"Golden Bands to Bind Them", part 4 by BonnieD (Previously, Buffy/Spike got hitched in Vegas due to Willow's spell and have immovable wedding bands on their hands. The AU keeps getting twistier as I try to incorporate new facts into the regular canon of "Hush". Again, you may see situations deleted or condensed to fit my needs.)

Spike woke with someone shaking him, then striking a sharp blow to his head.

"What the hell?" he tried to yell. His eyes opened to find Harris' face, inches away, screaming soundlessly at him. Obviously from the lad's expression he was blaming Spike for something or other.

"What?" he began again, but there was still no sound. A light dawned. They must be under a spell. The little red witch had been at it again. Damn lucky he hadn't woken to find himself in bed with the stupid blighter. Spike glared, as the kid kept shaking him by the shoulders, and looked meaningfully down to his bonds.

Harris took a step back, realizing Spike couldn't have caused this, then rushed for the phone. The vampire rolled his eyes at the idiocy inherent in the act and smirked at the boy's reaction when he realized phones were useless without a voice.

Xander dressed quickly, untied Spike, and dragged him off to the Watcher's house again. Giles ushered them in and soundlessly introduced his lady friend, holding up a scribbled note that read, "Olivia."

Then Buffy and Willow arrived, wearing matching signboards. When Xander pointed at the witch and raised his eyebrows, she shook her head furiously and wrote, "It wasn't me!" on her board. Meanwhile, Buffy was writing quickly and held up her message, "It's all over town." She caught sight of Spike and he dropped his gaze, afraid she could read his fantasies from the previous night on his face. But the moment she bent her head to write an answer to a question from Giles, his eyes were right back on her. He wondered how anyone could possibly look so perky and sunshiny and altogether mouthwatering so early in the morning.

Harris discovered that the television news broadcast from outside Sunnydale was operational, and they all listened to the announcer explain that in addition to the bizarre, phenomenon of mass laryngitis infecting the town, there had been a rash of murder/mutilations the previous evening, in which the victims' hearts were removed. A practicing Aztec cult was considered a possible culprit.

As the rest of the gang managed to chatter without sound, pens and markers flying across paper and the signboards, Olivia began to sketch something. She tapped the table to get their attention then held up a drawing of a grinning, skull-faced creature and pointed toward the window. "Last night," she wrote under her drawing.

Giles scrambled for his books. The rest of them made excuses to take off; Buffy announcing that she'd go to the crime scenes, Willow valiantly heading off to class in case anyone else showed, and Xander pointing out that people still need to eat pizza even in the middle of a crisis. They planned to meet at the college later in the day.

Spike enjoyed the little scene that followed as Giles tried to explain some home truths about Sunnydale and his purpose there to his pretty girlfriend. Needless to say, she wasn't impressed or overjoyed by his depictions of monstrous stick figures and bloody corpses, and probably you could've added incredulous to the list, but for the fact that she'd now seen an otherworldly resident with her own eyes. It was always such a kick when humans were forced face to face with the knowledge of the underworld that thrived, hidden, all around them. Of course it was an even bigger kick when you saw that realization dawn in their wide-open eyes right before you bit into them. He chuckled silently as he watched them argue on paper, then lost interest and flicked up the volume on the TV for the Springer show.

He must've dozed off because the next thing he was aware of was Giles tying him to the chair. The Watcher showed him a note explaining that he was going to take some information to the Slayer and that Spike had better behave for Olivia, who was apparently babysitting him. Spike rolled his eyes toward the ropes, raised one brow and opened his hands in the traditional gesture, 'Look, no weapons', but the man continued tying square knots with solid tugs. He ended by giving Spike a loaded stare with an upraised finger, 'Behave!', before gathering up some books and what appeared to be a stack of overhead transparencies illustrated by a child. Giles exchanged a polite peck with his still irritated and overwhelmed paramour then headed out.

The moment the door closed behind him, Spike turned his attention toward Olivia, who was looking at him with some trepidation - obviously his fangy status having been revealed to her, and he flipped on his charm switch. He smiled angelically and lowered his eyelids a little. The birds really dug that. Within thirty minutes, although still tied to the chair, a nice warm mug of blood rested on the table next to him, and Olivia faced him across a Scrabble board. She had loosened his forearms so he could manipulate the letters and he was just forming his second word, "stroke," worth 20 points on a double word score. Olivia rolled her eyes. The word itself was innocuous, but coupled with his previous word, "thrust", and a saucy tongue teasing between his pretty white teeth, it took on a whole new meaning.

Two and a half games of Scrabble, and an episode of "Passions" later, Buffy and Giles returned bearing pizza. Xander was right, people too distraught to cook actually do eat more pizza. The discount coupons with a handy list of toppings to circle, which his boss had made him pass out all over town while wearing a cheesy, pizza-shaped signboard, hadn't hurt business either.

From Olivia, Spike had learned that Giles had identified the mysterious strangers in town. Seems they were the living embodiment of some sort of nursery rhyme. They evidently cut out hearts, which Spike could appreciate, and stole voices, which he didn't get at all. The whole thing had been amusing at first, watching the ever babbling Scoobies get frustrated as they tried to communicate in silence, but it had quickly become just deadly dull. Spike missed the sound of his own voice.

Giles gestured Buffy to untie his houseguest and Spike's skin sang like a high tension wire as she bent over him, loosening knots. A tendril of her hair brushed his arm and he swallowed hard. She kept her eyes on her task and far too soon had finished. Still not meeting his eyes, she jumped up and headed to the kitchen for pizza. Spike followed.

        *********

Buffy didn't know what she was doing at Giles' house, perched on the sofa and watching Olivia and Spike pass a dry erase board back and forth. The Scrabble game they'd been engrossed in when she arrived had been abandoned and now it looked like they were having a delightful time sharing memories of the Motherland. Spike was writing one-handed as he stuffed yet another slice of pizza in his face. Olivia looked over to see what he'd written and laughed silently. She took the marker from his hand, added something and he grinned back. Then even Giles joined in, looking over Spike's shoulder and actually smiling appreciatively. Damn Brits with their stupid inside jokes that nobody else thought were funny! Buffy scowled and sipped her Diet Pepsi.

She should just grab a weapon from the chest and leave. That was, after all, the reason she had told Giles she needed to come over. He knew perfectly well she had an arsenal hidden in the trunk in her dorm room, but he didn't question it. So why HAD she come? Buffy looked at the shining blond head bent over the message board. She looked at the ring that glinted on his left hand as he wrote rapidly. She watched his animated face as he gestured toward Olivia, who shook her head and held up four fingers, then two. (What the hell where they talking about?!) And Buffy knew why she had come even though Giles had already shared every scrap of information about the Gentlemen he possessed and all there was left to do was track them down.

The attraction she felt toward Spike was almost primal and as irresistible as positive and negative magnets in proximity. She couldn't have gone through the rest of the day without checking in on him. It had been hard enough yesterday afternoon and evening, and was even harder today. The weird ache in her seemed to be steadily growing instead of dissipating. And the sight of him laughing and shamelessly flirting with Olivia right under Giles' nose, and apparently, totally oblivious to Buffy's presence, was making her crazy! She felt a growl, an actual growl, lurking somewhere down in her chest just waiting to make its way out.

Throwing down the uneaten pizza slice clenched in her fist, Buffy jumped up. Giles, now bent over Spike's shoulder and scribbling his own addition to the board, glanced at her. She gestured toward the weapons chest and he nodded. She took her plate to the kitchen, washed up, selected a blade at random, then cleared her throat to get the others' attention. All three looked up and she smiled, wiggled her fingers goodbye, and nodded her head toward the door.

Olivia quickly wiped the board clean, wrote, "Good Luck!" and held it up for her to see. Giles gave her a thumbs up and a smile. Spike examined his chipped black fingernail polish like it held the secrets of the universe. Buffy left, nearly slamming the door behind her.

It was very early evening, just after sundown. She didn't expect to run across the wacky skull guys for hours yet, but there might be an early- rising fledgling in the graveyard if she was lucky. She really needed to stomp something, soon!

Walking through the silent streets was eerie. Of course there was still traffic noise, air conditioner hum from the houses she passed, and insects seemed immune to having their voices stolen by creepy fairytale folk. But the few people she passed trod silently, listlessly past. A couple of children creaked back and forth on a swing set in their yard, just staring at her as she walked. The weirdest sight of all was a little dog running in circles, yapping soundlessly at nothing in particular. When she got away from town and into the stillness of the cemetery, things started to feel more normal. It was always quiet there. She could always hear the swish, swish of her feet moving through the grass.

As she walked, she unconsciously fiddled with the ring on her finger. It had already become a nervous habit for her left thumb to stroke back and forth across the metal on her ring finger. At first it had been a constant attempt to feel it move, but now it was almost a comfort thing. She forced her hand still.

Suddenly, from a wooded area up ahead, a figure emerged. Buffy froze. The man, in dark commando gear, scanned left and right, but didn't see her. He took off at a run into the heart of the cemetery. She slipped along in his wake like a shadow.

He stopped beside one of the larger mausoleums, unholstered what looked like a stun gun and entered the building. Buffy heard the loud scuffling sound of a fight. Suddenly, from the left came a cadre of four vampires, obviously headed to the crypt, maybe come to pick up their buddies for a night at Willie's. It was pretty clear that commando guy wasn't expecting them.

Buffy hesitated only a second then launched herself at the surprised vamps. She flew into the fight with a kick to one's groin and an elbow to another's face. They both went sprawling. The third stood frozen in front of her, an immovable target, and she drove her stake neatly through his heart. At that the fourth, looking in bewilderment from one pal to another, turned to flee.

Commando guy chose that moment to re-emerge from the crypt. He gave chase and tackled the retreating vampire, knocking her flat. She turned on him like a wildcat, teeth ripping and shredding his Kevlar vest. He raised his arm and drove it down into her face.

Buffy's two vamps were up and at her again. She whirled and delivered a roundhouse kick to one's head, but the other grabbed her foot as it came around and toppled her onto her back. Buffy hit the ground with a solid thud, but a quick handspring later, she was back on her feet. She delivered a series of blows, driving her quarry ahead of her until he was backed against the side of the mausoleum. Her stake entered the monster's chest like a knife through butter, and he dissolved in a rain of glittering dust.

Buffy whirled around ready to face her next opponent and found the soldier had already dispatched his first and was battling the remaining vamp. The creature had the man in a headlock and was punching him in the stomach. When the commando wrenched free, his black hood was torn off and a tousle- haired Riley Finn was revealed. For a split second Buffy and Riley stared at each other, but the last opponent wasn't hesitating. Fangs bared he leaped for Riley's now exposed throat. Buffy, running forward, scooped up the stake she had dropped on the ground and plunged it into the vamp's back. Another shower of pixie dust and the cemetery was suddenly silent, but for the panting of the victors.

Buffy's eyes were huge as she stared at 'average guy' Riley Finn. He was looking repeatedly back and forth from the stake in her hand to her face, as if waiting for the connection to make sense. Just then heavy footsteps could be heard pounding across the ground. Riley looked up sharply then back to Buffy. He motioned to her to take off, opened his mouth to speak, then shrugged his shoulders and spread his hands in an 'I'll explain later' gesture. The thundering herd of commandos was coming closer. Buffy glanced toward the noise, back toward Riley, then at the stand of trees from which she had come. She turned and ran off.

Buffy hid in the woods, watching the team of dark clothed, hulking males regroup and confer. They moved off taking a couple of unconscious vampires from inside the crypt with them. Buffy followed along, keeping a safe distance behind.

Just before the "will be done" spell kicked in two nights ago, Spike had been looking for the air vent from which he had escaped the facility and hadn't been able to find it. Buffy was determined to stick with Riley and his cohorts until they led her their headquarters. It wasn't that she had a problem with scientists operating on vampires to make them harmless, but if a new entity was sharing her slayground she wanted to know who, what and why. Especially, when that group seemed to have government written all over it and one of the members was her new potential boyfriend!

Fifteen minutes of walking brought them to the very back of Sunnydale cemetery which was bordered by a thick woods. The commandos stopped at the base of a little hill, pulled a curtain of interlaced branches aside, punched in an access code and a door slid open in the solid rock. They all entered the dark corridor, Riley pausing before he did so and glancing around as if sensing her presence. The door closed behind them. Buffy guessed there would be a hidden security camera monitoring it and could see there would be no entering without a code, so she simply noted the location so she could find it again, then set off to resume her primary objective for the night - locating the Gentlemen.

The whole opening act of the evening had really taken very little time, and Buffy doubted that her quarry would show itself until much later, so she took a detour to the Espresso Pump. As if her nerves weren't jittery enough from seeing Riley in full army mode, she thought she needed to mainline a jolt of caffeine.

She sipped her double mocha cappuccino with extra foam and thought about men and the way they always lied to you; masquerading as human when they were vampires, sensitive when they were just trying to get laid, and fresh- faced farm boys when they were really special ops. At least Spike, rotten as he was, never tried to appear better, sweeter, or more trustworthy than his nature allowed. She always knew where she stood with good old Spike.

But that wasn't exactly true, was it? If anything, he played a reverse mind game, pretending to be rough, crude, mean and dangerous, when she now knew he had hidden depths of thoughtfulness, caring, gentleness and generosity. So was he still her adversary? Not quite. But he also could hardly be counted a friend. Meanwhile, her body was betraying her and trying to convince her rational mind that he qualified as "lover".

God, Buffy hated when things turned from black and white to numerous shades of gray. It made her head hurt! She crunched down three chocolate dipped biscotti without a pause.

When she had killed as much time as she could at the coffee shop and the night had turned truly black, the Slayer began to walk the town again. She took a sweep through a few of the cemeteries, around the commercial district, the abandoned factories, and the residential areas. Her feet ached and she was totally frustrated, when finally she caught a glimpse of something gliding between the open space between two houses. She ran down the little alley between them and peeked around the corner.

Olivia's drawing had been a faithfully accurate likeness of the otherworldly creature that moved down the street followed by a lackey that jerked along like a poorly operated marionette. The servant went ahead of its master to open the door to a dilapidated building topped by a tower. The Gentlemen acknowledged with a polite nod and the ever-present grin, then smoothly flowed into the building. Buffy, glancing up at the illuminated clock tower (strange, she'd never noticed that building in Sunnydale before!), saw elongated shadows moving back and forth across it. Bingo!!

She waited a few seconds, checking over all her weapons, then entered the building.

        ***********

It was almost 9:30 and Spike was as bored as he'd ever been in his life. Olivia and Giles had left for a date, leaving him tied to a chair yet again.

"That's it!" Spike decided. "Enough being passed around among these berks like a load of laundry. Don't know why I ever thought I needed their help to begin with. All they've done is cause me more trouble, marry me off to the Slayer, and tie me up. Time to get out and find my own digs." It took him all of ten minutes to wriggle free of the ropes that bound him, find his coat, fill its pockets with blood packs from the fridge, and say fare- thee-well to the Watcher's house.

Walking through the dark streets of Sunnydale, breathing crisp, fresh, night air, he felt better than he had for the past two days. It was great to be his own man again! He turned in at Restfield cemetery and began looking for a likely crypt in which to set up housekeeping. With real estate, it was all about location, location, location. Had to be somewhere out of the way so no humans would intrude, but not so desirable that another vamp might come and kick him out. Near some power and water lines would be good. And if it was within a meter or two of a sewer entrance, he could come and go all over Sunnydale as he pleased even on the brightest day. It was a tall order, but Spike felt newly energized and convinced he could find the perfect home.

As he strode jauntily along, he found his thumb running over that sodding ring again. It was like picking at an itchy scab. He just couldn't leave it alone. Spike changed his mind about who he'd kill first when he got the chip out. It would definitely be Willow. The little witch had ruined his life with her mismanaged will-be-done spell.

The funny part was that he wasn't angry about what he ought to be angry about. It wasn't the humiliation of having been forced to play lovey-dovey with the Slayer that pissed him off. Instead he found himself raging because he felt robbed. It was as if he'd had a precious gift dropped unexpectedly right into his hands and before he'd even had a chance to admire it the gift had been snatched away again leaving his hands cold and empty.

He hated to admit it even inside his own mind, but for the first time ever, Spike had experienced true contentment. Snuggled next to Buffy like a pair of puppies in a basket, and talking quietly, had been the happiest moment of his life - human or vampiric. Spike had always been big on concepts like passion, rage, glory, and violence and dismissed the idea of contentment as boring. Now he knew the truth of it and he couldn't go back. Contentment was all happiness, joy and blessed relief combined. In that perfect moment with Buffy, suspended in time, he didn't have to posture and boast or pretend to be stronger than he felt. He just had to BE. It was downright liberating. And now it was gone.

He sighed. This wasn't a night for dwelling. He'd done enough of that over the past two days to last him a decade. Time for action. Ah, there was a likely prospect. He froze in the shadow of a tree as he observed the entrance to an ivy-shrouded, gray stone building. Nothing came or went for a full five minutes. He approached, and the door creaked open at his touch. He froze again. Listened for a heartbeat. Sniffed the air to catch a scent. There was nothing. No one.

He entered the cobweb-draped room, slipping into game face so his preternatural sight could pierce the gloom. A couple of toppled urns were near the door. A sarcophagus was the focal point of the room - perfect for a table or bed. One multi-paned window let in just a little moonlight and was grimy enough that it would also let in very little sun during the day. Just enough to read by. He roamed toward the back of the room and found an opening that led down to another level. It just got better and better!

After pausing and scenting the air again, he jumped down to the bottom floor, which was scattered with bones, rat droppings and a thick layer of dust. Ooh, this would clean up nicely. And when Spike turned around an outcropping of rock and found the opening of a tunnel and smelled the scent of the sewer beyond it, he knew he'd come home.

Leaving the crypt to gather supplies at the junkyard, he took a different route through the cemetery. It wouldn't do to let hidden eyes see him come and go from his new domicile. He'd have to take extreme precautions to keep a low profile in his present vulnerable state. A first night fledgling could kick his ass from here to Sunday the shape he was in. Damn labcoats! Maybe they would be his first meal as soon as he'd forced 'em to remove the chip. Which he would. Oh yes! Somehow he would.

On his way to the junkyard, Spike got sidetracked at Willie's. He'd nicked a twenty from the Watcher's bureau top and so had enough to stand him several pints. It was weird sitting at the bar and hearing nothing but the jukebox. But even in the total silence a pair of Xagrox demon managed to enrage themselves into a fight just by looking wrong at each other, so after all it was a pretty normal evening at Willie's minus the grunting, snorting and cursing of the clientele. By the time Spike left it was well after midnight and he was feeling better and more himself than ever. Just a normal vamp out for a night's stroll. He felt he could take on anything.

As he slipped through the night, he caught something moving from the corner of his eye. His head snapped around and he observed the creepiest thing he'd seen in a long existence full of creepy things. A pair of figures dressed in impeccable suits, with ghastly grins etched across skeletal faces were gliding along, feet poised just above the ground. Capering around them where some kind of Renfieldian minions. They looked like they couldn't pack much of a punch what with the loose-limbed flinging themselves about, but Spike was in no position to find out. He followed along behind, moving from shadow to shadow. If these were the voice- stealers, he intended to find out where they were holed up.

The Gentlemen moved smoothly through the town, occasionally pointing toward a house and conferring together with exaggerated hand movements. They soon met up with another pair sweeping in from the south side of town, also followed by loony looking underlings who appeared a bit bloodstained and disheveled. Odds were it was another heart they had in the box they carried. The four jolly looking death-heads greeted each other silently with nods, then moved on purposefully toward a weather-beaten building topped by a clock tower. Strange, Spike thought, he'd never noticed that in Sunnydale before.

After the bizarre troupe entered the building, Spike stood uncertainly outside it, wondering if he should go get the Slayer and her gang. But the more he thought about it, the more it made him feel like Lassie, and he refused to go running to the Scoobies for help. He followed the Gentlemen inside and crept up the rickety stairway, staying well behind them. There must be some way he could trick these blighters or steal the collective vocal power of the community back and run like hell with it. If he could just observe them undetected, suss out where and how they were keeping it, and...Oof! Spike crashed down the stairs under the weight of one of the footservants who had jumped him from the landing above.

Blow after blow thudded into his face as he twisted and turned under the creature which straddled him. Finally, with a silent roar of rage, Spike vamped out and surged upward throwing his assailant off. He aimed a savage kick to the thing's ribs and prepared for the backlash of pain his head was now conditioned to expect. Nothing! He kicked it again, then ground his heel savagely into its ugly face. Still nothing! With another silent roar of pure joy (and the silence was truly pissing him off now) he launched a full attack on the now cowering creature, whaling on it with all the suppressed fury of the past few weeks.

He hit and hit and hit until he realized the thing's head was a bloody pulp and it hadn't been moving for quite awhile, then he tore off up the stairs to see what more damage he could do to these voice stealing freaks.

Hurtling up the final steps and crashing through the door at the top, Spike found himself suddenly in the middle of a raging battle. The Slayer had beaten him to the party and was working her way through minions like a policeman through doughnuts. The vampire registered the fact that none of the Gentlemen were present, only their puppets, then threw himself into the fight, punching and kicking with abandon.

Part of him was well aware of Buffy's presence off to his left, doing some kind of fancy cartwheel that ended up with her feet on the chest of her opponent. God, he loved to watch the girl fight! A stinging blow to the temple brought his attention back to his own adversary. He ripped into it with his fangs and tore a good chunk out of the creature's throat. It tasted bitter and nasty. He spit the gobbet of flesh and blood out immediately.

As Spike dealt with his next customer, he saw Buffy charge up the flight of stairs which must lead to the inner workings of the clock. He picked the lackey up, broke its spine over his knee, and tossed it aside, then followed the Slayer upstairs.

In the murky shadows, among the cogs and wheels of the clock machinery, the Gentlemen were waiting. Buffy was struggling with a servant as one of the Gentlemen glided toward her, grinning from ear to ear and brandishing a surgeon's blade. Catching Spike's eye, Buffy furiously gestured toward the table. He scanned its surface and saw, amidst the scalpels, knives and other sharp, heart-removing instruments, a decorative box.

He nodded, grabbed one of the table legs and tore it off, causing the objects on top to scatter across the floor, he located the box again in the corner of the room, then bashed it to smithereens with the table leg. Immediately he felt a funny stricture in his throat, as if he'd swallowed a vampire's worth of dust. He coughed and a quiet little, "Hey!" came puffing out.

Buffy, twisting free of the last minion and snapping its neck in the process, opened her mouth and SCREAMED! She screamed at decibels that had dogs two towns over howling in pain. Spike covered his ears. The Gentlemen clutched at their heads and began to quiver and shake in a fascinating way until...whump...whumpwhump...whump. Their heads exploded like overripe tomatoes.

Goo spewed out of their gaping neck holes. The slime reminded Spike of that Nickolodeon show, not that he'd ever watched it or anything. The bodies collapsed like falling dominoes. And, finally, Buffy stopped screaming.

Spike blinked as he looked around. He shook a streamer of slime off his coat. He exchanged bemused stares with Buffy. Then he began to laugh. He threw his head back and roared with laughter. The cumulative strain of being bewitched twice in the past few days, harboring unmentionable feelings toward the Slayer, and the release of finding he could kill again, combined with the hilarious sight of the Gentlemen popping like so many pimples, all drove him into near hysterics. He laughed 'til tears streamed down his face.

Meanwhile, Buffy rose from her crouch on the floor and meandered over to where the Gentlemen lay. She toed one distastefully with the tip of her shoe. Then she looked over at Spike, shaking with laughter and wiping at his eyes. She shook her head and sighed.

"You are one sick puppy, Spike."

"And you...have got one good set of lungs on you." His gaze dropped from her face to her breasts. "Course, I already knew that," he said with a leer.

She rolled her eyes at his lame pun, then walked toward the illuminated face of the clock and peered up at it. "Hey!" She started to turn toward him. "How did you end up here anyw......." The rotten wood of the floor gave way beneath her weight. Her body broke through, as her hands flailed uselessly at the air.

For a split second, Spike froze, trying to process what he was seeing. Then he threw himself down in a full body sprawl across the floor, trying to keep his weight away from the hole, and reached for the Slayer. He grabbed her wrist in one hand as she disappeared below floor level.

In that brief moment, a myriad of thoughts burst through his head. How had the floor collapsed under Buffy's slight weight? Her wrist in his hand felt as thin and delicate as bird bones. Why the hell was he saving his mortal enemy? Oh right, his life was temporarily connected to hers by the ring....maybe. Besides, the Slayer deserved to die in battle, not like this. Not from a stupid fall from a tower. It wasn't fitting. And wasn't her skin warm under his hand? Didn't it feel great? Her little head bobbing up above the edge of the floor was so golden and fine. And her wide hazel eyes, when they met his, told him she had perfect faith that he would be able to do it - to pull her up.

He gritted his teeth and yanked even harder on her arm, hauling her body halfway out of the hole. She reached out for him and he grasped her other wrist in his right hand and pulled with a harsh grunt. It wasn't that this slip of a girl was heavy, but the angle was awkward and the floor was crumbling away.

With a last heave, he pulled her out and scrambled backward pulling her body over the warped boards and into his arms. The floor creaked ominously. They froze, wrapped around each other, and waited to see if they would both crash through. A few seconds passed. Nothing happened. Spike could feel Buffy's heart pounding in her chest, pressed so tight to his that it felt as if his own heart was beating.

She lay in his arms heaving huge gasping breaths, and he could feel every inch of her right through his clothes; warm, pulsating, alive. The way his body was buzzing with adrenalin made him feel as if he were living, too. Spike froze, afraid to move so much as a muscle lest he break the spell.

Buffy lifted her head off his shoulder and pulled away a little. He felt physical pain at the separation and a stab of disappointment. Then her face was filling his sight, her beautiful eyes were his universe, and she was moving toward him. He let his own eyes drift shut and opened his other senses; smelling her hair, hearing her sharply indrawn breath, feeling the skin of her forearms sliding under his hands, and finally tasting....tasting her soft mouth sliding across his.

Her lips brushed over him, soft as a butterfly at first, and he responded just as delicately. Little nibbling kisses that fluttered around the edges of something much stronger and deeper. Then her tongue darted out and stroked lightly, teasingly over his lips, and the dam broke. His hands clutched convulsively at her arms, her body, stroking down her back, grasping her hips, wandering everywhere he could reach, while his mouth devoured her hungrily.

Buffy crushed against him just as desperately, her hot tongue sweeping the inside of his cool mouth, one hand bunching up his shirt in a firm grip, the other cradling the nape of his neck and pulling him into an even deeper contact. Spike growled and pushed against her where she straddled his lap. She ground into him with her pelvis, and pulled her panting mouth away only to trail kisses down his jaw and neck. She lapped across his collarbone and he squirmed beneath her.

"Oh, Buffy," he moaned, and at the sound the enchanted moment was broken. She sat up and stared at him, then down at her hands half pushed up under his shirt, caressing his stomach. She pulled them back as though burned.

"Oh my god. What am I doing?" she murmured, then slid off his lap and bolted down the stairs of the tower.

To be continued....

"Golden Bands to Bind Them", part 5 by BonnieD

AU from "Something Blue" through "Hush". Buffy/Spike have wed and to their chagrin, have matching immovable wedding bands. Buffy has discovered Riley's secret identity, and Spike has discovered his ability to fight demons and his new home, the crypt. Also, they shared a post-spell kiss (Buffy and Spike that is, not Spike and Riley.)

Whew! What a relief to be back on dialogue. It was very difficult to do the last installment. Action is the worst to write. Thanks again to all who leave reviews, it gives me the confidence to keep on going.

        *********

Spike sat stunned and shaken by his encounter with Buffy, long after she'd run away. He listened to the wind whistle through the cracks in the walls of the tower room, a high keening wail that matched his mood, and felt the building sway slightly. He considered that the rest of the floor might give way and he'd better get his ass moving before it did since there was no one to pull HIM back from a long fall. But still he sat there, trying to wade through the morass of emotions that roiled through him.

If his feelings were a pie chart, lust would be the biggest wedge. His body was still sparking with electrical flashes from Buffy's kisses. Not to mention the tremendous hard-on that refused to die. Anger was another big slice. He was furious at finding himself so out of control and wanted to punish someone or something for it. Fear was right behind the anger, whispering that this whole thing was not going to end well for him. Confusion, desperation, and, strangely enough, joy, all warred within him. He was thrilled that Buffy seemed to want him as much as he wanted her, and he despised himself for being thrilled, and he despised her for making him feel this way.

He wanted to go after her, throw her down and claim her as his woman. He wanted to run away from Sunnydale and never face her again. He wanted to bite her hard and deep, suck up that exquisite Slayer blood as she begged for her life. He wanted to worship at her feet, protect her and serve her and kill any other male who so much as looked at her. And he wanted to know everything about her, to curl up in bed with her and listen to anything and everything she wanted to share with him.

Spike actually whimpered his confusion. Then he shook his head and tried to snap out of his fugue. He jumped to his feet - carefully - and made his way down the stairs from the tower, muttering to himself, "Just a girl. Any girl would do. It's not like it means anything." Maybe he'd find Harmony again. Work this sexual tension out. His thumb scraped over the ring, which was tightened around his finger like a noose. "Just this ring doing it. It means nothing. Nothing! Get the ring off and I'll be right as rain."

        ********* Buffy hit the bottom of the stairs and kept on running, out of the building, down the street, through the sleeping town, and toward the safety of her own bed, as if all the monsters in Sunnydale were chasing her. She knew she should go back, recapture Spike, find out if it was more than monsters he could attack. But she couldn't have faced him again if her life depended on it.

"Oh god!" As she ran, one hand lifted unconsciously to her lips. She had kissed Spike! SHE had kissed HIM first! And she'd LIKED it!!! No Willow spell. No excuses. Just pure Buffy lust, mixed with some other even scarier emotions which she was NOT going to explore.

"And don't forget," another piece of information surfaced in her brain and waved its hands around to get her attention. "Riley's one of the commando guys! Iowa boy's been keeping secrets from you. So that's two big things, right? You kissed Spike and Riley's a big liar! Wow, Buffy, you know how to pick'em!"

"Shut up," Buffy snapped at her brain and kept on running.

"So what are you going to do, huh?" her mind persisted. "Punch Riley in the face, and stake Spike? That'd take care of 'em!"

"It's the ring. It must be the ring," Buffy muttered, clutching at a stitch in her side as she ran. "It's the only explanation. He just saved me to protect himself, and we're only attracted to each other because of the stupid bonding thingy. We have GOT to find a way to get these rings off!"

"What about Riley, though? What about that? Whatya gonna do, Buffy, huh? What?" her brain clamored.

"Shut up. Shut up! SHUT UP!" Buffy mentally screamed, then channeled Scarlett O'Hara. "I'm not going to think about that right now. I'll think about that tomorrow."

        ***********

The phone ringing woke Buffy from the deep sleep she had finally achieved after several restless pre-dawn hours of tossing, turning and thinking, thinking, thinking. When she had returned to her dorm from the clock tower the night before, she had told Willow and Xander everything that happened with the Gentlemen, minus the kissing Spike finale. Then she had called Giles and repeated the story, also skipping over her encounter with Riley and the commandos in the cemetery. Of course, everyone wanted to know why she had let Spike go and if he could attack humans again and how she planned to find him again. She had lied and said he slipped away too fast, glossing over the part where he saved her from falling.

Xander left and Willow chattered at Buffy for awhile just because she could. Buffy had almost been tempted to share her troubles with her friend. Nothing like a little late night girltalk to relieve your burden. But she decided she'd better discuss it with Riley first and find out the whole scoop on the commandos. And about the Spike thing?.....well, it was just too embarrassing to share, even with Willow. Finally Willow had turned off her verbal faucet and allowed Buffy some blessed silence in which to; A. toss, B. turn, and C. think, think, think.

Buffy jerked awake by the loud ringing, snatched up the phone and croaked, "Hello?"

"Hi!" came the familiar, warm voice from the other end of the line. "It's Riley. Um. About last night. We need to talk."

"Yes, we do," she replied, coolly.

"Could we meet? In an hour? In the quad? By the fountain?"

"Want me to synchronize my watch?" Buffy asked dryly. "And is there a secret code word I should know?"

Riley paused.

"Military joke," Buffy explained, and as the pause continued, "Never mind. Sure. That'd be fine. I'll see you there." She hung up, noted that Willow had already left for class, noted that she had missed hers again, got up to take a much needed shower, and didn't think about Spike.

She didn't think about Spike all through the shower and her morning yogurt. She didn't think about him while she chose her perfectly coordinated outfit and accessories for the day and applied her makeup. And she didn't think about him as she walked across campus to where Riley was pacing nervously in front of the fountain.

She did think of him when Riley started to explain to her about the Initiative, but in a clinical way, so that was okay.

"So your.....organization.....rounds up demons instead of killing them and uses them for lab rats?"

"I guess....yeah....that pretty much covers it."

"I see. And you were going to tell met this, when?" Buffy raised an eyebrow.

"Well......never. It's a covert operation," Riley stumbled over his words. "That's the whole point, secrecy,.....and wait a minute, why am I the only one answering questions here? What were YOU doing in the cemetery fighting vampires? How can you hit like that?! You're so little, and......" He paused and lowered his voice. "Are you, like, genetically engineered or something? Is there another unit that's even deeper undercover than......"

Buffy held up a hand. "Don't hurt yourself. It's not that complicated. I'm.....the Slayer."

After repeating this several times, and explaining what it meant twice, Buffy thought she was going to have to break out some Giles-style graphic diagrams in order for Riley to understand. Then suddenly a light went on and a brilliant smile stretched across his broad face.

"A superhero!" he exclaimed. "You're like Spiderman....er...woman. Created to save the world from evil. I get it!"

Buffy couldn't help but return a smile at his obvious delight. Besides, it was the first time she'd ever thought of herself as a superhero. Usually 'mutant freak' were the words that came to mind.

"Well.....I guess. Something like that," she admitted.

"Wow!" Riley was nodding in satisfaction. "I should've thought of it before. If demons really exist then it stands to reason there would be forces of good to match them."

"Uh, just one really." Buffy blushed. "That'd be me. "The" Chosen One."

Riley shook his head. "Wow," he said again. "This is a lot to process.....for both of us."

She nodded agreement. "I really can't wrap my mind around the idea that the government is not only aware of demons, but actually has secret science labs in Sunnydale. How could I not have known this?"

"We're a relatively new branch of special ops. Finally got our funding approved," he explained.

"And how could you construct something so massive right under a college campus without people noticing?"

Riley opened and closed his mouth, then shrugged, not quite understanding the logistics of that himself.

"AND....," Buffy tapped her finger on his chest, "....does this mean that the Roswell and Area 51 thing is more than a myth? First it's vampires and demons, then aliens, what'll it be next, angels among us?"

"Already are. That's you," he answered, fingering a strand of her hair. He paused, choosing just the right words, "Buffy, I think..... I think it doesn't have to be a problem. We didn't exactly start out on the best foot for a relationship.....keeping secrets and all, but we didn't exactly lie to each other either. And now that it's all out in the open, the possibilities are.......This could be really good between us! We have more in common than I ever dreamed. We're perfect for each other!"

Buffy backed away a few steps. "Whoa. Like you said, this is a lot to process. I'm....I need to think.....I mean, I like you, Riley. I really do. At least I liked who you said you were, but that's when I thought you were a normal guy."

"I am a normal guy!" he interrupted.

"I'm sure you are," Buffy's voice rose a little in frustration. "But you're not the kind of normal guy I thought you were. And really, really normal - plain as vanilla ice cream - was what I was looking for. I have enough bizarreness in my life already...."

"I'm vanilla ice cream!" Riley insisted. "Everything I told you is the truth. Born and raised in Iowa; parents, Martha and John; three brothers; a Golden Retriever named Barney - all of it. And I really am Maggie Walsh's teaching assistant. It's just that she's also my superior. Look, Buffy, all this army stuff doesn't make me less of an average Joe, it makes me...."

"G.I. Joe," she completed. "I do get it, Riley. But I still need time to consider everything."

Riley stopped arguing and nodded. "All right. You're right. We don't have to make a commitment this minute." He took her hand and looked deep into her eyes, as sincere and sweet as only Riley Finn could be. "But, Buffy, please think about what I've said. We really do seem destined for one another." He smiled at her again and gave her hand a little squeeze. "See you in class tomorrow?"

"Of course." He released her and she turned to leave, then paused, "Uh, Riley?"

"Yes?"

"You know your secret's safe with me. I won't tell Willow or....anyone. Can I count on you to do the same for me? Will you tell Professor Walsh....?"

"Not if she doesn't ask, and she won't. I won't exactly be breaking orders by not sharing intelligence about "The" Slayer, and I'm sure you'll be ready to tell her yourself....soon. So it will only be temporarily shelving information. You can count on me, Buffy."

She smiled and nodded, then hurried off across campus to see if she could make it to her second class of the day. And as she dozed off in the classroom, she didn't think about Spike. Not once.

        ***********

When Spike finally made it down from the tower, Buffy was long gone, which was good - very good. There were still a few good hours of night left, so he decided to continue on his way to the junkyard to see what salvageables he could secure for his crypt.

A couple of hours later, arms overflowing with scavenged loot, he banged open the door of the mausoleum with a hard kick. He dumped the lot on the floor in the center of the room. Decided he'd sort it out later, and that it was time for a nip of the blood he'd rescued from the Watcher's refrigerator. He vamped out, bit in, and sucked it right out of the bag. Ugh! Nasty stuff, pig's blood! But at least it was room temperature from being in his pocket all night. Nothing was worse than ice cold from the fridge. Enough to give you a headache and turn your stomach, both.

Spike swept cobwebs and dust from the top of the bier with the arm of his coat and stretched out to sleep. He lay there, making plans for home improvement and NOT thinking about Buffy as he drifted off. The morning waxed. The sun rose higher. It crept through the grimy windows of the crypt and across the floor, casting a dim glow of light over the sarcophagus. It wasn't enough to burn a vamp, but it made Spike frown and roll over in his sleep and begin to dream.....

Buffy was lying on the beach in a white bikini. She was stretched out, face up, on a blanket, with the ocean's waves just lapping at her toes. Her hair was fanned around her face, sun-streaked as a lion's mane, and the white crocheted material of the bathing suit contrasted with her golden tanned skin. Her body was phenomenal and Spike felt short of breath just from watching her lay there sunning herself.

He was under a boardwalk or something, peering out at her like a lecherous old man. The sunlight was so close he felt himself steaming. He tried to draw further back in the shadows, but there was nowhere darker to go. Then Buffy woke up, rolled over on one elbow, looked at him, beckoned him to come join her. She held up a bottle of tanning lotion. Spike, already imagining his hands slicking over her bare skin, groaned in frustration. He took a step toward the light and the tip of his boot began to sizzle.

"I can't, love. I'm stuck here," he called out.

She just smiled and waggled the bottle of lotion at him; struck a pose like a 1950's pinup girl on the blanket; leaning back on one hand, chest thrust out, hard, smooth stomach inviting his touch. He inched his foot into the sun. The boot burst into flames. Spike pulled it back into shadow quickly and doused the flames in the sand.

"I CAN'T!" he practically wailed. "Please, Buffy, come here. Come into the dark with me."

She pouted her bottom lip provocatively. He licked his own parched lips and gazed at her hungrily. Then suddenly, she abandoned the teasing attitude and her hazel eyes welled with tears. Finally she spoke, "Why won't you trust me, Spike? It's beautiful here. It couldn't possibly hurt you. Just take little steps and you can make it."

"All right then." Spike closed his eyes, tensed his shoulders, took a deep breath, cursed a blue streak, and hurtled out into the sun, across the sand. He ran full tilt toward her. Should've been there by now. His eyes opened and Buffy was even further away - almost a quarter mile across the burning sand.

And then he was on fire. He could feel it eating him away from the inside out, turning him to ash as he ran.

"Can't do it, Buffy! I'm not ready! Can't......" his cries rose to a scream as he evaporated into nothing and.....

Woke with a strangled sob. He was shaking. Would've been gasping and sweating if he were human. For a moment he forgot where he was, had to look around the sun-warmed stillness of the crypt to place himself. Oh right, new digs. He watched the dust motes floating in the pale beams coming through the grimy windowpanes.

Already the urgency and details of the dream were fading. Something about the Slayer in a bikini. Where was the nightmare in that? Spike sat up, jumped off the stone surface, found his coat and rummaged in the pocket for a cigarette. He popped one in his mouth, flicked open his lighter, and was momentarily transfixed by the little flame. There had been fire in his dream, too.

He stood there until the lighter grew almost too hot to hold, then shook himself out of his reverie, lit up and drew a long, soothing lungful of smoke. No matter. It was just a dream. Perhaps he'd better take his daily rest in the nice, dark lower level of the crypt. Safer, anyway.

        ********* Anya's current favorite human television program was "Murder She Wrote." In it, a very clever and quite liberated elderly woman went around solving mysteries that no one else could figure out. She succeeded while the male dominated law force fumbled around uselessly. Anya appreciated that.

Today, with her voice firmly in place, Anya was on a mission. She had already laid the groundwork in her investigation the very afternoon Buffy and Spike had returned from their quite amusing honeymoon in Vegas. While the others, namely Willow, were wasting their time looking up information on H'rassee demons or going on picnics, Anya had gone straight to the source.

Xander had kissed her goodbye before going to his low-paying, service job, and Anya had headed for Clem's pawn shop to find out how the wedding rings had come into his possession. Anyone who watched or read mysteries knew that was the proper way to go about solving a problem. Begin at the end and work your way back to the beginning.

Anya was a little disappointed when the floppy-eared Clem didn't require any trickery or persuasion to reveal that an H'rassee artisan, who had needed quick cash, sold him the pair of rings. The bands sat gathering dust for over a year, because, really, who wanted to be THAT closely joined to their significant other. When Spike had come to his shop late at night looking for a cheap but tasteful pair of rings, Clem had jumped at the opportunity to unload the things.

Clem provided Anya with a description of the jewelry-maker and said that he'd still seen the guy around town occasionally. He was evidently hiding out in this dimension from whatever he had been escaping in his world.

The resourceful sleuth had then summoned her old friend, Halfrek and asked for her aid in locating the H'rassee and, if necessary, roughing him up a little. The voice-stealing Gentlemen had caused a temporary delay in Anya's plan, but today, with her voice restored, Anya was armed and ready to find this H'rassee and take him down. She would force him to reverse his crazy ring spell and, in the process, prove to the others what a viable and valuable part of the group she could be. It was no good being Xander's girlfriend, but ignored by his close friends. She would MAKE them like her.

"Honestly, dear, I don't see why you care," Hallie was saying, as the two walked the hall of a boarded up apartment building. "I mean, it's a stretch but I can almost understand your attraction to the human male you've chosen. After all, that's a biological imperative, and you can't help it if you're a slave to the needs of your human body. Poor thing. But, trying to please his friends? I just don't get it!"

"Neither do I," Anya sighed. "My logical mind knows I shouldn't care what a pack of humans think, but I get an itchy, uncomfortable feeling when they talk all around me as if I wasn't there. I feel compelled to get them to notice me. It's very unsettling."

She knocked on a door. They heard scrabbling and bumping noises from within, then footsteps heading for the back of the apartment. Anya tried the door. It was locked. Hallie teleported them inside just in time to see a greenish, scaly, but definitely humanoid demon heading for the window that led onto the fire escape. Hallie pointed a finger and the window closed with a decisive 'bang'. The H'rassee spun around and raised his hands in surrender.

"Don't kill me!" he begged. "I'll get the jewel! I'm working on it. Just give me a little more time. I'll find it."

"We're not here for that, buster," Anya stalked up to the trembling creature and gave him a push that sent him sprawling on the floor. "You're a H'rassee jeweler, right?"

He nodded, gulping.

"Well, you're in big trouble! You've got the Slayer on your tail."

"The Slayer?! What'd I....? How could......?"

"Your wedding bands. She's got one stuck on her hand, so you better spill right now. Tell me how they work and how to get them off, or else." Anya kicked him in the side, then looked over her shoulder at Hallie and gave her a big smile. She was enjoying the role of tough cop.

"I.... They don't COME off. That's the point. My people believe in a lifetime commitment to their lover. The rings are the outward symbol of that. The can't be removed."

"But the wearers aren't psychically connected?" Hallie asked.

The artisan shook his head.

"Then what happens if one of the life partners dies?"

"The bond is broken and the rings dissolve," he answered.

"Hm. Your dimension must have a very high murder rate," the vengeance demon commented.

"Not at all." The H'rassee rose and assumed a somewhat defensive tone. "We truly believe in love. When we make a commitment we never give up on the relationship."

"So where's YOUR wedding ring," Anya commented.

"I haven't been lucky enough to find my soul-mate yet," he said sadly.

Anya lost interest and turned her back on him. "Do you know what this means, Hallie? All I have to do is tell the others. Buffy can stake Spike, and it will all be over! Then they'll appreciate me and tell me what a great job I did and the girls will invite me to the next makeover party they have."

"One little problem, sweetie," Halfrek pointed out. "From what you say, the Slayer seems hesitant to damage creatures who can't defend themselves. Killing the vampire may not be an option." She pointed at the H'rassee, who had been sidling toward the open door as they spoke. "I think a better plan would be for this nice craftsman to FIND A WAY to reverse whatever incantation he's put on his work." She bestowed a brilliant smile on him and his shoulders slumped in defeat.

"There might be a counter-spell....." he admitted.

"Then get to work!" Anya commanded, giving him another shove just because she could. "I wanna see some results and fast or you'll be swimming with the fishes." Gangster movies were Anya's second favorite thing to watch on television.

        ***********

"Another night, another patrol," Buffy thought. "Even the most action- packed job can sure get boring after you repeat it enough times."

She strolled along in that meandering way that lulled attacking vampires into thinking she was a safe victim. But though she appeared unfocussed, her attention was always on and tuned toward everything that moved around her. Right now, for example, she could hear on the other side of that low stone wall, the sound of someone moving, carrying something very heavy, probably a dead or injured body.

Buffy ran, launched herself over the wall and landed on the perpetrator of the noise.

"Hey! Bloody hell!!" The body beneath her felt way too familiar and Buffy scrambled off as fast as she could. She looked from the sprawled vampire to the.....armchair?!....she had made him drop, and back again.

"Spike!" She managed to spit out the name with all the venom and scorn it deserved. "What are you up to now? Stealing furniture from......Angel's mansion!!!! That's Angel's armchair!"

"He's not using it. All the good stuff's already been nicked, anyway." Spike turned his back on her and started to hoist up the worn chair with the stuffing trailing out of it. "I'm sure granddad wouldn't mind."

"You can't....."

"Gotta furnish my new home, haven't I?" He heaved the chair onto his back and staggered off. Buffy followed.

"YOU have a home?"

"Nice little crypt sweet crypt. Of course, I probably shouldn't show you where it's at, you being the enemy and all, but.....wanna see it?"

Buffy didn't deign to answer, just sighed and continued to trudge after him.

        **********

When he pushed open the creaking crypt door and stepped back for her to enter, Buffy's Slayer instincts kicked in and she thought, 'This is a trap', but she entered anyway - all senses on high alert. She glanced around the gloomy room and had to smile at Spike's pathetic attempts to spruce it up. He'd torn down most of the cobwebs, but many still fluttered in the draft from the open door. Odds and ends of furniture, rugs, and dishes, all stained, ragged and chipped were set around here and there. A cracked jug of.......flowers! placed on a woven scarf graced the top of the stone sarcophagus in the center of the room. The flickering light that illuminated the place came from an elaborate candelabra, which Buffy also recognized as Angel's, set just under the window where the panes caught the light and reflected it back.

Spike nudged her out of the way as he came through the door and unceremoniously dropped the armchair on the floor with a thump and a grunt.

"Thanks for helping, Slayer. Wouldn't want you to waste your strength on furniture moving when there's evil afoot that needs fighting."

"So this is what's fashionable in netherworld decor." Buffy put her hands on her hips and turned in a slow, exaggerated circle surveying the room. "Very......" She was working on the perfect cutting description, when she caught sight of Spike's almost anxious face watching her. "Uh....nice. Very nice," she concluded lamely, wondering just when she had crossed the line from killing vamps to complimenting them.

Her answer seemed to satisfy him. He shrugged. "It's cozy." Then he started to wrestle the unwieldy armchair to the perfect spot in the room. Buffy found herself grabbing the other side and helping.

When they had moved it to three different positions and Spike was still eyeing the chair critically with his head tilted to the side, Buffy stepped back and crossed her arms.

"Listen. About last night...."

He darted a look at her then waved a hand in the air dismissively. "Forget it."

"Spike, I can't just forget it. I need to know...."

"It was the rings. Just the stupid sodding rings. I know that."

"Huh? No! Not the.....not the kissing thing! I'm talking about you being able to fight again. I need to know that you can't hurt people."

"Well of course I can't bloody hurt people or I wouldn't be standing here talking to you now would I?" Spike glared at her. "I'd be ripping your heart out and serving it on my nice new place setting?"

"Good." Buffy seemed relieved. "Just so we're clear. I don't want to have to stake you, but I'd do it." Then a little frown creased her brow. "How do I know you can't? Am I supposed to take your word?"

A slow, evil grin spread over the vampire's face. His eyes lit with glee. "No. I suppose you can't. Wanna have a go? See what happens?" His relaxed stance tightened and suddenly he was balanced on the balls of his feet, ready to dance out of her way when she struck a blow. His hands were half up, ready to defend, and his eyes were eager.

Buffy couldn't resist. She assumed a similar stance, then darted forward and flicked a fist at his face. He dropped his head at the last moment and she missed. Spike spun around to her left side and came up grinning from ear to ear. "Go ahead. Try again!" he taunted.

She kicked her leg up and he caught it in both hands and tossed her backward. She crashed into the sarcophagus and the pottery went flying, scattering flowers as it went. Looking up sharply, Buffy could see the vampire wasn't clutching his head. In fact, he seemed happier than ever.

"Ooh, Slayer, you're off your game."

She pushed off from the bier and charged low, straight into his stomach, taking them both down to the floor. For the second time that evening he lay prostrate under her. Buffy pulled herself up, straddling him, and aimed a punch to his stupid, laughing face. This time his reflexes were slower and she landed a good one, right on his jaw. His head snapped to the side and a trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth where her ring had cut him.

She tried again with a right cross, but he blocked with his forearm. Then, coiling like a snake, he arched up with his lower body, throwing her off and to the side and twisting until he was straddling her, pinning her arms to the ground on either side of her head. He loomed over her, eyes glittering with malice and lust. Yes, Buffy was pretty sure it was lust since she could feel his hardness pressing right against her pubic bone. She was breathing hard now. He was hardly breathing.

His face lowered closer....closer to hers, until they were mere inches apart. "So what do you think, Slayer?" he whispered. "Can I hurt people?"

She opened her mouth to answer, but all her snappy comebacks failed her. Then she noticed, that his hands, holding her arms, weren't digging in and causing pain. Instead his thumbs were slowly caressing the soft skin of her inside wrists, making little circles that were sending bolts of sensation straight to her crotch. It tickled and tingled, and Buffy wiggled a little under him.

Spike descended the last few inches to her mouth. "It's not us. 's the rings," he muttered the mantra against her lips, then he was kissing her.

To be continued.....

"Golden Bands to Bind Them", part 6

(Sleuth Anya has discovered the rings have no special properties and are merely a symbol of commitment. Spike/Buffy, under the conviction that their emotions are caused by the bands, are carrying on in a horizontal fashion. This section is rated R.)

As Spike's words registered, "It's not us. It's the rings," Buffy felt a great sense of release. Yes, of course, she had no culpability here. Anything that happened was the fault of the rings. From that point on, she stopped thinking entirely and let sensation carry her away.

She felt Spike's lips brushing over hers, tasted blood from the cut she had given him with her fist. Her tongue reached out to lap at the wound, and he held still and let her clean it like a little cat. After a moment, he couldn't contain himself and his own tongue came out to tangle with hers. He pressed his mouth hungrily against hers and explored inside it laying claim to the new territory he'd discovered. They kissed until Buffy was breathless, then Spike pulled back. Supporting himself on his arms, he gazed down at her as if memorizing her. He reached up and brushed a strand of hair out of her face, then leaned in and kissed her some more, nice and slow and deep.

All her senses were narrowed down to this one point of contact, her mouth- Spike's mouth fused together. She kissed him and kissed him, and her body seemed to arch toward him of its own accord. As her pelvis rose up, he pressed down into her, rubbing against her slowly, sinuously.

He knew how to throw all her switches on with a flick of the tongue. She was dripping wet and ready for him already. It was as if her body had been with his forever. She responded to his every cue, every look, sound and touch as if she'd been conditioned to do so.

As his mouth moved from her lips to her throat, he ran his hand down her side, then snaked it in between them to push up her skirt and slip inside her panties. He stroked her delicately, brushing over her clit and making her shudder before plunging his fingers inside her tight, wetness and applying pressure to the sweet spot deep inside. She gasped and rose into it, pumping against his hand until a deep groan curled out of her throat.

The sound of her, "Unnnhhh!" made him crazy. He slipped his fingers from within her, ripped off her underwear, then tore at her skirt. She slapped his hands away and began to wiggle out of the garment. As he fumbled with the buttons of his jeans and pushed them down his hips, Buffy quickly removed her skirt, top and bra, then bunched Spike's T-shirt up toward his chest, her hands sliding over his hard abs. She leaned in and licked her way up that wonderfully chiseled torso, something she had been fantasizing for the past two days.

Spike's stomach jerked under her ministrations. He struggled to remove his shirt, actually getting it stuck on his head for a moment and tearing it away with a roar. Buffy smiled at that as she moved farther up and nibbled his hard, pointy little nipples. He moaned at the contact, and plunged both hands in her hair, cradling her head to hold it to his chest. His hands kneaded the base of her skull and combed through her hair, as he murmured encouragement.

But soon he was guiding her face up toward his again and returned to that deep soul-kissing he delighted in. Buffy was happy to go along. His tongue plunged into her again and again, and she began to feel a little dizzy from lack of oxygen. Had to remember to breath. His hands were roaming freely up and down her body, as if trying to verify her reality by touch. His left hand found her breasts and lingered there, stroking, kneading and toying with first one then the other. Soon he broke off the kissing and let his mouth continue the work his hand had started.

Buffy gazed down at the top of Spike's head, shining in the candlelight, poised over her breast. She watched his lips engulf her nipple, sucking it in deeply, pulling back, then letting it go with a lovely little pop. He smiled and did it again, all the while letting his hand gently minister to her other breast so it wouldn't feel neglected. The sight of him suckling at her like a happy baby, stirred something so deeply primal in Buffy that she shivered from the power of it. Her stomach clenched and her pussy throbbed and ached.

As if aware of every tiny change in her breathing - and he probably was - Spike glanced up at Buffy's flushed face and gleaming eyes. He gave her a knowing grin and, never breaking eye contact, began tonguing and kissing his way down from her breasts, over her ribcage and stomach and down to her thighs. There he stopped to tease for awhile, moving all around his target with whispering kisses and gentle nibbles, building the tension until Buffy was shaking from it.

"Go on, already!" she snapped, which only made him chuckle and take even longer. He lapped up the inside of her thighs and lingered around the edges of her sex, then suddenly drew back. Splaying his hands on either side of her labia and pushing her legs open, he gazed at her laying open before him. Buffy wanted to squirm with embarrassment. No one had ever really looked at her there before, including herself. But Spike leaned in a little, sniffing her scent and letting his eyes fall closed a little as if her musk were the rarest perfume. "Beautiful!" he reverently whispered. And suddenly Buffy FELT beautiful. She had never thought of people-parts as particularly attractive until she heard the absolute delight in Spike's voice upon viewing hers.

Then he bent down and began feasting on her there and she forgot to feel anything but the firecrackers going off in her body.

        **********

When Spike realized, about halfway through, where he was going with the fighting, he surrendered to his id. No point in arguing with sexual attraction so he might as well enjoy the ride. Was all the bloody ring's fault anyway, and that's what he told her right before he kissed her.

The kissing was every bit as good as he remembered. He hadn't been sure if it was the witch's spell that had made kissing Buffy on their 'wedding night' seem special, different from anyone else - ever. And her kiss last night had been so brief and unexpected, he hadn't had time to really think about it, but now he knew for sure. Spike had lived a helluva long time and kissed plenty of people, alive and undead, besides Dru, but he'd never felt anything quite like the depth of emotion that went hand in hand with doing the liplock with Buffy. And that simply had to be a result of the rings. Couldn't be his heart.

He half expected the Slayer to pull back, punch him in the nose and stalk out, but instead, almost before he knew it, they were both naked and he was going to work between her legs with his mouth. Spike had every right to be proud of his lingual skills. His vampiric family had taught him well - all of them. Each wanting things done just a certain way and keeping him at it 'til he got it right. And humans were so easy to read. He could hear Buffy's heart rate elevate every time he hit the perfect rhythm, touched the perfect spot. Made it easy to pleasure her and to back off when she started getting too close to the edge. He was damn sure going to make this last.

But all good things must come to an end, and finally, when the girl was almost weeping from the teasing, he let her take the plunge. She screamed and bucked and grabbed at his head, smashing his face even further into her. Spike was exhilarated. He wrenched away so he could watch her face contort in ecstasy. When her eyes finally fluttered open and met his, he grinned.

"Like that?" he asked, as he crawled from between her legs, up her body.

She let out a shuddering sigh in answer, and he laughed, then leaned in to kiss her lightly on the mouth.

"But you're still....what about....." she stammered, when he pulled back, "Do you want me to....um, return the favor?" She was moving her hand toward his throbbing cock.

He grabbed her wrist, stopping her. "Not this time, sweetheart," he answered. "If your sweet little mouth touched me now, it'd be over in a few seconds. Besides, I want to see you, to be inside you, when I come. All right?"

Buffy nodded, all serious eyes. Spike was charmed by her inexperience. One night with Angel and one with that frat boy, Parker, had only served to stir her juices up and leave her ready and waiting for Spike to finish the job of sexually enlightening her. He was more than willing to do so.

He nuzzled the side of her face, tickled her ear 'til she giggled, and simultaneously nudged his way inside her. He reached down and guided himself in, a tight fit, but well lubed. She was so very ready for him, his cock glided in smooth as ice cream dipped in hot fudge. He waited for a moment, pulsing inside her, for her to adjust and to keep himself from bursting too soon, then began a long, slow draw out. She gasped as she felt his ridges scrape along her channel. Almost completely withdrawn, he plunged in again - a little harder this time. Buffy grunted and tipped her hips up further.

Still moving carefully, Spike withdrew a second time, then plunged again. Her fingernails bit into his shoulders and she gasped. Frowning with concentration now, and trembling from the effort not to come, he continued the slow draw and the quick thrust. Again. And again. And again, as Buffy encouraged him with every moan and cry.

Spike's pace began to pick up as he built toward his climax. "Buffy!" he cried out, and her eyes fluttered open. "Hm?"

"I....want to see you. Look at me. Be with me," he gasped out. "See me."

She gave a quick nod, and when her eyes threatened to drift closed again, she riveted them on Spike's face. Somehow, staring into each other's eyes, which should've felt awkward and strange, only enhanced the intensity of their lovemaking. Unspoken, barely-understood emotions passed back and forth between them. A connection, a bond tied them together as they moved in the ancient patterns of love. As Spike arched over her and drove inside for the last time, he broke the visual contact, eyes rolling up, a strangled moan bursting from his throat. He twined his hands with hers, pinning her arms beside her head. Neither noticed that the gold bands had vanished from their fingers.

        ******* "Is that it then?" Anya asked, peering over the H'rassee's shoulder and watching hazy blue smoke disperse through the light of the flickering candle. "That's an unbinding?"

"I believe so. As I said, I've never been asked to break the spell of the rings before. I'm assuming it worked, but...."

"All right then," Anya was all business. "Here's a little something for your labor. I've recently learned the value of capitalism and no favor should go unrewarded." She extended a small roll of bills toward him. As he reached out, she pulled back her hand, "But....if I find out your spell was ineffectual, my friend will find you again." She jerked her head toward Halfrek, who nodded, smiled, and waggled her fingers at him. "And you won't get off so easy next time."

Anya gave him a poke in the chest for emphasis, tossed the money at him, then nodded at Halfrek. The justice demon struck a pose and with a dramatic flourish teleported them away.

        ******** Two hours later.....

Buffy was in a stupor, so languid and boneless she could barely move. Only her hands, gripping Spike's back and kneading gently, seemed to have any strength. That last one, the culmination of a chain reaction of mini orgasms, had been so powerful she'd actually blacked out for a moment. She wondered if that was dangerous. Maybe these rings, meant for an alien race, were unhealthy for a mortal - even a superhuman one. Could someone die from being oversexed?

Apparently Spike had had a similar reaction, because he was passed out on top of her like a heavy quilt. Buffy had the brief and traitorous thought that if it were Angel resting over her it would be more like an annoyingly heavy bearskin rug crushing her. She glided one hand down to cup Spike's ass and the other up to play with the curling hair at the nape of his neck, and considered that he fit her just right and in more than a physical way. That brief glimmer of insight set off alarm bells that woke her like a dash of cold water to the face.

"It was just the rings," Buffy reminded herself as she came back to full consciousness and the clamoring voices which she had locked in the cellar started screaming at the door. "Couldn't help...." Buffy lifted her hand from where it rested on Spike's backside. Her thumb traced its now habitual path across the base of her ring finger. She froze. Her thumb smoothed over the bare skin again. And again. No ring. Where was the ring? She shoved Spike's limp body off her, and brought her left hand to her face. It was unadorned.

The vampire was moaning and protesting being dumped from her soft, warm body to the hard, cold floor. She quickly pulled his arm out from under him and seized his hand. No ring!

"What's the matter, love?" he asked, muzzily, still sleepy and replete as a well-fed tiger.

"Look!" She shoved their joined hands in front of his face. "They're gone!"

"Huh?" His half-lidded eyes opened wide. He pulled his hand away from her and examined it. Compared it to his other hand. Looked at it again. Rubbed his right hand over the bare skin frantically. "That's impossible! How could it....?"

"And when?" Buffy interrupted. "How long ago? Why were we still....?"

Spike shook his head, frowning. "Doesn't matter. Red must've worked some mojo. Point is, we're free now." He looked from his hand to her face, realized that though he was lying beside her, their legs were still entwined, and disentangled them. They lay facing each other, naked, a chaste foot of space between them. "It's over," he stated, woodenly.

"Yeah." Buffy sat up, looked around for her clothes, blinking, but didn't make a move to get dressed.

"And that last bit," he added, also rising to a sitting position. "It was residual effect or something. Just sex. Not like it meant anything."

"Of course not." Buffy looked everywhere but at his eyes. "Definitely spell related." 'Cause no one normally has orgasms like that! Do they?' she added mentally.

"So...." he paused, scratched at his chest, and did his own bit of looking aimlessly around the crypt. "Back to business as usual. I hate you. You hate me...."

"Right." The Slayer finally rose, somewhat unsteadily to her feet. She didn't even bother trying to cover herself as she wandered around collecting tattered bits of clothing, like the survivor of a natural disaster.

Spike watched her for a second, admiring her body, then snorted and shook his head to clear it, clambered to his feet and retrieved his jeans. He was shoving one leg in, when the Slayer's small voice stopped him.

"Spike?"

"Yeah?"

"You won't..... I mean, you wouldn't .....tell anyone about this, would you? I don't think it's something my friends need to know about." She cleared her throat. "Even if it wasn't our fault. The rings....." she trailed off.

He paused and considered the fun that could be had holding this little incident over the Slayer's head, making her squirm, causing her all sorts of nightmares about what her friends would do if they knew. Then he thought about what her friends WOULD do if they knew, which would probably be to stake him quick as a wink. No, it would be in neither of their best interests if this interlude were revealed. Besides, he had to admit, she had kept his embarrassing secret about the claustrophobia, when she probably would have delighted in seeing him suffer. Best to make a truce here.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he assured her, sliding his other leg into the jeans and zipping up over his sore, much abused cock. Girl knew how to give a workout. "What's done is done."

"Good," Buffy breathed a sigh of relief, stepped into her skirt and pulled it up over her hips. She gazed in consternation at the broken zipper on the side. Spike watched her struggle with it for a moment, then fished around in his box of supplies from the junkyard. He pulled out a length of copper wire, snipped off a piece, and stepped toward Buffy.

"Here. Leave off," he commanded. She dropped her hands. He grabbed the material and worked the sharp wire through it on both sides of the zipper to hold the skirt in place. The back of his hand brushed against the warm skin of her waist as he twisted the makeshift metal fastening. He froze, allowing the contact to continue beyond what was necessary. Both of them were still shirtless. He could feel her warmth radiating toward him in waves. Her right nipple was almost brushing against his arm. From the corner of his eyes, he could see her chest rise and fall as she breathed, and for a moment, he was incapable of movement, then one finger trailed slowly up her side as the flesh beneath it twitched at his light touch.

The moment was erotically supercharged. The air fairly vibrated with awareness. And knowing that their time was over, that there could never, would never be a repeat of what had happened between them that evening, only enhanced the tension. They both felt themselves trembling on the brink of something......something, and if they took the next step, didn't turn away, it would be like falling off a cliff into an unfathomable void.

Spike's hand clenched and unclenched at her waist. He licked his lips, and slowly raised his eyes to meet hers. Buffy returned his stare with that wide-open, deer-in-the-headlights look she was so good at. Her mouth dropped open slightly and her lips glistened. He could hear her heartbeat speed up even further. He leaned toward her slowly, pulled in by those magnificent eyes. Eyes that spoke volumes when her mouth was incapable of speech.

Buffy inclined toward him just as slowly. The moment stretched out like taffy pulled to the breaking point or silly putty faces warped beyond recognition. It would have to break soon or....

Suddenly, an object shifted in the junk box. A metallic clink of something falling into a new position broke the silence. Buffy blinked and pulled back. Spike glanced over at the box then dropped his hand away from her waist. Both drew in big shaky breaths and turned away. Spike saw her shirt on top of the bier, went over and picked it up, and tossed it to her without looking. Then he began picking up pieces of broken pottery while she pulled it on.

She finally located her other shoe and stepped into it, then straightened her clothes as best she could and ran her fingers through her wild hair. She glanced around the dusty crypt to see if she'd missed anything.

Spike stopped fussing with the broken pitcher barely long enough to look up and say, "All right then. See you around, I expect."

The Slayer was suddenly all business. "You stay out of trouble and I'll leave you alone, Spike. But just remember, if I find out that it's more than just demons you can hurt..."

"Yeah. Yeah. I know."

He looked back down at the pile of ceramic shards he had gathered up. Buffy walked toward the door, turned the knob, then stopped in the doorway facing away from him.

"Um..just wanted to say..it wasn't so bad," she mumbled quickly.

There was a long silence, long enough for her to turn ten shades of red and die several deaths from humiliation. Why had she said that? Why?!

"No, pet. It wasn't at that," he finally answered in a gravelly voice. "Look.if you ever need...help with the demon fighting, well, I got nothing better to do, and I'm always up for a good fight." He paused again. "You know where I'm at."

She nodded.

"Course I'd have to have a little something for my trouble. A vamp has needs."

"Of course." Buffy finally ventured a look over her shoulder. "I wouldn't expect anything more of you."

"And I'm not saying I'll stick around forever," he added. "Probably take a tour of Europe or something...just as soon as I get back to my old self again. But for now, I'll be here."

"Okay," Buffy confirmed. She took another step and was through the door.

Spike opened his mouth, raised a hand, but the door had already fallen closed behind her.

He closed his mouth, dropped his hand, took a deep steadying breath. "Well..that was.something," he murmured to himself. "You'll not have one like her in your bed again." A feeling frighteningly akin to the melancholy he'd experienced after Dru deserted him was hovering at the fringe of his mind. "Can't hunt. Can't kill. Got no one and nothing. What are you good for?" his inner voice questioned.

But Spike was a master at avoiding brooding at all costs. "I'll find a way back to myself. And I'll find another bird. This is only temporary. I'm the Big Bad, and I'll be back!" He slammed the windows of his mind shut, drew the blinds, blocked out any ray of Buffy-shaped sunshine that might try to peek in, and went back to organizing his crypt and his new unlife. As he stood in the middle of the empty room, mentally ticking off all the things that needed to be done, he was unaware that the thumb of his left hand was stroking the base of his ring finger over and over.

        ***********

Buffy, ambling home through the cemetery, thought about Riley. "I'll tell him 'yes'," she thought. "Yes, I'd love to be your girlfriend. Yes, we're made for each other. Yes, we'll get past the secrets and find a way to make as normal a relationship as a Slayer and a soldier can have. This is what I need to do," she told herself. "This is what I WILL do!"

She squared her shoulders, lifted her chin and began walking more purposefully, scanning for evil as she marched along. Vampires were hers for the killing. That was her purpose in life, to root out evil and destroy it. Riley would be a perfect partner in that endeavor. She was oblivious to the fact that, while her right hand was fiercely clutching a stake, the thumb of her left hand was smoothing back and forth over her naked ring finger.

        The End