn Council and even agree to get her soul back. On top of it all, the very last person she wanted to see was now here and hitting on her in that oh so subtle way of his. The temptation to simply snap his neck and be done with him for good was great, but she ignored it and simply sent him away. He seemed to understand at the end that he would be much better off not showing up any more.

Just as the annoying moron disappeared, Buffy heard Manon finally come in, abandoning her hiding spot from behind the door.

“Who was that?” the kid asked with a shaky voice.

“The most irritating and stubborn man on the face of the planet,” Buffy replied dryly. “My ex, but I couldn’t tell you what I ever saw in him.”

Manon’s hand took hold of her arm and Buffy tensed at the sudden contact. Shaking her arm free, she turned to the kid, and noticed how pale she was.

“I dreamed of him,” she said hesitantly. “I dreamed of him having Spike as his prisoner.”

“Was it a Slayer dream?” Buffy growled, fighting the demon that was trying to come forward. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner, girl?”

Unconsciously, she had taken hold of the Slayer and was shaking her as she spoke. Manon managed to pull away as she replied, now angry.

“I didn’t know it was a Slayer dream! And what did you want me to say? That I dreamed of someone I never saw before today? That every time I get some sleep I see the man you love in pain? That would have been helpful, I’m sure!”

Pain. The word echoed in Buffy’s mind, blocking everything else. Her Mate was in pain, and now she knew who to blame. Leaving the kid in the middle of the room, she ran to the back door. She probably could catch up with Riley, follow him to wherever he was hiding or even better torture him to get the information. She flung the door open and ran into the shady alley… and managed to stop just in time to avoid stepping into the sunlight. She could see him, almost out of sight now, walking down the street, head low and hands thrust in his pockets. Out of her reach. She was so frustrated she could have screamed in rage, so frustrated she almost didn’t notice the redhead who came out of the training room and started to stride after Riley. She watched the kid go until she had disappeared down the street, wishing for the first time ever that she wasn’t a vamp and could also go in the sun to find her Mate.

Chapter 35 - Promise to a Slayer

Angel had been brooding all morning and most of the afternoon – he could admit that, to himself at least – when he decided to go back to Sunnydale. Things were quiet in LA again, which left him too much time to think, and to worry.

It had been a few very difficult days for Angel, and even worst nights. Often, too often, he would reach to his neck and touch the healed scars there. Payback, he could have called it, if he had been able to find any humor in it. He had graced Buffy’s skin with a similar mark. She had returned the favor. But while he had been too far gone to realize that he was so close to killing her, Buffy had known exactly what she was doing, what she wanted to do. What some part of him wanted, too, even if he didn’t want to admit it to himself.

Oh, he didn’t want to be Angelus, no doubt there. He didn’t miss the hunt, the blood, the demon or its strength. No, he needed none of that. But that wasn’t all she had offered. She had offered a family. One that would last forever, or as close to forever as it came. She had offered freedom. Freedom from too many constraints, too many duties, too many responsibilities. But above all, in exchange for his humanity and his soul, she had offered love. And not only hers.

It had taken him a long time, too long, to start getting used to her being a vamp. And he doubted he would ever be able to get used to her soulless state if it endured. But if he had been himself soulless, he wouldn’t have cared. Wouldn’t have cared about much at all, actually. Which was just why he couldn’t even let himself think of giving in.

“Dad? Driving the car off the road isn’t going to make us arrive in Sunnyhell any sooner, you know?”

And this was another reason he would remain human.

As he slowed down a little, he gave an apologetic glance to his son in the rearview mirror, and received a tight smile in return. It was still a shock every time he realized he did have a reflection, and he didn’t know whether he would get used to it ever again.

Steven had calmed down from his initial shock and rage, mostly thanks to the promise Dawn had extorted from him that he wouldn’t hurt Buffy – at least, not unless he was in immediate danger and didn’t have any other choice. What Dawn herself thought of her sister’s state was a mystery to Angel, and he certainly wasn’t going to ask, he knew her enough to know he wouldn’t get an answer. Both teens had insisted on coming along when he had decided that, whatever Buffy had said, he just had to go to Sunnydale. Even if he had no way to find Spike, he felt like he had to be there. Because Spike was his Childe. Because Buffy, even if she had come too close for comfort to draining him, was his Grandchilde. He wasn’t a vampire anymore, that didn’t mean he had to abandon his vampire family. He had made that mistake once, and didn’t plan on making it again. Not being able to do anything was driving him crazy, just as was Cordelia’s lack of reply to his calls for help, but at least he would be close if his help was needed.

It was the end of the afternoon when at last they passed by the sign at the limit of the town, and Angel continued straight toward the Magic Box. First, he wanted to talk to the Scoobies, or Giles, and see how things had evolved. As he entered the shop with the two teens, he found an almost complete Scooby Gang there. Almost complete, because the two resident vampires were absent. His throat tightened as he took in the somber looks everyone gave to the newcomers.

“Are they alright?” he heard Dawn ask, her voice as tense as he himself felt.

“Buffy’s fine,” Giles said with a quiet sigh. “As fine as she can be given the circumstances. We haven’t found Spike yet. You know he disappeared, right?”

Angel replied with a short nod, and asked: “Where is Buffy?”

The answer deeply surprised him. He had expected to hear she was chained up somewhere, courtesy of the Council, but instead he was told that she was home. By herself. Without anyone looking over her shoulder to see whether she was draining someone. Not that her chances to do that during the day were very high, but still.

What Giles said next was just as troubling, about an ex-Watcher, and even worse, the former Head Watcher, being the cause of the disappearance of Buffy’s soul. And the last bit was depressingly ironic. Buffy wanting her soul back? Doubtful. Very, very doubtful.

There was more information shared, but Angel wasn’t paying much attention anymore, and he only caught tidbits, just enough to know that before 24 hours the globe in which Buffy’s soul was trapped would be taken from its owner, said owner would be neutralized and presented to a Watchers’ trial, and the globe would be brought to Sunnydale, as well as some books that might help them locate Spike with more powerful spells.

The gang broke up just before nightfall, and Angel drove to Revello Drive, along with Giles, Dawn, and Steven. He had heard that Buffy spent her nights out, with the kid Slayer, looking for Spike, and he had decided to accompany them, whether she liked it or not.

When they arrived at her house, they found the door unlocked. In the living room, the heavy wood chest was open and weapons were scattered around it as if someone had been looking for something in particular. Buffy was already gone.

* * * * *

In the shady alley, Buffy waited, pacing nervously, for Manon to return. Her thoughts kept leaping from subject to subject, but came back, always, to her Sire.

Riley. She felt so stupid for not having thought of him. It was just that he was so… insignificant. Barely worth a second thought. But now that she knew, it was so logical. Hiding his location with a spell was the unexpected thing, it wasn’t something the Initiative would have done. But other than that detail, the method of kidnapping a vampire was all too familiar. Twice they had taken Spike now. And how long had the Initiative actually pursued him before it was dismantled? They just didn’t seem to let go. She would have to show them it wasn’t worth dying for.

The Council. She had an agreement with them, and she might even have tried– tried, sure, but she couldn’t force herself to want something, could she? – to respect it if they had found Spike first. But now it looked like she wouldn’t need their help. Before morning, she would have her Mate with her again, she was just sure of it. And she would get her vengeance too.

Manon. If only the kid had told her sooner… All this time lost because she hadn’t mentioned her dreams! But then, she didn’t know Riley. Buffy could grudgingly admit that she had no way to know who he was until she saw him. And she could also admit that she had dreamed of Spike too, and that he was in pain in her dream also, but she hadn’t seen Riley, just demons. She had chalked up the nightmare to her worry over Spike, and Manon had probably done exactly the same. The kid hadn’t had enough Slayer dreams yet to see the difference. And why in hell was Buffy finding excuses for her? And where was she, anyway? She was taking an awful lot of time to return. Surely, Riley’s hiding hole couldn’t be that far, could it? She had been gone for what felt like hours. She wasn’t stupid enough to try to get Spike back by herself, was she? Buffy ground her teeth at the thought, almost vamping out in discontentment. She wanted to be there when Spike was freed. She had to be there. It was her right and duty. Just as it was to bring punishment to her Sire’s tormentors. And especially Riley.

None too soon, she felt familiar tingles down her spine – the Slayer induced kind, though, and not the ones that announced her Sire. She almost stepped into the sunlight again in her haste to reach the kid sooner. Manon remained in the sun, just out of reach of Buffy, arms crossed in a slightly defensive manner.

“Did you find him?” Buffy asked immediately. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know if I found him, I didn’t get in,” Manon replied with a small headshake. “I followed your ex all the way to a big building by the edge of town. It looks abandoned, but I’ve observed it for a while and I’ve seen six persons come in or out of it.”

So, that was why she had taken so long to return. She had been scouting the terrain. Good girl.

“Let me get some weapons and you can show me the way.”

“Not so quick,” Manon said in a stronger voice than Buffy had ever heard her use so far. “We have something to discuss first.”

“Discuss?” Buffy hissed, coming as close to the edge of the shadows as she dared. “We discuss nothing. They could be hurting him right this minute!”

“And right this minute, the sun will burn you to ashes before you’re even halfway there,” Manon replied evenly. “Will you listen to me?”

Clenching her fists repeatedly, Buffy glared at the girl but did not reply.

“As far as I can tell,” Manon continued calmly, “they are all humans.”

“What’s your point?” Buffy demanded, her annoyance turning slowly to anger.

“You have to promise not to kill anyone.”

Buffy’s eyes widened in surprise, and by the half step Manon took back, she knew they had to be gold by now. It was all she could do not to vamp out in the middle of the alley, where any passerby could see her.

“That’s a joke, right?” she growled, very low. “It has to be a bloody joke.”

She saw Manon swallow with difficulty, and suddenly the kid didn’t seem too sure of herself anymore. And yet, she persisted.

“It’s not a joke. I can’t let you kill people right in front of me. I won’t let you do it.”

Buffy laughed, a dry, cruel laugh, that echoed in the alley.

“And you will stop me how?” she asked, mocking.

“I’ll just go without you,” Manon said, her voice getting some of its firmness back. “I’ll get Giles and Andrea and the Scoobies and Chloe even and we will go now while you can’t follow us. It will be over before the sun sets, and you won’t have been there to help him.”

Buffy was fuming. The kid dared blackmail her! Over the lives of some pathetic humans!

“They are hurting Spike,” she said, reigning in her ire. “You said it yourself. They deserve…”

“Whatever they deserve”, Manon interrupted her, “I can’t just watch you kill and do nothing. I can’t, Buffy.”

“Even for Spike?”

There was some hesitation in the girl’s eyes, just a little light of doubt, and Buffy started to think she had found the way to convince her, until she shook her head, her gaze dropping to the ground, and whispered:

“Even for him. I can’t.”

Buffy could have screamed in rage and frustration, but she managed to contain herself. Now was not the time. She considered the Slayer for a while, the key to finding her Mate.

“Alright,” she said coldly. “I won’t kill anyone.”

The girl’s eyes were back up, a small smile slowly tugging at her lips. “Promise?”

Buffy rolled her eyes at her. “Promised. Satisfied? Can we go now?”

“We still need to wait for sunset,” Manon said with a nod. “I don’t know how to get there through the sewers.”

“Let’s go home and grab some weapons,” Buffy said, more an order than a suggestion. At Manon’s frown, she added: “Non lethal weapons. We don’t know how many people will be in there. We’ll have to neutralize them at least temporarily until we can free Spike.”

A very weird look, almost scared, passed through the Slayer’s face. “What if he’s not there?” she asked softly, and a small shudder ran through her.

The legitimate question renewed in Buffy a fear she had tried to destroy, the fear that she would never find Spike and would only search fruitlessly, alone, with the knowledge that he was alive but out of her reach.

“If he’s not there,” she said as strongly as she could, “Riley will know where he is. He is alive. And I will find him.”

They separated, Manon going to Revello through the streets, Buffy through the sewers. She would find him, Buffy kept repeating to herself on the way. She would, and as soon as she did, Riley and whoever else had hurt her lover was going to pay dearly. The Slayer had made her promise, but who was naïve enough to believe the word of a soulless vampire?

Chapter 36 - Reunion

As the plane was taking her back toward the mother country, Andrea tried to think of anything else but what she would find in Seaford. She hadn’t had much trouble convincing the High Council and Rupert that she had to go. Actually, it had been clear that the High Council was following Rupert’s opinion on the matter. It wouldn’t be long now before they admitted it officially and actually named him Head Watcher. Habit, she supposed. They were used to following a leader, and Rupert Giles had risen to the occasion very nicely. It had surprised her a little, to tell the truth, she hadn’t thought he would assume the role so easily. It only proved that he was even more suited for the job than she had thought.

The members of the High Council were returning to London, too. Having met Buffy and made a bargain with her, they had decided that they would be more needed at the Council’s headquarters than in Sunnydale. It hadn’t been the initial plan; they had been supposed to stay until Buffy regained her soul. Andrea suspected that meeting the vampire, being confronted so blatantly by Rupert, and learning that Quentin Travers was responsible for this mess had deeply unsettled them. They were more used to discussing events after the fact than to actually see things happen in front of them.

Andrea shut her eyes tight as her thoughts brought her back to the subject she tried not to think of. Her father was responsible was all of this. The treason felt more personal and painful than it would have if it had been any other Watcher. She doubted he had done it to get back at her, personally, but it was still a possibility. His reason was just one of the many questions she had for him. She would be leading the team that would go to Seaford with two goals. Retrieve Buffy’s soul, or rather the artifact that held it, and secure Quentin Travers, make sure he couldn’t harm anyone until the Council put him on trial. There hadn’t been a treason trial for a very, very long time, but the Council still knew how to prevent someone from doing any sort of magic for the rest of their life. That was probably what would happen to him. Not that anyone had known before this that the ex Head Watcher practiced any magic at all. And yet, he had to be experienced if he had managed to successfully cast such a spell.

Opening her eyes again, Andrea looked out at the sea of clouds they were flying through. He had certainly been clever in his revenge, if it was revenge he wanted. Turning the best Slayer that had ever existed into a bloodthirsty creature. Forcing the Council to deal with the situation while it was still trying to reorganize itself. Making sure Buffy would never get her soul back by simply leaving the choice to her. Very clever. Andrea had been right, a few days before, when she worried about what her father might do against the Council. She only wished that, just this time, she had been wrong. She wished she hadn’t recognized the house the Mage had shown them so clearly. She wished she hadn’t asked to go and had stayed with Rupert instead.

She just wished everything would be alright now.

* * * * *

Had he thought it would have been of any use, Giles would have gone out with Angel to search for the two Slayers. If it wasn’t for the remains of a human meal in the kitchen, along with a bloodied mug, they might not even have known Manon was with Buffy. Where had they gone? What had they armed themselves for? They hadn’t seemed to carry any particular weapon when they had gone out the previous night. Dawn and Steven had looked through the axes, swords and stakes scattered in the living room, but neither had been able to say what was missing exactly.

For the first time in what felt like too many hours, no one was actually expecting him to make a decision or give his opinion, and it was nice. But waiting without knowing what exactly was going on was becoming stressful. Could it be that they had found Spike and had gone to free him from whoever held him? If they had indeed found him, why hadn’t they asked the Scoobies help instead of going alone? Too many questions, not enough answers. Giles wished Andrea hadn’t left, she was very good at piecing together bits of information until they made sense. Of course, that wasn’t the only reason he missed her presence.

Wandering through the house with an untouched glass of scotch in hand, he finally stopped in the living room, his eyes on the large frame on the wall. The pencil drawing wasn’t signed, but it wasn’t hard to guess who had captured so artfully the images of the two vampire residents of the house. Who would have thought they were vampires, seeing this picture? Just a young couple, obviously in love by the way they held each other, by their smiles and the happy light in their eyes. A normal young couple. And they had been that, or almost, for a few days, not that long ago. They could have been, still, if only… If only they hadn’t had to prevent an apocalypse, if only Manon hadn’t been hurt, if only Spike hadn’t cared enough to want to save her, if only Buffy hadn’t decided to be a vamp again, if only Giles and Andrea hadn’t gone back to the Council to bring Travers down, if only Travers hadn’t done that spell.

If only.

If only they could find Spike quickly. If only Buffy wanted her soul back. If only Giles didn’t have that awful feeling that his resolve to let her live even if she became a killer would soon be tested.

* * * * *

The tingles were faint, because she was still a little distance from the building, from him, but already Buffy could feel the presence of her Sire for the first time in days. This simple reassurance that he was near was incredibly soothing, and she could almost have smiled. Almost.

“Are you sure these things won’t hurt them too bad?”

Glaring at the whispering Slayer at her side, she shrugged. What did she care if the tasers hurt whoever got in her way? Even if they did, it was only fitting. Long ago, Riley had given her these two electric weapons, arguing they could be useful, but she had never employed them for patrol. Now she would use the things, on the very persons who usually made use of them.

“Do you have a better idea?” she replied tartly. “I didn’t think so. Let’s go.”

They had observed long enough, or so Buffy had decided. They had no idea how many soldiers were around, so knowing that six had come out and waiting for more to leave was completely useless. For all they knew, there were fifty more inside. Or just two. And it didn’t make a difference, one way or the other, because Spike was there, and that was all she needed to know. Without checking whether Manon was following, she strode to the heavy entrance door, its battered look contradicted by the high tech pad on the side.

“How are we going to…”

A simple kick, precisely placed and unleashing too much pent up energy, cut off Manon and sent the door flying from its hinges. Immediately, an alarm sounded in the building, and two men rushed toward the entrance from a room on the side of the hall. They looked surprised as they saw Buffy standing there, and there was definitely a look of recognition in their eyes.

“So much for finesse,” she heard Manon comment just as she leapt toward the soldiers.

Before either of them could understand what was happening or use any of their weapons, she had sent one flying into a wall, leaving an indentation in the plaster, and the other into unconsciousness with the taser. Glancing back toward Manon, who was still by the door, her surprise plain in her widening eyes and gaping mouth, she called over the still sounding alarm:

“Come in or go back home, but don’t just stand there.”

Without waiting for an answer, she entered the room the two men had come out of. No one there, just computers and video monitors that showed a few men rushing through corridors. And Spike. On one of the screens, she saw him, chained to a wall, pulling on his restraints, though without much success. Allowing her eyes to leave his image was difficult, but soon she would do more than see. Very soon. Just for the heck of it, she sent an electric discharge through the computer console, provoking a major short circuit and ending the so annoying alarm buzz. When she came out of the room, she found Manon crouching over a third unconscious soldier, her fingers pressed to his neck as she checked for his pulse. The kid was unaware that three more were coming behind her, two of them holding tasers, the last one pointing a rifle at her.

“So, I can’t kill them but they can try to kill us?” she said sarcastically.

Manon’s head shot up and she took a step back when she saw the new threat.

“Don’t move or I will fire,” the gunman warned. “Drop your weapons and…”

“How about I give it to you instead of dropping it?” Buffy asked with a grin as she walked unhurriedly toward him and his companions. “All I want is to see your boss. Riley Finn is your boss, right?”

One of the soldiers nodded briefly in answer to her question, earning identical reproachful glares from the other two. That was all Buffy needed. Taking advantage of their short distraction, she dived forward, very low, the taser firmly held in her outstretched hand. Because the corridor wasn’t very wide, the three men were very close to each other, actually touching, and when she delivered a prolonged electric shock to the gun holder, all three collapsed. She had acted so fast that none had even had the time to aim their weapons down toward her.

Without losing time, she got to her feet and advanced further into the corridor, checking each door she passed, aware that Manon was following. She neutralized another man at the turn of a corner, and arrived in a somewhat larger hall. One of the walls was made of a large mirror, and she grinned maliciously when a door on the side opened and Riley came out.

“What do you think you’re doing, Buffy?” he asked harshly as she advanced on him.

“Where is he?” she shot back.

He raised a slightly shaky gun toward her.

“Don’t force me…” he started.

“Oh please! As if you were capable of firing on me anyway!”

Apparently, she had been wrong, because he did fire, just as the moment her foot came in contact with his hand, deflecting the shot and sending the gun flying out of reach.

“Oh Riley, I am so disappointed,” she said mockingly. “I thought you had feelings for me, and you actually were ready to kill me. A shame, really.”

She had come closer as she talked, while he was backing away toward the mirror behind him. With her last words, she swung her fist at him, not too hard, she wanted to make it last. She caught him in the jaw, and he stumbled a little, apparently as stunned by the fact that she was attacking him as by the force of her blow. There was a noise behind Buffy, and she turned back just in time to see Manon neutralize a soldier who had been sneaking toward his boss and his attacker. While she was distracted, Riley had regained his footing and he tried to lunge at her. She evaded easily, and managed to grab his arm, twisting it into his back as she pressed him against the glass wall.

“Here’s the deal,” she murmured right against his ear. “You tell me where Spike is now, and I’ll kill you fast. You make me lose time and look for him, and I’ll break every single bone in your body before draining you dry. Your choice.”

In the mirror, she saw his eyes widen in horror as he realized that she did not have a reflection, and she grinned wickedly. It was lost on him since he couldn’t see her face, so she turned him around roughly, grabbing his neck to hold him. For a couple of seconds, he stared at her dumbly, and she got tired of the game.

“Fine,” she snarled. “The hard way it…”

“Spike!”

Her head snapped to the side at Manon’s happy shout. The kid was standing by a now open door, and past her Buffy could see her Sire. She cursed herself for having gotten so caught up with the hunt that she hadn’t realized the tingles had become so much stronger. Pulling Riley with her so that he wouldn’t escape, she pushed her way past Manon into the cell, and paused just a second to drink in the sight of him. God, he was gorgeous…

Flinging a still stunned Riley against the wall, she finally rushed to Spike, certain that her heart was taking a beat when he smiled at her and said softly:

“’Knew you’d come, luv. But it took you long enough.”

Pressing herself to his still chained body, she placed feverish kisses all over his face, tasting the dried blood on his skin.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “So very sorry.”

Her lips finally found his and claimed them in an urgent kiss. She moaned when his tongue battled hers to invade her mouth, just as his scent, his taste and the feel of his skin under her hands invaded her whole being. It was so much, after these few long days without him, so much and so beautiful and powerful and… not enough. She needed more. He needed more.

She pulled away from his lips and slipped into her game mask without the conscious thought of doing so, happy to see him do the same thing before she had even pulled on the duster’s collar to expose her throat. His mouth latched on to her skin, fangs pressing tantalizingly against it, but he didn’t bite, not yet, waiting instead until she had pulled on the tattered remains of his shirt to expose more flesh. She gave a quick lap to his neck and slid her arms around him. At the same instant, they reclaimed each other, exchanging once more the very essence of what they were, as they had, long ago, that very first night, and so many times since. As his blood, Sire’s blood, Mate’s blood, flooded her mouth and senses, Buffy forgot everything that was not him. The Slayer and the soldier in the room behind her. The Council, Giles, the Scoobies and her soul. The world and its billions of potential meals. Nothing existed anymore. Only Spike and her.

Chapter 37 - Revenge

An obnoxious alarm sound started resonating in the room, and Spike woke up, startled, from a delicious dream in which he had finally managed to escape his bonds, only to find that his Slayer had come for him and cleared the way out. He struggled with the chains for a moment, knowing it was useless but unable to resist trying just the same. He stopped when the alarm stopped, mere seconds after it had started. What was going on out there? For a few minutes he listened intently, trying to discern sounds of fighting or agitation, but he didn’t hear anything recognizable. Nonetheless, a small smile started curling his lips. He couldn’t hear a thing, but he could feel his Slayer coming closer and closer. Then there was a gunshot, and he took an involuntary breath, hoping with his whole being that she wasn’t hurt. The door of his cell finally opened, and he knew then that it wasn’t just another dream, because he would never dream of the kid Slayer coming to his help. And coming past the kid, there she was… God, she was gorgeous.

He barely noticed the presence of the wanker, his whole attention now resting on his approaching Childe.

“’Knew you’d come, luv,” he said with a grin. “But it took you long enough.”

Ignoring the chains, she molded her body to his, and pressed burning kisses to his face, whispering that she was sorry. He was about to tell her it was OK, but her mouth finally covered his and there were more important things to do than talk. After these four nights that had seemed like an eternity, it was heaven to feel her hands slip under what remained of his shirt, to breathe in her scent, surrounded by his own coming from old leather, to hear her small moan, to taste her. It was heaven after the hell of separation, but it still wasn’t enough. She seemed to realize it as he did, because she broke the kiss and shifted to her demon visage as she bared her throat to him. He followed her lead thoughtlessly, but waited for her to be ready before he pierced her skin. They had done this so often, they knew each other so well, that it was easy to do it exactly together and make the sharing that much powerful.

If it had been heaven before, he didn’t know what it was now. After being denied blood for this long, to finally feed was of course incredibly good. But to feed from his Childe, Mate, and Slayer all at once made it so much more.

And, incredibly, not enough yet. He still wanted more. He needed more. Needed her as much as he needed blood. Feel her around him, feel her body shake in his embrace, over and over again, until they had made up for all this time spent apart. He tried to wrap his arms around her, only to be painfully reminded that he was still chained up, and groaned against her skin. Immediately, she stopped pulling on his blood, and he understood she must have thought she was taking too much. He managed to let go of her, giving a last lap at the fresh punctures, and his head came up to see hazel again eyes look at him worriedly.

“I’m fine,” he said with a reassuring smile. “Just a bit tied up at the moment. A little help, Slayer?”

At the look that crossed his face, he realized that, caught up in the moment as much as he had been, she had forgotten about the chains too. In a few seconds, she had liberated both his feet and arms, and he lost no time in holding her to him again, kissing her thoroughly, and…

“Sorry to interrupt but… how about we leave before they all come back to their senses?”

At the kid’s slightly shaky voice, both his and Buffy’s eyes shot open, as they remembered where exactly they were, and with whom. Regretfully, they broke the kiss and the embrace, sharing a smile that was an agreement that they would have time for more later, and took a few steps toward Manon and the still stunned wanker. There was some sort of relief in the kid’s smile, but it faded as Buffy said quietly:

“Manon, you go ahead and get out of here. We have some business to finish here first.”

As she said so, her eyes did not stray toward the man on the floor, but Manon’s did, and she shook her head as she stepped between him and the two vamps.

“You finish no one,” she said with a strange mix of determination and fear. “I’m not letting you kill anybody. We… You have Spike back, so let’s just go.”

Amused, Spike looked past her to the man who was slowly rising to his feet. The look on his face was priceless, as he realized that the only thing that separated him from two angry vampires was a kid.

“Kiddo, as much as I appreciate the help,” Spike said slowly, “you need to leave. Now.”

She flinched at the tone of his voice, but stood her ground when he took a step toward her.

“You have to kill me first.”

Spike shook his head at her stubbornness, and gave a look at Buffy, to find that she was rolling her eyes at the kid.

“Luv, would you take Manon out while I have a little… chat with our soldier boy friend?”

To his surprise, Buffy didn’t comply, and instead gave him a sulky look.

“Why can’t we do it together?” she protested.

There was no question of what ‘it’ was, and it certainly wasn’t a chat. And for the first time, Spike realized, he was seriously considering not only allowing Buffy to kill someone, but killing with her. There was just the slight problem of the Slayer between them and their prey. And the other problem that said prey was trying to escape.

They didn’t need to talk. In two steps, he had pulled Manon out of the way and was holding her securely but harmlessly while Buffy had jumped forward and pinned Riley to the wall, her forearm pressed under the man’s jaw.

“Buffy, you promised not to kill him!” Manon shrieked as she tried to free herself from Spike’s grip.

“And you believed me?” Buffy replied with a quiet laugh as she turned to look at the kid. “Who is stupid enough to believe a vampire’s word?”

Spike couldn’t help flinching at her words, and he felt as if she had just slapped him. So many things, he had promised her. Did that little sentence mean she had never truly taken his word seriously? His face must have given his thoughts away, because her eyes widened suddenly and she shook her head.

“I didn’t mean…” she started slowly.

“You promised not to kill that wanker?” he interrupted her.

“She promised not to kill anyone in here”, Manon interjected, still struggling.

With a soft sigh, he let go of the kid, and she stumbled, surprised at the unexpected release.

“You don’t expect me to hold that promise?” Buffy asked, incredulous.

“Do you expect me to hold mine?” he replied in a whisper.

“One has nothing to do with the other!”

He tilted his head just a little as he watched her. She wanted to kill the wanker for him, didn’t she? So why should he protest? It wasn’t like she had given her word to him, after all. And yet, he couldn’t stifle this feeling that, if he said nothing now, next time it might be a promise made to him that she wouldn’t respect.

“We are demons, Childe,” he said softly. “It doesn’t mean we have no honor.”

She shook her head and made as if to protest, but he continued:

“And just because you can’t kill him doesn’t mean he will walk away unpunished.”

She held his gaze for a few seconds, frowning deeply, and finally took a step away from Riley. Before the man even had the time to bring his hands up to his freed throat, Spike had stepped forward, taking Buffy’s place, his forearm pushing the wanker against he wall.

“I didn’t promise anything,” he told Riley as his hands tried to pushed his forearm away. “And I could kill you before the kid could even bat an eyelash.”

Breaking eye contact with the wanker, he briefly turned to Manon, and the look he gave her stopped her as she was coming forward.

“I’m not gonna kill you, though,” he said as he returned his full attention to Riley. “It’s no fun if it’s that quick. No, you are going to suffer. For a very, very long time.”

Slowly, he allowed his lips to curl up in a smirk, taking great delight in the fear that leaped tenfold in the human. As he locked his eyes to Riley’s, he let the demon take over in a way he rarely allowed. Fists and fangs, these were his weapons of choice. That didn’t mean, however, that he didn’t have any other weapon to use.

“You were curious about the thrall, weren’t you?” he asked pleasantly as Riley’s eyes started glazing over. “I’m sure this little experience will tell you all you need to know, and even more. Haven’t enthralled anyone in a while, but I reckon this particular trick can last a few months, at the minimum. Years, if your mind is too weak to fight back. But you must be wondering what kind of trick, so let me end the suspense. This is what is going to happen. Every night, when you close your eyes and try to fall asleep, you will dream of our sweet Buffy. You’re still in love with her, aren’t you? Yes, I thought so. And I bet you remember all of her soft curves, don’t you? And the feel of her skin? So silky. And her scent? Yes, I’m sure you remember how enticing her scent is. But she’s mine, you know. All mine. So when you dream of her, I’m afraid you will have to dream of me too. And of the things she and I do together. She was still a child when you had her. She has learned so many things since then, about giving pleasure as well as receiving it. Many things, some of them you probably would never have thought she would willingly do. So you will have to dream these things too. She is so beautiful when she comes. Not that you gave her many occasions to show you, but I suppose at least once or twice you saw that look of ecstasy on her face. Now, every night you will see it. Every night you will see her come with my name on her lips. I know it will be torture to dream of the woman you adore making love to someone you hate, but you know what? You will get off on it. Every night. Not only that, but even if you shag someone else, you will have to conjure our image to be able to perform. This is what you get for messing with my Slayer and me. But if I ever see you again, you will think this was nothing. And you will beg for death long before I am ready to give it to you.”

Slowly, Spike retracted his arm, and Riley blinked, freeing two tears as he glided down to the ground. He glanced at his Childe, and almost chuckled at the look of surprised awe on her features as she watched him. He caught her hand and brought it to his lips, brushing a soft kiss to her knuckles, and she smiled at him.

“Are you done?” an uncomfortable voice asked. “Can we go now?”

He turned to Manon, and found the kid’s face unnaturally pale. Without waiting for his answer, she literally fled the room, obviously to escape his gaze. As he followed, pulling Buffy after him, he wondered whether this small demonstration of what he was capable of would be enough to break the kid’s crush on him. That might be an unexpected perk of his little revenge.

As they walked away, stepping over slowly awakening soldiers, they could hear Riley behind them, but Spike couldn’t have said if what he was hearing was sobbing or laughter, nor did he care.

Chapter 38 - Réunion Erotique

A bright full moon was shining over Sunnydale as two vampires were slowly making their way toward their lair. Slowly, because every few steps one would pull the other in for a kiss, sometimes just lips brushing together, sometimes a lot more than that. Buffy was beginning to think that they might not get to the house before it got to be more than kisses and light touching, and she wasn’t exactly opposed to the idea. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time that they had gotten… creative as far as location was concerned, and she just had no patience left. She needed his touch, his lips, his words, his blood. She simply needed him.

They had kept it mostly discreet while Manon was around. Buffy had given his duster back to Spike, and had slipped her arm under the leather, under his shirt, to lightly caress his back as they walked, delighting in the skin to skin contact. His own hand was at her waist, his fingers just grazing under her short top, again skin to skin. Soon, the kid had been off on her way to the Witches’, having refused their offer to walk her back there. They hadn’t insisted, and darted off in the direction of Revello Drive. After only a few yards, Spike had pushed Buffy against a convenient wall, and the making out session had started. It would have gone much further already if they had not tacitly agreed that this needed to be more than a few furtive minutes with the possibility of being interrupted at any moment by someone just walking by. They needed each other and time. Nothing more. Though a bed would have been nice.

Which is why, when they finally reached 1630 Revello Drive, they shared a disappointed look at the sight from the street. There was a car parked in the driveway. And not just any car, but Angel’s. The lights on the second floor were on, as well as those of the living room. At a window, they could see the unmistakable silhouette of Giles, though he thankfully seemed to be looking to something inside, not out. They didn’t need to share a word. They simply clasped each other’s hand, and turned away from their invaded home.

And ran straight into Angel.

The brunette’s eyes widened in the same surprise Buffy felt, and a quick look at Spike’s face showed that he hadn’t expected the encounter either. But, just as surprisingly, the fire and anger that had prevailed during their last confrontation wasn’t there now. Angel didn’t look angry or upset either, just worried.

“Are you OK?” the human asked, his gaze obviously taking count of the fading bruises and torn clothing. “What happened? Where were you?”

Spike held Buffy’s hand just a little tighter as he answered, and it amused her. It felt like he was making sure she wouldn’t jump in for a little snack. Wanting to show him, and the human, that Angel was safe from her, Buffy freed her hand and, stepping closer to her Sire, pressed her body to his, resting her cheek on his shoulder where she could see Angel from the corner of her eye. Spike’s hands settled at the small of her back, holding her closer as he answered Angel’s questions.

“I’m fine,” he said with a small shake of his head. “And whatever happened is over now. No need to brood over it.”

There was a short pause, and Buffy simply observed the two men, curious as to their change in behavior.

“You’re not going in, uh?” Angel finally asked, gesturing toward the house.

“We don’t care too much for crowds right now”, Spike replied, the smirk very loud in his voice.

Angel chuckled. “Yeah, I can understand that. The mansion is yours, if you want it.”

Spike tensed slightly in Buffy’s embrace, and she placed a soothing kiss to his neck. She had no trouble understanding his reaction, the mansion held a few bad memories for her, too.

“’M not too fond of the place”, he said a bit gruffly.

“I know,” Angel replied quietly. “But it’s quiet, empty and safe. And stocked up with O neg.”

Surprised, Buffy turned her head a little to watch the human, wondering why he was doing this. Spike apparently was just as puzzled, because he voiced the question.

“Don’t know”, Angel answered with a shrug. “Instinct. I thought you might want to rest a day or two before taking off. If you’re still going, that is.”

“Going where?” Buffy intruded for the first time in the exchange.

Angel’s eyebrow twitched as he looked from her back to Spike. “You didn’t tell her?”

“Didn’t have time,” Spike replied shortly to the human, before turning his gaze to Buffy. “We’re leaving Sunnydale, luv. Going anywhere you want to go.”

Holding on to him a bit tighter, Buffy smiled up at him. “We are?” she said, delighted, and he gave her a little nod.

She had been going to plead with him again to leave town and get away from the Scoobies, the Slayers, and the Council. Hearing him propose it first was great, but why had Angel known before she did? She was about to ask him, when the brunette spoke again.

“Do you know about her soul?”

“What about it?”

Despite the lack of emotion in Spike’s voice and the absence of any reaction as Angel explained to him about Travers, the spell and how to reverse it, Buffy could tell that the news was touching him. Had he still been hoping, despite his resolve to leave, that she would get her soul back? Why would he care so much about that? There was a short silence as Angel finished his explanation, and Buffy pulled slightly away from her Sire to be able to see his eyes. So much going on behind the blue pools, she wished she knew what he thought exactly.

“You know I don’t want it,” she said quietly. “I can pretend all you want, but it doesn’t change the fact that I truly don’t want it back. So it wouldn’t work. “

He gave her a smile, a slightly soothing, reassuring smile. “Yes, Childe, I know. You don’t have to pretend.”

She pressed her lips to his in a chaste kiss, and he caressed her cheek softly. After all his talk about giving her that stupid soul back, forbidding her to hunt and so on, it was nice to see him accept her just as she was now, and she couldn’t help but wonder what had changed his mind. She would have thought it was his kidnapping, but apparently he had already made his decision before that, if Angel knowing about it was any proof.

The human reminded them he was there by clearing his throat, and as she half turned to him Buffy saw him pull a thick envelope from his jacket and give it to Spike, who simply nodded as he slipped it, unopened, in his pocket.

“I’ll miss you,” Angel said quietly. “Both of you. Try not to run into trouble of the dusty kind.”

“Trouble?” Spike said in a forced joking tone. “As if I ever get into trouble!”

Both Buffy and Angel snorted, exchanging an amused glance at their similar reactions.

“Goodbye, Childer. Take care of each other.”

With a last sad smile, Angel walked by them in the direction of the house, as Spike whispered:

“Goodbye, Sire.”

Buffy’s eyebrow shot up, for even when he was a vampire, Spike had rarely called Angel that, and it sounded even stranger to hear him say it to a human. They started walking again, in the direction of Crawford Street, and after a minute or so Buffy finally asked:

“Why don’t you just turn him? You know he wants it.”

Spike shook his head but didn’t slow down his pace.

“No, luv,” he replied absently. “It’s not to be turned that he wants.”

He didn’t elaborate, and she just let the subject drop. All she wanted to think about now was her Mate and how to make up for all the lost time.

* * * * *

Buffy woke from her catnap to the delightful feeling of Spike pushing inside her once again. As she lay on her side, he had moved one of her legs to rest over his, opening her to him as he pressed his body to her back. One of his arms was trapped by her head, but the other hand was playing over her skin, light as a feather as it traced her leg, hip, stomach, and breast in long motions. Purring in contentment, she arched into him, accompanying his lazy thrusting.

“Hey there, sleeping beauty,” he murmured in her hair.

His hand captured hers where it rested on the bed. Their fingers wove together, and he resumed his caresses, taking her hand for a ride along her skin, before concentrating on her breast.

“Did I sleep long?” she asked, still a bit sleepy.

“About an hour.”

His fingers disentangled from hers as they were stroking her hardened nipples. His hand lingered over hers, as if to make sure she would continue the caress, before gliding to her waist. He held on to her hip, using the added leverage to increase the depth of his thrusts, while keeping his pace excruciatingly slow. Buffy growled deep in her throat, half protest, half plea, and she felt him chuckle as he nibbled on her shoulder.

“Anything you want, luv?”

His voice gave him away, and she couldn’t help smiling knowingly. He had tried to sound innocent, but there was an edge behind the words that told her he wanted to increase the sensations as much as she did.

Without even answering his teasing, she abandoned her breast to take hold of his hand, and brought it up to her mouth. She licked his fingers slowly, flicking her tongue in a way that had him growling softly behind her, before lapping down his palm toward his wrist. As her tongue lightly traced the two scars there, his control wavered and he pushed hard into her, letting out a grunt that accompanied Buffy’s moan. She repeated the teasing touch to the marks that proclaimed him hers, and he let go of all pretense.

Before Buffy could react, he had pushed her front to the bed then pulled up to her hands and knees, never breaking his accelerating rhythm. The slow motions from before were completely forgotten as he repeatedly slammed hard into her, both hands gripping her hips tightly enough to leave bruises over the already fading bruises he had left there earlier that night – or was it already the night before? As the heat of her imminent climax rose in her, Buffy didn’t notice one of his hand sliding over her curls, nor did she realize his other arm was pulling her up against his chest, until his fangs grazed her shoulder just as his fingers gave a rough tweak to her clit. She screamed her pleasure as he roared his, and they fell forward onto the bed, still intimately joined, both once more panting needlessly.

* * * * *

For what seemed like an eternity, Spike let himself rest over Buffy, trying to regain some control. When his breathing had finally subsided, he rolled to his side, pulling her with him, so that they were in the same position they had been a few moments before. His hand rested on her stomach, his thumb gently stroking the underside of her breast. He resumed his slow, shallow movements, willing himself to make this one last. They had had time already for hard, fast and screaming. Now he wanted long, slow and tender. And by the purring sounds that rose continuously from his Mate’s chest, she didn’t mind, not at all.

As he nuzzled her shoulder and licked the light scrape he had just left there, his mind came back to something that had been bugging him since they had drunk from each other, back in his cell.

“Luv?” he asked quietly. “You didn’t kill or drink from anyone while I was gone, did you?”

The purring instantly stopped, and he felt her stiffen in his embrace.

“That’s OK if you did,” he added very quickly. “It’s just… your blood doesn’t taste like you’ve had anything human in a while. Just wondering why you didn’t go hunting when no one was stopping you anymore.”

She seemed to relax a little, and started rocking her hips against his, just a little, accompanying his movements. Insatiable.

“I was hunting,” she replied softly. “Just not for human blood.”

He pressed a kiss to the silk of her skin, thanking her silently for coming for him.

“I really thought you would have killed all the Scoobies by now,” he confided very low. “Seeing how you were so intent on tasting them. And the Slayer.”

“They helped,” she admitted in a voice that was slowly becoming ragged. “Or they tried to, at least. And the Slayer… she found you for me. I kinda like her.”

Spike briefly frowned in surprise at the confession. He hadn’t expected his soulless Childe to have any feeling for a human that would be enough to make her forget the bloodlust. Maybe she was even less different from his souled Buffy than he had ever thought. He didn’t press the subject any further, and simply concentrated on giving the maximum pleasure to the beautiful creature he held tight against him. Despite his resolve to draw this session out as long as possible, his desire for her took over and he was soon pounding into her while she clawed at him. He lost it when her blunt teeth scrapped over the scars on his wrist, and her body quaked around his shuddering one as he returned the favor and nibbled his mating mark.

A little while later, she had turned around in his arms so that they rested chest to chest, and was drawing light designs over his back with a fingernail. Contented by the hours spent renewing their intimacy and the simple feel of her in his arms, Spike was slowly falling asleep when he heard her say, as if the conversation had never been interrupted.

“I like her enough to let her live. But the other Slayer is a bitch. Think we can eat her before we leave Sunnydale?”

Chapter 39 - Shiny, Vibrant, and Beautiful

By the time Angel entered the Summers’ home after his impromptu meeting with the vampires, Willow had already called, relating to Giles and the two teens what Manon had reluctantly, it seemed, reported about the events of the night.

Spike had been held by soldiers. Their chief was Buffy’s ex. Manon and Buffy had freed him without bloodshed. End of the story as far as the Slayer was concerned.

At Giles request, Willow managed to extract from her the location of the commandos’ base, and the Watcher had been pondering going there for a little chat when Angel came back. As Giles commented that the vamps should have been back by then, something on Angel’s face must have given his thoughts away, because Giles looked at him curiously, and demanded an explanation.

“Don’t tell me you expected Buffy to want her soul back”, Angel replied tiredly, happy that Dawn and Steven weren’t in the room. “They’re going to leave.”

The Watcher took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a quiet sigh.

“No,” he admitted in a murmur. “I did not expect it. I hoped she would want it, but I didn’t really believe she would.”

There was a pause, and Giles sought Angel’s eyes.

“Are they gone yet?” he asked, a little hesitant. “I wish I had told her goodbye. Told them.”

“I’m not sure,” Angel replied truthfully. “But I doubt they will be back. I’m sorry.”

Giles had a small smile. “At least we know he’ll take care of her,” he said quietly, before adding with more force: “I’m in the perfect mood for scaring the hell out of Riley Finn and whoever works with him. Are you in?”

Despite himself, Angel felt an evil grin tugging at his lips. He had never had much sympathy for the soldier, and even less now that he had been discovered hurting his Childe.

“What do you have in mind, Ripper?”

* * * * *

A towel draped around his hips after a quick shower, Spike made his way through the mansion and toward the kitchen, leaving Buffy’s side for the first time since she had rescued him two nights before. They had come out of the bedroom to feed a couple of times already, but always together, he and his Childe. His Slayer. His hero. His lips curled up at the thought and he startled humming softly. Unlife was good. Rarely been better, actually. Except for that pesky, nagging little thought he just had trouble ignoring. Just a broken word, he would live through it. It wasn’t like she was complaining anyway.

As he stepped into the kitchen, he frowned at the unexpected sight that greeted him. A black duster was draped on the back of a chair – Buffy’s, he realized. At the foot of the same chair, two travel bags. On the table, his car keys, a cell phone, and a piece of paper, folded in half, with his name in a familiar handwriting. He picked it up with a slight shake of the head, and started reading.

“I thought you might need your car, it’s parked in front of the garage. Thought you could use some clothing, too. I told the gang about your departure. They’re taking the news rather well, all things considered. Steven isn’t, though. You know him. I’m afraid he takes your leaving as a personal betrayal. I tried to explain, but he’s even more stubborn than you and I combined. The Scoobies would like to say their goodbyes, if you think Buffy is up to it. They’ll miss you, too, you know. Andrea Travers brought back Buffy’s soul. It’s shiny, vibrant, and beautiful. Just like her. I wish you could see it. Give us a call if you decide to stop by.”

It wasn’t even signed, and for some reason that upset Spike as much as the content of the note. Steven’s reaction wasn’t unexpected, and Spike felt sorry about losing the only brother he had ever had. Just a few days before he had been about to ask the teen to be his best man for the wedding. He doubted the kid would even want to talk to him now. And it wasn’t like they would get married anyway, normal vampires didn’t care about such things.

The fact that the Scoobies were accepting the news was, on the contrary, surprising. He would have bet his unlife that they would be the first to come after Buffy to prevent her from doing harm. And yet, it seemed like they wouldn’t. They had seen her die too many times, he supposed.

And Angel was just a wanker. He had to leave a note, hadn’t he? He had to talk about the receptacle of Buffy’s soul being back in Sunnyhell. He couldn’t just let the matter alone. Bloody poof. He knew Spike too well.

Leaving the note on the table, Spike pulled out two blood bags from the fridge. There were only two left after that. They would need to get on the move soon. Tonight. There was no point in waiting any longer. Except… he had to try. He just had to. Then he would be able to tell himself that he had done everything he could.

He poured the content of the bags into two mugs and warmed them in the microwave, staring at them as they revolved slowly behind the door. If someone had ever told him he would get used to feeding from bagged blood and find it almost convenient...

The blood now warm, he took the two mugs to the bedroom. Not the master bedroom, he wouldn’t set foot in there for anything, and he very consciously avoided even looking at the closed door. Not even the large room next to it, that had been his, once, long ago, and in which he had spent very lonely hours stuck in a wheel chair. No, the room they had chosen was a door farther, smaller than the others, with a double bed instead of a king sized one, but they hadn’t minded so far. As in all the rooms, there were heavy drapes over the window, completely blocking out all sunlight. They had found a couple of pillar candles, however, and they provided more than enough light.

He walked in quietly, only to find Buffy stretched out on the bed, gloriously naked, the barest smile fluttering on her lips. Her eyes were closed, but he knew she wasn’t asleep. He doubted either of them would be able to fall asleep without the other holding them for some time.

He sat down with his back to the headboard, and immediately she turned to her side and crawled up his body, until her head was resting against his chest. He gave her one of the mugs, and sipped on his own, the simple contact of her skin on his as delightful as the warm blood sliding down his throat. He drank slowly, his free hand playing mindlessly in her tangled hair. Idly, he wondered if Angel had thought of putting her brush in the travel bag.

“What are you thinking, baby?” she asked him softly after they had both discarded the emptied mugs.

Her cheek was still on his chest, and she was drawing light patterns on his front, surprisingly leaving the towel at his waist alone.

“We’ll leave tonight.”

She shot up a wide grin at him, but it faded when he added:

“I’d like to stop by the Magic Box. Say our farewell to the Scoobies. Is that alright?”

Her mouth twisted for a brief second, before she returned to her resting place on his chest.

“Whatever you want,” she replied with a light shrug. “Where will we be going?”

He suppressed the sigh that was rising in his throat. “Anywhere you want to go, Princess. We have passports and money, your wishes are my command.”

He realized, just an instant too late, what he had called her, and steeled himself for her reaction. It was just that, sometimes, lately, she reminded him of Dru, minus the insane ramblings. She pulled away from him and sat up, observing him with an unreadable expression. When she talked, it was nothing he had expected.

“We have passports?” she repeated his statement. “And money?”

Nodding, he gestured to his duster on the floor, and she got out of bed to pick it up. She found the envelope quickly, and opened it as she sat back next to him. She pulled out two passports and several straps of fifty-dollar bills. She let out a little whistling sound at the sight of the money.

“Ten thousand dollars?” she exclaimed after she had quickly counted. “Why would he give us all that?”

“Because he is my Sire and your Grand-Sire, luv. Family.”

She raised a perplexed eyebrow, but did not voice her question, instead turning her attention to the passports. She opened the first one, the American one, and read the name out loud:

“Elisabeth Angela Winters.“

She chuckled softly and shook her head, and Spike couldn’t help smiling wryly.

“Peaches has quite a sense of humor, uh?”

“Lets see what he got for you,” she replied as she opened the second passport, the one that was branded with Great Britain’s symbol and name.

Spike glanced at the booklet as she laughed, and he couldn’t help rolling his eyes.

“God, what a ponce,” he muttered.

“William Connor Winters,” Buffy read with a stifled giggle.

“I swear,” Spike said gruffly, “just for that, I should have let that wanker bleed to death.”

Still laughing softly, Buffy put the money and passport back in the envelope and settled back against him, holding him as she made a quiet purring sound. For a little while, they just enjoyed each other’s presence, but the same thought as earlier was still annoying Spike, amplified now by Angel’s note. In the end, he decided to just ask her and be done with the brooding. Either she would refuse and he would never think of it again, or she would accept, and they would see what happened then.

“Luv… Can I ask you something?”

She tightened her hold on him for just a second, and breathed a quiet “Anything, Sire”.

“Do you remember the night I turned you?”

He felt her smile against his skin, and she shifted to place a soft kiss on his lips.

“Yes, I remember,” she replied in a whisper.

Unwittingly, Spike closed his eyes, and images flooded his mind. She had pleaded for him not to do it, had begged, cried. And accused him of stealing more than life from her.

“You were afraid,” he said with a voice that was slightly trembling. “Not afraid to die though. You had accepted your own death, even if we couldn’t. Afraid that I would damn you, and that you’d never see Heaven again. Remember that?”

“I remember that too.”

Her voice was puzzled, now, as she obviously wondered where this conversation was going. He opened his eyes to see her looking at him, seemingly troubled by his words. Oh, yes, she remembered. She didn’t only remember that night. She remembered Heaven too, he was sure of it. She had that odd look on her face, the same as when she had confided in him, trusting him for the first time with a secret she couldn’t share with her chums.

“Remembered what I said then?” he asked, caressing her cheek with his fingertips.

There was a pause, just a couple of seconds, which seemed to stretch forever for Spike as he waited for her to speak.

“You said… you said I would go back there some day.”

He nodded slowly. “I more than said it, luv. It was a promise, in spirit if not in words. And you know how I feel about my promises.”

She frowned just a little, and he smiled sadly. She had realized what his point was.

“Spike”, she started, but he interrupted her with a finger across her lips.

“Do you still want it, luv?” he managed to ask despite his tight throat. “Do you still want to go back to Heaven some day?”

Chapter 40 - Delays

An unusual silence had fallen on the Magic Box with the sunset. The Scoobies were all there, including their newest members, Andrea and Manon, and the two LA delegates, Angel and his son. Earlier, there had been discussions, in which Giles had not really taken part. He had heard them, but it had all seemed so irrelevant that he couldn’t make himself care even when he knew he should have said something. All he knew, right now, was that they were about to lose Buffy one last time. And that was more than he wanted to know.

* * * * *

“I want you to go patrol with Chloe, tonight,” Andrea told Manon. “I’m sure you two will do wonders by working together.”

“No.”

Andrea’s surprise at the quiet refusal of her Slayer was almost comical. Just almost.

“What do you mean, no? This is not a choice I’m giving you. It’s an order.”

“And who said I had to listen to you? All you’ve done since I’ve known you is put me in situations that get me hurt. I’m tired of getting hurt. I want to go back home.”

That was where Giles would have intervened, if he had been able to make himself feel concerned. Andrea had come back from England late the previous night, more touched than she would admit by what had happened there. He had tried to make her talk about it, but he hadn’t gotten more than a repeat of what she had said on the phone. The Watchers, her included, had been to her father’s home in Seaford. They had found the globe that held Buffy’s soul. They had also found Quentin Travers. Lying, fully clothed, on his bed. Dead, from nothing more than exhaustion, the first reports said. Dead for several days. Apparently, the spell had taken more of his forces than he could afford to give.

“You’re not going home,” Andrea replied quietly, her contained anger too obvious in the twitching of a muscle in her jaw. “You have responsibilities. We all do, but yours are even more important that most. You’re the Slayer and you were…”

“Non,” Manon interrupted blankly. “I’m not the Slayer. I am a Slayer. I’ve done my part, helped saved the world, even died. Chloe is more than willing to take over here. I want to go back home. There are vamps to kill in France, too.”

For a moment, Andrea scrutinized Manon’s face, as if searching for what the teen wasn’t saying.

“I know a lot has happened in just a few weeks,” she said at last, more calmly than before. “But you can’t give up so easily. I can’t let you give up. The world needs you and…”

“And I need to be away from Sunnyhell”, Manon pleaded, and by the tone of her voice the tears weren’t very far. “I’ll fight whatever you want me to fight. But not here. Anywhere but here.”

It was a bit strange to hear Spike’s pet name for the town from the girl’s mouth, and Giles stopped paying attention to the discussion. Neither woman was yielding, and it wasn’t going to change anytime soon. Manon wasn’t his Slayer and it wasn’t his fight.

* * * * *

True to her words, Manon had refused to leave with Chloe and her Watcher for patrol. She was now sitting on the mezzanine, forehead pressed to one of the banisters, legs dangling over the edge. Waiting, like the rest of them. As Giles glanced at her, he noticed, not for the first time, how miserable she looked, and he couldn’t help but wonder what was wrong. Maybe they had been too fast in sending her to the frontlines again. He remembered how Buffy had reacted, the months after her first death, and promised himself he’d talk to Andrea. Surely, they didn’t need two Slayers standing guard over the Hellmouth just after an averted apocalypse. It wasn’t his decision to make, but he didn’t see anything wrong in sending the kid to dust French vamps if that was what she wanted.

Once more, Giles’ gaze returned to his watch. It was completely useless, of course, since he had no idea at what time the vamps were going to arrive. Spike had only said they would come by that evening, just for a moment, before heading off to an unknown destination. And that was what they were all waiting for. To see for one last time a young lady – no, a vampire – who had made it clear she would happily eat them all if the occasion was given to her, and a vampire – no, a man – who wouldn’t let anything happen to any of them, but who had given up keeping other humans safe from her. Would Spike start feeding again now, since it was clear he would allow her to? Not that long ago, his soul had been torturing him with guilt over the thousands of people he had killed, and he had been intent on making up for his past. Could he really have forgotten all that, already? Giles could only guess how hard it was for Spike to have to control Buffy when he knew firsthand what it was like not to be able to feed properly. And yet, he couldn’t help this slight feeling of disappointment that Spike was renouncing his redemption. Slightly disappointed, also, that Buffy apparently had no desire to control herself. He had had high hopes, when she had talked to him, when she had made the bargain with the Council. Spike didn’t have a soul, he could hurt people, but he chose not too, so why couldn’t she do the same? He understood, now, that it was her worry over Spike that had restrained her, nothing else. They all understood that.

* * * * *

“It’s weird.”

Xander’s soft murmur gathered no reply for a moment, almost as if no one had heard. He was sitting at the research table, Anya seemingly asleep as she rested against his chest. Willow on his left, Tara next to her, Dawn and Steven on his right, Giles opposite him with Andrea at his side. No place at the table for Angel, who was silently brooding where he sat on the counter.

“What is weird?” Willow finally inquired, just as quietly.

“This. Us. Waiting for vampires to come by. Does anyone even have a stake?”

Sharp looks were suddenly directed at the young man, who raised a hand in an appeasing gesture.

“My point, exactly,” he said with a sigh. “We know two vamps are on their way here, we know as soon as they’re gone they will be feeding and killing, and yet none of us, me included, wants to stop them. It’s just weird.”

Again, a deep, ominous silence fell on the room. It was eventually broken by Dawn, who said in a trembling voice:

“If it wasn’t for her, for them, none of us would be here today. The world would just be gone.”

“There are more vampires than all of us together could ever dust,” Tara added, a mere whisper. “Does it change anything if we let two of them go?”

No one answered, but the collective reply was clear. No. Two more vampires, or two less, it wouldn’t change much on a large scale. Of course, people would die because they were letting them go. But as Dawn had said, everybody on the planet would have died long ago without Buffy. And…

“I couldn’t kill her. Not after everything we’ve been through together. Even if she attacked us, I would find a way to stop her, but I just couldn’t…”

Willow’s voice, as she explained exactly what Giles felt, trailed off as a stake was suddenly deposited on the table. All eyes converged on Steven, whose hand was still clutching the piece of wood.

“If she attacks,” he declared coldly, “nothing will stop her except for Spike or a stake. And if Spike… if he doesn’t stop her, we won’t have much of a choice.”

There were quiet murmurs but no one openly contradicted the teen. He was right, they knew it, even if they hated that he was, even if he obviously hated having said it.

“Put that away,” Angel growled from his perch on the counter. “The last thing we need is to antagonize her. Spike won’t let her harm any of us, and you know it.”

The teen’s back stiffened, but he didn’t turn around to look at his father as he made the stake disappear up his sleeve.

* * * * *

They hadn’t moved much in the last twenty minutes or so. They hadn’t talked. They just waited for closure to be given to them. And finally, their patience was rewarded. The doorbell chimed, and Giles, like all the others, suddenly sat straighter and turned to watch as two blondes clad in black leather entered the shop, hand in hand.

* * * * *

The ride to the Magic Box was done in silence. They hadn’t talked much since the afternoon, actually. Not since Spike had asked her the question. Did she want to go back to Heaven? What kind of question was that, anyway? Buffy had thought he was finally ready to be a vampire, a real one, with her, he had said they were leaving, had hinted they would do whatever she pleased now, and then that. The question. Just a few words that had clouded everything. That had her wondering if he ever would completely accept her without her soul, or if he was just taking whatever she was now because he couldn’t have what she had been before anymore.

“Am I not enough for you?”

She finally let out the words that had been bugging her for hours just as he was stopping the car in front of the store. He turned to her, his face a study in shadows as the light from behind the blacked out windows was barely enough for her to see his surprise.

“Not enough?” he repeated, incredulous. “You are all I have. All I need. All I want. Why would you ever think you’re not enough?”

His hand rose to cup her face and pull her toward him until their foreheads touched.

“You still want me to get that damn soul back,” she replied in a murmur. “If I was enough for you, you wouldn’t have asked…”

A finger on her lips stopped her.

“Luv… You’re still my Buffy. Whatever or whoever you eat, you still have the same fire in you, the same strength, the same passion I fell in love with.”

His lips brushed against hers, with no more pressure than a shadow.

“Then why?” Buffy sighed against his skin.

“Because you are the same. Because, to the exception of valuing human life, you think the same. And if you do, some part of you must still want Heaven. I don’t want to wonder for all the time we have in front of us whether I could have done something more to give you what you want when it’s all over.”

“We are immortal,” Buffy protested weakly. “So why worry about that?”

He let out a small, dry chuckle.

“You do realize that the thousands of vamps you dusted in the last ten years were all just as immortal as you are now, right luv?”

She couldn’t help pouting at his words, and he captured her bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling softly for a few seconds.

“You don’t have to come in,” he said when he let go at last. “If you don’t want to, just stay here, I’ll be back in a minute.”

“I said I would try and touch it for you, didn’t I?” she replied with a quiet sigh.

“Don’t do it for me. Do it for yourself, luv, or not at all.”

She nodded, and leaned in again for a kiss. Just lips at first, soft and caressing, until her tongue requested access to his mouth. Softness became urgency, then, and the caresses turned into hunger as their tongues danced against each other. When he pulled away, she moaned quietly in protest, before catching her breath and following him out of the car. He grabbed her hand just before they entered, and she stepped inside after him, repressing a sigh as she saw the whole gang there, waiting for them. She couldn’t wait to just be done with it and on their way out of town.

 

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