Chapter Six -- When Tables Turn ... Strange Things Happen

"Did you notice anything strange about him?" Andrew asked after Willow and Dawn, with Kennedy and Rona following closely, had left the library with Spike.

"You mean other than the fact that he's a vampire accidentally called back from hell by a Wicca with a wandering brain?" Xander asked snidely. "Oh, wait. I know what was strange about him," he snarked as he gave Andrew a disgruntled look. "He was all but naked."

"Really?" Andrew asked innocently. "I hadn't noticed."

"Hadn't noticed?" Xander gasped. "You were all but drooling and if you think --"

"Andrew's right," Giles said, effectively cutting off Xander's jealous comeback. "There was something rather different about him," he noted as puzzlement filled him.

"He never asked about Buffy," Robin said softly.

"That's right," Giles said, lifting his head in surprise. "How very odd. Buffy has always been the center of his universe. That he shouldn't ask about her ..." Giles paused, confused. "I should have thought her whereabouts and welfare would have been among the first of his concerns." He removed his glasses, studied them silently for a moment before putting them back on and turning to Faith. "What do you think?"

"What do I think?" She took a deep breath, thrusting her breasts out, and letting her dark eyes flick around the room before answering her own question. "I don't know what to think. Willow's hocus-pocus ain't exactly my field."

"Very well, then," Giles said. "How did his presence make you feel?"

"Turned on," she said quickly and Robin noticeably stiffened beside her. She flashed him a sultry smile. "Don't get me wrong. Spike's one hot number, always has been, but his come-fuck-me eyes, six-pack abs, and bulging balls ain't what got my panties damp." She turned to Giles; her brows pulling together as her face took on a serious look. "Power," she said. "When he looked at me, I felt so much power dripping off him that I thought I'd melt under it."

"Did you sense evil?" Giles asked and held his breath waiting for her answer.

Faith shrugged. "Not exactly. It was more like ..." She hesitated. "I don't know ... maybe ... possessiveness or concern?"

"Concern?" Giles questioned, feeling lost.

"That's it!" Andrew cried out happily. When they all turned to look at him, he shifted his feet and looked uncomfortable. "He looked worried," Andrew explained. "Just before Willow shut the portal down and then later when Faith was leering at --"

"She wasn't leering," Robin denied angrily.

"Oh, yes I was." Faith deliberately licked her lips, hooked her thumbs in her belt, and jutted one hip out challengingly. "That bother you, Mr. Wood?"

"Not a bit, Mrs. Wood," her husband replied dangerously.

"So ..." Xander said as he looked back and forth between the couple. "I take it the honeymoon is over?"

"It's just getting started," Faith promised as she smiled sensuously into her jealous mate's slanted eyes. The heat generated between the two was palpable in the library.

Giles cleared his throat loudly. "Umm, yes quite." He looked back and forth between the couple and wished he had a bucket of ice-water to toss on them. "Now if we may get back to discussing Spike?"

"Yes. Let's talk about Spike," Andrew agreed so eagerly that Xander once again frowned at him.

Giles rolled his eyes. He didn't know why he bothered. Spike was obviously unchanged. The vampire had been back less than an hour and was already having his usual disruptive effect on them all.

"Why don't you all just go to ..., umm ..., bed," he told the two couples, his exasperation at them more than apparent. "I shall go see how the girls are making out with our newly resurrected vampire."

~

 


~

"Something's wrong with him," Dawn said as soon as Giles entered Buffy's suite of rooms. She cast a worried look in the direction of the bathroom. Giles could make out the soft tone of Willow's pleading voice through the partially open door.

Kennedy stood beside the doorframe, peering into the bathroom anxiously through the opening. Giles was alarmed to notice the tight grip she had on the stake that she clenched in her hand.

"What happened?" he demanded. "Did Spike attack Willow?"

"No!" Dawn shouted. "No, nothing like that."

Giles felt relief flood over him and took a deep breath to steady himself.

"When we were climbing the stairs he suddenly got dizzy and disoriented," Rona explained. "He sat down as soon as we got here and got all quiet and moody. He asked us to leave, but ... well, Willow figured he was just tired and needed to be fed."

"He really is a vampire, isn't he?" asked Amy Zawatski, one his favorite young slayers. She stood still and frightened beside Dawn. Her freckles were stark splotches against her pale skin and her brown eyes were even larger than normal as they stared at the bathroom door in stunned disbelief.

"Amy?" he asked, wondering what she was doing here.

"I ran down to the storeroom for some clothes and got a bag of blood out of the freezer," Dawn said, interrupting his thoughts. "I can't remember when we got it. I don't think it was that old, but it must have been." She stopped talking and looked towards the bathroom with a stricken look on her face.

"While he was dressing, Dawn warmed the blood up in the microwave," Rona said.

Dawn looked as if she were going to cry as she softly added, "He drank it and then he ... got sick."

"He's been in there puking ever since," finished Rona.

"Spike got sick after drinking blood?" Giles inquired carefully, and the two young women nodded. "That's ... curious," he noted as he walked to the bathroom.

He had to literally push Kennedy aside to move past her. No wonder Willow was getting tired of the woman's possessive manner. Spike was sitting on the floor. His arms were draped over his bent knees and his head was hanging between them. Willow sat next to him with her hand rubbing the center of his back, trying to comfort him.

She looked up at Giles, a look of relief on her face. "He's sick," she said simply.

"So I was informed." Giles knelt down, unsure of what he could, or for that matter should do.

"He won't tell me what's wrong. Won't say what hurts," Willow complained softly. "All he's said is that he's fine and that we should leave him alone."

Giles pondered the miserable creature next to him.

Spike was dressed in his typical black jeans; Dawn wouldn't have chosen anything else out of their supply of spare clothing. He was bare-chested; a soiled black T-shirt was wadded up against the tub. His feet were still bare, either Dawn hadn't known what size to get him, or else they didn't have any steel-toed boots that she deemed worthy enough for him.

Spike's shoulders were hunched forward, making the bones of back stand out in sharp relief. His heavily muscled arms were braced on his spread knees, his long, pale fingers hanging limply toward the floor. Spike's head was down, his neck bowed, and his face unseen. All Giles could make out were the vulnerable knobs along his spine and the white-blond hair that curled wildly around his skull. The harsh lights of the bath brought out molten gold highlights in the vampire's hair. Giles had never noticed them before and he had the oddest urge to touch the gilded waves.

Whatever Spike was currently going through, he certainly looked helpless at the moment.

There had been a few times in the past when Giles had almost felt sympathy for Spike, but no matter what pitiful situation Spike somehow managed to get in, or what tortures he had endured, Giles had always managed to remain aloof and detached. Softness in regard to vampires was nothing short of suicidal -- Angel had made that fact very clear.

Then there'd been Buffy to consider, to protect from this demon's influence. Giles had constantly reminded her, as well as himself, that Spike was just a soulless creature, that he was beneath her notice, and that he could never be trusted. Of course Spike had proved him wrong on every count. The vampire had earned himself a soul, earned Buffy's love, and sacrificed himself in order to save the world.

Giles allowed himself to gaze tenderly at the bowed head and hunched shoulders. They'd all vowed that if they had it to do over again, that they'd do things differently. Now was his chance.

"Spike?" he inquired softly and was surprised at the gentleness of his tone. "Is there anything we can do for you?"

Apparently his tone surprised Spike as well. The vampire lifted his head just enough that Giles could make the blue flash of an eye as Spike peered over his arm.

"I'm a bit knackered. Need a good lie down, is all," Spike muttered as he once again dropped his face toward the floor. "If you want to help, Rupert," he whispered softly. "Send these silly bints away."

"Of course," Giles agreed as he rose to his feet. "Come, Willow," he said and held out his hand.

She shook her head and opened her mouth to argue. Before she could utter a word he lifted his index finger to his lips to hush her and motioned with his head toward the door. Reluctantly, she nodded, took his hand, and allowed him to lead her from the room.

Kennedy gave an audible cry of relief and pulled Willow possessively into her arms the moment they stepped back into Buffy's sitting room.

"Spike needs some time alone," he told the hovering women. "It's getting late and I think we would all benefit from some rest," Giles said.

"But --" protested Dawn.

"Spike's sick!" Willow burst out as she struggled free of Kennedy's strong arms. "He needs --"

"Some space," Giles said softly and held a hand up to stop any further arguments. "I imagine traveling through dimensional portals must be quite draining."

Dawn's face became mulish and she crossed her arms stubbornly over her chest. Willow gave him her 'look' and Giles knew he was going to have to speak to them privately, after all this was a family matter. He shooed the slayers from the room; oddly enough, Rona was the only one who left without protest. Both Kennedy and Amy thought that they should remain to stand guard over Spike. Kennedy even went so far as to suggest chaining the sick vampire, which earned her a cold look from Willow.

"Yes, Spike is sick," Giles said to Dawn and Willow when the others had finally gone. "He seems to think that all he needs is rest. I don't know about that, but I do know that having everyone see him sick, shaking, and vomiting certainly isn't helping him any." Giles frowned in thought, trying to find the words to express his feelings. "Spike has always hidden his weaknesses behind a threatening facade. In fact, according to Buffy the entire irritating 'Spike' persona was nothing more than ruse to cover the fact that he was... How did she put it? 'All marshmallowy inside'," he said with a crooked smile. "I'm sure he'll recover more quickly if he doesn't feel the need to maintain his dangerous reputation."

"Makes sense," Willow said. "But I still don't think we should leave him until --"

"Go to bed, ya' dafts gits," Spike said from the bathroom doorway. "'Swhat I'm gonna do." He pushed away from the doorframe and walked slowly, but steadily into the bedroom.

Willow and Dawn rushed after him, cooing and clucking as they pulled down the coverlet to expose the navy blue sheets that Buffy had selected on her last visit. Spike impatiently shook off their guiding hands as he collapsed on top of the dark sheets.

"Now beat it," he grumbled as he closed his eyes wearily.

Willow smiled at the grumpy vampire and patted his bare shoulder. She pulled the window drapes tightly shut and used the remote to shut the skylights before joining Giles in the doorway.

Dawn hesitated beside the bed, then leaned down and kissed Spike tenderly on his forehead. "Good night, Spike."

"'Night, Big Gulp."

At first Dawn stiffened at the new nickname, then she must have decided not to take exception to it. Her happy smile lit up the room as they left the vampire to his rest.

~

 


~

The icy October rain had stopped, leaving a thick and heavy blanket of mist to cover the tombstones and the hide the path. Despite the limited visibility, Amy Zawatski walked confidently through the darkness and the thick fog toward the crypt, her head up, her senses alert for danger.

She looked at the broken chain on the door and slowly put her key back into her pocket. Pushing open the iron door, she entered stealthily. Her eyes delved into every corner before noticing the large slab of floor that had been shifted aside. She peered down into the hole that had been hidden beneath the granite. Without hesitation, she slid into the opening and into the caverns below.

She switched on her flashlight and started forward confidently, working her way through the tunnels as if something was directing her. A few minutes later she entered a large roughly hewn room cloaked in shadows. A stone altar stood in the center, bones and sticks covering its surface.

She was moving closer to the altar when one of the shadows detached itself from the wall. She gasped as it seemed to flow towards her, as if it were liquid. As it neared her, the darkness turned to blazing light. Two crimson spotlights blinded her. She felt the creature expanding, touching the ceiling, covering her.

She screamed and she fought.

The stone walls cracked.

The altar smashed.

Fangs sunk into her throat.

And the end came quickly.

~

 


~

Chapter Seven -- When Tables Turn ... Things Break Open

Willow woke with a start.

Something had happened, something bad.

She flipped the comforter off and sat on the edge of the bed, trying to get her thoughts in order. She felt the demanding nudge of J.C.'s head against her side, and obediently petted him.

"Did I wake you up, Sweetie?" she cooed to her pet as she scooped him up and stood. She nuzzled his soft fur against her cheek as she walked to the window and looked out over the fog-shrouded grounds.

She still felt it, the disturbing certainty that their wards had been broken, their defenses breached. Her gaze was drawn northward, toward the cemetery. She wasn't overly surprised. That's where she'd placed the least amount of protection. That's where she'd felt something probing before.

"We're still safe in here," she murmured to J.C.

She was still standing there when the first rays of dawn made the fog begin to glow.

~

 


~

"You're up early," Xander noted when he bumped into Willow at the bottom of the penthouse stairs.

"So are you," she countered.

"Yeah, but at least I slept," he said, concern filling him when he noticed the shadows beneath her eyes.

"Yeah, right," she snorted. "Like I should believe you got any sleep with Andrew finally back from Cleveland."

"Well ..." he said, feeling satisfied and smug. "I got some sleep. You, on the other hand look like you've been up all night. And," he said, "since I happen to know that you banished Kennedy to the dorm ..." At Willow's lifted brows, he explained, "She was pretty loud and sound carries down these halls."

"She wanted to chain Spike up," Willow explained with a disgusted shake of her head. "He could barely stand and she thought ..." Willow paused and Xander could read her face.

"It's not about Spike, is it?"

Willow looked sadly up at him. "Kennedy brings out the worst in me," she confessed. "I knew I wasn't prepared to do that spell, but she --"

"Talked you into it," Xander finished knowingly. "Instead of grounding you, she pushes you."

Willow nodded. "I've tried to tell her it's over, but she's ... stubborn."

"Spoiled, is the word I'd have used," he said as he took her arm and they began climbing the stairs together. "You were planning on checking on Spike, weren't you?"

"Yeah," she said. "He got sick last night. Vomited up the blood he drank."

"Really?" Xander asked in surprise. "He looked fine when you left the library with him. Though," he said slowly as he remembered the talk that had followed Spike's departure. "Andrew thought Spike was a little off."

"Really? Spike a little off?" The corners of Willow's soft lips lifted impishly and Xander felt laughter bubble inside him as he reached for the penthouse doorknob.

"Hush," Willow hissed. "If he's asleep, we don't want to wake him."

They crept silently through the sitting room, then tip-toed into the dimly lit bedroom.

Spike was naked, sprawled on his back. The royal blue sheet was twisted low around his hips, revealing the hollow beneath one jutting pelvic bone and most of his legs. As he looked at Spike's taught belly above the sheet, Xander felt his own clench uncomfortably and forced his eyes upward, skimming quickly over the pale chest. Spike had one arm tucked under the pillow, the other flung carelessly out to the side. His head was twisted slightly and there was a noticeable flush darkening his cheek.

"Oh good," Willow whispered. "He must have gotten up in the night and fed."

She tugged on Xander's wrist, but he wasn't ready to leave.

"How come I never noticed before how beautiful he is?" Xander asked his oldest friend as his eyes moved slowly over Spike's form.

"You did," Willow said gently. "That's probably why you hated him so much."

Xander jerked as the truth of her words hit him.

He'd always thought that the jealousy that had raged within him whenever he thought of Spike with Anya, or Spike with Buffy, had been because of the girls. He'd never let himself even think of any other reason for it. Now, looking at the soundly sleeping vampire, he was finally able to understand that there had been another cause for his envy.

"Andrew's built a little like him," Xander said with sudden surprise.

Willow looked smug. "I've noticed."

"Geesh, Will." Xander was embarrassed. "How long have you known?"

She just shrugged and smiled mysteriously.

~

 


~

Buffy awoke from her dreams of Spike, smiled, stretched, and looked at the clock. It was nearly ten -- no wonder she was starving. She slid out of bed and padded toward the shower. She'd have enough time for a nice long shower before getting dressed and checking out of the motel by eleven.

She hummed happily as she stepped into the spray. If she drove non-stop, she could get home by early evening, suddenly anxious to get back to the mansion by the lake.

~

 


~

"I take it he's still not up?" Willow asked the group gathered around the library table.

Dawn shook her head. "I don't think so, but it's hard to tell. Somebody,' she sent a resentful look Xander's way, "won't give me the keys so I can't go check on him."

Xander shrugged. "When he wakes up, he'll come out." Dawn just glared at him harder. "Rona is standing guard outside his door and when he comes out she'll bring him down here."

Dawn humphed unhappily.

"We decided he was safest behind locked doors," Willow said patiently. "This is a school for slayers after all, and --"

"We wouldn't want him getting dusted by someone who doesn't know him," Robin added snidely.

"Or by someone who does know him," Xander said, the warning clear in his voice.

Willow was taken aback by the protectiveness she sensed and she smiled as she thought of how things really were changing.

"Has anyone been able to get in touch with Buffy?" Willow asked, looking first at Dawn and then at Giles.

"The line has been disconnected." Giles appeared both worried and dismayed.

"Poor, B.," Faith said. "Her pet vamp back from hell and she don't even know it." Her short dark hair swung wildly as she shook her head. "She split for parts unknown and left him surrounded by slayers. Who's gonna take care of him now that he's all ownerless?" she asked with a sly grin. Her dark eyes flicked around the room, pausing on Dawn briefly before coming to rest on Xander. "Bet there's plenty of volunteers."

"That include you, Faith?" Andrew asked bitchily.

She grinned up at her husband. "Naw, I already got plenty o'man." She turned back to Andrew. "Too bad you can't say the same."

"Oh!" cried Andrew. "I'll have you know that Xander is --"

"Enough!" Giles burst out. "I mean," he said with roll of his eyes, "that's enough of this sniping." He looked down at his watch. "It's eleven o'clock. If Spike's not awake soon, we'll --"

"Eleven?" Willow asked, sudden fear making her heart pound in her chest. She turned to Xander. "Tell me that you re-set the --"

"The skylights!" he yelled as he ran headlong from the room, Willow at his heels.

Rona took one look at their panicked faces as they topped the stairs and kicked the door open for them. Willow flew past her and grabbed a throw off the sitting room couch. If Spike wasn't already charcoal, maybe she could cover him with it.

Willow whimpered as she entered the sunlit bedroom and the acrid smell of scorched vampire hit her. Xander stood next to the bed, staring down. Willow forced herself to look, expecting to see a pile of ashes. Instead, all she saw was rumpled cornflower blue sheets. She stared stupidly at them. Something wasn't right. The sheets were --

"Those lethal windows yer idea of a good hardy-har-har, Harris?"

"Spike!" Willow swung around to see Spike standing in the shadows of the bathroom. She'd forgotten that the bath had an entrance from both the sitting room and the bedroom. "You're alive!" she said through tears of relief.

"Well technically, he's still un-dead," Xander said automatically, then sat down abruptly on the bed and tried to catch his breath.

"When you get done huffin' and puffin', Harris, you think you might shut those bloody windows?" Spike asked impatiently, making Xander jump and reach for the remote. "This bathroom's nice, but I've seen more'n enough of it. Oh, and be a luv, Red. Toss me my pants?"

Willow couldn't stop smiling as she looked around for Spike's clothes. She couldn't find the black jeans Dawn had brought up, but she did find a gray pair. He'd just have to live, er, wear another color for a change.

"What did you do with that other pair?" Willow asked as she tossed the pants into the bathroom and averted her eyes.

"Other pair?" Spike asked clearly mystified.

"You know, the black ones?"

"I dunno," he said as he slipped into the jeans and stepped out into the now shadowed room. "They were right --"

"Oh, Spike!" Willow gasped as she caught sight of his arm. "You're burnt."

Spike twisted the limb around and looked at it curiously. "Yeah, a bit."

"How'd he get burned?" Dawn demanded as she entered Buffy's bedroom and marched directly over to the vampire to inspect the damage.

Xander pointed upward and Dawn nodded in understanding.

"The skylights?" Giles asked as he walked into the room.

"What's this, another family reunio-- Owww!" Spike hissed as Dawn prodded his burn. "Easy there, Gulp."

"I liked 'Bit' a bit better," she said with a giggle.

"Shouldna' grown up then, should ya'?" he teased.

"It's been over two years, Spike," Dawn said softly. "People change. I've changed."

Willow sucked in her breath as she waited for Spike's reply. Did he know what Dawn had just revealed? Did he know what the young woman was offering? Did he have any romantic feelings toward the girl?

"Naw, Bit," Spike said with a soft smile and Willow relaxed. "You may have grown enough to give even the thirstiest vamp a bellyache, but you'll always be the Nibblet to me."

Dawn looked disappointed, but smiled and said, "You know that I love you, don't you?"

"Course I do," he said smugly. "How could you help it, given my charming personality and all?"

"Dumb ass vampire," Dawn muttered affectionately.

"Hey!" Rona stuck her head in the bedroom door. "I know you told me to keep everyone else out, but Andrew's about to have a -- Hey!" she cried again as the young man in question entered the bedroom through the bathroom doorway.

"I knew you'd fall for a classic flanking maneuver," Andrew said as he directed a sweetly superior smile at Rona and moved to stand beside Xander.

Spike's blue eyes moved back and forth between the two men and Willow watched Xander tense up painfully. She knew that Spike's tongue could draw blood nearly as easily as his fangs. She took a step towards him, trying to catch his eye and warn him to be gentle.

"Flanking maneuver?" Spike asked, his lips curled, his brow quirked provocatively. Willow froze. This could be bad. "Don't I just bet you're good at those. Been studying the arts of war, have ya', boy?"

Andrew flashed a nervous smile and nodded.

"Good on ya', then mate." Spike's eyes skimmed up and down Andrew's thin, black-clad body. "Don't 'spose ya got a spare set of togs I can borrow?"

Andrew clapped his hands in delight. "Oooh, actually I have just the thing," he gushed. "Come down to our room and I'll have you outfitted out in no time."

Spike smirked at Xander, his blue eyes fairly sparkling with good humor before he nodded and docilely followed Andrew from the room.

They all let their breath out at the same time, looked at each other, and broke into relieved laughter.

~

 


~

Several hours later, they were once again gathered in the library. Spike was now fully clothed. Andrew had the vampire dressed entirely in black and he'd even found a long black leather coat somewhere. Spike, looking like his old self, was safely seated in the center of the group with J.C. curled comfortably on his lap.

"Right friendly, little pussy ya' got, Red," Spike said as he stroked the cat's pelt.

Xander snorted and said, "Birds of a feather, must purr together."

"That supposed to mean somethin', Harris?" Spike asked.

"Just that J.C. doesn't like anyone except Willow," Xander said. "Never seen it cuddle up with anyone else. You and that evil tempered creature must have something in common."

Spike looked blank for a moment. "J.C.?" he asked.

"Jimminy Cricket," Willow answered shyly.

"Been in need of a conscience, have you then?" Spike asked, his head tilted to one side. "It work?" he asked with a serious look on his face.

Willow shrugged. "Not really, but you can borrow him anytime you want."

Spike grinned and scratched the cat beneath its chin making it purr loudly in pleasure.

Willow watched the vampire petting her cat and her heart warmed. She wasn't sure if Spike was different or if she was. Had Spike always had these good qualities? Had they been too blindly prejudiced to see them? Since his return he'd been kind to everyone. He'd even refrained from tormenting Xander over Andrew -- ignoring golden opportunities to put his former foe in his place. One thing was certain; she no longer wondered how Buffy could love him. Willow was beginning to wonder how anyone could resist him.

She frowned at the thought. His irresistibility was already presenting problems. Several of the new slayers had begun stalking him, following him down the corridors, and just generally lurking in his vicinity. Willow wasn't sure if they were just curious or if they really did want to dust him. Willow felt a wave of protectiveness surge through her. Until things were settled, Spike couldn't be allowed to roam around alone.

Thinking of curious slayers, Willow asked, "Has anyone seen Amy today?"

"Nope, not since she left Buffy's rooms last night," Rona volunteered.

"What was she doing there?" Giles asked.

"We met her on the way," Willow said. "And you know how curious she is about everything." Willow smiled fondly thinking of Amy's inquisitive brown eyes and endless questions. "Once she got a peek at Spike and her slayer senses began twitching, nothing I said could get her to go."

"Odd that she hasn't been around today," Giles frowned.

"So, what's the story with the portal. Somethin' about a box?" Spike asked abruptly and Willow noticed an expression on his face that she couldn't quite put a name to.

"Oh, yes. The box," Giles said as he took it off the shelf and looked wistfully at it. "Willow, about this box," Giles began hesitantly.

Willow held her breath, dreading what he was going to ask.

"Do you think that you might ...?" He lifted the box and motioned toward the symbol painted on the floor.

"You want me to try again," Willow stated forlornly.

"Not, not if you don't think the time is ..."

"Time doesn't have anything to do with it, Giles," Willow admitted. "The problem is me." She took a deep breath and glanced around at her closest friends. "I lost control last time. I couldn't concentrate." She grimaced, twisted her fingers, and looked at Spike. "We were lucky that it was Spike I was thinking about."

"Yer right, Red," Spike said. "It's too dangerous. What if next time ya' get to thinking about some other bird, near and dear ta yer heart?"

Willow nodded in agreement.

"Oh, I see," said Giles softly. "You're afraid that you'll think of someone who might not be happy about being brought back?"

"Tara," Kennedy spit the name out distastefully, her eyes fixed painfully on Willow. "You might as well say her name. It's not like I --"

"Lemme see that tin, Rupert," Spike said abruptly, cutting off Kennedy and effectively earning Willow's undying gratitude. "Might be able to jimmy the lock and crack the bloody thing open." He smiled at Willow. "Solve Red's dilemma that way."

"I doubt you'll have any better luck than the rest of us," Giles said as he reluctantly handed the precious box over. "It's magically sealed. Nothing but an angel can --"

"No lock," Spike said as he turned it around in his hands. "Just this ugly bugger on the lid."

"Yes, quite," Giles said as he leaned over to retrieve the box.

Spike jerked it away. "Not done lookin' yet, Rupes."

Giles gave a longsuffering sigh as the vampire continued to study the object. Spike studied one corner, then flipped it over and studied the opposite corner. He twirled the box around and narrowed his eyes at a point on the bottom seam.

"Ah ha," he said just before slamming the ancient box down on the edge of the table. Giles gave out a piercing shriek only to choke it off abruptly when the box split open in Spike's hands. Tendrils of blue mist curled out and snaked around the metal towards his fingers.

"Let it go!" Willow warned.

Spike dropped the thing as if it had become a cross and burned him. He stepped back as more blue vapor billowed out. It rose upward in separate streams, like the tentacles of giant octopus, waving in the air, growing thicker and more solid with each passing moment. The wiggling limbs pointed toward the shelves and shards of blue flame shot from their tips. The room became filled with the smell of ozone and the brilliant flare made it impossible to see.

Suddenly, the blue light dimmed, the tentacles were gone, the box was once again closed, and the shelves were no longer empty. Book after book after book, as far as the eye could see, filled the library. Every inch of shelf now held a tome.

"The library," Giles said with awe. "It's full."

~

 


~

Chapter Eight -- When Tables Turn ... Things get Jumbled

This close to the lake the fog was so thick and heavy that wipers were needed to keep the dew off the windshield. The blades thumped slowly back and forth as the Erie County Sheriff's vehicle pulled to a stop at the end of the driveway. Even the halogen headlights could only illuminate a small section of the large structure through the mist.

Captain Beck switched off the engine and unbuckled the seat belt before removing the standard issue Berretta from its shoulder holster. The detective gave the darkened building as thorough an inspection as possible through the murk, before leaning to the side and removing a pair of handcuffs from their belt-hook.

The police officer opened the SUV's door and slid down from the Bronco's driver's seat. The gravel crunched beneath heavy boots as the detective walked around the large vehicle and opened the back hatch. The handgun and the cuffs were carefully placed in the cargo space. Just as the Captain was leaning down with arms extended, the front door of the house was flung open.

"Where have you been, Liddy?"

Captain Lydia Beck straightened abruptly. She removed her broad-brimmed hat and tossed it in on top of the gun, then slammed the hatch securely shut and locked it.

"You only called me last night," Liddy said as she turned toward her older sister. "And this morning ... and this afternoon ... and again this eve--"

"This is important!" Eloise's frail body shook and Lydia grew concerned at the strength of her sister's unease.

"Okay, okay, Elly," Lydia said calmly as she mounted the porch steps. "I'm here now and you can tell all about it over a cup of coffee." She took Eloise's thin elbow and gently directed her sister back into the house. "Why are the lights off?" she asked as they entered.

"So I can see, of course."

Lydia sighed.

Even though Eloise was ten years her senior, it had been then fifteen-year-old Lydia who'd taken care of them when their mother had passed away so many years ago. Eloise had always been different. Some called her 'special', other's classified her as 'delusional', and the locals in Lily Dale referred to her almost reverently as 'touched'. Whatever Eloise was, she had always been at least one step outside of reality with her visions and her prophecies. And even now that Elly was in her fifties, Lydia still had to take care of her elder sibling.

"Just what are you seeing these days?" Lydia asked as she flipped on the hall light.

"Magic, miracles, and mayhem." Eloise's thin face sparkled with delight. "Come," she said and turned the lights back off. "I'll show you."

Lydia followed her sister through the familiar twists and turns of their childhood home. Through long experience, she knew that until Elly had her say, shown whatever it was that had her so wound up to Lydia's skeptical eyes, her sister would give her no peace.

"Look!" Elly said triumphantly as she led Lydia out onto the back deck that overlooked the bay and pointed northward toward the opposite shore.

The house they'd grown up in was the last one on Grove's Point, a thin peninsula of land that jutted out into Lake Erie and formed a small inland bay. Lydia followed her sister's pointing finger across the mist-shrouded waves, wondering how Elly expected her to see anything through the fog.

"On the cliffs. Don't you see it?" Elly asked eagerly.

Lydia squinted and could just make out the lights of --

"Oh, Elly," she said wearily. "You're not still upset about the Bethlehem estate, are you?"

"Upset?" her sister asked. "Oh, no, Liddy." Elly's eyes shimmered. "I'm excited -- thrilled. We have to go there," she said abruptly.

"Why? You're not still trying to fix me up with that Englishman, are you?"

"Well ... yes," Elly admitted with reluctant honesty. "But that's not why we need to go there. I've had a vision, actually several, and --"

"Visions?" Lydia broke in.

"I've been given a mission," Elly said with a proud, happy little smile. "I'm needed there to act as a conduit between dimensions."

Lydia groaned.

~

 


~

Buffy wearily turned the Jeep onto Old Lake Shore Drive.

"Just a few more miles to go," she said. She turned her head quick enough to catch the hateful glare directed at her from the floorboards next to her, before the dark head ducked down. Even with the passenger seat shoved as far back as it would go it was a tight squeeze for the vampire.

She'd pulled off the interstate in Rochester for one last tank of gas and a bite to eat. After she'd refueled both the Jeep and her belly, she'd taken a wrong turn and missed her on-ramp. She'd shrugged and began wandering the circular and confusing streets of the city, looking for another way onto the highway. It was while she was driving through a particularly seedy section that she'd felt the twitch that she called her 'Vampire Vibe'. She'd followed the feeling and pulled the Jeep over in front of one of the old Kodak warehouses. A quick exploration inside had resulted in the male vampire that was currently securely trussed and gagged and huddled on the floor beside her.

Actually, he'd been a fairly easy and disappointing catch. Dusk hadn't fallen yet and the vamp had still been sleeping when she'd crept up on him. It always amazed her that some vampires were practically catatonic when the sun was up, while others roamed freely around in the shadows during the day. The hardest part about dealing with this sluggish vamp had been dragging it through the last rays of the setting sun without it going up like a roman candle. She'd managed it, though it had cost her the lovely ice-blue comforter she'd splurged on a few months ago. She looked down sadly at the rips and dirt spots that marred the satin surface.

"Rona had better appreciate you," she grumbled to the huddled up vamp as she pulled through the estate's main gates and headed down the long drive.

She never noticed the two cloaked figures that slipped through the opening behind her.

~

 


~

"Something is coming," Willow said softly. It wasn't the volume, but rather the tone of her voice that instantly caught everyone's attention and silenced them.

They'd been eagerly sorting through the books. Willow already had a database started on her laptop and was categorizing the books by date, topic, author, and genre. At first, Faith had taken a nominal interest in the books, but when Giles had actually asked the slayer to help - she'd taken off. She'd stated that the students had been ignored long enough and that she was going to work with them in the training room. Xander and Kennedy had followed her lead, eagerly escaping the tedious work. Robin had lingered for a while, but books had never been his thing, either. He still preferred his volumes to be digital. With an apology and the excuse of working on the school's never ending applications for accreditation, he'd left the library as well.

With the others gone, the burden fell to Giles, Andrew, Dawn, and Willow to sort through the massive amount of books. Spike poked at this one and that, but didn't seem very interested as he wandered around the library. Rona sat on the table watching him carefully and Willow wasn't sure if she was acting as his unofficial guard or protector. Whatever Rona thought about the situation, and knowing Rona, she'd tell them all sooner or later, her presence was a comfort to Willow.

The black girl had been their rock. Her steady, if sometimes negative and caustic, personality had helped them through the roughest times. Willow doubted if they'd have gotten as far as they had on refurbishing the mansion and converting it into a school, if it hadn't be for Rona bluntly pointing out their errors and questioning their every decision. She had the unique talent of zeroing in on their inadequacies and helping them find better solutions.

Rona had no official duties, no set schedule, yet she was always there when she was needed. The original Scoobies counted on her and had unanimously accepted her into their inner circle of trust.

At Willow's words of warning, Giles lifted his head from the grymoire he'd been studying, Andrew stopped his endless babbling to the bored looking Dawn, Spike stiffened, and Rona hopped off the table.

"Where?" the slayer asked, already preparing to defend her charges.

Willow turned her head towards the east and closed her eyes, trying to understand the fluctuations in her magical wards. "Inside the gates," Willow whispered. "Coming quickly."

"What is it?" Rona asked.

"Danger," Willow answered, feeling an uncomfortable tingle of dread in the pit of her stomach. "I sense a demon." Disbelief and confusion filled her. How had at it gotten through? Her wards should have stopped anything evil, anything uninvited, or anything non-human.

Rona nodded calmly -- she'd faced worse -- and pulled a stake from the side pocket of her carpenter's pants.

They were all gathered at the library doors, preparing to go out and face the danger together, when Willow noticed Spike's absence.

He was standing beside the table, looking down at the floor dejectedly.

"Go," Willow said to the others. "Ring the alarm. I'll be right out." She walked back to Spike and touched his leather clad elbow. "What is it?" she asked gently and waited for him to answer. When a minute of silence had passed, she tried again. "Do you know what's out there?"

He nodded, but didn't look up.

~

 


~

Buffy pulled to a stop outside the massive front doors. She hopped out eagerly and nearly skipped as she rounded the front of the Jeep. She pulled open the passenger door and grasped the vamp by the collar of his flannel shirt.

"Welcome to the Sunnydale Memorial School of Slayage," she said brightly as she hauled him out and onto the damp cobblestones. "Your attendance is mandatory and your duty assignment is ... training aid," she said with a wicked grin. She headed toward the door, dragging the now growling, struggling, and terrified creature behind her. "What's that you say?" she inquired. "You want to know how long you'll be staying? Well let's just see," she said ominously as she kicked open the front doors dramatically and flung the vampire into the center of the people congregated in the Great Hall.

"Anyone want to dust a vamp?" she invited loudly from her position in the doorway.

~

 


~

"It's Buffy!" Dawn shouted from the hallway loud enough for Willow to hear.

She gasped in surprise and relief. She was about to run to the doorway when Spike lifted his head and the miserable expression on his face stopped her.

"You don't want to see her, do you?" Willow asked in amazement. "That's why you haven't asked about her -- why you look skittish every time she's mentioned."

Spike hung his head again, his thin neck curving downward, his spine exposed and vulnerable. Willow wondered how this elder vampire could look so fragile at times.

"Why?" she asked, completely perplexed by him.

"I'm afraid of what I'll see when I look at her," Spike muttered so softly that Willow could barely make out the words.

She was about to ask more when he abruptly lifted his head and sniffed the air. He vamped out so suddenly and so unexpectedly that she shrieked in reaction. With a deadly growl, he was gone, bolting toward the door so quickly, that he formed a silvery-gray blur.

Willow rushed after him. She made it past the library door just in time to see him leap over the second floor railing and disappear feet first into the Great Hall below.

"Spike, no!" she screamed in horror.

~

 


~

Chapter Nine -- When Tables Turn ... Bodies Bang Together

"So what ya' think, Rona?" Buffy asked smugly. She hauled the vampire off the floor and forcibly turned its face upward towards where Rona stood leaning over the second floor railing. "Wanna take a crack at housebreaking it?"

Rona's eyes bulged and her mouth gaped wide as she took in the sight of Buffy and the vampire below her.

"You're back!" Dawn called down happily.

Giles frowned. "And you brought another vamp--"

Buffy saw a white-crowned form suddenly take flight from behind Giles. The specter lifted into the air, cleared the people at the rail easily, and descended towards her as if on dark wings. Instinctively, Buffy released the vamp and leapt backward, out of the way.

Booted feet landed squarely on the doomed blood-sucker's shoulders. Wiry legs, encased in dark gray jeans, bent on either side of the vamp's head. Pale, long-fingered hands grasped it firmly -- one hand on its chin, the other on the nape of its neck. A quick twist, the sharp snap of a spine, and then the legs straightened, as Rona's new pet became abruptly headless. The vampire burst into a cloud of dust, the spreading debris concealing its executioner.

As the dust settled, Buffy blinked in disbelief at what was revealed.

That's the sight that met Willow's eyes when she raced to the rail and roughly shoved her way to the front. Spike was once again looking lost and miserable, his head hanging down; his eyes fixed on the floor. Buffy was standing as if she were frozen, huge eyes in a pale face, fixed expressionlessly on Spike.

As if sensing her arrival, Buffy lifted her head. Wounded, betrayed eyes bore directly into Willow's.

"It was an accident," Willow mouthed soundlessly, her lungs refusing to draw in enough breath to speak.

Buffy's lips tightened and Willow whimpered. She might have slipped to the floor, a useless, guilty mass of failure flavored Jello if Rona's strong arm hadn't wrapped around her waist. Willow slumped gratefully against her, trusting the slayer to support her weight.

Buffy's eyes flicked dangerously and she opened her mouth as if to speak.

"Not Red's fault, Slayer." Spike spoke clearly even though his head still hung down. "So don't be gett'n yer knickers in a twist."

Willow watched Buffy's jaw snap shut, then the Slayer's eyes closed much more slowly. A deep breath made Buffy's chest rise and fall.

"How dare you?" Buffy asked through clenched teeth as she spun on her heel and strode toward the resurrected vampire. "How dare you not believe me ..."

He lifted his head, looked at her, and then his eyes widened in shock.

Willow had just a second to wonder what he saw, before Buffy threw a quick punch to the side of his nose. His head snapped back with a small spray of blood.

"... when I tell you that I love you!" Buffy all but shrieked at Spike as she hauled her left arm back and landed a powerful blow on his jaw.

He lost his balance, stumbled, and she took advantage of his weakness by landing a spinning side-kick to his chest. He went down hard, his head making a loud thump against the marble tiles of the floor. She was on him instantly, straddling his chest, gripping the front of his shirt, shaking him with one hand and pummeling him with the other. She was wild with rage and loss and love and shock and guilt and hope and ...

"Could it be the kind and gentle way you've always handled me?" he managed to get out between blows.

Buffy's grip on him never lessened, but she stopped shaking him, stopped hitting him, and pulled him closer. "I meant it when I said I loved you," she said fiercely.

"Knew ya' did," he said matter-of-factly as he wiped the trickle of blood off his upper lip.

"Then why ...?" Even from the second floor, Willow could see the tears welling in Buffy's eyes.

"How else was I ta' get ya' to go?"

Buffy lips started to tremble. She sobbed. She sniffled. Then her smile burst out with enough brilliance to lift the fog off the lake.

"Spike," Buffy cried his name out and then began to kiss him, hard and deep and long, either uncaring or unaware of their audience of smiling onlookers.

She dug her fingers into his hair, gripping him tightly, stretching his neck. He lifted his arms and rested his hands on her hips -- the tips of his fingers pressing into her. Eventually, she needed to breathe and she pulled her lips from his. He released her mouth with obvious reluctance. She looked down possessively into his eyes. He looked up into hers. Adoration, worship, devotion, and awe were apparent on his naked, unguarded face.

It was beautiful and exquisitely painful to watch them.

~

 


~

"So that's how you tame a vampire," Faith noted with glee as she stood over the entwined couple. "Thanks for the lesson, but don't you think you've shown the kiddies more than enough?" Buffy stilled on top of Spike. "Hell, B., you've got me so juicy just watching the show, that if I my man don't put in an appearance soon ... I'll have to take yours."

Nothing could have enraged Buffy more. The thought of Faith even daring to tease about taking Spike was enough to make Buffy leap up and off him. She glared at Faith warningly.

Faith gave a sultry laugh and backed away. She waved her hands vaguely at the people on the ground floor, then jerked her head toward the watchers on the balcony.

"Oh," Buffy said as she looked around, her anger dissipating rapidly. "Um ... Hi, guys?" she asked with a wince and a grimace. Then she shrugged and laughed out loud, pure pleasure rippling through her.

Let them watch. She didn't give a damn.

She extended a hand and hauled her vampire to his feet.

"Have you seen my apartment, Spike?" she asked him brightly, thinking of the great big, metal-framed bed that Xander had so thoughtfully provided.

"Yeah. Love the windows that go crashing down," he answered drolly. "Nice touch, that."

"Hey," Xander said as he stepped out of the crowd. "I said I was sorry."

Buffy lifted her brows and looked curiously at Spike. Xander apologizing to Spike?

"Gave me a nasty start, they did." Spike grimaced and moved his arm gingerly. "Not to mention a bit of a burn."

Buffy's smile slipped and a chill shivered its way down her spine. "You were in the penthouse when the skylights opened?" she asked carefully. Spike nodded and Buffy paled as she thought of the size of the bedroom, the spacing of the windows, the combustibility of vampire flesh.

"How did you ...?"

"Enhanced vampire reflexes," Spike said smugly.

"He hid in the bathroom," Xander corrected. His gentle smile caused Buffy to do a double take. Xander misunderstood her surprise and added quickly, "We forgot the timer was still set." His dark eyes looked pleadingly at Buffy. "I disconnected the whole works," he explained. "To get'm to go down, you've got to hand crank'm."

Faith howled in laughter. "Hear that B? Andy's got his boy-toy trained, too." She clapped Xander on the back and then made some graphic cranking motions.

Xander's eyes flashed back and forth, as if seeking somewhere to run. Andrew let out an offended gasp from the second floor. Spike snickered, but -- amazingly -- didn't say anything. Buffy gave the amused looking vampire a long look. He looked right back and lifted his scarred brow in question.

"Sooo ..." she let the word drag out before once again seeking out the only person capable of bringing Spike back. "Willow?" Buffy saw the Wicca gulp. "I think you got some 'splainin' to do." She grabbed Spike's belt firmly with her left hand and tugged him toward the stairs.

He followed docilely enough, until they reached first step. Suddenly, she felt him resist and turned her head questioningly, but his eyes were fixed on the floor.

"Spike?" she asked as felt him sway slightly. "You okay?"

"Bit dizzy, is all," he murmured.

"Oh," she said guiltily as remorse filled her. "Sorry about that. Didn't mean to hit you so hard." She released her hold on his belt and repositioned her grip on him. She slid her right shoulder under his arm and snaked her arm around his hips. Then she placed her left hand, fingers spread wide, on his tight belly and began to carefully guide him up the stairs.

He stumbled when they passed Kennedy, who was standing pressed against the wall on the second step and glaring upwards. As Buffy steadied him, she followed the direction of Kennedy's gaze toward where Willow still leaned against Rona.

Halfway up the curving staircase, Buffy felt Spike's weight ease. By the time they reached the landing, he'd completely regained his usual surefootedness.

"Go easy on her," Spike said softly as Buffy removed her arm from his hips. "Told ya already, she's not to blame."

Buffy ignored him, grabbed his waistband again, tugged sharply, and marched right up to Willow. Giles made a move to speak, but Buffy held up her free hand to silence him.

"Willow," Buffy said clearly and Willow's eyes widened. "I don't know how or why Spike is back. He says you're not to blame, but I know better."

Willow cringed and her lips nearly disappeared into her chalky face.

"Only you could have done this and ..." Buffy stopped speaking and tugged Spike even closer to her side. "... and I want you to know that I'll always be grateful."

Willow gasped in shock.

Buffy leaned closer and pulled the startled red-head into a one-armed hug -- even for Willow, she wasn't ready to let go of Spike just yet. "Thank you!" Buffy whispered sincerely into her best friend's ear.

Willow's startled body melted against Buffy's, her puckered lips relaxed, the pinched look left her face, and her green eyes glowed. "You're welcome," she said tremulously.

"Good," Buffy said as she stepped back. "You can tell me how you did it tomorrow, right now I'm ... umm ... really tired and ... " Buffy grimaced and tugged nervously on Spike.

"... and you want to make sure Spike came back with all his tender bits in working order?" Andrew asked sweetly.

Buffy waited for someone to say something nasty. She glanced at Dawn who rolled her eyes. She peered at Giles who merely looked steadily back at her. She looked over the rail at Xander who was looking tenderly at Andrew. She looked at Willow, who smiled and nodded encouragingly. She looked at ...

What was she doing? Looking for approval from her friends?

Screw that, she thought.

No, wait. Scratch that.

Screw Spike.

"Well, goodnight," Buffy said brightly, before leading Spike quickly away.

"You can let go of me, luv," he said as they made their way toward her rooms. "I'm not about to scamper off."

"I'm not taking any chances," she said as she smiled over her shoulder at him. "I'm not letting go of these pants -- love the new color scheme by the way -- 'til I'm tossing them into the corner."

Spike frowned and looked down at his clothes. He lifted an arm and inspected his sleeve. "Bugger," he gasped softly.

"Not yet, but we soon will be," she promised as she hauled him toward the privacy of her rooms.

She never saw look of terror that crossed his face.

~

 


~

"I doubt we'll be seeing much of them for a few days," Xander said after Giles had dispersed the crowd that Willow's warning and Buffy's entrance had caused to gather.

"Yeah, B sure looked like she had plenty of plans for Spike's spike. Think she spent these last couple years thinkin' up things to --"

"Erm ... yes, Faith," Giles said loudly. "I'm sure you're correct, but perhaps we could discuss something else -- the library? -- while they are ... otherwise occupied."

Faith grinned and shook her head. "Not me. I'm gonna go find Robin. Got some plans of my own for Mr. Wood's wood."

Giles breathed a sigh of relief when Faith stalked off in search of her husband. "I never know if I should pity that man or --"

"Envy him," Xander finished Giles' thought.

"Oh!" Andrew gasped painfully. "How can you ...?" Disbelief and wounded feelings made him stutter. "She's such a slut!" he cried before turning and running.

"Andy, wait!" Xander called as he took off after his gentle lover. "I didn't mean it the way it sounded!"

"Xander should be more careful," Dawn noted as she watched him chase after Andrew.

"Yeah," Kennedy agreed. "People should be careful about who they make jealous." Her dark eyes narrowed on Willow, then flicked to Rona. "Just might end up like that vamp Buffy brought home," she warned, before spinning and walking away.

"Vampire Buffy brought home?" Willow asked in confusion. "Did she mean Spike?"

"No," Rona said, a thoughtful look crossing her face. "She wasn't talking about Spike."

"Buffy brought back a vampire with her," Dawn explained.

"So that's how it got through the wards!" Willow gasped in relief. The spell would have opened for Buffy and whatever she had with her. "But why would she bring a vampire here?"

"It was supposed to be a present for Rona. Remember the crack she made about the students needing something fangy to practice on?"

Willow nodded; she remembered the conversation well. "Where is it then?" she asked, glancing around.

"Spike jumped over the rail and dusted it," Dawn said.

"He did? I wonder why?" she mused, thinking of how his demon had surged to the surface so quickly.

"He always was extremely territorial," Giles mused. "Especially around Buffy."

Willow nodded in agreement as they made their way back into the library. They still had hundreds of books to sort through and who knew what they'd find hidden amongst them.

~

 


~

Chapter Ten -- When Tables Turn ... Things Teeter On The Edge

Anxiety hit Buffy once they were safely in her bedroom. Spike had been unaccountably silent as they'd climbed the stairs to the penthouse. She'd felt his emotional withdrawal and had tightened her grip on him, tugging him forcibly behind her.

Feeling bereft, she turned to Spike.

He looked sad and uncertain -- so unlike his cocky self -- that Buffy felt a moment of panic.

"I love you," she said simply.

At her words, long, gilded lashes fluttered down and his eyes closed. She could feel him pulling further away.

"Spike?" She lifted her hand to his face and cupped his cheek. "What is it?"

"There's a few things you need to know, luv," he said, his mouth soft and vulnerable.

"You're back. That's all I need to know."

He shook his head slightly. "I'm not 'zactly the same as I was."

She rubbed her thumb along his sharp cheekbone. "S'okay, neither am I."

Blue eyes, impossibly dark, peered curiously at her from under his furrowed brows. "You look the same as always," he said. "Bright and shiny as a new penny, you are." He hung his head and muttered, "Too good for the likes of me."

"No," she said as she stroked his jaw. "Just right for you." He tried to pull away, but she wouldn't let him. "Look at me," she commanded, forcing his head back up. "I ... love ... you," she said each word slowly and clearly. "You believed me before. Why not now?"

"Things have changed, luv." His face twisted in agony. "I'm so god awful sorry, but I couldn't help it. I lost ..." His jaw tightened beneath her fingers, and she felt him suck in his cheeks nervously. His eyes begged for understanding, for ...

"You couldn't have lost anything that matters, Spike," Buffy assured him. "And now you have me."

He blinked at her, his eyes oddly innocent in his century old face. Then he turned his cheek into her palm, covering her hand with his own, and pressing her flesh to his face. Tenderly, he nuzzled her, rubbing his cheek against her hand. He shifted his head and began to use his mouth to taste her. His lips kissed softly, his teeth nipped gently, and his tongue swirled deliciously between her fingers and across her palm.

She moaned in pleasure. Finally releasing her hold on his belt, she grabbed the back of his neck, curling her hand around his nape. She needed the support as she arched against him, pressing her hips tightly to his. His free hand slid into the hollow of her back, bending her further, pulling her still closer. He straightened and her feet left the floor. Instinctively -- hungrily -- she wrapped her legs firmly around him, locking her ankles behind his back. She tightened her muscles, squeezing him between her thighs and her pelvis until he groaned his surrender into her palm.

His hand slid down from her back and gripped her butt tightly, painfully. He released his grip on the hand he'd been devouring and shoved his fingers into her hair instead. He pulled his mouth away from her damp palm, pulled her head back, and buried his face in her exposed throat.

She felt his teeth against her neck, the tips scraping over her skin, pausing where her pulse throbbed.

"Forgive me," he whispered, just before he bit down.

~

 


~

"Dear Lord," Giles gasped. He collapsed onto the steps of the wide ladder that rested against the library shelves. His trembling hands clutching a dark brown volume pressed tightly to his chest.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Willow asked anxiously from where she sat cross-legged on the floor, her notebook balanced on her lap, and J.C. curled against her. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes," he tried to reassure her, but had a hard time catching his breath. "The first," he gasped. "Book."

"The first book?" she asked confused. During the hours they'd been working, they'd already gone through hundreds; Dawn had claimed it had been thousands before she'd called it quits and gone to bed. Obviously, Giles had reached the end of his endurance. Willow lifted her head and looked out one of the small windows. Yep, the sky was starting to lighten. They'd worked through the night and she hadn't even noticed. "Giles we've entered..." She glanced at the record count on her database and her eyes suddenly felt heavy with fatigue. "Five hundred and twenty-seven books. That ..." She motioned her head toward the book he gripped tightly. "... is definitely not the first one. I think it's time we both hit the hay."

"No." He took a deep breath and held the book up for her inspection. "Not the first book, a book on The First."

"Oh!" she cried, startling J.C. enough that the cat hissed and bolted under a shelf. Excitement tingled through Willow and, fatigue forgotten, she snapped the laptop shut, leapt to her feet, and all but bounced toward Giles. "Can I see?"

He pulled the thick volume away from her greedy fingers and hid it out of her reach, behind his back. "No," he said sharply. "Finder's keepers."

Willow pouted and then giggled at him. He looked and sounded like a five-year-old. "We need sleep."

"Yes, quite," he agreed, stiffening up, trying to regain his dignity. "Or perhaps a spot of tea?"

She nodded. "I'll get it. You ..." But Giles was already leafing through the pages, his face tight with concentration. Willow tiptoed towards him and tried to peer over his shoulder. He turned his head and glared at her. "I'll ... go get the tea," she said with a grimace and headed into the kitchenette.

Xander had been thinking of junk food and how research always made his belly growl when he'd installed the tiny room. Giles however, had taken one look at the closet sized room and had quickly commandeered it for his tea brewery. There was a small sink next to three feet of counter space. On the counter sat two electric burners; a microwave perched on top of the dorm-sized refrigerator. One cupboard held packets of popcorn, Doritos, fruit rollups, and paper plates while the other held carefully arranged china cups and a matching teapot.

Willow, through long practice, filled the china pot with hot water and sat it on the counter to warm. Then she filled the kettle with cold water from the tap and sat it on the burner to boil. She took the tea tin down from it place of honor on the upper shelf and opened it. She was horrified to see only a few dark leaves remaining.

Willow looked at the red cardboard box of Salada tea bags that sat in the back of the cupboard. They peeped out of the half open box temptingly, but Giles could never be fooled. He had to have his imported Darjeeling loose leaf, nothing else would do. With an impatient sigh, Willow sped down the stairs toward the main kitchen and the well-stocked pantry behind it.

"Oh," she said as she burst through the kitchen doors and found Kennedy and Lori, a young girl who Willow had begun to train as a Wicca, sitting side by side at the counter. "You two are up early."

The two girls jerked, looking startled.

"Yeah, well someone around here needs to pay attention to things," Kennedy said coldly. "Do you even care that Amy hasn't been seen in two days?"

"Of course I care," Willow said quickly and felt instantly guilty. She had forgotten about the girl.

"Could'a fooled me." Kennedy scowled. "But I guess I shouldn't really be surprised that you didn't miss her. You've got new interests now, don't you?"

Willow knew that her ex was trying to get some point across, but she was just too tired to try to figure out what it was. "We could do a locator spell," she offered quickly instead and looked at Lori. "I've been meaning to --" More guilt slammed into Willow and she cringed. "I missed our last couple lessons, haven't I?"

Lori nodded. "Don't worry about it. Just tell me what we need for this spell."

Willow glanced around the kitchen. Everything they needed was right there. "Kennedy, you sketch a map of the grounds. I'll show Lori how to do the rest."

Five minutes later they were ready. Willow wrote down the words and Lori confidently chanted them. A flash, a flame, a small spiral of smoke drifted up from the rough map that Kennedy had drawn on a convenient paper placemat.

"The cemetery," Kennedy said softly as they all looked at the tiny pinhole burned into the map.

~

 


~

A piercing shriek met her ears as Willow returned to the library.

She'd tried to talk Kennedy into taking Faith with her to the cemetery, but to no avail. Kennedy had been insulted, rudely stating that she was just as capable as Faith. Willow had tried to calm her -- to talk sense into her -- but Kennedy had slammed out the back door with Lori jogging to keep up.

Willow covered her ears as she rushed into the library's kitchenette and the forgotten teakettle. She picked the pot up and thumbed back the whistling spout. The sudden silence making her gasp in relief -- until she remembered about the forgotten tealeaves.

She peered around the corner. There sat Giles, exactly where she'd left him; his nose between the pages of the book. Well if he was so engrossed that he hadn't moved to take the kettle off, maybe ...

Willow defiantly dropped a Salada teabag into a cup and poured the boiling water over it. She bobbed the bag up and down a few times. The water had barely darkened, when she removed the bag and tossed it into the trash.

She carried the cup to Giles, sat it beside him, and watched curiously as he absently lifted it to his mouth and sipped.

"Thank you, dear," he said vaguely as he turned a page.

Willow grinned triumphantly and went to the shelf where Giles had found the book about The First. Maybe there was something else interesting there.

~

 


~

The rising sun made the marble of the crypt sparkle, but Kennedy was blind to its beauty as she approached it.

She and Lori had walked quickly through the rows of stones and statues. They had seen nothing and their constant calls to Amy had been unanswered. The tomb was the only possible place that their missing friend could be.

Kennedy threw open the door boldly and led the way inside.

Amy lay peacefully stretched out on top of the sarcophagus. Her flesh glowed in the dimness of the crypt -- bloodless and pale. Even from the doorway, the puncture wounds on her neck were recognizable and unmistakable.

Lori let out a cry of horror, covered her face with her hands, and sank to the floor with a shudder.

Kennedy stood motionless; her eyes alone moving. They skimmed over Amy's lifeless body, noting that even though she'd been carefully laid out, her chestnut hair fanned beneath her, her clothing smoothed, the girl had fought hard for her life. Smudges marred the porcelain skin, bruises that had never had a chance to form. One of Amy's arms was bent over her waist, the other -- the only limb not carefully arranged -- dangled down the side of the bier.

Kennedy's eyes followed the slender limb from the shoulder, down to the elbow, past the wrist -- all the way to the limp fingers that hung directly over a name carved into the granite.

"Spike," the slayer hissed.

~

 


~

"Spike!" Giles gasped.

Willow looked up from the book she'd been studying intently and refocused her eyes across the table at Giles. "What?" she asked, her attention already trying to wander back to what she'd been reading.

He closed the book and sat it carefully aside before rising to his feet. He paced back and forth, removed his glasses, and fiddled with them before speaking again. "Remember, The First had plans for Spike?"

Willow nodded and opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off.

"We never knew what those plans were. We just assumed that it planned on using him to strike at Buffy." He put his glasses back on, his eyes hard and focused. "We assumed wrong." He walked back to the book and thumped its cover. "The First wanted him for a vessel. A container, if you will."

"Like Caleb -- the preacher?" Willow asked.

"No, not anything like the preacher. Caleb was human. The amount of time that The First could live inside him was severely limited. I don't doubt that the man was burning out even as Buffy bisected him. The First would need something much stronger to serve as its permanent vessel."

"But why did it have to be Spike? Surely any vampire would --"

"His soul," Giles sadly. "That's what brought The First back to Sunnydale. It can only take over beings with souls."

"Angel!" Willow gasped, as understanding dawned. "The first time The First showed up. Was when --"

"When it brought Angel back from Hell," he finished. "Quite true. When it couldn't get to him, it went back underground and waited for Spike to give it another opportunity." Giles stiffened. "Spike is still vulnerable. As long as he has his soul he's in danger. We need to --"

"Spike's not in any danger," Willow whispered the painful words softly. "He no longer has a soul."

Giles frowned. "What? How do you know? Are you certain?" he gasped.

Willow spread open the book she'd been reading and turned it so that he could see the picture on the page. The gaudy bauble that Spike had worn that last epic day in Sunnydale was depicted clearly in black and white.

"That's what powered the jewel, what allowed him to channel the light," Willow explained through tears. "He sacrificed his soul to destroy the Hellmouth."

"Dear Lord," Giles sympathetically. The suddenly he pulled his glasses off and looked upward, toward the penthouse, toward where Buffy was ... "Dear Lord!" he shouted. "Without his soul, without the chip, there's nothing to stop him from --"

"Spike's feeding again!" Kennedy screamed as she ran into the library. She stopped beside Willow and glared. "I hope you're happy! We found Amy -- in Spike's crypt -- dead!"

Willow forgot how to breathe.

"She'd been drained by that vampire you," Kennedy pointed an accusing finger at Willow, "refused to let me chain up."

~

 


~

 

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