"Still Bound" chapter 4 by Bonnie

Ben/Glory has been eliminated. Undernourished, Buffy fainted and Spike brought her home. This chapter - secrets begin to come out.

Spike, arms burdened with Buffy, kicked the Watcher's front door with heavy thuds. There was a flutter of curtains at the window as someone checked out the unexpected visitor and then the door was thrown open by a wide-eyed Willow.

"What happened? Is she all right?"

"Oh, my god! Buffy?" Dawn came running from the kitchen, dropping her dishcloth. Tara followed behind.

"Lay her over here," Giles commanded, gesturing Spike to the couch where he was already headed. "Where is she injured?"

"Not a scratch on her that I can see," Spike grunted as he gently placed Buffy on the sofa. Miss Light-as-a-Feather had gotten pretty heavy the last couple of blocks, and his injured leg was buckling beneath him.

Giles pushed past the vampire to check over his charge. He felt her limbs for breaks and examined her head for wounds. As Spike had said, there was nothing.

"Maybe something internal," he murmured, resting his hand on Buffy's abdomen. "Or a spell of some kind."

"Maybe," Spike said doubtfully.

Buffy's eyelids began to flutter and she moaned slightly.

"Buffy?" Dawn, who was on her knees beside the couch, pushed her sister's shoulder. "Hey! Wake up!"

"Smelling salts. Have you got smelling salts?" Willow asked, distractedly. Giles fixed her with an incredulous stare.

"Wha-at?" Buffy blinked around at them all. She struggled to sit up, Spike's leather coat sliding off her shoulders.

"Sshh, just rest," Tara soothed, combing her hair back from her forehead.

"Oh, now she's ready to get up, after I haul her halfway across town," Spike complained from where he had collapsed on the floor.

Anya came bustling over with a cup of hot cocoa. "So, where's Xander?" she demanded, as she thrust the cup toward Buffy.

"Anya, not now!" Willow snapped, shooing her away. "Are you okay, Buffy? What happened?"

"I don't know.." Buffy's voice trailed off. "I tripped over something. I'm not sure." She reached toward Anya. "Actually, I could use that, please."

Anya gave Willow a satisfied smirk as she handed over the steaming cup. "Be careful. It's quite hot. I made it myself," she added proudly.

"Yeah, opened the packet and poured it in and everything," Willow muttered, rolling her eyes.

"Of course, it was intended for me, but you can have it," Anya said graciously.

There was another pounding at the front door and everyone jumped. Giles rose from Buffy's side to answer it.

"Holy Moses, it's getting cold out there!" Xander entered, stomping his feet and blowing on his hands. "Feels like fall instead of spring." He took note of the group clustered around the couch where Buffy lay. "What's going on? Are you all right? Did Glory.?"

"No." Buffy waved a hand. "No Glory. No nothing. I'm fine. I guess I just tripped and . hit my head or something."

"No you didn't," Spike said, hauling himself to his feet with the aid of an armchair and then collapsing into it. "No head wound. I think you bloody fainted is what."

"I did not!" Buffy objected furiously.

"You are very pale," Giles noted. "When did you last eat?"

"Hah! Told you not to go without a hot meal didn't I?" Dawn was triumphant. "Do I have to be the mom of us now?"

Tara had already left her post, leaning over the back of the couch, to serve up a plateful of spaghetti and garlic bread for Buffy and another for Xander. Buffy received hers gratefully and began wolfing it down. She looked up at her friends, spaghetti noodles trailing down her chin.

They were still staring at her. She gave them a pointed look, and everyone resumed more natural positions seating themselves here and there around the room.

"So, did you find anything out about the knights, Xander?" she asked between bites, taking the focus off her alleged fainting spell.

Xander gulped down his mouthful of spaghetti, almost choking. "Well I, uh, actually never quite made it to the woods. It was so cold, and I didn't see any of the knights to follow so it seemed kind of pointless and.."

"Stopped in at the bar did you?" Anya asked, arms folded and toe tapping. "With those friends from work."

"I didn't think anyone would mind," Xander said, and then asked Buffy, "Were you out looking for me?"

"No. She was looking for Spike," Dawn explained. "He went off with some half-cocked scheme to beat Glory and she went racing after him like the cavalry."

Now everyone's eyes were on Spike.

"You have something to share?" Buffy demanded. "What did you think you'd accomplish in your condition?" She gestured at his purplish bruised face and arms that almost matched his black T-shirt.

Spike sighed and began the Glory equals Ben explanation again, praying that the cloaking spell had died with the hell-god. When he finished, everyone was staring at him open-mouthed.

"So you're saying Glory is Ben and Ben is Glory," Xander slowly reasoned.

"That's what I've been saying the last two days to your valiant leader here." Spike nodded at Buffy. "And to anyone else who would listen. But none of you could retain it for longer than it takes a hooker to drop her drawers."

"Of course!" Giles said thoughtfully. "I should have known the.."

"Don't even start with the 'I would've figured it out eventually' bollocks," Spike interrupted. "You were just as clueless as the rest. It took me to fix things."

"What did you do?" Willow asked. "Find someone to break the cloaking spell? I could've done that if you'd asked, even if I couldn't see the secret the spell was covering."

"Nope. Better than that," Spike said smugly. "I took care of Ben entirely."

"What does that mean?" Willow looked annoyed.

Spike cocked his head and looked at her meaningfully. "I took care of him."

"What did you do?" Buffy practically whispered, lowering her fork to the plate.

"Hired someone to take him out, and there's the end to your troubles!" Spike announced.

" 'Take him out'? You mean kill him?" Xander was looking appraisingly at the vampire.

"You had Ben murdered!" Willow gasped.

"Well, yeah. It was the only way to get rid of your hell-god neat and easy."

"How do you know?" Buffy's even tone was starting to rise. "How do you know it was the only way? For all we know, Ben was an innocent human, a bystander who couldn't help his connection to that ... creature. Maybe I could have talked to him, reasoned with him, worked with him to find a way to control or diminish Glory. You didn't even consult me!"

"I tried, now didn't I? You weak-minded humans couldn't even wrap your minds around the fact that Ben was Glory so how could I possibly get your opinion on the matter?" Spike paused and then resumed indignantly. "And that's what's really chafing you isn't it? That I didn't ask your permission first! You fancy yourself quite the little Napoleon, don't you?"

"What?"

"You can't stand that someone might have a good idea and carry it out without doing it on your command!" his voice rose. "Well bugger that! I'm not your bloody minion."

Buffy, suddenly on the defensive, fumbled for a reply. "I ... You ... You're missing the point. It's wrong to kill people," she tried to explain. Tara nodded agreement. Anya shrugged and cast Spike a sympathetic glance.

"Well, actually," Giles' quiet voice interrupted. "In this instance at least, perhaps what Spike did was justifiable." He settled his glasses on his nose and looked at the Slayer. "Buffy, the whole world weighs quite heavily against the value of one life."

Spike managed not to speak, but looked as smug as the Cheshire cat, folding his arms and settling back into his armchair.

Buffy turned on her Watcher. "I can't believe this. You're taking his side?"

"Not precisely. I do think further investigation might have been in order, but you must admit his method was extremely effective."

"Hear. Hear," Anya supported. "Go team us. We're alive. Glory's dead. What more do you want Buffy?"

"If you can't see it, there's no point in me trying to explain it," Buffy exploded. "It's wrong to take a human life, pure and simple."

"Glory would've taken Dawn eventually. I told you what the scabby little bugger said; the Key was made to open a portal to hell. The bitch would've used Dawn's blood, these things always take blood, and you couldn't have done anything to stop it!" Spike's voice was hard. Dawn looked aghast as the full import of her purpose was revealed to her. "It was the only way," he finished firmly.

Buffy shook her head. "I can't believe that. I won't. Murder is never the way."

"You know," Spike leaned forward in his chair, scowling. "It wouldn't hurt you to show a little bloody gratitude for a change instead of busting my balls. I saved you a lot of pain and trouble and the need to dirty your own delicate little hands with it. If you can't thank me, at least let it go!"

Willow interrupted, "But Spike, the point is that you didn't consult with any of us. Maybe eliminating Ben was the practical way to go, but it couldn't have been the only way. With time and some research maybe I could've found a spell.."

"Oh please, Sabrina! I think a hell-god is a just a tad out of your league," he sneered.

Willow's face grew stormy. "You might be surprised," she snapped.

Spike opened his mouth, ready with a comeback, and Xander raised his hands and stepped between them. "I hate to play devil's advocate," he said, casting a withering glance at Spike, "I mean I really despise it, but I have to admit killing Ben was effective. Not what a moral, sane person would do, of course," he said, catching Buffy's glare, "But Sunnydale's safe again . for a while at least. There may be a little mopping up of the minions to do and we still don't know where those knights fit into all this, but overall, I gotta say I'm going to sleep better tonight knowing Glory's gone."

Buffy looked at Giles, who was intent on polishing his glasses; at Willow, folding her arms and shaking her head; at sympathetic Tara, impatient Anya, conflicted Xander, irritated Spike . and Dawn. There her gaze stopped. Dawn regarded her solemnly with unreadable eyes.

Buffy gave her sister a little smile.

The clock ticked in the silence.

Anya cleared her throat.

"All right." Buffy's disapproval was evident from her stiff posture and even stiffer tone. "I still think it was wrong." She fixed Spike with an intense stare. "And you can call me Napoleon but I don't want any more decisions made without consulting me first! Anyway, it's done now." She toyed with the spaghetti noodles on her plate then set it on the coffee table. She looked up at Dawn again, "Well ... I guess we can all go home."

Buffy rose unsteadily from the couch. Retrieving Spike's coat, which was crumpled beneath her, she tossed it at him. He caught it, jaw tightening in disappointment at the reception his news had received.

Following Buffy's cue, the rest of the Scoobies dropped the issue and began gathering their possessions, tacitly ignoring the vampire in their midst. Giles carried Buffy's plate to the kitchen. Spike watched them all for a moment, then leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes with a sigh. He looked bedraggled and exhausted; his hair tufted from the wind, the bruises standing out in high relief against his white skin.

As the others tidied the kitchen and living room, Dawn approached Spike hesitantly. Her eyes were huge as she reached out and lightly touched his arm. His eyes flickered open and, when he saw who it was, he smiled. When she continued to stand there mute, he tilted his head and raised an eyebrow.

"Thank you," Dawn said quietly, frowning a little in her earnestness. She gave his arm a pat. "I'm glad you did it."

He nodded. "It was a pleasure to see him die, Niblet," he admitted just as quietly. She returned his nod and moved away to gather her schoolbooks.

Tara and Willow left after insisting the Buffy make a doctor's appointment if she had any more dizzy spells.

"Come on, Buff, Dawnster, your carriage awaits," Xander said jauntily as he ushered Anya and Dawn out to his car.

"Just a minute Xander. I'll be right there." Buffy turned and looked back at Spike from the open door. She walked over toward him, arms crossed over her chest, and stood there a moment watching his non-responsive face.

"Spike, I don't approve of what you did to Ben, but I do owe you thanks for bringing me here tonight. I don't know exactly what happened, but I was pretty much vampire-bait out there. So ... thanks," she said brusquely.

He shrugged and replied without opening his eyes, "Don't mention it."

Buffy shifted around a little and the silence dragged. Finally she burst out in a rush, "Why do you do it? Why do you keep trying to help me? What's your angle?"

His eyes opened halfway and he fixed her with a heavy-lidded stare. "You really wanna know, Slayer?" he asked pointedly.

She paused and answered softly, "No. Maybe not," then turned and left quickly.

Spike settled back in his chair once more, eyes closed, an almost-smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Giles strode out of the kitchen with the bottle of Scotch and two glasses. He poured and handed one to Spike then sat on the couch across from him and watched the vampire knock it back.

Pouring his own drink, he swirled the amber liquid around the glass thoughtfully.

"You remember what I said last year?" he asked. "About obsession?"

Spike made a non-committal, "Mmph," and held out his glass for another shot.

Giles withheld the bottle and pierced him with a level stare, "Listen well, Spike, and learn - There is no place for you in Buffy's life."

Spike snorted and shook his head then set the empty glass on the coffee table. He rose, shrugged his coat on and limped toward the door without a backward glance.

"Spike!"

"What?" With a resigned sigh, he cast a look over his shoulder.

Spike neatly caught the half-empty bottle, looked at the label, and dipped his head in acknowledgement of the gesture before slipping silently out the door.

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Spike fully intended to go straight home. His body ached like a root canal without Novacain and he could barely concentrate on walking. Maybe that's why his feet carried him almost five blocks out of his way to pass by Buffy's house on his way to the crypt.

He leaned against the tree in the front yard, rapidly emptying the Watcher's bottle of Scotch as he watched the illuminated stage of the Summers' living room. Buffy and Dawn were seated on the couch in front of the window where he could clearly see their profiles as they talked. Dawn was speaking intensely, tears coursing down her cheeks. Buffy smiled and replied, brushing back Dawn's long brown hair and leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead.

They made a pretty picture, and Spike ached to be there with them in the warmth and light. Buffy stood and drew the drapes. He sighed and walked on, stumbling slightly on an uneven patch in the sidewalk. He cursed as he caught his balance, threw the empty bottle in someone's lawn and continued on toward home, ready to crawl down in his cellar and not move for three days.

He didn't notice that across the street from the Summers' house, the driver of a black van started the engine and cruised slowly away.

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Late the following afternoon Buffy walked out of the free clinic with another positive test result and a Facts You Should Know About You and Your Baby pamphlet. After a day of job hunting and being turned down by every business in Sunnydale except the Doublemeat Palace, which not only took her application but gave her an interview on the spot, she had stopped into the clinic on a whim and prayed that the home test she had taken would prove to be a mistake. It wasn't.

Buffy didn't know how much of her stomach rolling like a sailor on shore leave was due to nerves and how much due to hormones run amok. In one brief stab of honesty and clarity, she realized she was grateful to Spike for solving the Glory problem. It left her free to concentrate on the huge decision she was going to have to make very soon.

The stack of unpaid bills on her dresser - medical, funerary and household - were telling her to use logic and terminate the pregnancy. Her heart was already decorating her mom's office as a nursery and picking out baby clothes. She simultaneously wished she could share the news with Riley and was grateful that he was out of reach so she needn't consult him.

Buffy sighed and looked down at the cover of the pamphlet, which showed a smiling young mother cradling a newborn. Tears began to well in her eyes, and she blinked them away furiously. Oh no. Not going there again. Today she was strong Buffy, decision-making Buffy, in-control Buffy, not weepy- eyed, crybaby Buffy. With a last sniffle she tucked the brochure into her purse along with the sample of pre-natal vitamins the nurse had given her and set off for home at a brisk pace, planning what cupboard leavings she could put together for Dawn's dinner.

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Spike was on a redecorating expedition. When he woke that evening and took a good look around the crypt, he realized it wasn't exactly Buffy-friendly. It wasn't enough to be as good-looking as he was, his crypt must also have the appropriate furnishings and décor to make Buffy feel comfortable and at home if she came by. Of course there was no indication that she would ever be visiting him for any reason other than buying information, but a fellow had to have hope - had to make a plan and stick with it to keep himself moving through life.

He was on a mission to dismantle a sumptuous bed he'd found while shopping in the U-Lock-It storage bays and reassemble it in the crypt basement piece by piece. This would take several trips and a lot more strength than he currently possessed, but he was determined to have it done by the end of the night.

He walked through Restfield Cemetery singing softly about love and loss and redemption as told by the Clash, when far across the open ground he saw a familiar blond head shining in the moonlight. Buffy was whirling, kicking and stabbing with her stake. A shower of dust particles soon glittered in the ambient light, surrounding her like a halo.

"My angel of death," he murmured to himself. He approached her stealthily, slipping from shadow to shadow until he stood behind a monument only a few yards away. "Spike," she said without even turning. "You're going to get a hole in the heart one of these times trying to stalk me like that. Why can't you just walk up and say hello like a normal person?"

"Thought you were still pissed at me," he answered, falling in step beside her. "Thought you might try and rearrange my nose again."

"I am still pissed at you. What you did was wrong. But did you miss the part where I said thanks for helping me?"

"Didn't think you meant it."

"I did, but if you're fishing for more gratitude, that's as much as you get."

They walked in silence for a few minutes, listening to the night noises and scanning for enemies. Spike shot a few sidelong looks at Buffy, gauging her health. She looked a little less peaked than she had yesterday and maybe just a mite less worried, but there was still something off about her. Had been ever since he'd returned to Sunnydale. He couldn't quite place it. Something about her body, her movements, her very being was different.

He moved closer to her side and unobtrusively inhaled her scent, listened to her breathing, listened to her heartbeat. Her heartbeat . That was it! Somewhere under Buffy's strong, steady pulse was another rhythm, lighter and quicker but undeniable. Spike froze in his tracks.

Buffy walked on another yard before she noticed his absence. She turned and looked at him. "What?"

"You're pregnant," he blurted, raising his hand and pointing like the accusing boyfriend in a bad soap opera.

Buffy stared at him, wide-eyed. "What?"

"With child. Knocked up. Watermelon in the cupboard. Punching out a puppy. In a delicate condition."

"How do you . How could you know that?" She was too shocked to bother to deny it.

"Can hear its heart beating away in there," he answered, staring perplexedly at her still-flat abdomen. "How long?"

"Almost three months." Her arms went into their typical defensive cross.

"When did you find out?"

"Two nights ago. Today for sure."

"You gonna track down Finn and tell him?"

"He's in a Central American jungle somewhere. I don't know."

"Planning on keeping it?"

"I don't know!" Buffy's voice was taking on an edge and Spike stopped grilling her. She turned and began walking again and he followed behind.

"Your friends know yet?" he asked after a little bit. "The Watcher?"

She spun around, eyes flashing. "You ask me one more question and I'm going to punch you in the nose!"

"You should talk to them. You'll feel better," he pressed on, ignoring her flaring nostrils and tensing muscles. "At least, maybe that quiet girl, Willow's bird. She seems a soft shoulder to cry on."

"I'll tell them when I'm ready. I just found out myself and I don't know what the hell I'm doing." Spike realized her angry eyes were also glistening with tears and her chin was quivering. "I can't even keep my mom's African violet alive, how can I be trusted with a baby?"

"You want to keep it," Spike said slowly and appraisingly. "I can tell. You're mucking about telling yourself you have options but inside you've already decided."

"I h-have not. I can't have a baby. It's all I can do to keep me and Dawn afloat, to keep a roof over our heads. And then there's my slaying. It's impossible." She was snuffling back tears in earnest now. Spike took a step closer and reached out a tentative hand to pat her back.

"There've been Slayers with children before," he started to explain, then bit his tongue remembering how that particular Slayer had died. "You should do what you want."

His reassurance only produced a loud burst of sobs, and Buffy covered her face with her hands. "Stop it! Stop b-being n-nice!" she wailed.

Without further encouragement, Spike moved from back-patting to holding. He slipped his arms around the Slayer and pressed her against his chest. She was heaving and sobbing but not pushing him away or hitting him, so he took it as a good sign and started stroking her back, murmuring soothing little "there nows".

"Shhh, love," he whispered into her hair, mentally adding a thousand other endearments (my heart, my sweet, my goddess). "Shh." He tightened his hold and found that she had relaxed into him, moving her hands from her face to the front of his shirt, which she was clutching in each fist. He nuzzled the top of her head and continued smoothing his hands up and down her back. She felt so warm and soft, if a bit soggy, he wished she'd have a crying fit every day.

Buffy stood in his embrace for almost five precious minutes before she regained her composure and pushed away. She scrubbed furiously at her eyes and wiped her runny nose on the hem of her shirt. "This is ridiculous," she muttered. "I'm a faucet!"

"Never mind, pet. It's the hormones. You've got to expect you'll be a bit wonky for awhile." He gently took her elbow and started escorting her home. She shook off his hand but continued to walk by his side, shuffling disconsolately through the grass.

They walked in silence again until they reached her street and stopped in front of her house. Buffy looked up at the windows, lights blazing in each one. "Great, Dawn, run up the electric bill," she complained. "Dawn is a curse sent to pay me back for every time I opened my window while the air conditioning was on or left the fridge door wide open after I got out a snack." She smiled ruefully and met Spike's eyes for the first time since she'd allowed him to comfort her.

He smiled back, but kept his hands to himself.

Before she started up the walk to the house, he said, "Just do what your heart tells you, pet." Then he added with a mischievous grin, "But remember the little blighter will probably be a potato-nosed jackass like his dad or worse yet, you might unleash another Summers woman on the world."

Buffy started to laugh in spite of herself, choked it back and punched Spike in the arm - hard. He dodged away, rubbing his shoulder and mock scowling. He watched her up the walk and into the house before heading off to his previously scheduled errand.

His mind was busy weighing pros and cons as he walked toward the factory. On the plus side, Buffy was more emotionally fragile than he'd ever seen her and needed someone to help her through her crisis and he was poised to step in and do just that. On the downside . There was no downside! Finn's little sprog was just the key he'd needed to unlock Buffy. Spike would show her how dependable and protective and whatever-the-bloody-hell- else she needed he could be. He would provide her with everything and in return, eventually, he would get everything he had hoped for.

Inroads! Oh yeah.

He stopped grinning and walking as a sudden thought dashed holy water in the face of his plan. What if the soldier came back? What if Buffy located him and called him home to do his manly duty?

Spike shrugged and continued on his way. Best not to put the cart on the eggs in the basket. One worry at a time. After all, mail could be intercepted. As could people who showed up where they weren't wanted.

To be continued..

"Still Bound" chapter 5 by BonnieD

Glory is vanquished. Buffy's secret has been discovered by Spike, who is relentlessly wooing her. This chapter: Buffy deals with finances and friends. This chapter rated R for brief graphic scene.

A shout-out to my beta Zyrya, who continues to do a fantastic job of helping me retool my work. Find out why she's so good by checking out her story "Crash" (a rewrite of "Crush" in which Buffy actually uses her brains to get out of the situation) here:

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The trippy music of Saturday morning cartoons blared through the house, reminding Buffy that her sister was alive and safe and as annoying as ever. She stirred her rapidly disintegrating cornflakes around the bowl, trying to chase down a runaway piece of banana then gave up on the mushy cereal and grabbed a blueberry Pop Tart from the box instead. She wandered into the living room and perched on the arm of the sofa next to Dawn.

"Something's wrong with the washer," Dawn announced without looking up from Spongebob Squarepants. "It's not filling up right."

"What does that mean?" Buffy asked.

"Water's too slow. I don't know. Check it out." Dawn was unconcerned.

Spongebob was driving Squidworth to tears with his squeaky boots and Dawn burst out laughing as if she hadn't seen the episode a dozen times before. Buffy gave up on sister share time and headed for the basement to see what was up with the washing machine.

It turned out the washer was fine but the plumbing was shot, as Buffy discovered when she tried to tighten a leaky valve and ended up breaking off the fitting, sending water exploding from the pipe. Drenched and desperate, she stood in the middle of the basement cackling insanely as water jetted out of the broken pipe and began pooling on the floor.

"I'm in hell," she announced to the world. "Glory's plan succeeded and I'm living in a hell dimension. No one on earth has luck this bad."

Xander agreed, when she called him and he came rushing to the rescue with his work-buddy Tito en tow.

"Jeez Buffy, you make Job look like a sissy. It's like the Powers That Be put a Kick Me sign on your back."

When Tito showed her the bottom line on the proposed repairs, Buffy knew this was the last pile on her dung heap. She had been barely making headway in paying the regular bills, keeping the lights and phone on and supplying Dawn with life-giving cable TV. Now the glory days of a warm home and food in the cupboard were about to be a thing of the past if she didn't find a way to get a powerful injection of cash flow fast.

She thanked Xander and his friend for coming out on a Saturday morning and for putting a temporary fix on the situation. After they left, Buffy called her bank to make an appointment with the loan officer, but since it was now Saturday afternoon, the bank was closed.

"I'm going to the mall with Janice. Got twenty bucks?" Dawn bounced into the kitchen and grabbed an apple. She took one look at Buffy's glowering face, heaved a dramatic sigh and said, "Never mind. I'll window shop, as usual."

"Dawn, we have to clean up the mess down there - mop the floor, get the boxes up out of the water. You can't just take off."

"Janice and her mom are already on their way over. I have to go! We can clean up tomorrow. It's not like things are going to get any wetter than they already are."

Buffy wavered since the idea of facing the basement again was daunting. Dawn caught the hesitation and pounced on it.

"I'll help tomorrow, I promise! Maybe we could just turn it into a garage sale, haul the stuff right out to the street and put up signs with balloons. Whaddya think?"

"Fine," Buffy sighed. "Go! Be a mallrat, and have fun." The words were barely out of her mouth and Dawn was out the front door.

Buffy poked around in the fridge, pulled out some expired bologna and a single slice of dried and curling cheese, and made a sandwich. She wandered up to her room, gathered all the bills from her dresser and spread them around on her bed in little piles, which ranged from 'must pay yesterday!' to 'will pay when hell freezes over'.

She stared at them for a while waiting for something to happen, then the doorbell rang and it was Willow coming over to hang out and complain about her love life.

"It's like she doesn't trust my judgment," Willow said. "Every time I use magic lately she questions me about whether it was necessary. I know what I'm doing and I don't appreciate her second-guessing all my actions! Don't get me wrong. I love her. She's my little snuggle-bunny and I wouldn't do anything in the world to upset her, but sometimes," she lowered her voice confidentially, "she's such a prissy-pants!"

"Well," Buffy considered how to answer the complaint delicately, "I'm sure Tara is only concerned about you. It shows how much she loves you when she worries. Kind of like a mom. But Willow, did you ever think that maybe she has a point? Tara's pretty smart about all that Mother Earth magic stuff. Maybe she's tapping into your aura or something and sees that you're off balance."

"Off balance! You think I'm off balance?" Willow's face screwed up into a wounded frown. "I'm not. I'm perfectly ... on balance. I'm as balanced as a Cirque de Soleil juggler on a tightrope!"

"I didn't say I thought you were," Buffy protested. "I said maybe Tara thinks you are. That's all."

Willow hugged the couch pillow to her chest and sighed, "Sorry. I'm a little bit cranky. You're right. Tara's just being over-protective and that's really, really sweet. I have to look at it the right way."

"Uh, yeah," Buffy agreed, wondering how Willow could be so intelligent and so ignorant at the same time.

The young women sat silently for a moment. Buffy knew this was the perfect time for sharing confidences, none of the others around for a change, the mood between them more relaxed and like high school days than it had been over the past year. But her mouth refused to work. She couldn't bring herself to tell her news. And then the moment was past.

"So," Willow cast the pillow away from her and stood up. "You ready to face the foe? I'm up for swabbing water and salvaging boxes if you are."

"Let's leave it 'til tomorrow. Today is too beautiful to be indoors. How 'bout we get a cappuccino at the Espresso Pump then hike out to the woods and see if the Knights of Byzantium are encamped there. I won't be comfortable until I know whether those medieval rejects are still after Dawn."

"Okey-dokey," Willow chirped brightly. "Puttin' on my hiking boots."

In less than twenty minutes they were on their way, leaving the Summers' house silent but for the drip, drip, drip of the basement pipes. Out on the street a black van pulled up and a man emerged and looked up and down the block at houses that drowsed in the afternoon sunlight.

The figure darted to the shrubbery in the Summers' front yard, tucked a kitschy garden gnome in the greenery, then trotted back to the van, which started to pull away. The short man pounded on the door. The van stopped. He reached for the handle and the vehicle began to drive off again as the man ran alongside. This stop-start cycle was repeated a few times before the man finally managed to get the door open and jump inside. The van pulled away with a squeal of tires.

        *********

"What am I to you?" Anya turned to Xander and fixed him with her bright eyes.

"What are you to me?" he repeated, searching for the answer she wanted. "Why you're ... Anya, my sweet and ... and special girl." He cuddled her close to his side as they walked along the pathway dodging joggers and kids on skateboards.

"And what does that mean," she pressed. "Does it mean you want to marry me? 'Cause if you asked, I would."

"Would? Would what would?" Xander stuttered. "Marry? Where did that come from?"

"Look around you, Xander! It's all over this park. Families! With children - little people and mommies and daddies. Isn't that what humans do, make families?"

"Whoa! Children? How'd we get from marriage to children in one sentence?"

"Well that's the logical progression: love, marriage, children, old age, death."

"And I thought I felt my life passing before my eyes when I went up against that Kuschol demon."

Xander saw the will-not-be-denied look in Anya's eyes and stopped teasing. "Look, An, I'm all for ... those things you mentioned. Just not right now. We're still young. We have plenty of time."

"No. No we don't. We're aging every day. Our flesh is deteriorating faster than new cells are growing. I saw it on the Discovery channel. Xander, we're just a blip in the history of time. We have to do things right now - seize the day - before we're toothless octogenarians moldering in some tastefully decorated but depressing institution."

Xander's mouth opened and closed fruitlessly. Anya pulled away from his side and spun around to face him on the path.

"So what do you say? Are you ready to make a commitment?"

"C-commit ...ment. You mean like today? This very minute?" he hedged.

"You love me don't you? We have beautiful sex together and we both like to watch the X-Men. What are we waiting for?"

"Anya, we're only . at least I'm only twenty years old. That's not considered aged in human life. I do care for you. You know I do. But I'm not ready for a lifetime commitment."

Anya's jaw set and she nodded her head in time to his words. "I knew it. My friend Halfrek told me. She reminded me about mortal men and their commitment issues. She reminded me of why I became a vengeance demon to begin with but would I listen? Oh no, I said, he's different. He's spec."

Before she could wind up into a full tirade, Xander grasped her upper arms and looked deep into her eyes with his puppydog browns. "Please . give me time. I've heard what you said and I'm not saying I never want to marry. I just need time to think about it."

Anya sighed deeply and relaxed her stance. She nodded, her dissatisfaction still evident in the twist of her mouth. Xander leaned in and kissed her pouting lips until she responded, grudgingly at first then with growing passion. Soon they were making out on the footpath in full view of the mommies and daddies and little kids.

"Hey! Want to take that somewhere private?" an irate daddy yelled, while the mommy diverted her preschooler's eyes to the duck pond.

"Sorry," Xander called back, a bit muffled by Anya's tongue in his mouth.

She pulled back, all glistening lips and sparkling eyes. "There are bushes behind the amphitheater. I read in Cosmo that sex is supposed to be even more intense when you have it in unlikely and semi-public places.."

        ***************

Spike lay on his new bed, smoking and staring up at the earthen ceiling, bored out of his mind. It was still daytime but he wasn't sleepy. All he could do was lie there and think of Buffy and how, against all odds, he'd had her in his arms two nights in a row. Of course she'd been unconscious the one time and crying her eyes out the other, but it was still progress.

His mind drifted back to the night they had shared in Las Vegas after Willow's spell gone bad. Funny, but the very thing that had appalled him when he awoke from the enchantment, all that fuzzy caring and sharing nonsense, was what he now cherished the most. Sure the roller-coaster sex, both during the spell and that one other time just before the rings disappeared, had been phenomenal. But finding a good lay had never been a priority for Spike. He'd had a few women, both vampire and human, during the road trip when he was trying to put Buffy out of his mind, but while the sex had been great it couldn't compare to those moments of quiet communion he had shared with his mortal enemy.

He wondered what Buffy was doing right now. Braiding Dawn's hair perhaps, or maybe doing something domestic like laundry. Or maybe painting her sexy little toenails bubblegum pink. He could just picture her, tongue barely poking out from between her lips as she concentrated on sweeping the brush over each tiny digit. He started to harden thinking of that last and his hand crept down toward his groin to relieve the pressure.

"Bollocks! I'm not going to lie about wanking all afternoon," he scolded himself. "I could be with the girl right now."

Spike jumped up and threw on some clothes then started down the tunnel. It was a familiar path from his crypt to the sewer drain near Buffy's house, and a quick dash to her front porch where he sheltered from the sun as he knocked on the door.

No one answered, so he quickly picked the lock and let himself in, proud to note that despite any animosity between them over the last year, she hadn't revoked his invitation. He wandered around the main floor once then climbed the stairs to find Buffy's bedroom - a place he'd never visited outside of his own mind. It was as girly-feminine as he'd expected. He looked at the New Kids poster on her wall, examined her cutesy knick-knacks and photos of friends, spritzed some perfume in the air and sniffed it then pocketed the bottle, rummaged in her underwear drawer and slipped some lingerie in his coat pocket as well. Then he sat on the edge of her bed, testing its firmness. He caressed the depression in the pillow her head had left, then leaned down and breathed deeply at the pillowcase.

Sitting back up, he noticed the piles of envelopes on the bed and began reading through them. There were hundreds of dollars worth of bills, many of them past due, spread across the four-poster. It was something that Spike, not requiring much income, hadn't even considered. Living in the human world was damn expensive and it looked like Buffy was swimming against the tide here.

"Where's her bloody Watcher in all of this? If he's so concerned about 'his' Slayer, then why doesn't he take care of her?" he muttered.

He thought he heard a car door slam and cast a glance at the shaded window behind him, a window he'd never thought to see from the inside looking out. He hurriedly stuffed a couple more of Buffy's personal care items, some fingernail polish and a brush, in his pocket and descended the stairs to wait casually in the living room for whoever might enter.
        ***********

".and that's when I told her, 'You pick up those clothes or else!' and she said, 'Or else what?' and I said, 'Just do it, young lady,' and right then I knew I'd turned into my mom."

Willow laughed aloud and then shrieked in alarm when she caught sight of the vampire lounging in the doorway of the living room. "Spike! What are you doing here? You scared the bejesus out of me!"

"How did you get in my house," Buffy demanded, coming up behind her friend, and leveling an accusing stare at him. "I know I locked the door."

"You did indeed, Slayer, and far be it from me to break and enter my friends' domiciles but I was kind of scorching."

"Then why didn't you stay home where it's nice and dank and dark the way vampires like," Willow suggested.

"I come bearing information," Spike said, spreading his hands to show his non-confrontation. "About Glory's minions . thought you might like to know, but if you're not interested.."

"All right, Spike. Sit down and talk," Buffy said, gesturing him into the living room.

"Buffy," Willow interrupted. "I've got to go meet Tara. I'll get back to you about us living here after I talk to her, but I'm sure she'll love the idea. It'll be like a slumber party every night!"

The girls exchanged a brief hug and Willow left without a glance at Spike, who was now sprawled on the couch, arms outflung along the back, legs stretched in front of him.

"You wouldn't happen to have a cold beer around the house would you?" he asked as Buffy turned her attention toward him. "It was flaming hot out there and I'm parched."

"No, Spike. I don't drink. Underage, remember?" she settled on the chair across from him, looking nervous and angry at the same time. "What news have you got for me and how much do you want for it," she asked tersely.

"Oh, so we're back to square one, are we?" He shook his head. "You acting like we didn't share a moment last night and me pretending I help you for money?"

"We didn't 'share' a moment last night and you have been known to take money for information," Buffy pointed out. "And by the way, if one word about ... what I told you should come back to me from another source I won't just stake you, I'll grind you into dust."

"I'll keep your secret Slayer, if that's what's bothering you. There's no need to get all shirty about it," he scowled.

"All right then," Buffy relaxed infinitesimally. "Spill about the minions."

"I caught one last night, slinking through my cemetery," Spike explained. "Collared him and coerced some information. It seems the whole lot of them fell apart without their god to worship and with no chance of returning home. Some left town and the rest got beaten to a bloody pulp when a demon biker gang took over the hotel they were living in. Sounds like we'll have to check those bikers out in the near future."

"Well, that's it then," Buffy was visibly relieved. "Willow and I combed the woods for the Key-seeking knights and there's no sign of them. I can't imagine where else they'd be - it would be kind of hard to hide a whole company of armor-plated soldiers and horses anywhere else in town. I guess since Dawn isn't a threat anymore they took off."

"So we're back to the usual suspects," Spike supplied. "No Big Bad, just the regular assortment of vamps and demons."

"We?" Buffy quirked an eyebrow. "You consider yourself on the team now?"

"Don't you?" he returned. "After all, I did get the stuffing beat out of me for your little sis. That should prove something."

"But what, Spike?" Buffy asked speculatively. "Your motives are still murky. Why do you want to help us?"

"I offered to spell it out for you the other night," he reminded. "You didn't want to hear." He added impatiently, "But you know what? Whether you're ready to know or not, I'm ready to tell you. Ever since your friend cast that spell on us last year I've been all twisted around. I can't stop thinking about you - about us and how bloody perfect it was."

"Oh, my god," she moaned. "Don't...."

He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, willing her attention with his piercing blue eyes. "No! Don't look away from me. It was perfect. You know it was."

"It was a spell, Spike!"

"Doesn't matter. Willow wished us married - not in love. But we were. For that one night at least we were in love, and I want it back."

"Well that's unlikely," Buffy said. "Get it through your head. It was an illusion."

"Not to me," he said quietly. "And what about that other. The last time...?"

"A mistake," she answered promptly. "We agreed it was leftover magic, remember?"

"I don't believe that anymore," he said. "Because it never stopped. I still feel those things." He rose and started pacing in front of her. "I want to be with you all the time. It's driving me insane. Even when I went away I couldn't stop thinking about you."

"Well try harder!" she snapped. "There isn't anything between us. There can never BE anything between us. Please Spike, you know everything I'm dealing with. Can you please not have a meltdown right now?"

He rounded on her. "I'm sorry my feelings are an inconvenience for you. Believe me, they're an inconvenience for me as well. But I can't stop it and I can't change it. I love...."

"Don't...."she pleaded one last time.

"...you."

"...say it."

He fell to his knees in front of her, holding her with his gaze again. "I love you," he repeated firmly. "And it doesn't have to be another burden if you don't make it one. I can help you. I can make things easier for you if you let me. You're going to need extra help with the slaying. You know you will. I can help." He pushed on relentlessly as she shook her head. "You don't have to love me back. Doesn't matter. Just let me be around you and I'll be happy."

"If I let you come around, that's encouragement. And I don't want you to think there's any hope... cause there's not," she explained, finally meeting his gaze. "Do you understand?" She regarded him with serious hazel eyes.

He nodded. "I know. No hope. Got it. But you'll let me help out? Look after Dawn? Beat up evil things for information? Watch your back when you slay? Maybe have dinner now and again?"

"Dinner? What...?"

"Scratch the dinner part."

Buffy was silent a long moment. She felt herself squirming under his earnest eyes and ... losing her willpower to his stubbornness. "I'll think about it. I guess an extra pair of hands will be helpful right now," she admitted. "You can patrol with me and that's it."

"Brilliant." Spike rose to his feet, grinning. "We'll be friends then."

"I don't know about friends. Allies, maybe."

"Fine. Allies."

"Now will you please go? I've been tramping around woods all day and I'm kind of tired."

"Certainly. See you later then?" he pushed.

"No hope Spike, remember?"

"Right. I'm hopeless. I'll just happen to see you if you happen to be out patrolling tonight or tomorrow night. Whenever." His coat billowed behind him as he swaggered to the door. He pulled the battered leather over his head and bounded out into the late afternoon sunlight.

Buffy got up and watched out the window as he dashed from shadow to shadow. She shook her head. Collapsing on the couch, she stretched out on her side and thought about the boatload of worms Spike had just opened. "This is going to be trouble," she thought, remembering what Angel had once told the Scoobies about Spike's tenacious pursuit of his desires.

"He won't stop," she murmured, as her eyes fluttered closed. "Not until he gets what he wants." Her breathing deepened. The frantic start to her day and the long hike in the hot sun had completely worn her out. Soon she drifted off into blessed sleep where reality took a holiday and anything was permitted.

She dreamed of soft lips nuzzling her neck, cool fingers tracing the contour of her hip and thigh and a deep, rumbling voice sending delicious tingles through her just from the tenor of it. She moaned and shifted on the couch.

"You're mine," the voice was telling her. "I'm yours. Forever, remember? We made a vow."

"No," her dream-self whimpered. "You're not the one. Angel. He's my.." She gasped as his hand stroked her through her panties then teased under the elastic for better contact.

"Soul mate," she choked out.

His chuckle of disbelief vibrated against her nipple just before he took it in his wet, wet mouth and began sucking - hard.

"Stop," she thought as she drew his head closer to her breast.

Then, because it was a dream, his clever, wicked tongue was everywhere at once; searching her mouth, licking her skin, penetrating her vagina, and whispering naughty, dirty things in her ear.

Buffy tossed and turned and moaned in her sleep, waking only when she almost fell off the couch. She was panting for air, slick between her legs and aching with unfulfilled need.

She drew a long shuddering breath and let it out slowly, blinking her eyes to clear residual sexual images from her brain.

The front door banged and Dawn exploded into the house like a linebacker tackling a pass receiver.

"Hey!" she hollered. "Anybody home?"

"Uh, yeah." Buffy's face flamed and she shot to her feet, painfully aware of the continued throbbing between her legs and the fact that if her little sister had arrived only a few minutes earlier she would have been confronted with the sight of her legal guardian writhing like a cat in heat. "I was just.. I was taking a nap. I'll, um, get us some dinner now."

"That's okay. I ate with Janice." Dawn studied her intently. "Do you have a fever or something? You look really flushed. Maybe you're coming down with something, what with the fainting and all."

"Too much sun," Buffy said abruptly. "Willow and I were out all afternoon. I got burned." She quickly changed the subject. "How about some ice cream then? I think there's a little left. And a video?"

"Sure," Dawn agreed. "It's my turn to pick."

"As long as it's anything but that inane Scooby Doo movie again," her sister agreed.

        ******** Willow showed up to help with the garage sale the next day, pink nosed and puffy eyed.

'What now?' Buffy thought uncharitably. After her friend had sniffled and gulped enough times that she couldn't ignore it anymore, Buffy finally asked, "Something wrong, Will?"

"It's Tara. She's furious with me. I did something ... something amazing. Incredible really. Just to make her happy, and she doesn't get that at all. She's being so unreasonable!"

Buffy waited then prompted. "Well? What did you do?"

"I - I brought Miss Kitty back to life," Willow announced proudly.

"You ... who, what?"

"Our cat, you know Miss Kitty Fantastico. You've seen her before. Anyway, she got hit by a car yesterday. Tara was heartbroken. She was crying so hard and I wanted to make her feel better. Then I remembered something I'd read about a resurrection spell. I told Tara to leave the body, that I'd help her bury it after I ran an errand. I went to the Magic Box, found the spell, got together the ingredients, and voila! Brand-new Kitty Fantastico."

"Willow! That's um ... amazing all right. That's huge! You're sure the cat was really dead?"

"Dead as Winona Rider's career," she assured.

Buffy was dumbstruck. "And you think it was a good thing to bring Kitty back?"

"Tara was crying, Buffy. I can't stand it when she cries! The spell didn't hurt anyone, didn't change the course of the world, so what's the big?"

"Well," Buffy fished for something to say that would express her disapproval without alienating her friend. "Does she seem normal? Miss Kitty I mean, not Tara. She's not lurching around like a zombie or anything?"

"No. In fact she seems more hyper than ever. If anything she's kind of zinging off the walls with energy. It's weird."

"Huh," Buffy was noncomittal. "I don't know if I'm the best person to ask about this. Maybe Giles...."

"Oh no. Don't tell Giles!" Willow's eyes were wide. "He wouldn't understand at all. He doesn't even have a girlfriend."

"If you don't want Giles to know, it sounds like maybe you do think there was something wrong with doing the spell, Will," Buffy said gently.

"There was nothing wrong with what I did." Willow's tone suddenly dropped from nervous twitter to icy smoothness. "And I'm not afraid of Giles. Maybe he could learn a thing or two about magic from me!"

"Hey Super-Strength, are you gonna help carry these boxes or what?" Dawn's voice interrupted the blossoming confrontation. She was staggering along, face hidden behind a huge box from which Christmas tinsel straggled.

Buffy gratefully went to her sister's aid, taking the box and carrying it to the sidewalk, and by the time she faced Willow again the young witch had recovered her usual buoyancy.

"I'm sorry to unload on ya, Buffy," Willow apologized as she pulled damp Christmas decorations from the box and laid them in a neat display on a folding table. "I know you have your hands full with worrying about Dawn and taking care of your house and the slaying and all. I'll deal with Tara. She'll get over it and everything'll be cool again. By the way, she said it would be great for us to share your house after the term ends."

Bewildered but relieved by the abrupt shift in Willow's mood, Buffy smiled. "You have no idea what a big help it would be to have you living here."

"No problem, landlord," Willow teased. "I'd rather be paying rent to you than a stranger, plus, you know, Slayer protection against all the creepies in this town. We have to be out of the dorm at the end of May, so we could move in here then."

The subject of the resurrected Kitty Fantastico was evidently closed. The rest of the day drifted by. Buffy, Willow and Dawn sat in lawn chairs drinking iced tea, sunning themselves, sharing tidbits from glamour magazines and occasionally selling a piece of junk rescued from the basement flood. If it hadn't been for the fact that Buffy knew she ought to be down there mopping up water and her constant awareness of the genetic storm brewing in her uterus and Spike's embarrassing protestations of love yesterday and the unpaid bills on her dresser, she would have been quite content.

        **********

The next afternoon Buffy slammed through her front door, cast her mail on the overflowing pile covering the little table in the hall and headed straight for the bathroom at a fast clip. After taking care of business, she surveyed herself in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. Her outfit, carefully chosen that morning to reflect maturity and responsibility, was trashed. Who knew going to the bank could be so damaging to the wardrobe!

Buffy examined the bump on her forehead and the gash on her arm, which matched the slash in her beautiful white silk blouse. She turned sideways and shook her head over the slit she had been forced to cut up the side of her skirt. She wouldn't have minded the loss of the clothes so much if she had just gotten a loan for her sacrifice. But evidently saving loan officers from rampaging demons weighed nothing against lack of collateral or a job.

She furrowed her brow as she went over the details of her fight with the ridge-headed demon, which had no business being at a bank in the middle of the day anyway. She should have been quicker. She could have hit harder. She might have chased after it when it fled the building. There was no excuse for letting something that big and clunky get the best of her and escape. And pleading distraction because of the pregnancy or the financial woes was no excuse. She had to get back on her game.

As Buffy passed back through the front hall on her way to the upstairs the breeze from her passing sent the tottering stack of mail sliding to the floor. She cursed as she knelt to pick up the scattered mail, which contained - bill, bill, bill, sweepstakes, bill, catalog and . what was this? From somewhere in the pile a plain white envelope had fallen and spilling from it in an untidy fan were various denominations of bills.

Buffy dropped the rest of the mail and dove for the money. Stacked altogether it was a thick wad that totaled almost five hundred dollars. Her heart was beating in her throat as she picked up the envelope and examined it back and front. There was no writing of any kind. She scrabbled through the rest of the pile looking for a note that might have fallen out. Nothing.

Hands shaking, she picked up the bills again, sat back on her heels and began to count the bounty from her anonymous benefactor.

To be continued..

"Still Bound" chapter 6 by BonnieD

Last chapter: Buffy's financial troubles were eased by an anonymous benefactor. Spike revealed his love. Willow raised Miss Kitty Fantastico and upset Tara. Anya proposed to Xander. Dawn was annoying. This chapter: More stuff happens.

Thanks to beta Zyrya for her continued efforts and to all who've reviewed or rec'd this work or its prequel "Golden Bands to Bind Them." I may not reply but am aware of all of you out there and appreciate you very much.

        **********

Buffy entered the Magic Box to find Giles and Anya in heated debate over by the cash register and Tara and Willow giggling and flirting at the research table. The latter surprised her. There wasn't any sign of the tension Willow had expressed to her only yesterday. The couple must have had some fantastic make up sex.

"My method works better!" Anya was insisting as she jabbed her finger at the paperwork in Giles' hands. "It's more logical and organized and you're just jealous because I'm a better businessperson than you."

"Now that's patently ridiculous, Anya. I would be hard-pressed to find anyone who could make heads or tails of this ... miasma. May I remind you that I own this store? You must desist from making these changes without consulting me."

Buffy wandered over to the table and sat down across from the Wiccans. "Trouble in paradise?" she asked, nodding her head toward the bickering shopkeepers.

"The usual," Willow shrugged. "Some people just argue all the time." She smiled and covered Tara's hand with hers and they resumed making googly- eyes at each other. Buffy looked away in discomfort.

"How's Miss Kitty doing?" she asked, intently studying the engraving in the book that lay in front of her.

"Adorable as always," Willow said quickly. "Full of vinegar."

"No weird side effects?"

"Huh?" Tara tore her eyes away from Willow's and looked at Buffy in confusion.

"So how did your appointment at the bank go today?" Willow interrupted, shooting Buffy a 'drop it' frown. "Any luck?"

Buffy took her cue. "No. Just a demon." She described the spiny-headed creature that had rampaged through the bank and Tara and Willow began flipping through books looking for it. "Did you know," she added, "that it actually takes money to get money? Evidently I'm too destitute for the bank to take a gamble on."

She didn't mention the anonymous benefactor who had left a packet of cash in her mailbox. It was so like Giles to be all reserved and British about it, not wanting any gratitude. She would thank him privately for his generosity and in a round about way so as not to embarrass him. She looked up at her Watcher, all flushed red with anger and almost shouting at Anya, and felt a glow of warmth. His gift had made her feel so safe and protected.

"Is this the guy?" Willow asked, pushing a book in front of her.

"More human-shaped, less with the tentacles," Buffy said.

"How about this?" Tara held her book up and pointed to the illustration as if reading aloud to a kindergarten class.

"Score!" Buffy responded. "What does it say about him?"

" 'M'fashnik demons are notorious mercenaries hired to perform dangerous tasks for their employers. They are known to be thorough and tenacious in completing their goal.' That's all."

"While I was fighting the creature, I found out later someone was cleaning out the cash drawers. That must have been the goal. So it may be the last we'll see of M'fashnik. I'll have to ask around. See if anybody knows anything about the robbery," Buffy said.

She looked up and caught Giles' eye. He was walking away from his confrontation with Anya, polishing his glasses madly. Buffy beamed at him, trying to express all her gratitude in one dazzling smile. Her Watcher peered at her near-sightedly, slipped the glasses on and looked at her again, then returned a bemused smile.

"How did things go at the bank today?" he asked as he joined them at the table. "Any success?"

Buffy repeated her story.

"M'fashnik! I've heard of them before. It's my understanding that they aren't easy to summon into this dimension. Curious." Giles frowned then shrugged and changed the subject. "But more importantly, Buffy I'm sorry to hear that you've been turned down for a loan. I understand that you're under considerable financial pressure, if there's anything I can do to help...."

Buffy shook her head, still smiling warmly, "Oh no, you've done enough. More than! Thank you."

"Um, yes. Quite." Giles frowned again in confusion and looked for evidence of sarcasm in Buffy's tone, but she seemed quite sincere. He added after a pause, "Perhaps ... perhaps you might be interested in working a few hours at the shop each week. We could use extra...."

"What?!" Anya exploded, tearing out from behind the counter. "Are you firing me? Just like that? After all I've done for you? Worked my fingers to scrawny bones keeping the shelves stocked. Almost suffered a concussion stopping that warlock from lifting the merchandise. This is the thanks I get?"

"Anya," Giles interrupted. "Please calm yourself. I'm not talking about replacing you."

"Oh. Well ... that's different then."

"I said 'extra' help. On Saturdays we're quite busy," he explained to Buffy. "I'm sure we could find work for you. I can't pay you much, but...."

"Work? Here? That'd be ... great," Buffy injected as much enthusiasm into her tone as she could muster at the thought of spending countless sunny Saturdays enclosed in the world of sales and customer service. "I'll be here bright and early with bells on. Just tell me when you want me."

"This week would be wonderful. We have a shipment of rare imported tenucia coming in that will need unpacking."

"Great," Buffy enthused.

"Ooh! Ooh! Idea hatching!" Willow waved a hand in the air. "Xander was talking about being short-handed at work. I'm sure he could use a strong able-bodied body like yours, Buffy. You should ask him. Also, it would only be on weekdays so you'd still be free to help here. Sounds perfect, huh?"

"Perfect," Buffy repeated faintly, hearing the steel doors of the prison of adulthood slamming into place one by one. She thought, 'I may have a few minutes left open in my schedule. You want to fill those too? Maybe a child-development class would be in order.'

"She needs some down time too, sweetie," Tara cautioned her over-excited girlfriend, as she read the Slayer's darkening aura. "Buffy, maybe you'd like to sit in on a class with me sometime this week. You would love my Personal Spiritual Growth and Self-Awareness in Today's Ideologically Negative World course. Ms. Puantajuah is so uplifting and challenging. She really forces you to get in touch with your Inner Being."

Buffy smiled genuinely at Tara' earnest expression. "Maybe a class like that is just what I need. Sure, I'll go with you. And Will," she turned to her friend, "your idea was really great. I'll talk to Xander right away before he fills the position. Really. Thank you. Thank you all." She looked around at her friends' helpful, hopeful faces and felt a warm surge of affection followed by a sudden stomach-swirling bout of nausea.

She leaped to her feet and headed toward the bathroom. "Excuse me," she muttered as she sprinted from the room.

        *************

"Eight ball. Corner pocket." The cue snicked against the black ball with authority sending it flying into the designated hole. "That's fifty bucks, mate."

Aware that he'd been hustled but unable to deny his loss, the Abercrombie & Fitch poster boy tossed the money down on the pool table in disgust. Spike scooped it up with a smile. He adored frat boys and all the lovely green currency that rained from their pockets. They kept him in blood, booze and smokes.

As the kid skulked away, Spike racked up the balls and scanned the room for his next victim. But the sheep had all been shorn, at least for this evening. There were no takers, so the vampire glided over to the bar to get a drink.

He eyed the dark-haired man slumped over his beer at the end of the bar. After ordering himself a whiskey, Spike gestured to the bartender to get the guy another round, and then caught the man's eye when he looked up to see who had paid for his next drink.

Harris frowned when he saw it was Spike, but he took a long drink of the fresh beer anyway. Spike strolled over to stand next to him.

"What do you want?" Xander growled.

"Just bein' sociable," Spike said calmly, reining in his intense dislike of the whelp.

"I don't socialize with psychopaths who try to murder me and my friends."

"Now. Now. That's all old history. I'm one of the white hats these days, remember?"

Xander shrugged, too wasted to argue.

"What's wrong? Did the lovely Anyanka dump you?"

Harris' eyes flicked toward him and Spike knew he was on the right track.

"Weren't demon enough for her, eh?"

"Shuddup." Xander took another swallow. "She didn't dump me. Not that it's any of your business."

"But you think she's thinking about it or that she's found someone else," Spike persisted. "Or maybe ... you're thinking about it." The surprised look on the boy's face gave him his answer. "Maybe she's a little too much demon for you."

"Spike is there anything you enjoy more than the sound of your own yapping?"

"Very little," he answered truthfully. "Come on. Tell all. What've I missed on Days in the Basement?"

"I don't live there anymore," Xander said, huffily. "Anya and I moved in together last fall."

"Do tell?" Spike digested that, contemplated a few minutes more and as usual, came up with a spot-on conclusion. "And now she wants the ring, the bridal shower and wedding cake, the kids, the dog and the picket fence," he surmised.

Xander stared at him open-mouthed.

"You needn't be so shocked. It's rather obvious, isn't it? It's what all human women want."

The young man looked back down at his drink. "I guess," he mumbled.

"So what are you waiting for? Take the plunge and set a date," Spike advised.

"Yeah." Xander shredded his napkin and drew his fingertip through the condensation on the bar. "But ... how do you know?"

"Know what?"

"If she's the right girl. Or if I'm the right guy. How do I know I'll make a good husband? How do I know we'll be competent parents? How do I deal with the fact that she's a thousand year old ex-demon in a beautiful girl's body? Do I really know her? Does she really know me? That kind of 'how do you know'?"

Spike sighed. "Look Harris. It's quite simple. Do you ache for her? Does your throat seize up when you see her? Do you feel your insides combusting when she speaks your name? Does she make you feel powerless as an Epro demon and strong as a Fyarl at the same time? Do you want to kill for her one minute and kill her the next?"

"Sometimes," Xander admitted. "Not always, but sometimes ... all of those things."

"Then, you bloody soft-minded git, what the hell are you on about? How can there be any thought rattling around in that empty shell you call a head other than pathetic gratefulness that you are allowed to touch such a goddess. You should be thanking whatever deity a boneless, brainless wanker like you believes in that a beautiful creature like her even deigns to notice you exist, much less gives you her love. Is that clear enough for you?"

"Uh...."

"Let me spell it out. Say 'yes'." Spike caught the bartender's eye and held up two fingers.

Xander continued to tear his napkin into tiny bits as he digested this tirade.

"Maybe you're right," he finally conceded in a low voice. "You're probably right."

"Of course I am."

"I do love her."

"And not to her credit, she appears to love you too," Spike added.

"Yes, she really does," Xander agreed. "I don't know why."

"Neither do I. But you should take advantage in case it's temporary insanity."

"Speaking of insane," Xander looked at Spike with curiosity instead of hatred for the first time ever, "what about Drusilla? How could you be with her for so long, so many years, as crazy as she was?"

"I'm not saying my girl wasn't a challenge," Spike tried to explain, "but all that faded away when I was in her arms. It just didn't matter. All I could think of was trying to please her, to make her happy, she was such a sad little thing underneath it all."

"Spike, she was an insane killer! Like you," Xander sat up straight as if he'd suddenly remembered to whom he was speaking.

"True. She was brilliant at torture and violence but she was also a poet and a seer. She had beautiful visions and she was an amazingly creative lover." Spike spoke thoughtfully, eyes gazing at long past memories. He seemed to have forgotten his companion's presence.

"Creative?" Xander's curiosity and healthy libido got the better of him. "Creative how?"

Spike snapped out of his reverie and he glanced over at his bar-mate. "With vampires sex is all tied up with pain and blood. Very intense and powerful. Dru could make it hurt so good you'd beg 'please ma'am may I have another' even as you writhed in your chains."

Harris licked his lips and leaned in a little closer. Spike smiled inside. The fish was hooked.

"She had this way of twisting your ... ah, but you wouldn't want to hear about that. Your virgin ears would bleed."

"Hey, I'm not so innocent. Anya and I've done lots of stuff," Xander huffed.

"Really? Like what?"

"Things. Adventurous things. None of your business."

Spike scoffed, "I'm not talking about velvet padded handcuffs and tickle-me feathers, mate. I'm talking down and dirty, no-holds-barred torture and mayhem. Your bird like that kind of kink?"

"I'm not having this conversation with you," Xander stonewalled.

"Your loss." Spike shrugged. "Thought you might be able to use a few pointers and all . before the wedding night. You know, just to spice things up a bit. Show Anyanka you've got it in you."

"Got what?"

"A dark side. That little bit extra that keeps a girl satisfied long term. Don't want her losing interest, now do you?"

"What? I . I don't need sex advice from a blood-sucking pervert!" By now Xander was so flustered and red-faced Spike thought he might have a stroke. It was such a joy to watch the boy squirm, he thought he'd play it a little more.

"Well all right then. If you don't want to hear about the Mondrovian love channel technique or the Shumasthra position...." The vampire tossed back his second shot of whiskey.

Before Xander could reply and Spike could launch into his quickly invented and outrageous yarn, Xander's cell phone rang.

"Yeah?" he answered, turning slightly away from Spike. There was a long pause. "Again? Okay. You're sure you're all right? Yeah. I can stop by tomorrow during my lunch hour and estimate the damages. Okay. Glad you're all right Buffy. Dawn too. See you tomorrow."

"Trouble at Slayer Central?" Spike tried to sound casual.

"Buffy's house is trashed again," Xander explained. "Something called a M'fashnik attacked her at home, but she and Dawn are both okay." He took a sip of his beer and shook his head. "Too bad the Council doesn't pay reparation for damages. Buffy's house repairs could be my bread and butter, not to mention a nice townhouse and a new car."

"You help her out for free then?" Spike asked.

Xander gave him a condescending look. "Spike, not everyone is an opportunistic jerk like you. Of course I do it for free. She's my friend and it's my contribution to the slaying."

"Yeah. That makes sense. Now I finally understand what possible value you could have to the Slayer because it certainly isn't your fighting skills."

"Shut up."

"Slayer's in a bit of a financial bind isn't she?" Spike asked. "Not holding it together so well with her mum dead, eh?"

"I guess not. Why?" Xander looked at him suspiciously.

"I just wondered if her Watcher ever considered that. Has he ever mentioned contacting the Council and asking for a wage for her?"

"Why do you care?" Xander was sitting up straighter and eyeing him even more keenly. The beer haze seemed to have cleared for a moment. "What's your sudden interest in Buffy anyway? Why are you always around? Always helping?"

"Told you. I got nothing better to do. I got to beat up on something to keep me sane and since demons are all that's left for me to damage, well, that's what I do. If it happens to coincide with what you lot are up to then lucky for you, isn't it?"

Xander looked doubtful but turned his attention back to his foamy fresh beer.

"Well, it's been nice chatting you up," Spike said and disappeared like smoke by the time Xander looked toward him again. He blinked and peered around the shadowy bar but Spike had vanished.

He shook his head, "Stupid vampire," and returned to his solitary drinking.

        *********

Buffy sat on the back steps of her house, breathing in the cool night air and unwinding from her throw down with the M'fashnik demon. She wasn't tired. In fact, she felt fully charged and firing on all cylinders. And she was really, really hungry. The Lean Cuisine she'd had for dinner just wasn't cutting it.

Her stomach grumbled and she stroked it. Down, beast! As she patted her belly, she thought about what it would feel like in a few more months when there was a hard lump there or a few months after that when it would look like she'd swallowed a Volkswagen. She knew what a prenatal abdomen felt like even if the memory was false. Her mom had held little Buffy's hand against her distended belly in which Dawn was jumping and kicking like a Russian gymnast.

She remembered thinking it was neat but kind of creepy. Like the way her grandma's cat's tail twitched as if it had a life of its own. Buffy used to think the mice the cat had eaten were trapped down in the tail. It totally freaked her out and the baby inside momma did too. She never asked to feel the lump again.

Buffy thought about her mom and how she'd gently and oh-so-carefully explained the facts of life to a pre-teen Buffy, using a beautifully illustrated book and medical terminology. The young girl had smiled and nodded and blushed and endured her mother's tender hug with embarrassment. Buffy hadn't had the nerve to tell her that Jenny Majeski, a ninth grader from down the street, had already explained the facts in much more graphic and colorful terms. That was Mom, sweet but clueless.

And what would her mom advise her if she were alive today? How would she counsel her confused daughter? She probably wouldn't advocate an abortion. As much as Joyce believed in a woman's right to choose, she would earnestly wish her daughter to choose life for her unborn grandchild. Grandchild! The thought rocked Buffy's mind. It gave a suddenly all-too- real solidity to the nebulous cluster of cells floating around in her innards.

Buffy sighed and stopped stroking her nearly flat stomach. A burning cigarette landed on the walk at her feet. She reached out a foot and ground it out, then looked up to catch Spike's head-tilted, questioning gaze.

"Hey," she said, noncomittally.

"Hey yourself." He slipped down onto the steps by her side. "Heard you had yourself an altercation tonight."

She looked at him inquisitively. "You know something about that Fashion demon? What's the scoop? Is my business all over the underworld phone chain now?"

"Naw. I was drinking with my buddy, Xander when he got your call."

"Buddy ... You were with Xander!" She couldn't have been more shocked if the sun had risen green in the south.

"Sure. We're both guys. Crime fighters together and all. Why not a little male bonding?"

Buffy, who could've sworn for a split second that she heard the word 'bondage', choked on her own saliva.

Spike gave her a sharp rap on the back as she coughed and she slapped his hand away.

"Spike, I don't know what your plan is, if hanging with my friends is some attempt to worm your way into my life, but it's ... it's just weird ... and ... and surreal, so cut it out."

"What? You don't want me to be friendly to your friends? Thought we were all working on the same team. Team Slayer. You want me to help but still say outside the loop? Now how much good can I do like that?" His tone was so logical and Giles-like that Buffy felt another shift in the fabric of reality. Of course he was right. Why was Spike, that evil, polluted being, so often right about things? It was really annoying.

"Anyway," he continued smoothly. "I just thought I'd swing by on my way home. See how you were holding up."

"I'm fine," Buffy snapped. "Thanks for your concern." Just then her stomach rumbled loudly.

"Sounds like you're a bit peckish," Spike observed. "You got to remember you're eating for two now. Stop all that salad greens and bottled water nonsense and get some real meat into you. Kid's probably starving already, thinking 'what the hell kind of cheap hotel am I camping out in?'" He surveyed her body. "You still planning on keeping the tidbit?"

"I guess ... I guess I am," Buffy marveled as the realization that her decision had been made swept over her. "I guess I really am. Oh god. I can't do this," she panicked.

Spike tried to soothe her. "Get over the bloody self-doubting, pet, it's boring. Anyone who can protect the whole human race from evil can manage one tiny sprog."

"What have you ever raised besides other demons?" she replied scornfully. "Don't tell me how easy it is! Babies aren't just cute little puppies you can cuddle then leave in their kennel, they're incredibly expensive and take massive amounts of time. Money and time I don't have."

She paused then added, "Though, thanks to Giles, I've now got a little breathing room in paying bills, at least for this month."

"Giles?" He asked sharply, head snapping around to watch her profile.

She nodded, smiled to herself and mused, "He's everything my dad should be. He's helped me in so many ways."

"Oh yeah. A veritable philanthropist is Rupert Giles," Spike scoffed. "He always has your best interests at heart doesn't he?"

Buffy glared. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Never mind." Realizing that bashing her beloved Watcher wasn't going to win her favor, Spike segued into a different subject. "So . when you going to tell your mates about Baby Potato Head?"

"Stop calling it stupid names," Buffy said irritably. "I don't know when I'll tell them. I'll tell them when I tell them." She picked at a ragged cuticle and wondered if she'd ever be able to afford another manicure for the rest of her life.

"You'll feel better when it's all out in the open," he pointed out, shifting to the step below hers so he could attempt to make eye contact with the recalcitrant Slayer. "Then your girly-friends can gush and coo and pamper you."

He decided to push the issue that was of most concern to him. "And Giles and Harris can get all manly and protective, maybe even force a shotgun wedding with the soldier-boy if you can find him. You haven't found him, right?"

"Haven't looked yet," she muttered, then pierced Spike with another killer glare. How was it he could engage her in these conversations and force admissions out of her that she never meant to share?

"Not that it's any of your concern in any way whatsoever," she added. "Just frien.allies, remember? We're just working together. Barely acquaintances. Once mortal enemies, in case you've forgotten. So Back Off!"

He fell silent. 'Once lovers,' he thought but suppressed the urge to blurt it out.

After a fidgeting moment, he took his cigarettes out and placed one in his mouth. Taking the lighter from his pocket, he began flipping the lid open and closed.

Buffy rolled her eyes at the repeated annoying snap and click, but she didn't scold him since he'd had the courtesy not to light up. Her stomach growled even louder than before sounding like the start up of the Daytona 500. It forced a smile from both of them.

"You'd better eat now, love," he said gently, trying with all his might not to antagonize her. "Before your stomach devours itself." He stood up then reached down to help her to her feet. Amazingly, she let him.

She stepped up onto the porch and paused, looking down at him. "Why are you always around when I'm miserable?" she asked.

"You're miserable most of the time," he answered.

"True," she admitted. "Well, anyway, uh, thanks. It's good to have someone to talk to whose opinion doesn't matter."

Spike's eyebrows shot up. "Ooh thanks. That's lovely."

"I mean," she stammered, almost blushing. "Who doesn't judge or make me feel like I'm not everything I should be. That's all I meant. Oh, never mind!" She turned and stalked into the house.

He watched her go, smiling to himself. So she didn't value his opinion, who cared. He was the only person she was able to talk to right now and that had to mean something, right?

It would've been brilliant to be able to tell her who her anonymous sugar- daddy really was, but much as Spike loved bragging, he knew she would never accept the money from him and especially not after she found out the various ways he'd secured it. So he'd keep working under the radar to ease her way and make her life more pleasant. Made a fellow feel kind of puffed up and satisfied to be able to take care of his woman, even if she didn't know it or thank him for it.

He started off down the sidewalk with a swagger, finally lighting his cigarette and relishing a lungful of pungent smoke.

To be continued..

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