"Golden Bands to Bind Them" (Veers off in the middle of "Something Blue," taking things a step further between Buffy and Spike. Light fluff, but with plenty of humor.)

Buffy nestled in the rough sheets of the cheap motel where she and her new husband were spending their wedding night. Her head was cradled on his chest, tucked just under his chin, where she could feel the vibrations of his voice tickling her ear. Strong arms held her tight and secure. Their left hands twined together as they admired the metallic glint of their wedding bands.

She wondered idly how he had managed to secure the rings on such short notice, but shrugged off the thought remembering instead how sweetly he had presented them to her. He had declared that they would be joined for all eternity, not just in the eyes of the law of the state of Nevada. And his piercing blue gaze had compelled her to believe his words. The tacky Chapel 'o' Love, the bored minister and yawning witness melted away and all she could see was her own reflection in her beloved's eyes. As he spoke the ancient binding words that declared she was his, "With this ring, I thee wed," and slipped the gold circlet on her finger, Buffy felt such a rush of joy she thought she would burst from it. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she returned the words and the action. Her only regret was that her mother wasn't there to witness the ceremony, but it had all come about so suddenly.....it had seemed like the most natural thing in the world to jump in the Desoto and go roaring through the night toward Las Vegas and their bright future together.

Then he kissed her. The intensity of his passion was almost frightening. He fed at her lips like a newly risen fledgling seeking blood. For a moment Buffy thought he might throw her down and have her right there on the worn red carpet of the chapel. What astounded her more was that she was grabbing his ass and pulling him tighter to her, grinding into his groin until he moaned deep in his throat.

"Spike!" she finally gasped, unsuctioning her mouth. "Motel. Now."

"Yeah," he replied breathlessly. They flew down the aisle and out onto the street, where the neon blazed bright as day and the crowds were as numerous as if it were two in the afternoon instead of two in the morning. Conveniently placed next door to the chapel was a tiny motel. Buffy would've loved to have her wedding night at one of the luxurious casino hotels in the city, but understood her new husband was a man of limited means and so was content with what he could afford.

They checked in, Spike signing their names with an unsteady hand as she massaged his thigh under cover of the counter. He took the key from the clerk without looking, already turned back to his bride, covering her throat with kisses. They stumbled from the front desk, down the hall to their room and almost broke the door hinges slamming into it. Spike threw her across the bed and stripped off his shirt in one quick motion. Then he was on her.

Cue music. Insert romantic interlude here.

Now, three hours later, they lay entangled and replete, murmuring soft endearments and promises for the future, as their hands slid together and apart, playing little finger games.

Buffy was soothed by the low rumble in her ear of Spike repeating for the hundredth time that evening, "You are my world now. I love you so m......." Their joined hands froze. A shudder of something like electricity passed through them, as somewhere in Sunnydale Willow completed her words, "Let this harmful spell be broken!"

        **************

"Oh my god!" Buffy moaned, reality crashing in on her. She pulled her hand away so fast she almost snapped Spike's fingers off.

"What the hell?" Spike's cry overlapped. He jerked his arm out from under her neck and her hair tangled around it pulling her head to the side with a sharp jerk. The vampire clambered clumsily backward off the bed, dragging the sheets that were twisted around his body with him. Buffy was left naked and exposed. She sat up and began frantically pulling the covers back toward her, repeating the frenzied refrain, "ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod!!!" Spike continued fighting the sheets that bound his legs, his arms pinwheeling as he struggled against gravity.

"Bloody...FUCK!" he cried, as his head cracked against the nightstand on his way to the floor. With a mighty tug, Buffy tore the sheet away from him and scrambled to cover her nudity. Spike was left stunned and naked on the cold floor, staring up at the mirror- studded ceiling and wondering how a nightmare could have such tactile reality. He closed his eyes and waited for it to be over.

Instead he felt a rain of stinging blows from a soft pillow, each blow punctuated by an angry scream, "What. The Hell. Have. You. Done. To. Me?!!!" His eyes flew open and he scrambled out from under the assault.

"Me?!" he roared. "I was minding my own business. Just trying to get away from you lot and suddenly this....this....THIS happens. I didn't DO anything!" He grabbed the bedpost and hauled himself to his feet.

"Oh my GOD! Cover yourself!" Buffy shrieked, burying her face in the pillow. Spike spun around in the darkened room looking for his clothes, spied his duster lying in a crumpled heap near the door and trotted over to toss it on. Buffy removed the pillow from her face, eyes wide and staring. "Magic! That's what it is," she muttered. "Yeah. Like the time Xander was a hyena."

"What?" Spike turned around with one sock flopping from his hand and his long coat gaping open over various bone-white body parts. "Hyena?"

"Yes. We were possessed," Buffy continued excitedly. "That's the only reasonable explanation." She snapped her fingers. "Or like that time the demon blood got on me and I could hear people think. I've been infected!" She looked up. Saw Spike. Shuddered and looked away. "That explains me, but what about you?" A light went off in her head and she glared at the vamp, who was now struggling with his pants. "You! You took advantage of me in my sickness, you pervert!"

"You're off your nut!" Spike's face twisted in a grimace of disgust. "As if I'd ever touch you without being under a spell of some kind." His eyes opened wide as his own GE electric lit up. "Oh-ho! That's it!" He stopped with one leg in his jeans and the rest of him hanging out and pointed a finger at Buffy. "Your little witchy friend. She's gone and bollixed up some wiccafest no doubt."

"Puh-leeze." Buffy wrapped the sheet even tighter around her chest, as she hopped off the bed and began scanning the floor for discarded clothes. "Willow would never....I mean, she's never messed with magic she couldn't control....." Her voice trailed off. "It just doesn't.....I mean, it doesn't even make sense! Why would she want you and me to....you know."

"Thus the phrase 'bollixed up'." Spike was beginning to sound less stunned and more infuriated as he gathered steam. "Go ahead. Call her. See what she's got to say about it."

Buffy glanced at the phone that was chained to the little table by the bed. "Gotta get a cell phone," she thought as she reached for the grimy receiver. She hesitated, wondering how she was going to phrase the question.

"Go on!" Spike urged, pulling his boots on and beginning to lace them up. "I want to know who to blame for this so I can pull out their entrails and string'em up."

Buffy rolled her eyes at the empty threat, grabbed the phone and began to dial. No one at the dorm room. Must mean everyone was at command central - Giles' house. She dialed again.

"Buffy! Buffy are you all right?" Giles' comfortingly familiar voice was like a swift dose of sanity. "Where are you? Were you successful in recapturing Spike? Does...Has anything....unusual happened?"

"I don't know, Giles. Some pretty....," Buffy looked over at Spike, who had shed his coat and was now pulling on his Tshirt, "...weird things went down. But I'm okay."

"You, too?" Giles sighed. "What was it? Deafness? Boils? Willow was apparently toying with a spell that went awry and caused.....several unfortunate side effects."

"Uh, none of the above. Something much worse, actually. But, what happened to you?" Buffy asked with concern.

"Blind as a bat," he replied succinctly. "And poor Xander was beset by demons. Evidently Willow was successful with her reversal spell since I'm able to see again. I don't know what has befallen the others. All I can do is wait for their return."

"Poor Willow." Buffy moaned. "I mean, I know she's been really upset over Oz' leaving, but she....she messed up big this time."

"Buffy?" Giles' voice was grave. "What has she done? Where ARE you?"

"Wouldya believe....Las Vegas?"

"Vegas?!"

"Yes. Seems Spike and I eloped when we realized neither you nor my mother would support our marriage," she said dryly.

Utter silence came down the telephone line.

"It seemed like the right thing to do at the time," she added.

"Oh, Buffy."

"No big. Don't worry about it. The important thing is whether the others are okay." She paused. "Look, Giles, we'll start back right now and check in from a pay phone when we get halfway. Just hold tight, okay?"

"Buffy, are you all right?" Giles insisted.

"Yes. All good. Nothing really happened." Spike snorted and shook his head. "And it's all over now, so.... I, uh, I have to go. See you soon." Buffy hung up quickly before the tears that threatened to choke her came spilling out.

Buffy could feel Spike opening his mouth and held up a hand. "Save your 'I told you so'. If you say it right now, I'll punch you through the wall."

He closed his mouth with a snap and yanked his coat back on. "So....ready to go, Slayer? Night's awasting."

She glanced at the window and saw it was indeed lightening toward dawn. Buffy gathered up her scattered clothes and headed toward the bathroom. She stopped in the doorway and turned to her 'groom'.

"Spike, if you take off while I'm in there dressing, I swear to God I'll track you down to the ends of the earth no matter how long it takes and kill you twice as dead as you are now." She slammed the bathroom door behind her.

        *********** When she reemerged, feeling a little fresher and cleaner and, at least, shielded by clothing, Buffy found her companion of the night tugging furiously at the ring on his finger and muttering curses. It reminded her of her own gold band and the girl reached down to slip it off her hand before Spike noticed she was still wearing it. She pulled. Stuck! Pulled again. It wouldn't move even as far as her knuckle.

Buffy put her finger in her mouth and wet it with saliva. She gave another pull....and the ring never budged. It was as if it were welded to her skin.

"Spi-ike!" her voice rose warningly, and he glanced up. "Where did you get these rings?"

Spike didn't answer, only swallowed hard, and went back to his fruitless ring-tugging.

"Where, Spike?" Buffy demanded. "What the hell is wrong with them?"

"Stupid. Bloody...." he pushed past her into the bathroom, and she followed him. He silently coated his finger in soap then handed her the bar. They lathered, rinsed and repeated until their hands were red, but the rings were not moving.

"Fuck me," Spike groaned in frustration as the soap shot out of his hand and went zinging across the bathroom into the shower. "These buggers are NOT coming off. Not today. Not ever."

"What have you done?" Buffy was beginning to panic as she scrubbed furiously at her hand.

"Remember? I told you! Told you it was for eternity. Bought these from my friend, Clem. He runs a kind of pawnshop - for demons. The rings are crafted by H'rassee. They mate for life. Take the bond real serious and make rings that are a symbol of their commitment. Once on - never off. Never. You understand, Slayer?"

Buffy gazed at the ring in horror. "My mom is gonna kill me," she said faintly. Then she turned her eyes up to fix Spike with a baleful glare. "What were you thinking?" she hissed.

"Seemed real romantic at the time, didn't it?" he explained. "Don't blame me. It's that stupid, red-haired twit's fault! Whyn't you punch her in the nose for a change?"

"Arrgh!" Buffy roared out her frustration, wiped her hands on a towel, and grabbed Spike by the collar of his coat. "Forget it. We'll deal with this when we get back to Sunnydale. Let's go." She manhandled him through the door and soon the happy newlyweds were in the Desoto headed back toward home, no tin cans on strings trailing behind them.
        ********* An hour into the drive, the sun streaming through the chinks in the blackened windows and blistering his skin became too much for Spike. He turned the wheel over to Buffy, despite her protests that she couldn't drive his big boat of a car, and burrowed under the blanket in the back seat, tendrils of smoke curling off of him. For just a moment the Slayer entertained the idea of pulling over and yanking him out of the car into the desert sun. It would certainly take care of his bitching and moaning over the immovable ring!

She glanced down at her left hand gripping the steering wheel and was transfixed by the sight of the gold band winking on her ring finger. Images and sense memories from the wedding night began to drift through her mind. After the initial onslaught of sex-crazed Spike and Buffy lust had culminated in mind-blowing orgasms for both, the edge had been taken off their hunger. They had relaxed into an easier rhythm, slow and sweet, graced with many endearments and proclamations of love.

Who would have guessed, Buffy thought, that Spike's skin could be so very soft and smooth over those hard, lean muscles. Her mind played with that concept for awhile, making a chant like the Bud Lite commercial, "Soft skin! Hard muscle!" Then she smiled, recalling the ticklish spot she'd discovered right in the hollow of his throat. One dip of her tongue in there and he was wriggling like.....oh my god. The smile erased. What the hell was she doing? Reminiscing about her night with.....Spike?!

She glanced over her shoulder at the blanket-covered mound, almost afraid he could see her thoughts. And considering how close they had been last night, she wouldn't be surprised if he could. There had been moments of such unity, as they talked quietly together after the sexapalooza, that it seemed words were superfluous. They had completed each other's thoughts and shared the most intimate secrets about themselves. Buffy had told him things about her fears and self-doubt that she had never shared with anyone, including herself, before.

And Spike had understood. Had totally understood. He had admitted, if not in words, how much of his swaggering bravado was a calculated act, a hard candy personna built to protect his mushy caramel center. Or maybe not candy. Maybe more like a Gusher. Buffy suddenly remembered other things that had burst in her mouth with a satisfying gush and began blushing furiously. Oh, this was not good. He knew too much about her now. He knew her weaknesses. She was as good as dead.

In the back seat, Spike shifted uncomfortably beneath his ragged blanket. He was, of course, not asleep. He doubted he'd ever sleep again, because now he knew that he was in the Slayer's power. She could be plotting anything up there. Mulling god knows how many evil plans in her shifty little brain. And it wouldn't be so simple as a staking now, oh no. Slayer didn't kill helpless little creatures. Instead she would extract her vengeance in the most humiliatingly public way possible. He didn't know how and he didn't know where, but he knew he'd given her the ammunition to hurt him badly.

He cringed and twisted around as memories of his deplorable behavior from the previous night played in his mind. Not the sex. That had been fucking brilliant. Slayer had knocked him for a loop with her sheer enthusiasm and willingness to try anything. God, the heat of her! A couple of times he'd been sure he would combust from it.

No, it was the bits around the sex that lodged in his brain and sent out evil tendrils, like a cancer; the flirting and teasing and hand-holding in the car on the way to Vegas, the tender declamations of love, trust and fidelity at the wedding ceremony, and the shared confidences and lovers' daydreams as they cuddled in bed together later. Cuddled! Yes, cuddled. It was enough to make him lose his lunch, if he'd had any in him to begin with. As if on cue, his stomach began to rumble, adding to his misery.

The worst of it was the power he had unwittingly placed in her deadly little hands. She knew all about him now. Knew his weaknesses and secret dreams. The best thing he could do would be to get far away from Sunnydale as soon as possible. Right after he'd paid back the little Wicked Witch AND found a way to get this sodding! damn! buggering! ring off his finger. He continued to tug compulsively at the offensive object.

"Spike! I can hear you squirming around back there. I know you're not asleep," the Slayer's sharp tone halted his movements. "Before we get back home, we need to get our story straight, so sit up and talk to me."

"What, Slayer? What story? There's nothing to tell," Spike's blanket draped head bobbed up. Buffy couldn't see it in her rearview, but a quick peek over her shoulder let her know she had his attention. "Little Witch did her spell - whatever the hell THAT was about. We found ourselves getting married at the Chapel 'o' Love and we headed back to Sunnydale. That's ALL that happened."

"Right," Buffy agreed. "Keep it simple." She paused, considering. "But how do we account for all the hours we....."

"Casino. Thought we'd make a little nest egg to pay for the down payment on our, uh, house. Lost it all."

"Okay." She nodded. "Good. There's nothing else to discuss then."

"Nothing at all," Spike agreed. He flopped back down on the seat.

"Good," Buffy repeated, faintly. "Good."

        ********* Spike woke from a light doze when they pulled over at a gas station just off the highway. Since it was a bright mid-morning in the desert, he couldn't get out so he had to beg the Slayer to buy smokes for him.

"Sure. When pigs fly. I'm not inhaling your second hand smoke all the way back to Sunnydale. Besides, we only have enough money for gas and maybe a pack of Ho-Hos or Twinkies, and I'm starving."

"Oh, very nice. And you'll just leave me to starve," Spike whined.

Buffy snorted and got out of the car. He heard her messing with the gas pump as he fished in his jeans for spare change. Jackpot! A crumpled $5 was extricated from the bottom of his pocket. Spike decided to make the mad dash to the building for cigarettes. Not only were his nerves shot and in need of a nicotine boost, but it would be worth it just to annoy the Slayer the rest of the way back to Sunnydale. He made sure his coat was buttoned, wrapped the blanket around each fist, pulled it over his head, and plunged out into the sun, almost knocking Buffy over as he barreled past.

Entering the relative coolness of the store, Spike tossed the smoking blanket down by the gum machine and tried to look casual, straightening his coat and running a hand through his hair, as the clerk stared open-mouthed. The vampire strolled to the back of the store and perused the stock of beer in the cooler.

A few minutes later Buffy entered, went straight for the Hostess display and began pawing through the sugary goodies. Spike watched her shapely ass for a second, wondering how she managed to keep her hot body in shape the way she ate, while his hands, almost absently, slipped a couple of cans into his inside coat pocket. He wandered up the snack aisle, picking up boxes and reading the ingredients, while Buffy chose a cellophane wrapped pair of Snowballs, paid for them and the gas, then turned her attention to trying on sunglasses from the revolving case near the register.

The bored clerk leaned against the counter and started flirting with Buffy, giving his opinion of each pair she modeled. As she smiled and joked with the man, Spike felt the hairs on the back of his neck begin to rise and an almost inaudible growl began to rumble through him. His eyes flickered yellow and that dull ache deep inside his skull started up, but he shook it off and strode toward the checkout.

"Pack of Marlboros," he snapped. The guy dragged his eyes away from Buffy long enough to snag the cigarettes and drop them on the counter. Spike pulled out his crumpled bill. Buffy's eyes, behind a pair of rose-tinted cat-eye glasses, widened when she saw it.

"You are so not buying those! We could get a pair of burritos with that."

"I don't eat burritos," Spike drawled, staring at the clerk who was hesitating with his hand poised over the money.

"Well, I do, and I'm starving!" Buffy all but pouted and stamped her foot.

Spike ignored her and continued to gaze at the clerk, who continued to wait for him to break down and give the little lady what she wanted. When it became clear Spike wasn't budging, the clerk shook his head and sighed. He picked up the bill, looking over at Buffy.

"Hey, sweetheart, you go on ahead and get yourself a couple of burritos....on me." He smiled at her and Spike felt the ache in his head increase as he fought the impulse to lunge across the counter and rip the man's throat out. What the hell was wrong with him?

"Really?" Buffy asked. "Well...thanks." She put the glasses back and walked over to microwave herself some breakfast. The clerk completed Spike's purchase, shaking his head and frowning. A muscle in the vampire's jaw twitched as he clenched it, but he took the change slapped it down on the counter without a word, wrapped his blanket around his upper body, and hurtled out the door and back to the car.

Safe inside once more, he threw off the blanket and sat there quivering with rage. Again, what the HELL was wrong with him? What did he care if the Slayer flirted with someone or charmed him into giving her free food? Why was his demon hovering on the verge of bursting forth? And why was some deep inner voice clamoring, 'MY woman! Mine! Mine! MINE!" He looked at the glowing golden band on his finger and started clawing at it again, trying to pry it off.

After a minute of fruitless struggle, he gave up, opened his new pack of cigarettes and shook one out. He'd better light up and smoke as much of it as he could before Buffy came back and took it away from him.

        *********** Buffy opened the driver's side door without a thought for the stream of sunshine she allowed to flood into the back seat. Spike howled as a beam hit him full in the face and he had to dive for cover, dropping his cigarette on the floor as he went.

"Sorry," she said through a mouthful of burrito, closing the door hurriedly. "My bad."

"Bitch," he muttered, retrieving the fag and replacing it in his mouth. He sat up, slouching down in one corner of the seat and glaring at her reflection in the rearview mirror. Times like these he loved the fact that he had no image. He could glower at her to his heart's content and if his gaze lingered a little too long on her grease glistening lips and her pink tongue darting out to lick a dollop of burrito filling from the corner of her mouth, no one need know but himself. He watched her chew and swallow for a moment, then sighed and reached into his coat for the beer he'd stolen.

Buffy's head snapped around at the sound of the can opening.

"What have you got back there?" she asked, suspiciously.

Spike didn't answer, just chugged about half the can in one swallow.

"Beer? Hey, you stole that!"

His lips quirked at her outraged tone. It would've been adorable if it wasn't so sickening. Just who did she think she was dealing with? Big Bad here after all, even if he couldn't bite anyone or control minions or basically do anything vampires are supposed to do. He finished the can in another gulp. Wasn't blood, but it filled the empty space a little. He pulled out the second can and popped the top.

Buffy licked those shiny lips again and Spike's bits 'n' pieces stiffened to attention.

"Um....I forgot to get anything to drink...."

"Too bad. 'Sides, you're driving."

"Well, one little sip is hardly....Look. I'll give you a Snowball for one drink. I'm really thirsty."

He snorted, but sat up and handed her the icy can. She took it, almost dropped it when their fingers accidentally touched and she tried to pull away too quickly, and sipped delicately. He was surprised she didn't wipe his spit off the edge before she took a drink. She made a little face at the taste, then handed the can back.

"Thanks," she said politely.

"You're welcome." Spike was horrified to hear himself reply, helpless against his childhood training in good manners.

Next, the Slayer began fumbling one-handed to remove the cellophane wrap from her snack. He sighed, leaned over the seat and grabbed it from her in frustration.

"Here." Quickly unwrapping the treat he thrust it back into her hand, scattering coconut everywhere. Then he retreated back to his slouch in the corner, draining his beer and averting his eyes from the mirror so he wouldn't have to watch her lap up the creme filling.

"Don't you want a....?" Buffy offered a Snowball toward the back seat.

"Keep it," he growled.

Crushing the beer can, he tossed it on the floor of the car and settled back with his eyes closed, praying to whatever entity demons were supposed to entreat, to please, please, PLEASE get him out of this mess.

        ******** Buffy licked the last of the coconut from her fingers then began to drum them on the steering wheel as her mind clicked through everything she had to deal with.

First up - were Xander and Willow all right? The phone at the service station had been out of order so she couldn't call Giles for an update. The fact that the spell was broken was a good sign, but it didn't mean Xander, or even annoying Anya, hadn't been mauled by a demon. The major part of her anxiety was over their safety. This was followed by overwhelming curiosity as to what kind of spell Willow could have cast that would result in Giles' blindness, Xander's demon attraction and her bizarre marriage to Spike. Buffy shoved the fruitless wondering to the edge of her mind and concentrated on the other problems she faced....such as....missing her math class AGAIN!

It was her only morning class and Buffy had found it almost impossible to rise in time to attend it after a night of slaying. She didn't even want to think about her mid-term grade.

Then there was the Riley issue. She had planned a date, a picnic, a real, normal boy-girl interaction for this afternoon, and she didn't know how she was going to see him with this god. damn. wedding ring on her finger! Maybe a bandaid. Yes! A bandaid would do the trick. Good. One problem solved.

As for the rest of it - the immovable ring, the legal marriage to be annulled (though, how legal could it be when Spike obviously had fake ID?), and the whole nightmare of having had sex with.....and CUDDLED with.....well, she just wouldn't go there right now. Not think about it. Nope. Don't worry. Be happy.

The Sunnydale sign loomed ahead and Buffy mentally geared up to face her friends and the fallout from Willow's night of mayhem.

        To be continued..........

"Golden Bands to Bind Them" - Chapter 2 (Season 4 fic. Back in Sunnydale, Buffy deals with the aftermath of Willow's my will be done spell, immovable wedding bands that bind her and Spike.)

Buffy pulled the huge car into the shade of the carport at Giles' apartment, then got out and had a bone-creaking stretch. God, she hated driving! She was stiff and exhausted and stupid Spike was crashed out like a baby in the back seat.

A little vindictive smile lifted the corners of her mouth and she swiftly pulled open the rear door of the car. Spike's upper half came tumbling out and he cracked his head a good one on the pavement. The vampire scrambled away from the line of sun that marked the edge of the carport's shadow.

"We're here," Buffy remarked dryly. Spike just fixed her with an accusing stare, then retrieved his blanket and wrapped himself again.

Just then Willow and Xander came spilling out of Giles' front door and ran to envelop Buffy in a group hug.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! So SORRY!," Willow said over and over. "Everything's my fault!"

"It is. It really is!" Xander chimed in, hugging just as fiercely. "Willow was a very naughty Wicca."

Spike, huddled in the deepest shadow of the carport, let out a bark of bitter laughter, "Hah!"

"Will, everyone makes mistakes," Buffy soothed. "It's okay. This was just....an exceptionally huge one." She broke away from the hug. "You want to tell me what the hell happened?"

"Oh, Buffy, I was hurting so much and I just wanted it to stop! I thought, 'How hard can it be to just use my will and control my feelings?' It was just a little spell, really. It was only supposed to affect me - not anyone else. But suddenly what I said about people came true. I -I told Giles he didn't 'SEE' anything, and....you get the picture."

"So you, what, wanted me to marry......" Buffy couldn't even say his name, but just gestured with her head toward Spike. Xander glanced at him and shuddered.

"Well, I wanted you to spend time with me, but you had to go look for doofy over there so I said to Xander...."

"If she needs Spike so much, why doesn't she just go....."Xander continued, and they all spoke in unison, "Marry him."

"Oh my god," Buffy murmured. She shook herself. "Well. What'd done is done. It was a mistake. It's over. Now let's find a way to fix this."

"Fix....." Xander asked. "What's to fix? You have wedding gifts to return or something?"

"Besides some paperwork, which can easily be taken care of, we have these." Buffy displayed her hand with the shining gold band to her friends.

"Ooh, pretty," Willow squealed reflexively. "Uh, I mean, Buffy, why don't you, you know, just take it off?"

"Demon-made. Immovable," Buffy explained succinctly. "Like, forever immovable." She jerked her head toward Spike again. "He's got one, too."

Willow grabbed her hand and examined the ring, trying to move it or even rotate it on Buffy's finger, but the band was melded to the girl's flesh.

"I am SO sorry," the young witch moaned.

"Bloody Christ!" Spike exploded. "Don't start that again. Can we take this inside? I'm parboiling out here."

"Remind me again why we just don't stake him or, easier yet, take his widdle blanky away and push him out in the sun," Xander complained.

"Xander!" Willow's eyes were wide. "We don't know anything about the spell that made these rings. The two of them may be joined in such a way that what happens to one happens to the other!"

The note in her voice of near-excitement at the possibilities, made Buffy feel the urge to take Spike's advice and pop her in the nose. Willow, locked and loaded in full research mode, led the group into Giles' apartment, babbling all the way.

        *********

"Here it is," Giles exclaimed twenty minutes later, as he pulled yet another dusty book from the box he hadn't gotten around to unpacking. He flipped it open, muttering under his breath, as he flipped pages. "H'rassee....H'rassee.....ah! 'Pharsi dimension', 'peace-loving', 'mate for life'. Yes, Spike was quite right about their beliefs in fidelity. Ah! And here's the part about the rings.....only one paragraph, hm.... 'Two, pledging their lifelong troth to one another, shall become as one. The rings will bind them for all eternity. There shall be no separation, neither of flesh, nor breath, nor life....' That's it. Nothing about how to break the bond."

"What does that mean? Tell me it's not literal!" Buffy sounded slightly panicked. "Is it like Willow said? That what happens to one of us...."

"Not necessarily," the Watcher spoke with authority. "It could be...."

"I already don't have breath or life," Spike interrupted. "How does this apply to me?"

"We could stab Spike and see if Buffy feels it." Anya had arrived shortly after the honeymooners and was eager to make up for lost time on putting her two cents in. She added, thoughtfully, "You know, I've heard of these H'rassee, but they're not the vengeance type. Haven't had a call from one in...ever. Maybe they're on to something."

"Anya, you're not helping," Xander cut her off.

"As I was saying," Giles voice took on an edge. "It could be a figurative joining. I don't think we need to panic just yet."

"Easy for you to say!" Spike was up and pacing the room. "You're not the one with a hunk of metal welded to your skin! And psychically attached to a bird who lives to die!"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Buffy took a defensive stance with her arms folded across her chest.

"It means I don't intend to become dust because you have a fondness for throwing yourself at things bigger than you are."

"And even if the bond were more than figurative," Giles continued. "Perhaps, as Spike said, it isn't complete since you don't meet the criteria. In order to 'not be separated by flesh, breath, or life', you would first have to have possessed these things, correct? Spike, as we know, hasn't breath or life. And, the two of you...well....haven't 'shared' the pleasures of the flesh, so that......" A quick look up from his book at Buffy's face was all Giles needed. "Oh dear."

Willow, seeing Buffy and Spike's lightning-fast mutual glance, gasped. Anya let out a little snort of laughter.

"What? What?" Xander looked wildly around the room from one person to another. "Did I miss something? What?"

        ***********

"You don't understand. We were MARRIED!" Buffy explained for the twentieth time. "It was our wedding night!"

"Yeah, the spell. I get it. But, Buffy, Spike??!!" Xander was pale as a sheet and Anya hovered over him sponging his forehead.

"I think Spike is quite attractive," the ex-demon chimed in, helpfully. "It's only natural when human hormones come into play that these things happen. And you know vampires will jump anything that moves."

"Grow up, Harris," Spike growled from his perch on Giles counter. "Screw the screwing. What I'm concerned about is how to get this bloody thing OFF!" He turned to Giles, who was deep into his second Scotch of the day and had his head buried in his hands. "Look, Watcher, you know we vamps regenerate pretty quickly. I mean, look how fast I came back from having my spine mangled by your Slayer. What if I were to just," he made a snicking noise as he scissored his fingers, "cut it off. How long do y'spose it would take to grow back?"

Buffy grabbed her own finger protectively. "You are NOT going to cut our...your....my finger off!" She jumped up suddenly. "I can't deal with this anymore. We're getting nowhere. We still don't know if these rings are anything more than an...an inconvenience, and I have other plans for this afternoon! I just have to chill for awhile!"

"Plans? What plans?" Spike demanded.

"Giles, can I chain him up in your bathtub again? Please! Just for this afternoon? I don't want him going anywhere or doing anything stupid, and I...I...uh....have a date."

"Riley finally asked you out?" Willow exclaimed. "Good boy. I told him you'd say yes."

"Riley? Who's Riley?" Anya asked. "No one ever tells me anything! Did you know about this?" She poked Xander, who just shrugged and slumped farther down in the couch.

"Do you really think it's wise at a time like this," Giles asked as if reading a cue card. "Do you think it's appropriate?" He didn't bother waiting for her answer, knowing Buffy always did exactly as she wanted anyway, but took another deep swallow of the amber nectar in his glass.

"Giles, it's always a 'time like this'! I have a chance to spend some time with a nice, normal, very sweet guy. He's expecting me! We made a date and I'm going to keep it."

"Let me get this straight," Spike's quiet but deadly voice cut through the din. "You hold MY life in your hands and you're going on a DATE?!! No one goes anywhere until this is resolved!" Quick as an adder he slipped off the counter, seized a knife from the butcher block, and drove it through his hand, impaling it on the table. Blood geysered up from the wound.

Buffy gasped. Willow, Anya and Xander screamed.

"Did you feel that?" Spike asked casually. "Your hand hurt at all?"

"N-no," she answered, shakily, then with more confidence and the beginning of joy. "NO!!"

"Guess it was figurative after all," Giles mumured.

"Well, that doesn't necessarily prove anything!" Anya declared, playing devil's advocate to her earlier statement. "It was over-dramatic and impulsive, but didn't threaten Buffy's life at all. If they really share one life force you couldn't prove it without killing one or the other of them. That's just common sense!"

Spike pulled the knife back out of the counter and his hand with a stomach- churning slurping sound of tearing flesh. "Got a rag, Watcher?" he asked.

"That tears it," Buffy announced. "You're going in the tub! He's going in the tub, Giles. I'll be back later this evening, and if he's been good....MAYBE....I'll let him out." She grabbed a dishtowel from a drawer and quickly bound the vampire's hand with vicious tightness, then she grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him toward the bathroom.

Spike scowled from under knitted black brows as she manacled his wrists and criss-crossed chains around his body with single-minded determination.

"Oh, that's right Slayer. It's right back to square one then?"

"What's that supposed to mean? You think I should suddenly TRUST you now?"

"Well, you don't have to tie me up. It's not like I'm going anywhere 'til we get this ring business settled." He paused, cocked his head and favored her with the tongue-behind-the-teeth leer. "Unless.....Maybe you just get off on seeing me trussed up 'n vulnerable, eh? Is that your kick? No wait. Favorite turn-ons......let's see....the toe nibbling thing and some light spanking and, oh yes, ice on the nipples and....."

Buffy punched him in the nose and his head cracked back against the tile wall. She flushed bright red and Spike went dizzy from the combination of the blow to his head and the scent of all that delicious blood rushing just under the surface of her skin.

"Oooh, and you call yourself a white-hat? Torturing helpless creatures!"

Buffy leaned toward his face and hissed menacingly. "Look, Spike, I know some secrets too. I thought we were putting the whole thing behind us, but if you're going to open that can of worms, two can play."

If possible, Spike went even paler than his customary shade of snow. He swallowed and his lips thinned to a tight line.

"For that matter...." A little imp inside Buffy refused to drop it. "I know things you'd enjoy a lot less than being tied up here. Don't forget," her voice dropped to a whisper, "I know how you feel about, oh say.....dark boxes."

The stricken look in his eyes sent a momentary pang through her. And it wasn't the 'I'm delighted to have gotten a zinger in at the annoying vampire' kind of pang. Good old-fashioned guilt moved in and took up residence. As his eyes fell away from hers, she felt like she'd kicked some poor, mangy dog in the ribs.

Spike settled back against the porcelain, closed his eyes and rested his head on the cold, hard surface. "Ask the Watcher to bring up a blood pack if he gets the chance," he said tonelessly, dismissing her.

She stood there for another second, watching him. Even considered putting a rolled up towel behind his head. It really did look quite uncomfortable. Then she shook her head and turned on her heel, leaving him to his own warped vampiric thoughts.

Returning to the living room, Buffy found Xander and Anya had left; Xander to his most recent minimum wage job and Anya to check with an old acquaintance she thought might have some useful information. Sometimes it amazed Buffy how hard Anya tried to help, when, honestly, she and Willow treated her pretty shabbily.

Willow's face was inches from the huge book she was absorbed in. Giles was resting with an arm flung over his eyes. Buffy wondered if it was alcohol or residual spell results that were affecting him.

"Will, I'm heading back to the dorm. Want to go with?" she asked.

Willow looked up with a wan smile. "No. I have at least....two dozen more books I should go through. Think I'll be here awhile."

Buffy nodded and turned to leave.

"Oh, and Buffy. Again with the 'I'm sorry and owe you whatever you ask of me for the rest of my life!' and pleading temporary depression and bad judgment. 'Kay?"

Buffy pinned on a false, bright smile. "It's okay. You can stop apologizing now. Anything you can do to get these rings off will more than even the score."

Buffy traveled the long path to SU campus, barely aware of the bright day and passersby around her. She stopped at the local market to pick up some deli food for the picnic. She considered buying little storage containers so it would look like she'd made it herself, but decided that concealing things about oneself was not the best way to approach a new relationship. She moved in a dream as the greater part of her mind insisted on replaying a particular part of the previous night.

        ****** "It's all right. You can tell me anything, Spike. You know that. It's just you and me. Nothing we say leaves here." Her hand brushed through the tousled hair of the head that rested against her stomach, as she murmured. "Just you and me. We never have to have secrets. We have each other."

"Yeah?" he asked, quietly.

"Yeah," she assured. "You're mine now. I'm yours. Whatever bothers you, I want to share. Besides..." she added with a smile in her voice, "I showed you mine."

"It's just.ah, it's nothing."

"No. It's not nothing. I have these prophetic Slayer dreams so I know a thing or two about it. You said you have nightmares. Please, tell me what they're about. Please?"

He drew a deep breath. "Um. Trapped. Dark. Alone. Doesn't sound like much really. Of course I know what they're from, but even after all these years, I still have'em sometimes."

"And what are they from?" Buffy prompted, "Getting out of your coffin?"

"Well, yeah, there's that, but there's more.You might not want to hear this. It's about Angelus."

"Anything," Buffy said firmly. "Trust me. Tell me."
        ******

"Excuse me, miss? Are you going to pick something or just stand there?" Buffy came back to reality with a start, realized she was taking up space in front of the deli counter, and quickly shuffled to the side. She brushed her hand in front of her face as if shredding cobwebs, squared her shoulders, took a cleansing breath and tried to concentrate on today not some spell-induced hallucination. Everything about that night had been a sham, a trick. She had to remember that!

When she finally made it back to her dorm room, Buffy took one look at her bed and almost called Riley to cancel. Lack of sleep, psychological stress and the long drive had pushed her to the limits of her reserve. But instead of collapsing into much needed rest, she jumped in the shower and washed away the grime of the journey. She suppressed the thought of just what she was washing away as the soapy puff traveled over her private parts. Naughty Buffy thoughts - begone!

Again, as she chose an outfit, her gaze rested longingly on her pillow with Mr. Gordo perched jauntily atop it. Even Buffy was self aware enough to realize that at this point her need to go out with Riley was representational of something much bigger than a mere social date. She would not back down. She would not be defined by her Slayer role. She would not allow the bizarre twists of her life to control her. She WOULD go on a date with nice, normal-guy Riley.

        ********* Spike lay sullenly in the Watcher's tub, wondering how long it would take the wanker to get him some food. A persistent drip of water from the faucet had wetted one shoulder. Just another annoyance to add to the list.

He went over his battle plan regarding the Slayer: Get cursed wedding band off finger. Find army blokes and capture a scientist. Get chip out of head. Torture and destroy Slayer's friends. Torture and destroy Slayer. Leave Sunnydale. Forever this time.

He thought it was a pretty good plan. Wondered how he was going to execute it.

As his mind began to lose focus and drift off toward sleep again, Spike's thoughts inexorably began to revolve around the previous night. He may have given Summers ammunition to damage him, but she had her own confidences she was probably wishing she'd kept to herself.
        ****** Soft skin slid under his hand. Stroking her was like touching finest satin. He thought he could do this - just this - petting and feeling her warmth, forever....until her skin wore away under his fingers.

"So tell me, sweetheart, what's your biggest fear? 'Show me yours and I'll show you mine'," he added, voice dripping with sexual innuendo. "Oops. Too late. You already did." He chuckled when she smacked the back of his head. He kissed her belly and she went back to running her fingers through his hair. Making a frightful mess of it she was, no doubt.

"Well," she began, uncertainly. "I'm afraid of failure. Of not getting there in time to save someone. Of not being good enough."

"Too general," Spike dismissed. "Everyone's afraid of failure. Besides, love, I can tell from your voice that's not the one. Not the big one. The thing that wakes you up at night in a cold sweat." He continued stroking her gently, waiting for that to sink in, but as she remained silent, his impatience got the better of him and he just had to talk. "Go on. Give me more. Let it out. Put it all on me."

"I-I'm afraid...." Buffy's began. Spike's hand stilled as he tuned his full attention on the nuances of her voice. "I'm afraid....of being left behind. Of being...um....unwanted. Unlovable."

"No! Where would you get such an idea? Impossible! Who could not love you, my perfect angel?" Spike cut off as he realized what he'd said - 'angel'. Who else but that bog-trotting bastard could've mucked up her mind so? It was with surprise that he heard her answer...

"My dad," she said, simply.

He resumed his stroking motion, encouraging her without words to continue.

"He didn't just leave my mom, you see? He left me. Oh, of course they both said, 'It's not about you, Buffy, sometimes grownups just...blah, blah, blah. We both still love you as much as ever...blah, blah, blah.' It was all bullshit!"

The force of her exclamation, startled him. Not to mention that fact that he hadn't heard her use any word stronger than 'hell' since he'd known her. He wanted to jump right in with comfort words, 'I'm sure your father loves you' and the like, but for once Spike forced himself to silence.

"At first he called once a week - came over once every couple of weeks and took me out somewhere. After we moved to Sunnydale, I was the one who had to call him or we never would have talked at all. And do you know how many times he returned the favor? Do you know how often he called me? Once. Once to tell me he couldn't make it to my high school graduation. Which, as it turned out, was probably good, what with the Mayor's Ascension and all. The only other time we had plans together - for my birthday - he didn't even give me the obligatory call, just sent flowers and a note saying, 'Sorry honey. No ice capades this year.' and, oh, yes, a nice fat check."

Buffy drew a deep, shivering breath that tore his heart out. Spike's demon raged to the surface and his face shimmered into folds and fangs as he envisioned what he'd like to do to the man.

"That's me and my dad," she ended in a tiny, choked voice. "After that, when everything happened with Angel, as much as it hurt, I almost expected it. It was just rubbing salt in an old wound - nothing new for Buffy."

Spike pulled himself up on one elbow to face her. He put his hand to her cheek and forced her tear-filled eyes toward him. He glared at her with all the fierceness a 100 plus vampire could muster.

"You listen to me," he commanded, golden eyes glittering. "I'M here now! And you won't be rid of me so easily. NOTHING could make me stop loving you or ever conceive of leaving you. There's nothing in you that is not lovable. Only a pair of absolute cretins could even think about giving you up! Understand?" He cupped her chin and gave her face a little shake for emphasis. "You are mine now. I would NEVER leave you alone."

Buffy gave a little whimper and surged forward to hug him so tight around the neck she would've broken it if he wasn't superhuman.

"Love you, Spike! I love you," she murmured over and over.

"That's my girl." He soothed. "Spike's here now."

When their emotional outpouring had run its course, he slid back down to his comfortable place against her belly and resumed the stroking thing.

"Of course...." Spike allowed his words to trail off, as a wicked grin crept over his face.

"What? I can feel you smiling down there," Buffy demanded.

"Oh, just....You know I was lying about you having NO unlovable qualities, right? There's the short temper, the pettiness, the righteousness, oooh and priggishness. But mostly the whole 'better than thou' attitude AND the punching me in the face thing. THAT'S pretty unlovable." By now he was snickering against her skin.

"Thanks. You're a real comfort, Spike," she said, dryly, tugging on a handful of his hair.

He sobered and added in an intimate growl. "But, you know what I love best about you, my slayer? All of it! The whole package. Wouldn't be you without the warts, eh?"

        *****

Spike snapped to wakefulness at the Watcher's tread coming up the stairs. Time to get his head out of his rear and face reality. Time to try and begin to put his Slayer demolition plan in action!

To be continued.....

"Golden Bands to Bind Them", Part 3, by Bonnie Buffy and Spike elope to Vegas during "Something Blue". A pair of demon- made wedding bands refuse to be removed. The couple deals with the aftermath of their 'wedding' in a sometimes humorous, sometimes angsty way. This installment contains elements of "Hush" but twisted around to fit my story. Don't be alarmed if the facts are condensed or changed or the dialog doesn't match up.

Spike's chains rattled against the ceramic tub, and he sat up straighter as the Watcher entered the room. He accepted the lukewarm mug of blood the stone-faced man handed him with a matching poker-countenance of his own. Wouldn't do to threaten and posture so long as his fate was so obviously in the Slayer's hands.

The Watcher leaned in the doorway, arms folded, watching him drink. Deplorable manners that, Spike thought. He wasn't a sodding zoo animal at feeding time! Glowering up from under dark-etched brows, Spike drank as fastidiously as a matron at tea.

Finally the man cleared his throat. 'Ah, here it comes,' the vampire thought.

"Whatever may have happened between Buffy and yourself under the influence of the spell, I want you to be perfectly clear that it was an illusion. Nothing like it will ever happen again. I have read a bit about your history, you see, and know that you tend toward little.....obsessions of one sort or another. I just want to make sure that my slayer doesn't become one of them."

Spike stared at Giles and continued to sip the swill in his cup. "Have I ever - in the brief hour or so since we've been here - given the least sign of being interested in anything other than getting this....atrocity off my finger? Do you not consider that this experience has been as harrowing and utterly distasteful to me as it has been to the Slayer?" Spike enjoyed the brief flash of surprise the man exhibited when he matched his speech pattern and rounded tones in a spot-on imitation. "Rest assured, I have no intentions of sharing a further.....dalliance with the young woman in question." Spike smiled brightly, unaware that the effect was somewhat ruined by blood-stained teeth.

"Very well then," the Watcher's superior manner was noticeably deflated. He practically grabbed the now empty mug from Spike's hand and prepared to retreat. But Spike wasn't finished yet. He saw Giles' stuffy tone and raised it a notch.

"Knowing that my primary objective is in complete synchronicity with that of the Slayer, wouldn't you agree that my time would be more fruitfully spent researching the H'rassee than sleeping in your bath chamber? Perhaps you could see your way clear to relieving me of my bonds so that I might aid the young Wicca in exploring methods to release the Slayer and myself from this predicament."

Giles turned to face him, rolling his eyes at the obviousness of the game. He almost appeared to suppress a smile of his own, paused, then, unexpectedly, bent to unfasten the manacles from Spike's wrists.

Before the vampire could rise, however, the Watcher clamped one hand on his shoulder with a surprisingly firm grip for a middle-aged geezer. He narrowed his eyes and fixed Spike with a stare that would've been threatening if he were a would-be suitor come to take out the man's daughter. In a low, even drawl that matched Spike's adopted North London dialect exactly he muttered. "Just so's we understand each other......mate."

        ********

Buffy tried again to concentrate. 'Natural selection', 'Pavlovian something or other', 'the socio-dynamic interaction of whosis and whaaaat?' Which topic were they on again? She blinked slowly and smiled even wider, as she nodded knowingly.

"So Professor Walsh believes......" The open-faced young man suddenly became aware of her flagging interest. "And you don't have the least care in the world what Professor Walsh says, do you?" He blushed becomingly. Buffy thought if they'd been standing he would've plunged his hands in his pockets, shuffled his foot and said, 'aw shucks'.

"No. I'm interested. Really! It's just that I- I studied for an exam really late last night. I mean REALLY late, like until there wasn't any night left, and now I'm kinda, you know, exhausted and having trouble staying awake. Any other time, though. I'm right there with you. Natural selection or Freudian imagery, I can discuss those 'til the cows come home."

"Buffy," Riley interrupted her tirade. "It's okay. You don't have to explain yourself. I've pulled all-nighters plenty of times. And psychology isn't exactly riveting stuff for everybody. Let's call it a day and you get yourself home and to bed."

"But I.... But we didn't even get to the dessert!" Buffy almost wailed. "I really wanted this date to work. I can sleep later!" A huge yawn overtook her, and Riley grinned as if she had done the most charming thing in the world.

"Go home, Buffy. We'll get together another time. It's no big deal. Really." He began gathering the remains of their picnic, neatly folding the paper plates in half before throwing them in the trash bin, and carefully shaking out the cloth they had sat on before packing it back in the basket. Buffy gathered the containers of food and shoved them haphazardly in after it.

She stood and stretched, taking in big lungfuls of the fresh breeze, and admiring the way the sun brought out a hundred different highlights in Riley's plain brown hair. Nice handsome guy. Beautiful sunny day. THIS is what life was supposed to be about! On impulse, Buffy stepped toward the grad student, lifted herself to her tiptoes and planted a solid kiss on his lips.

Riley's eyes widened, but he recovered quickly, grasped Buffy's upper arms, and kissed her back. He tasted like the apple he had just eaten. Sweet and delicious. Buffy opened her mouth a little and let the kiss deepen.

The young man only hesitated a moment, then followed her lead, allowing his tongue to tentatively explore the very edge of her mouth. But Buffy wanted more. She opened wider, tilted her head a little more, and ran her own tongue out to meet his. Riley's hands slipped from her arms to around her back and roamed up and down it, but always stopping chastely just above her buttocks.

He was so NICE! So warm and alive under her hands and mouth. Buffy waited for her heart to start thumping in her chest and her pulse to begin that dizzying race. Nothing happened.

Maybe she just needed a kickstart. Maybe if she kissed him a little harder, ground against him a little, something would happen. But before she had a chance to test it, Riley pulled back, looking dazed and breathless.

"Man!" he breathed. "Wow!"

'There's a 'wow'?' Buffy thought. 'How did I miss it?'

"Buffy, that was.....really nice. But, we better slow down or......"

Buffy wondered if everyone from Iowa blushed as much as Riley.

"Oh. Okay," she said. "I.... Well, I'll see you in class, um, tomorrow." She stooped to pick up her basket.

"Definitely!" Riley said. "Maybe we can go out for coffee afterward."

"I'd like that." Buffy bestowed her highest wattage smile on him, then turned and strode away across the campus.

Back in her dorm room again, the weary Slayer kicked off her shoes and fell across her bed. "Gotta call Giles," she thought muzzily, then she was asleep.

The dream began normally enough - Buffy in class struggling to catch up with what she'd missed. But Professor Walsh beckoned her to the front of the room and Buffy was aware that she was going to have to demonstrate something. She perched on the edge of a table, staring at the roomful, make that absolutely FULL of students, and listening to Walsh drone on about communication. Suddenly she became aware that another student was being called on to participate in the demonstration. Buffy looked up and was somehow unsurprised to see Spike there. They were supposed to show how they communicated with just their bodies.

She watched Spike approach her, eyebrows drawn together in concentration, lips slightly parted as if to speak. She wet her lips in anticipation of his kiss, eyes sliding over to scan the silent, watching group. They were impassive. Buffy looked toward Spike again, who now stood before her hesitantly. He reached out, but instead of moving in and kissing her, he took her hand in his. Their fingers threaded together, palms touched, and Buffy felt a searing heat at the joining. Then she mentally heard Spike's voice telling her, "You see? We are one now, consumed in fire."

Her eyes flickered closed at the pain, and when she opened them again the room was dark and she was alone. Sliding off the table, Buffy followed the sound of a little girl eerily chanting some sort of nursery rhyme about "the gentlemen."

        ******

The ringing of her bedside phone wrenched Buffy awake with a little shriek. She gasped for breath and tried to still her pounding heart. Damn prophetic Slayer dreams! Not good for the sleeping. She grabbed at the receiver. "Yeah?"

"Buffy? You're there?" Willow's plaintive voice grated on her roommate's nerves. Of course she was here, who else would be answering? Her friend continued. "We were kinda starting to worry. It's getting late....."

Buffy fumbled for the clock. After 9:30!? "I'm so sorry, Will. I just laid down to rest for a minute."

"That's okay. How was your date?"

"It was a beginning," Buffy hedged. "Did you find out anything with the research?"

"Nope. We even had Spike helping. You know, he's smarter than he looks? Anyway, we found zip. But Anya says her contact is still a possibility. He's looking into something. I'm not sure what that's about. Anya's being all mystery-girl about it. I think she's been reading Sherlock Holmes."

"Well, I'll be right over."

"Naw. Take it easy Buffy. You've had a stressful day! We're about to break it up here anyway and meet again in the morning. Xander'll be dropping me off at the dorm soon. And did I tell you lately how sorry I....?"

Buffy smiled. "Willow! Enough with the apologies!"

The girls said goodbye and Buffy stripped off her clothes, tossed on an oversize T and crawled back in bed. She lay there thinking about her dream, especially the part with Spike and the weird hand thing. What was that supposed to signify? She finally drifted off to dreamless sleep and didn't wake again until morning.

        **********

Late the next morning the gang was assembled at Giles' home, ostensibly researching but actually picking through a pastry assortment for their favorites. Buffy had shared part of her dream from the night before, but 'the gentlemen' didn't mean anything to Giles.

She stole a glance every now and then at Spike, who was off in a corner by himself, crumbling some kind of Shredded Wheat thing into a mug of blood and watching TV. She would never admit it, but she had been a little miffed when he almost completely ignored her arrival. Stupid vampire! Didn't he realize the predicament they were in? His panicky demeanor of the day before had done a complete 180 into nonchalant indifference.

He couldn't possibly be pulling some kind of grade-school hissy-fit, could he? Not speaking to her because of the little tease she'd had at his expense yesterday? He had to know she wouldn't really parade his pathetic insecurities in front of everyone. Who did he think she was, anyway? Buffy was comforted by the familiar feeling of anger replacing the unhealthy guilt of the day before.

"Why do I have to take him? I didn't think we should help him to begin with." Xander was practically shouting at Giles, catching Buffy's attention.

"It will only be for a night or two." Giles was using his 'reasonable' tone. Never a good sign for whoever was on the other end of the argument. "I'm expecting a guest and I simply can't have a vampire in my bathroom."

"Well, I'm tying him up then, 'cause there's no way I'll catch any sleep with the Walking Dead in my room."

"You can't be serious!" Spike interrupted, as Anya simultaneously chimed in with, "You realize this is going to affect Xander's performance. He won't do well if we're being watched."

Ignoring her, Xander snapped his fingers. "I got it! My mom has an old chest freezer. You could fit a body in there. I mean, it's not like it's plugged in or anything."

"That sounds perfect," Anya quickly agreed. "'Out of sight. Out of trouble,' as we humans like to say."

"What?!" Spike's eyes were wide and the panicked edge to his voice was back in full force. He shot a quick, reproachful look at Buffy, as if she had divulged his little secret.

"Xander. You're not putting anyone in a freezer. That's ridiculous." Buffy spoke calmly and firmly. "Just tie him to a chair or something. He's harmless anyway. I mean look at him."

As one they all looked over to Spike, who was sitting with a spoonful of cereal drenched in sticky red liquid poised halfway to his mouth. He scowled back at them, dropped the spoon into the mug with a splash and leaped up from the chair to stalk toward the kitchen.

"Ungrateful!" Anya sniffed. "Some people are just horrible house guests."

"All right, I'll take him," Xander sighed and held up a qualifying finger, "But I won't like it!"

"Who's your 'visitor', anyway?" Willow grinned mischievously at Giles. "Anyone we should know about?"

"Sounds to me like an orgasm friend," Anya said, taking a huge bite of her jelly donut. She looked up at the sudden complete silence. "Otherwise why would he need the privacy?" she explained. "He's probably like Xander. Doesn't want people to know that he HAS a sex life."

"All right. Off with you. Don't you have classes or jobs to go to?" Giles rose and made shooing gestures toward the door. "Xander, please wrap Spike up and take him along, there's a chap."

Soon they were all filing out the door, which Giles practically slammed behind them.

        ********* "I can drive my own car," Spike snapped, when they got to the shelter of the carport. "Just give me your address."

"You're not parking that pile of junk on my street," Xander complained.

Spike narrowed his eyes, jutted his chin, and crossed his arms. "This car is a classic."

"No. That car is a junkyard reject. Besides, how do we know you won't take off or something?"

Spike just rolled his eyes in annoyance and held up his hand. "Evil spell. Ring. Remember?"

"I'll deliver him to you, then park the car somewhere else." Buffy tried to play peacemaker. "Look, it's only for a short while. Please just try to play nice."

Both males shrugged and sulkily turned toward their respective vehicles. Willow, Anya and Buffy exchanged an estrogen moment, rolling their eyes at the male posturing, then climbed into the cars as well.

        ****** It was a nearly silent ride in the Desoto, where the air crackled with invisible electricity.

Buffy: How'd you convince Giles to let you out of the tub?

Spike: Asked.

Buffy: Did you find anything remotely useful during research yesterday?

Spike: No.

Buffy: Sounds like maybe Anya is onto something.

Spike: Maybe.

Buffy: Hey, behave for Xander, okay? I don't want to hear that you've given him any trouble.

Shrug.

Buffy: I mean it. You should be grateful to him for putting you up.

Snort.

Buffy sighed and subsided into silence. And she had thought the ride back from Vegas was awkward. Today was even worse.

Finally Spike pulled up to the curb in front of the Harris residence. Buffy pointed out the side cellar door, and he prepared to make a dash for it, but before he opened the door, Spike paused, clearing his throat, tapping the steering wheel, and staring anywhere but at Buffy.

"What?" she asked. "You gonna tell me to take good care of your baby and park it somewhere safe? Don't worry about it!"

"Uh, thanks for that....earlier," Spike muttered.

"What earlier?"

"The freezer thing. Not that I think the little nancy could manhandle me into it against my will or anything, but....still....if you'd wanted to you could've made things......well, anyway, just thanks for keeping your mouth shut."

"Oh! Well. You're welcome." Buffy felt herself start to inexplicably blush. That pissed her off so she added, snappily. "I don't tell secrets, Spike. Not even yours."

"Right then." He gave a quick nod, then threw open the door and plunged into the sunlight. Buffy suddenly realized he may very well be taking HER life into his hands every time he pulled a stunt like that. It was unsettling.

She watched Xander usher him inside before sliding over into the driver's seat and putting the car back into gear. As she drove, her mind played back the tape of Spike sharing his claustrophobic fears with her on the notorious 'wedding night'....

        *********

"It's not easy being a minion, you know," Spike explained. "When you first rise, it's such a rush. The whole world is open before you and all you want to do is grab it in both fists and devour it. Then some poncy bastard announces he's your sire - or grandsire in my case - and that you'll do as he says or else. 'Or else what?' you say. And right away you find out."

"And that was Angelus?" Buffy affirmed softly.

"I didn't mind the whips and chains part so much. That could be sexy, actually. But it didn't take him long to find a way to reach me. Always was a master at psychological torture."

Spike lifted her hand and examined it, front and back. "You have such lovely, tiny little hands," he commented, then grinned. "Hurt like a bitch when they hit you, though." He kissed her fingertips.

Buffy, who knew all about the art of evasion, prompted him to continue the story.

"Well, he and Darla were happy to finally have someone to tend Dru or I'm sure I wouldn't have been kept around at all. Anyway, to make it short, Angelus kept me in line by leaving me in a steel locker as punishment for my transgressions. No light, nor blood. Just me and the dark for days on end. Longest time was over a couple of months. That one was because Dru forgot to remind him to let me out I guess."

"Why didn't you take off when you got a chance?"

"Would've, but Dru wouldn't leave him and I couldn't leave her. So 'round we went for years. I soon learned to submit - to an extent - and Angelus eventually let me have Drusilla. But the happiest day of my life was when that gypsy cursed him and we were rid of him for good. Then Darla left and it was just me and Dru, the way I'd always wanted it.

Oh, she wept and screamed for months, but eventually she settled down and then we were happy. We really were happy," Spike sounded as if he were trying to convince himself. "Of course, it only took Angelus showing up just once, over 100 years later and I lost her again. Just like that." He snapped his fingers, and Buffy, under the hypnotic spell of his voice, jumped a little.

"And the dream?" she prodded gently.

"The box of course. You don't forget what it feels like to be trussed up in a tiny, dark box and forgotten, not knowing if anyone is ever coming back for you and knowing that as an immortal you could suffer there for a long, long time, mostly starved to oblivion but still conscious."

She shivered and hugged him tighter. He burrowed against her, seeking her heat.

"The silence...." his voice trailed off. "More than anything, even the hunger, was the loneliness. I hate being alone."

Buffy felt a tear trickle down her cheek and into her ear. She sniffed as quietly as she could and cleared her throat.

"You won't ever be alone again," she promised him. "You have me now. And, not to bash your ex, but, I'm sane and able to love you back."

He laughed softly and nipped at her belly. "Enough scar baring now, all right, love? Let's have a little less talk and a little more fun around here." He growled and plunged down between her thighs. Within a minute all thoughts of abusive sires and absentee fathers flew out the window of her mind, and all that was left were waves of bliss....bliss.....blisss......

        *********

Buffy went to class. Buffy met Riley. They went to the Espresso Pump for a pair of lattes. They talked about class. They talked about Iowa and L.A. and old friends they'd left behind. Riley smiled. Buffy laughed. The coffee was good. When they stood to leave, Riley slipped a breath mint in his mouth then bid her goodbye with a minty fresh kiss. How considerate. And Buffy wondered, as she closed her eyes and tasted him, what was the matter with her. Why was she jonesing for the flavor of nicotine and booze with just a tinge of coppery blood beneath it? Why, even though he was quarterback sized, did Riley seem so fragile and insubstantial? Why did her hands long to be touching whipcord muscles, sinewy and strong, full of coiled energy? In short, what the HELL was wrong with Buffy?

From the moment she entered Giles' house this morning, she had been aware of Spike's presence buzzing all over her skin like a low-grade fever. And it was more than the usual Slayer-sense, alert to the presence of a vamp in the area. As the day went on, and she tried to ignore the sensation, it had only gotten worse. She wasn't anywhere near Spike now and she could still feel him. Not just feel him, she actually ACHED for his touch. It was so creepy. The rings! Had to be.

Well, until Willow or Anya came up with something to fix this mess, Buffy would just have to deal. She shoved the unmentionable feelings back down into a tiny lock box deep inside her where they belonged and headed to the library for some serious study time to save her from failing World Lit.

        ********** Much later............

It was the deepest, stillest part of the night.....or it would have been if Harris weren't snoring hard enough to shake the foundation of the house. Spike sat, bound to a ratty easy chair with rope. As if that would hold him if he really wanted to break free. He looked over at his host, sprawled across the sofa bed. Stupid wanker! He would be the first to die when Spike got his chip out.

Spike sighed and closed his eyes again, trying to unfocus and drift away, but after a day of doing nothing but sitting and watching telly, he was full of energy and the urge to maim and kill. It wasn't natural for a vamp to be falling asleep at....he glanced at the glowing red numerals on the clock....3:30 in the morning. He felt all itchy and hungry and.....horny.

Memories of what he'd been doing night before last at this time flowed through his mind unbidden. Hot skin, tangled limbs, wet tongues, stroking hands, slippery flesh strobed in his head. He groaned quietly almost FEELING the sensations in his body. If he grew any harder he was going to burst right there in his pants like some tight-assed virgin choirboy sneaking a gander at daddy's 'Playboys'. Gotta redirect the attention.

But when you're sitting, strapped to a chair in the middle of the night in a strange house with nothing else to occupy your attention, and your dick is straining against the buttons of your jeans until it's downright painful, and the object of your desire is probably curled up sleeping like a fluffy blond angel in her warm, Buffy-fragrant sheets, maybe shifting a little, opening her pretty rosebud of a mouth and exhaling softly, brushing a hand across her cheek and furrowing her brow as a nightmare disturbs her rest, or maybe even dreaming of YOU and starting to moan low in her throat with desire and maybe touch herself down between her legs in her sleep, it's hard. What's hard? Spike had totally lost track of the first part of his musing and ended up focusing on the 'hard'. And it WAS hard. Really, really hard, and.....oh bugger. He had to get out of here.

He eventually drifted off into restless sleep, and in the even deeper reaches of the night - nigh on to morning - the Gentlemen's work began.

The night passed. A new day dawned. And the people of Sunnydale awoke.....mute.

To be continued.....

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