CHAPTER 18

The feel of empty space next to her awoke Buffy from her slumber. She moaned grumpily before her eyes shot open in fear. She sat up anxiously calling his name as her heart hammered in her chest.

"Spike," she called to the darkness, her voice husky from sleep and, prior to that, her screams of pleasure. "Spike?" she whispered into the darkness before her again. Was it all a dream? She asked herself. All of this? Faith. Him with me? She clutched the thin sheets tightly against her breasts, fearful of what was going on. Then the thought hit her. What if he's dead? I saw him die. No, it can't be.

"What can't be, luv?" a familiar voiced questioned through the shroud of lightlessness that blinded her. She glared over toward the sound and jumped as an orange flame blinked into existence. The orange beast rested atop a black altar. Then another and another. She stopped counting after awhile, her eyes closing in silent prayer. She could feel the warmth of the candles that now illuminated the once void of the crypt. Buffy exhaled raggedly as she laid her head back against the satin pillows, tears threatening her once again. It wasn’t until the cool comfort of a familiar body lay next to her that they fell.

"Miss me, pet?" he asked seductively as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, bringing her closer. He knew the chance he was taking, with her being the queen of rejection and all, but his slight confidence in the matter was bolstered slightly by how she had held onto him not an hour ago as they fell into a post-coital embrace. And of course, there were the words she had spoken to him in the forest.

Relieved at her discovery that the last few hours wasn’t just some torturous apparition in her mind, Buffy melted into Spike, her hand resting lightly on his chest. She tried to stave off the tears, or at the least hide them from him, neither goal being accomplished.

Spike was instantly aware of the all too familiar warmth of her tears as they fell upon his cool flesh. The arm wrapped around her brushed her hair absently while his free hand caressed her wet face.

"What is it, luv?" he asked, his concern evident as his guts tensed. He always hated to see women cry, especially Summers' women.

She didn’t speak for several minutes and her breathing returned to its regular intervals, or as normal as it could get this close to him. All the while, her right hand traced over to the rapidly fading scar of his the stake had made when it was driven through his chest, only inches from his heart. She hadn't given much thought to it before, but it had healed unusually fast.

"You healed fast," she said, her fingers still wandering over the wound. She had tried for casual and failed miserably. Just the thought of how close she had been to losing him made her want to cry all over again but she refused.

Spike's cocked his head to the side, both her face and hand in his immediate vision. Though her eyes were hidden at an angle where he couldn’t see them, the lines of grief at the corners of them were clearly visible. That, and the way her body tensed when she spoke.

"Seems I did," he offered, miffed at the fact just as much as she did. He absently ran his hand through his tousled blond locks before returning it back to her skin. This time, he rubbed gently against her forearm, feeling her hairs prickle at his touch.

"Guess it's the new O-neg I've been drinking. Gives a vampire healthy bones and all that rot." She chuckled and his face cowled at her indignantly. "What? Just 'cause a bloke's immortal doesn’t alleviate him from ingesting the proper vitamins." She laughed again, softly but Spike couldn’t help but feel enveloped by the warmth of her. It was a reminder as to why he first fell in love with her in the first place.

After a minute of residual chuckles, she fell silent again. Spike didn’t mind the silence. At least she's not kickin' n screamin' for me to let her go, he mused. And it was true. The only times Buffy had ever hung around were when she passed out from exhaustion. After she awoke, however, it was ultimately, 'Thank you for that right proper scratchin', gotta go.' She never knew how much it hurt him every time she did it. Damn her, he thought, pouting inwardly. But it wasn’t her fault, well not entirely. He was the one that always answered her call. True, he did tell her to leave that one time, but how long had his resolve lasted on that one? All the way until the next time she came calling.

Bloody poofter I am, he admonished himself, unaware of his muscles tensing. Buffy, though she was on the verge of dozing back off, felt the tension marinating within the vampire's cool body. Her dormant hand again began its circular jaunt around his chest. Some of the tension eased from him though there was still too much in reserves for her tastes. Her fingers lazily massaged his chest before she caught his nipple between her thumb and forefinger. He gasped as she kneaded it, his body filling with a more welcoming anxiety.

"Buffy," he whispered as her leg draped between his teasingly moved up and down, her thigh every so often bumping against his burgeoning erection. His around her shoulders fell limply against the pillow as he felt her petite hand grip his member.

"Buffy," he shuddered as her warm palm stroked him up and down, rekindling his insatiable desire for her. He was so lost in her gentle yet firm strokes that he was barely aware of her moving until she straddled his thighs. The warmth bled from her core as she moved it closer to his throbbing form of masculinity.

Buffy continued to massage the hard member in her hand as she stretched her legs out against his. She smiled at the content etched in is face and knew what she had to do.

Without warning, she raised her hips just enough to accommodate his entrance into her. Spike gasped, flinging his eyes open at the unexpected pleasure. He glared down the length of their bodies touching. Her legs rested artfully on his as if she was mirroring him exactly. To finish the image, her arms rested on his as the two lovers' fingers intertwined in a passionate embrace. Spike felt the ecstasy of her embrace though she barely moved. She chuckled at the surprise that registered in his eyes.

"Slayer muscles," she whispered to him as her lips traced his jaw line and her teeth gently closed around his bobbing adam's apple. He shuddered as she clamped down harder, this time against his jugular and a low growl echoed against her lips though she wasn’t sure from whom it had come from. She smiled into his neck at the thought of her growling and tried to stifle it before he caught it.

"Something funny, Slayer?" he teased. Damn, she thought at being discovered, which only made her smile even more so. "Wanna let me in on the jo…oh," he said. She interrupted him by a purposeful squeeze of her inner walls. She knew this had caused the look of confusion on his face earlier but this time she had put most of her muscle into it. Needless to say, it accomplished the desired task.

"No talking," she cooed into his ear, simultaneously biting down on his earlobe. "Except for me," she added before he could protest. She found his slightly parted lips with her own and they joined in a passionate dance between lips and tongues. Several seconds passed before she had the coordination to implement the steady grind and rotation of her hips against him. He moaned, almost purred, inside her mouth, as she spilled her desire into his with every kiss. Every desire, she thought and broke their tangled kiss. She felt him tense with desire for renewed contact but she pulled away just enough to be out of reach of his patrolling tongue.

"Look at me," she commanded softly and his eyes fluttered open. She continued her deliberate rhythm, her swollen peak grinding against the base of his shaft. The kinetic pull of his body to hers was still unbelievable to her and she didn’t want anything more to be enveloped by it. That's when she truly realized the reasons she had come to Spike in the first place.

She stopped the grind of her hips and looked at him…really looked at him. He motioned to speak but she placed a trembling finger over his lips. She stared into those blue orbs of his, barely able to hold his gaze. But she had to. She had almost lost him today and she had to convey the rest of the message to how she felt for him. When she said she wanted to make love, she had meant it. With those few words, she had lowered her walls just enough to admit that she did care for Spike. She cared for him a lot more than she was willing to admit. The point of it her migration to his friendship then to his loving embrace was never because he was convenient (she shuddered at the cruelty of that word). True, he did make her feel when she thought all her senses were dulled beyond retrieval. He made her feel with a capital 'F' but that was not the only reason. Nor was the reason the comfort of trading barbs with him; that only was an extension of feeling for the fire she had lost. Though all of it had been important, there was one thing she was loathe to admit about his presence.

It made her feel safe.

Buffy didn’t truly understand how feeling something and feeling safe were different, she just knew that they were. Try as she might, during the whole Glory ordeal, she felt his protective shroud around her. The absurdity of it was astounding. How could you feel safe with someone you didn’t completely trust? She didn’t know the answer and again she only succumbed to the fact that it was true.

Buffy removed her other hand from his and rested her palms flatly on his chest. He deserved to know that. All of it. He needed to know that he was something more than just a 'convenience'. Despite his bravado, Buffy could read his insecurities about their trysts. Even now, after they had made love on her behest, still there was that certainty in his eyes that it was only a matter of time before she kicked him to the side, all the while wiping her feet from the dirt rubbed onto her from him. There was no way she could alleviate all his fears, but she could lighten some of the burden at least.

"Look at me, Spike," she said, her hips discovering that familiar rhythm. He gasped and his long lashes fluttered. "Don’t close your eyes," she prodded and he complied, albeit with great difficulty.

Spike looked at the beauty above him in reverie. I don’t deserve this, he scolded himself. I am the antithesis of all she stands for. I can only hurt her in the end. How can't I? I'm just a soulless monster, incapable of love…

Buffy saw the wavering in his eyes and knew where his thoughts were heading. Though he was strong and hard inside of her, she could see him breaking, withering within. A tear escaped from her hazel eye and splashed onto his pale skin. When he didn’t look up, Buffy knew his despair was growing. Finally, he did look up, concern flashing over his eyes and despite it all, she knew it would be fleeting. This creature's…no, this man's love for her, was slowly eroding him. All the times he had declared his love for her, she had only thrown it back into his face, violently. Sometimes with her fists, other times with words that were far more damaging. How could she fix this? The only way was for her to be honest with him. But how could she when she couldn’t be honest with herself?

Buffy rocked against Spike, his erection exploring her deeper with each grind. His wide eyes, temporarily clear from the pain, were transfixed as her body moved up and down on him. She knew what he needed, what he needed to hear. And the more the thought crossed her mind, the more she realized that it was true. Of course, there were the parts that denied it as well, but as her lover would scoff, sod all else.

She cupped his angular cheeks in her hands, her gaze never wavering from the marveled vision of love staring back at her. The warmth she felt from that look quickened her pace. It was only a matter of time before they spilled over the edge of ecstasy into indescribable borders of pleasure. She had to say something now. Something she could bring herself to say.

"Look at me, Spike," she repeated her words from several minutes ago. Their eyes locked and she knew there was no turning back. "Remember this. If you ever doubt how I feel about you, remember how I'm looking at you now," her core tightened around his shaft and she was barely able to keep her eyes open. But she had to finish now while the iron was hot, before she lost her nerve.

"Remember the way my…body responds to you," she stuttered as the first wave hit her, "and the look in my eyes. Promise me…" she screamed his name as the orgasm ripped through her petite body. Still, her gaze never wavered. "Promise me," she choked as another heated spasm rocked her core.

Spike was in awe of her. She was, as best she could, baring her soul to him. He didn’t know what to say and was unaware as the words "I promise" fell from his lips as he simultaneously began his extensive release into her.

"Tell me," she panted as the second orgasm slowly crept into her loins. "Tell me…"

He didn’t need her to elaborate as the needful look in her eyes spoke volumes.

"I love you, Slayer…Buffy, I love you," he gasped as his explosion died into languid spurts.

Finally, as her second tide of pleasure ebbed, Buffy fell forward onto Spike's chest, her face nuzzled between his shoulder and neck. The lovers' pants were in sync though only one required oxygen. They lay there, for several minutes before her body tensed again. Spike wanted to ask her what was wrong but, surprisingly, she beat him to it.

"Don’t leave me," she forced out in the voice of a child begging not to be scolded. His undead heart seized at the raw fear in her voice. His mind raced. He wanted nothing more than to spit her a litany of soothing words to assuage her fears. But whether it was ten words or a hundred, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the conviction behind them. So he answered succinctly.

"Never, luv."

He felt her body slightly relax before she said, "Promise?" He thought that word over. Could he actually promise that? What if she threatened his life? What if he had to go away to protect her? What if…?

"Promise, luv," the simplicity of his reply cutting away all his what-ifs. All but one.

Spike felt Buffy relax and almost immediately fall into a resting sleep at his assurances. He did know one thing and one thing only; that no matter what happened, what she said or did, he would never leave her alone. Even if that meant staying away from her yet being there when she needed to be, he would do it regardless of the pain it would cause. He would do it because he loved her, wholly and completely.

He closed his eyes and drifted off to the land of dreams next to his love. The last thought he remembered had been the only 'what-if' that refused to die. She had made him promise not to leave and he had done just that.

But what if she was the one that left him?

That last thought was enough to drive away any chances at a peaceful slumber.

CHAPTER 19

Spike awoke to a light pressure on his chest. He forced his eyes open and chuckled at the sight of Buffy's two fingers 'walking' up the center of his body, her face hidden under the splay of her golden locks.

"Havin' fun, pet?" he asked, a hand automatically taking up residence in Buffy's unkempt hair. He felt her smile into his ribs. Good, he thought to himself. Poor girl hasn't had much to smile about, I reckon. And a swell of pride filled him knowing that he was the reason she was with the happies.

"So," came her muffled voice, "do you like work out or is all this lean muscle left over from your warm-blooded days?" Her head bobbed as his throaty laugh shook his body.

" William the bookworm, a chiseled morsel like this? Hardly! No, luv. It's definitely an addition from a hundred plus years of fighting. Kind of gets you in shape quick-like. S'not like you have a choice, 'specially when you 'ave to fight for you life every night."

"Well, serves you right for making delicacies of the locals," she teased, poking him playfully in the ribs.

"Hey. I'll have you know that if I hadn't taken bites from said delicacies, then yours truly would be right and shriveled right about now," he lowered his voice seductively, "and as you well know, pet, there isn't an inch on me that's shriveled in any way, shape or form." He traced her side with his fingers and observed the goose bumps that bubbled to the surface.

"'Sides," he finished, "wasn't talking bout the crowds, luv. Or the hunters." At that, Buffy scooted further down and rested her chin just above his abs where she could look him in the eye. Their eyes met and Buffy suppressed an involuntary shiver. What is it about him that always does that to me? She questioned herself. Truth be told, Buffy knew exactly what it was. For whatever reason, Spike was gifted in the art of seeing the truth in everything. Christ, he had done it with Angel, when she informed the then evil vampire that she and his sire were ‘just friends’. It sounded good to her but he had ripped the blindfold she had so desperately notched over her eyes away, forcing her to face reality. And even now, months after her return trip to this…this place… he never failed to give her the unbridled truth, regardless of what she wanted to hear.

‘You’ll crave me like I crave blood…’ she remembered him saying. And he was right, too. She did crave him, still did. Probably always would in some way. But she had fruitlessly tried convincing herself that it was a slip. A slip that was just as addictive as heroin or Willow’s meteoric descent into the world of dark magic.

Just as dangerous, too, the voice (prude Buffy) reminded her.

Dangerous in what way? Carefree Buffy countered. Are you afraid of what he can do to you?

But he’s been able to hurt you for some time now, Carefree Buffy replied with confidence.

Yeah, but...prude Buffy’s resilience faltered.

Buffy snapped out of her internal diatribe as Spike’s caress along the base of her neck elicited a sharp pang of desire. She moaned into his pale flesh, wanting nothing more than to once again feel him inside of her. But not now. She wanted to talk to him.

"So what were you talking about?" She offered. Yeah, a little pillow talk.

"What’s that, luv?" he asked, his fingertips deftly stroking the flesh between her shoulder blades.

"When you said you had to fight every night." Buffy noticed Spike's lower jaw clench but waited patiently for an answer.

"S'not important, luv," he said, waving a dismissive hand in the air, "just your typical sire-childe relationship." He turned his head to the side but before he did, Buffy caught the flash of resentment pass through his eyes. She thought the better of pursuing that line of questioning. Buffy didn’t really want her thoughts to dwell on her ex's relationship with her current boyfriend's. It was bordering on the…

Buffy gasped involuntarily and slammed her eyes shut as Spike whirled around to meet her gaze.

Did I just think of him as my 'boyfriend'? She asked herself incredulously. She rolled onto her back, covering her face with her small hands.

"Buffy?" Spike inquired, rolling over to his side. His chin rested casually in the palm of his hand, though his scowl was anything but. "What's wrong, pet?" He placed a tentative hand against the smooth muscles of her stomach, rubbing concentric circles around her navel.

Buffy gasped at Spike's cool touch, letting out a sound bordering between a moan and a grunt. Slowly, she slid her hands down her face, exposing her bright, wide eyes. She craned her neck to the left, wanting so much to avoid the acid gaze of the blond next to her but understanding that she couldn’t run. She couldn’t help but admire the sharp angles of his face nor his paradoxical stare. It was both hard and cold yet warm and filled with an immeasurable compassion. It was unfathomable to her how such a remorseless killer, ex-killer, could contain even a tenth of the love that stared back at her now.

Lowering her hands, Buffy lifted her head and grazed her lips ever so slightly against Spike's. As quickly as the kiss started, it ended and the blond vampire stared at the love of his life, perplexed. Not thirty seconds ago, he saw the dear-in-headlights look as she covered her face and he was terrified that she had regret what she had said to him earlier. Now, her green eyes twinkled with excitement and trepidation. He stroked the side of her face and she brought her free hand up, intertwining their fingers together, their hands coming to rest on her hip. Spike knew she wanted to say something by the way her lip quivered and her breath quickened. And of course, there was said look.

I can't do it again, he thought dejectedly. Once was enough. I can't hear it. I just can't.

"Spike…"

"Look, pet," he interrupted, anguish welling up within him, "you don’t have to say it."

"Say what?" She asked. Buffy could see the change in Spike's demeanor. He had gone from concerned to the familiar look of hurt she was so often the cause of. Except this time, he didn’t bother to hide it.

He sighed unnecessarily before continuing. "Look, Slayer. I know you were a right bit relieved when you didn’t have to hoist a dirt devil over your shoulder to collect my remains." Buffy opened her mouth to speak but the vampire didn’t give her a chance.

"You don’t have to say it, ok?" He smiled weakly, tears playing at the corners of his eyes. "I know you feel something for me." And for the first time in all their conversations about their feelings, Spike lowered his eyes. His next words were so low that Buffy had to strain to hear them.

"But it's not love. It never will be. You were right; you can't love me. I'm nothing more than a soulless monster…" At his words, Buffy twisted her hand out of Spike's embrace. The first emotion that came to her, as it usually was with Spike, was anger. She had just bared as much of herself to him as she had ever done and here he was, dismissing it like it was nothing more than a flight of fancy for her. The anger was soon abated as a solitary tear tumbled down his pallid cheek. She covered her mouth to stifle a cry. He looked so defeated in front of her now. It couldn’t be him. This was the indomitable William the Bloody, scourge of Europe. Feared by men and demons alike. This wasn't him. This wasn't the same man that withstood hours of torture by a hell-god to keep her little sister safe. This wasn't the Spike that never took no for an answer. That clawed and fought for every crumb. This couldn’t be.

But it was. And the revelation that this was the same Spike, the same William the Bloody, only broken and hopeless, pierced her heart. And for the first time Buffy openly admitted to herself that she had been wrong about him.

He had fought by their sides for how long now? Two, three years? And though in the beginning, he was little more than a hired gun, the last year he had asked for nothing in return. Sure, he may have been a sarcastic and egotistical son of a bitch if there ever was one, but now she understood why. It was a shield; a buffer that was his only protection from the harsh reality of his situation. For over one hundred years he had only known one way to live. And to be violated, to have it taken away unwillingly had to have been devastating. Buffy didn’t lament the fact that he couldn’t kill anymore but she could relate to the pain, fear and purposelessness he undoubtedly felt. The Council tests on her 18th birthday had deprived her of her slayer strength. To have everything that she was ripped away, albeit for a short time, was beyond words. And she had been a slayer for two years. She couldn’t imagine Spike's frustration, losing who he was after a century.

But he had adapted and though it was a gradual process, began to change. No longer did he fight the 'good fight' because demons were the only thing he could hurt. Though she knew he'd never admit it, Buffy could see the gleam of satisfaction after a night of slaying. Was it the violence, the bloodlust that satiated him? In all likely hood. But underneath it all, she saw a hint of someone proud that they were doing the right thing. The conflict raging inside of him between William the Man and his demon soul, having no moral compass to anchor the man had to be unbelievably hard. And what had she done when? Thrown it back in his face. You can't love. You can't change. You don’t care. You are a monster. Every terrible thing she had said to him over the past few years was visible in his face. How hard must it be to know it is in your nature to revel in destruction yet go against that natural disposition? And to make the task infinitely harder, having those you respect and care for ridicule your attempts of reformation.

Buffy reached a trembling hand out, lifting his chin. The tears at the back of her throat burned, screaming for a release and when she looked into his eyes, she let them free. Though only a single tear had escaped its prison from his eyes, those still unshed where visible and Buffy knew he kept them at bay by force of will alone. She cursed herself for being such a fool to think that a few hours of actual lovemaking could erase the hurt and pain and uncertainty of two years. It was something that would take time.

The petite slayer ran her hands through the emotionally wounded vampire’s hair. Every so slowly, with a strong gentleness, Buffy pulled Spike closer to her. At first he resisted, but the determination in her eyes forced him to concede. She craned her neck to the side and kissed his parted lips. Too lost in his own misery, Spike didn’t return Buffy’s probing. A part of him sensed the urgency in her languid exploration of his lips, as if she were so desperately trying to tell him something. But the other part of him, the William part saw her tenderness as pity. Pity at how her scathing words would undoubtedly burn him beyond any semblance of the man…or monster he was.

He tensed when she released his lips, her tongue tracing a final outline of them before he lost contact. Buffy saw the wretched pain in his eyes and she knew he was waiting for her customary send off. What would it be this time? His eyes voiced. She closed her eyes in hopes of wiping the mask of hopelessness he now wore from her mind. But it was impossible. And Buffy knew that no matter what, the memories of his pain would forever stay with her.

Slowly, Buffy's eyes fluttered open and Spike refused to turn away this time. The least I can do is make her look me in the eye when she does it, he thought, rousing up an anger he didn’t feel. Usually, a scorn from Buffy ignited the fury of his demonic tenant. But now, even the demon was silent, loathing to come out and bask in the torment of being ridiculed by love yet again.

How many times had she told him he was nothing? How many times had she bid him to leave? Yet he never did. And he never lost faith in one day winning her over. Until now. When she asked him to make love to her, Spike had been grateful that he was in fact dead. Were he human, his heart would have undoubtedly seized up from sheer joy. Though most people would think otherwise, every time they were intimate, no matter the setting, no matter the urgency, he was making love to her. But to finally have her initiate it, was all that he had hoped for. On the way back to the crypt, Spike knew that there was no turning back. No shags of 'convenience' or kisses of comfort. It was all or nothing and for a moment Spike had foolishly believed it could work. But this was Buffy; he should have known better.

At least she has the guts to tell me to my face, he mused. He wanted so much to yell and scream, get lost in his anger, to hide the hurt. But it just wasn’t in him.

"Spike," Buffy said as calmly as he ever heard her speak. "I know the way I've treated you-the way we've treated each other-over the past three years has been anything but healthy. And though for awhile we were both at fault, it's been me who's been the bad guy for the past year or so…"

"Buffy," he said but she held her hand up.

"Please. Just let me do this…William," Spike froze at the mention of his former name. She had only called him that once and that was when…

Spike shut his eyes tight and nodded for her to continue. She curled her petite hand around his thumb and pulled his arm toward her. Spike instinctively opened his eyes when her hammering heart vibrated against his knuckles. Her eyes were so serious. Well, here comes the coup de grace. He was thrown off by an irony-tinged smile. Before he could speak, Buffy answered Spike’s ‘what the bleedin hell is goin’ on?’ scowl.

"It’s just that I don’t know where to begin. For as long I as I’ve been the slayer, it’s been black and white. Vampire bad. Me vampire slayer. Me kill vampire. Of course I then fall in love with a vampire," she sensed his body tense but pressed on, "but there was a legitimate excuse. Said vampire has soul. Unique, one in a million thing. I should have known then everything wasn’t black and white. But I hid in that little shell of mine that denies entrance of anything Buffy doesn’t want to deal with. And for awhile, it stayed simple." She smiled wistfully and Spike couldn’t help but return it, albeit lacking his usual vibrancy.

"That’s when you came to me when I really needed it. I never would have been able to stop Angelus without you," she let the thanks pour from her eyes but continued on. "You were so different than any other vampire I had met. You were as unique as Angel was with his soul," Buffy waited for a biting retort but the vampire remained shockingly silent. It must be really bad, she thought sadly.

"At first I didn’t know what it was. Then with the chip and everything you were no longer my mortal enemy. Even when you started helping us- for a price, of course," that light barb actually elicited a genuine smirk, "I didn’t realize what it was. I knew you could love. Well," she conceded, "maybe not then. It was all ‘irrational Buffy’ when it came to you. Of course, the rational part of me, which is quite small at times, was shouting how if you had feelings you could love just as well as us. I mean, you were with Dru for what? A hundred years. If that’s not devotion, I don’t know what is. Of course, chaining me to the wall in your crypt didn’t exactly help your case, either." Spike smiled but it failed to reach his eyes. In any other situation, he would have interrupted her at least three times. But the symphonic ache in his chest stilled his tongue.

"Anyway," Buffy said. She had told him to let her talk but since when had he listened to her? It was disconcerting to see him this quiet. "But you were there when we needed you and even though I didn’t see you as a friend then, you were somebody I could count on. Obviously, since I had my mom and little sister set up shop with you. It was so weird then. I knew I shouldn’t trust you. And I didn’t." She paused, biting her lower lips as she wrestled to make sense of the contradiction. Why is it that everything having to do with Spike is a contradiction? She sighed, unable to put it into words any more eloquently than, "but I did. Trust you." She lowered her eyes from his sculpted cheeks and busied herself by tracing her fingers over his knuckles.

Spike watched his slayer's…no, the slayer's, fingers glide across his skin. Even his despondent frame of mind couldn’t ignore the warmth that coursed through him at her slightest touch. He had been dead for two lifetimes and in two years; this beautiful woman beside him had all but caused his heart to beat. He thanked Drusilla inwardly. If it weren’t for her immortal kiss, he would have never had the chance to truly feel as alive as he did now.

He inhaled deeply, the effervescent scent of Buffy enrapturing his heightened senses. She was intoxicating, in every way. He couldn’t imagine life-or unlife-without her. There would be nothing left for him to do in this world but to whither away, returning to the earth he should have been interred in for the last eighty years.

Spike reached out instinctively, delicately brushing a stray lock from Buffy's forehead and tucking it behind her ear. The intimacy was not lost on either one of them and then tension between the two lovers rose tenfold.

Buffy was the first to recover. "Ummm…" albeit not much of a recovery. Don’t think about the beautiful, sexy eyes of vampire, she coached herself. She had to finish what she was saying and the start of another snogging session with Spike wouldn’t be kosher right now.

"Spike," she said, giving his hand what she was hoping was a reassuring squeeze. His features practically fell from his face.

"Oh, right. Sorry, slayer," he apologized. Buffy couldn’t help but wince at the emotional void of his voice.

"Promise me something?"

"Seems promises are the only thing I'm good for," he said without malice. Buffy chose to ignore it and waited for him, determination creeping into the green mirrors of her eyes. "I promise," he finally answered.

"Don’t make anymore assumptions until you finish hearing what I have to say." She waited until he gave her a curt nod. "Why is it so difficult?"

"What?" he asked, intrigued.

"Everything. You, my friends, being the slayer. This whole damn world." She couldn’t hold back the tears that slowly leaked from her eyes. She didn’t care about being strong as long as she said her peace.

"Luv," Spike soothed, his hand automatically reaching out to her. He stopped before his thumb reached her cheek, quickly propping his head up by the offending hand. "Buffy, everything about this world is hard. That's not gonna change."

"I know that…it was just so much easier when…"

"When what?" he couldn’t keep the rising heat from his voice. If she was heading where he thought she was…

"When it was just black and white. When demons were all soulless monsters…" He snorted, interrupting her.

"Oh, you mean when you didn’t have to make the tough decisions? When everything just fell neatly into place? News flash, pet: it doesn’t work like that. Shit gets hard and you have to make…" his voice faltered momentarily before he continued, "you have to make decisions that are best for you and your lot. That’s all you can ask of yourself, luv."

Buffy took in his words. He was right. All she could ask of herself was to make the best decision she could with whatever information she had. The only question was how did she make those decisions. Did she use her head or her heart?

Suddenly, Buffy didn’t want to continue the conversation. There was still so much she hadn't said but it was all too difficult to get out.

"We better get home," she said, getting off the bed, searching for her clothes. If it had been any other time, the mere thought of Buffy's tan flesh highlighted by candlelight would have been sufficient to engorge him with desire. As it was, he only rolled his eyes in disgust unaware of the derisive snort that ushered from him throat.

Buffy heard Spike's dissatisfaction and mentally chided herself. Great job, Buffy. At least you're sticking to your forte. When the goin' gets tough, Buffy gets goin'. She angrily hoisted up her pants after getting a new pair of panties from her black bag.

By the time she had slid her thin arms through her jacket, Spike was already outside. Thin wisps of smoke floated through the open door of the crypt along with the pungent odor of tobacco. She walked out and saw Spike leaning against the cool wall of the crypt. He was going for casual but she had been around him enough to read his body language. And now it was telling her that it was riddled with tension. He was like a rubber band stretched to its capacity. Either you had to let it go or it was going to pop you. Of course, rubber bands didn’t have teeth. Or a demonic temper.

When Buffy came into his peripheral view, the blond vampire took one more puff and tossed the fag away, extinguishing it with a turn of his heel. He stalked off with his usual cockiness though he felt anything but.

To her credit, Buffy felt more than her share of guilt. She had wanted to tell him so much but as usual, she hid behind her insecurities. What insecurities should you have with Spike? Rational Buffy asked incredulously.

Hello, he's male. Prude Buffy retorted.

The same male that loved you unconditionally. Even when you were dead Carefree Buffy reminded.

But he's a vampire. A soulless monster, prude Buffy pleaded.

But he's a vampire. He doesn’t have a soul, prude Buffy pled without conviction.

The last thought hung in the air as Buffy scurried to catch up with Spike's long strides. Oblivious to her internal turmoil, Spike sauntered through the graveyard wishing…

Wishing that he had never come to Sunnydale.

Wishing that he had never come back to Sunnydale.

Wishing that the sodding chip was never put into his head.

Wishing Buffy had staked him in her various opportunities.

Wishing he had never fallen in love with the slayer.

Wishing that she had never kissed him. Maybe then his sick fascination with her would have slowly dissipated without the heat of her lips re-igniting his internal flame of love for her.

Wishing that she hadn't have come back wrong.

Wishing the stupid gits earlier hadn't missed. If the wood had only entered him a few inches to the left…

So caught up in his thoughts, Spike was unaware of the fidgeting slayer walking next to him. Only when the warmth of her hand wrapped around his cold fingers was he lifted from his brooding. He stopped in his tracks, running the free hand through his tousled locks. Though he was hesitant to do so, Spike's gaze finally drifted over to the angelic face of the slayer. And that was all it took to let him know that every sacrifice, every painful lurch in his stomach, was worth it. And if he died right then and there, he would die a content man.

Buffy was not oblivious to the façade of the blond vampire crumbling from a resigned despair to unbridled love. It was enough to make her cry again but she stilled her undulating emotions.

You've cried your quota for the next six months, Buff, she warned herself. She hesitantly looked up at the blue orbs that stared back at her, expectantly. Wouldn’t be surprised if he were reading my mind right now. However his gaze unnerved her, it gave her a bit of confidence. Don’t think, just act. And with that, Buffy kissed him.

Shocked by her actions, Spike stood incredibly still. Guess this is the goodbye kiss, mate. Might as well enjoy it. Several seconds later, his body consented to his final thoughts and his tongue danced with hers ever so slowly. It was like before, when they had made love in the forest. The same burning tenderness that had given him a sliver of hope that she just might want him. But that hope was as scant as a fleck of meat was to a starving man. The hunger became even more pronounced after the taste and only complete satiation would obliterate the emptiness.

His free hand caressed her curved hips as hers did the same. She maintained a vicious hold onto his other hand as they explored one another's clothed forms as best they could. The heat between them was rising as Buffy moaned into his mouth. Seconds later, she broke the kiss, despite vehement protestations by her flesh.

"Spike," she started but stopped, covering her mouth with her free hand. Spike rolled his eyes and made to get away but was pulled back sharply by the slayer.

"Hey! You can dislocate a bloke's arm that way, luv," he said, needlessly massaging his shoulder.

"I need to tell you…"

"Tell me what? Tell me that it was fun while it lasted but it's time for me to get out into the real world? You've had your fill of me; I've scratched those itches of yours enough to last a bloody lifetime. What? My 'convenience' you were so kind to point out is too much trouble?"

"Damn you, Spike," she said, anger simmering within her. She balled her fist up though, still held onto his hand with the other one.

Spike saw the fist and smirked. "What? I say something you don’t wanna hear and you take your jollies on pounding good ol' reliable Spike into the ground? Go ahead," he lifted his chin. "And don’t forget to tell me how you'll never be my girl because I'm a soulless monster who can't love you. Who's disgusting and evil," Spike couldn’t hide the hurt behind his words and Buffy heard them loud and clear. And for once, her anger was completely abated without violence.

Spike watched as Buffy's face melted from seething anger to…compassion? Empathy? Remorse? Pity?!

At the thought of pity, Spike grunted his disgust before continuing. "Oh, what? Feeling sorry for the Big Bad, luv? Well, don’t. I'm a monster, remember? If this bloody chip ever came out, I'd tear the sodding Scoobies apart," his eyes drifted to the sky in contemplation. "And you know, I'd think I start with the bit. She's all trusting. Could bring her back to the crypt, show her firsthand how I got the name Spike," he shouted. He hid any indications of self-disgust at even the thought of hurting Dawn. He'd drink a fifth of holy water before he ever harmed a hair on her head. And from the look on her face, Buffy wasn’t buying it either.

"Thank you." She said simply. His eyebrows furrowed at the sincerity of her words, in spite of what he had just said.

"Thank you? For what?"

"For everything. For being there for Dawn this summer. For helping the gang out, saving their lives. For…" her eyes retreated to the now interesting ground. Again, coward Buffy to the rescue.

Spike kept silent, hovering on her every syllable. Something told him that this was important but as she looked away, the old resentment threatened to consume him once again. She doesn’t need that. All you'll do is put her on the defensive, mate. What she needs is encouragement. And with that, Spike gently squeezed Buffy's hand.

She immediately looked up at her lover, unexpectedly. The tug of his fingers against hers had prevented her walls from tethering themselves around her emotions. Butterflies began their familiar migrations in the pit of her stomach as the warmth of his smile enveloped her. Buffy's heart entered a sprint of its own volition and her breaths came in ragged gasps before she willed herself to be calm. She closed her eyes, fear welling up in every pore with only the cool anchor that was Spike's hand preventing her from bolting out into the night like she had so many other nights with him.

"I wanted to thank you for…for being my friend." She had said the words without thinking and before he could react, she hugged him. No kisses were exchanged yet everything she could have said with her lips was spoken through her body as she wrapped her arms around Spike's slim waist.

The vampire was in more than shock. She had never hugged him like this before. In fact, earlier tonight had been the only time he could remember her hugging him. Dawn was the only one that did it regularly. Suffice to say the vampire was not quite experienced in the art of a loving embrace such as this. He slung an arm awkwardly around her shoulders, drawing in her scent with every unneeded breath he took. He was lost in the vanilla fragrance of her when she pulled away. He wanted to protest at the lack of contact, until her hand once again found his. This time, she intertwined her fingers between his. Then smiled shyly.

"I should have done that a long time ago. I'm sorry it took me so long to show my gratitude," she said sheepishly.

"No worries, luv. 'Twas worth the wait." They stood in a slightly uncomfortable silence before Spike recommended they continue their journey back to Revello Drive. He was pleasantly surprised at Buffy's silent insistence to hold his hand on the way and he couldn’t help but smile.

It wasn’t until they were halfway there that Buffy had worked up the courage to finish what she had wanted to say earlier.

"I also wanted to tell you," she said without breaking stride or taking her eyes off the road in front of her, " that I'm glad."

"Glad for what, luv?" Spike asked, trying to keep the same indifference as her.

"Glad that you love me," she cast a hesitant smile in his direction and was almost blinded by the luminescence of his smile. He quickly shifted into his usual smirk though he couldn’t hide the faint glow that permeated from his body. Buffy knew that it wasn’t going to be enough in the long run but it was a start. Baby steps, Buffy, baby steps, she comforted herself, happy that she had made the vampire's day.

All his bravado had come crashing down with Buffy's last words. Spike knew that it was a long way from professing her undying love…still. Maybe there was a chance for them after all.

The vampire didn’t try to curb his new surge of hope. He just let it ride as they walked the rest of the way in a decidedly comfortable silence.

CHAPTER 20

The two figures that remained standing watched the scene before them. Their un-dead comrade knelt in between them; his gaze fixated on the thoroughly confused brunette still hunched against the bookcase. Though it was obvious that something had passed between the two crouched figures, Jennifer couldn’t quite put her finger on what was going on. He had gone from sociopath to doting lover in the span of ten minutes to a girl who had almost seared a good portion of his arm away from his body. Truth be told, however, she was more interested in Dawn than Seth's emotional issues. Her thin eyebrows crinkled as she contemplated what type of power this girl possessed.

It was a given that as the Key, she could open up doors to all realms of existence and anti-existence alike. It was unknown, however what, if any, other abilities she possessed. Though the latter was insignificant as far as the First was concerned, still, it could prove useful.

Unaware of the dark woman's internal designs, Seth stared at the young teen with an almost fanatical incredulity. He had dropped to all fours and his breath came in jagged rasps. Were he human, he would have hyperventilated but as it was, he only gaped at the impossible.

"You…can't…be…" he whispered. His mind reeled as memories of days' past/future clawed for dominance with his visions of now…

"Seth." The call of his name wrenched the vampire from future memories. He craned his neck up, his glassy eyes coming to rest on Jennifer's exotic face. He shivered as her obsidian eyes peered into him, poking and prodding his most intimate secrets and desires. Her nose scrunched, in frustration and Seth knew that even she couldn’t penetrate the cloud that left his mind in a haze…

Seth jerked back as he realized where he was. He hadn't been aware of crawling towards Dawn's huddled figure, but here he was, not three feet from her. His abrupt reaction placed him on his butt. His hands held him up as his eyes raked over the terrified face before him. How didn’t he see it before? She was exactly the same, aside from a few aesthetic differences…

Seth shook his head defiantly, crushing his hands against his head, attempting to force the flood of memories back behind their doors. He knew all eyes were on him yet he didn’t care. All he wanted was to forget. Forget her. Forget everything.

Dawn watched the vampire in front of her apprehensively. The turmoil that her presence caused was visible on his twisted features. She observed him for several moments, his face contorting from his human mask to an unusually hideous demonic visage, though the latter never lasted longer than the blink of an eye. Slowly, she slid up the bookcase to her feet, taking in everything around her. There was only one way out and the magic guy Willow had gone to- Rack was his name- guarded it. A few feet from her stood the willowy form of Ms. Calendar. Or her long lost identical twin. She was studying the vampire with an amusing fascination that was unnerving. The teen inched herself along the bookcase determined to get out of everyone's clear line of view. But before she could move too far, cold hands gripped her shoulders and she screamed.

"Emerald," Seth said in a halfway pleading voice. His eyes were wide as they begged for recognition on her part. The rational side of him, however, knew that even if this was her, they were still thirty some odd years away from meeting. Still, the other, more irrational side of things raged for her to know him, to know what they shared…

"You know I love you, don’t you?" His blue eyes bore into Dawn, searching for the truth. The brunette was even more terrified by this behavior than his earlier menacing. Tears began pouring from her eyes anew, as she continually whispered the names of her strongest protectors.

"Seth," the soothing voice of Jennifer beckoned behind him, her hand lightly resting on his taut shoulders. Her mind chanted long forgotten words to his confused essence and visibly relaxed, his hands falling reluctantly from the young girl's shoulders. His head slumped as he turned towards her and Jennifer saw the confusion and dejection in his eyes. He was not the only one perplexed by this as her mind raced for an explanation though her outer appearance was that of perfect calmness. She held her hand out and he hesitantly grasped it, his coolness in direct contrast with her unnatural warmth. He allowed her to lead him to the couch, a dazed expression over his face.

"Looks like somebody had an unexpected reunion," Rack mused. The lack of response from the now seated Seth gave the black magic's man confidence that the vampire wasn’t so invincible after all.

"Seth, look at me," Jennifer demanded. Slowly he turned his head to face the mysterious woman and took her in. Her voice was always soothing (and strangely familiar) while her hair and her eyes…her eyes…

"Bastard," Seth spat, his memories finally linking past, present and future together as one. Though he had been more than angered at the discovery that Emerald's insistence of aesthetic alterations were based upon some vampire whose name the frightened teenager kept whispering, he had forgiven her immediately. However, whatever the block that was in his mind was now released at the sight of her and the promise he had made to himself was realized.

Seth was faintly aware of Jennifer's warm hands stroking the back of his neck as his mind was on other things. As a man, he never let someone who wronged him, regardless of their intentions, get away unscathed. Being a vampire only heightened his desire for retribution. His demon raged eager to bestow punishment on the guilty party. His human side reminded him that he owed said party everything that he was. But the wrath of his demon clouded that, focusing on the one thing he didn’t have because of said party: Emerald.

'Oh, I will have my revenge, now that I know the truth,' he thought sadistically. Forgiveness was not an option between vampires.

Sire or no, Gabriel would pay.

CHAPTER 21

It took the better part of two hours before Faith had calmed down enough to talk. Somehow, between her gut-wrenching sobs and childlike whimpers, Willow and Tara had ushered the young woman to the couch where she rested between them, alternating between leaning against Tara’s shoulder and on Willow’s lap.

The past fifteen minutes had been filled with Faith’s last gasps of tears. Though her sobs had dissipated, she was still too upset to do any talking. So she remained quiet while Tara softly stroked her hair and Willow held her hands. Faith was glad to have these two women here with her. They were always there for her when she needed to get away when Buffy and Spike engaged in particularly heated arguments. It always scared her that they would hurt each other or break up, leaving her alone….

"His name is Seth," Faith said, finally breaking the silence with something other than earth shattering sobs. "He…he is Gabriel's second in command. He's been that since he was turned ten years ago. Ten years my time."

"So…so he's not that old," Tara said. "That's good, right?"

Faith laughed humorlessly. "Ordinarily, I'd agree with you. But considering that he's kicked my ass on more than one occasion…and I'm a lot stronger than Buffy is…"

"What?" Willow asked, disbelief etched in her voice. "Stronger than Buffy?"

Faith smiled, only this time with a touch of humor. " And Spike too. He hated having two women stronger than him. We always teased him about who ran the pants in the house," Faith smiled wistfully before continuing. "By the time I was seventeen, I was not too far away from being able to take them both on. I mean, they’d always beat me but it was always because their technique was like decades ahead of mine-and I mean that literally. But as far as speed and strength, I pretty much hold those titles. Guess it's my mixture of slayer and master vampire DNA. I also heal faster, too. Usually," she whispered.

"He…Seth did this to you?" Tara asked pointing to the scar down the side of her face. She nodded her assent and the blond Wicca reaffirmed her earlier unspoken pledge to see to it that Seth paid.

"What is it about him that's so special?" Willow asked.

Faith cringed noticeably at the thought of having to visualize the monster's face. A face that was uncomfortably familiar to someone she loved as much as anyone…

The two blondes had finally reached Revello Drive; their fingers laced together the whole way. Though they had refrained from speaking since Buffy's surprising confession, they traded affectionate glances the entire trip.

Spike couldn’t have been happier. Unless she told me she loved me, he thought wistfully. The vampire walked with one hand entangled with the slayer's while the other was buried deep inside the pocket of his duster. He knew he had to keep his cool, something his maniacal smile told him he wasn’t succeeding in doing.

Snap out of it, you git. You know how fickle the slayer can be, he admonished. And wasn’t that the truth! One minute she would be in the throes of passion with him, whispering words in his ear that he was stunned she even knew existed. The next minute she'd curse him as a vile and disgusting creature. Though his smirk was plastered on to irritate her after one of her shame-felt tirades, her words burned more than he wished to admit. It wasn’t that he thought she loved him, he knew better. He'd decided that after that first night that he'd relegate himself to taking any crumb he could get. He couldn’t deny, however, that a part of him was ever the optimist and that the more she shared her body with him, the more she'd feel for him. He didn’t know whether or not that was the reason for her admissions earlier, but he was damn sure not about to give up now.

Buffy had to admit to herself that she hadn't felt this giddy since…well, since she had come back. The last six months had been a constant struggle. With her friends, with demons and with life in general. It didn’t help that the arrival of Mr. Song & Dance and Spike's heartfelt confession. If it wasn’t for that, she wondered if she would have ever kissed him.

It was only a matter of time, she thought to herself and was surprised at her own self-candor. Spike had been the only one who had even an inkling of what she was going through. And the things that he didn’t understand, he didn’t try to, letting her be. They had spent countless nights together, in amiable silence, watching television or each other. The latter didn’t happen often though but when it did, she felt no anxiety about those blue eyes piercing her, asking questions she didn’t want to answer. In those moments, Spike never uttered a syllable, content to watch her and she was grateful for that. But the kiss had changed everything.

She sighed at the damage it had done to their relationship. Though she was loath to admit it at the time, they were friends. If she had only had more time to sort her feelings out, things might have been so much different. The hurdles of pain they still had to get past may never have been raised and they could have had a healthy relationship from the start.

As healthy as a vampire and a slayer could have, she added. Buffy understood now that the past was just that, the past and if she ever wanted to have even the slightly semblance of a good (though decidedly not normal) life, she had to start living for today and tomorrow. If she thought of the past too much, or even too far into the future for that matter, well…she didn’t know if she could deal. Even with Spike at her side.

She stole a peak out the corner of her eye, feeling the vampire's leaden yet warm gaze upon her. How was it that he was still here? With all the things she had said and done, he refused to quit. Don’t think about the past Buffy, she reminded herself. If she did think about all those terrible words and fists she hurled at him in the past few months…she had a feeling she knew a little more how Angel felt than she needed.

She stifled a chill at the thought of her former vampire lover. I'm gonna have a baby by Angel? She thought unbelievingly. I'm gonna have Angel's baby and Spike still ends up the one by my side? The whole dynamic of the situation was mind bending. What was to happen between her and Spike that she ended up with her first love, even if it was for a night? And how was he able to forgive her for it? Or did he even know that it was Angel's?

Buffy's thoughts were cut off as her arm was jerked back. She stumbled back to Spike's side. She was on the verge of announcing her displeasure when he silenced her with the raise of his hand. He stayed unnaturally still for several moments before speaking.

"Something's wrong," he said. Buffy rolled her eyes at him about to lash out about his jumpiness when she felt it…

"What…is…that?" She was taken aback by it. It was like nothing she had ever felt before. Whatever had left its…presence, was gone, yet its aura lingered.

"Feels like a vampire," he said, reluctantly dropping her hand and creeping up the remaining hundred yards to her house. Buffy shook her head before following. They had stopped about a hundred feet away and from there they could see the front door closed…yet…

"Some baddie busted it down," he said, his voice tight. For whatever reason, his first thoughts had gone immediately to Dawn. It wasn’t just her youth and inexperience he was worried about. It was like he knew…

"Dawn," Buffy said, voicing his own fearful thoughts.

"Okay, this is how we're gonna do this, luv. I'll sidle through the back and you make your way up through the front. Either by the door or that window you so love climbing through." Despite the situation, she punched him in the shoulder. He returned it with a smirk and as he moved to make his way to the back Buffy found herself grabbing him by the lapels of his coat and crushing her mouth to his. Her tongue danced along his, tracing his blunt teeth as his lips moistened hers, their hands tracing the familiar curves of one another's body. Even in times of crisis, they always found solace in one another. At first it had been the mere presence of the other before a battle, whether it was in the beginning when they were mortal enemies, or later as comrades-in-arms. Since their relationship had been altered, however, the comfort of each other's arms was what they longed for. And in her mind, Buffy knew it was right.

They only broke the kiss when Buffy gasped for air. No words were exchanged but the look that passed between them accurately transferred their thoughts of 'Be careful' to one another. And with that, the blond vampire disappeared into the shadows.

She counted to three before she streaked across the lawn, staying close to the ground. Reaching the steps, Buffy peered through the windows as best she could, her slayer senses reaching out for anything out of the ordinary. Though they picked up nothing unusual, she knew that something had happened here.

And what is the likelihood that Dawn is involved? She asked. She knew the question to that right away.

This so must be a Tuesday, she said, shaking her head as she wrapped her small hand around the door handle…

Faith ran a shaking hand through her short hair. Her heart felt as if it was halfway up her throat and she had broken out into a cold sweat. If it wasn’t for the support of Willow and Tara, the young slayer would have definitely succumb to the tears threatening to fall. As it was, she sat between the two women that, in another lifetime, were always there for her.

Some things never change…thankfully, she thought to herself. She had given them the heads up on Seth and his master, Gabriel. Though she had outlined the prophecy of Gabriel and its relation to Spike and Buffy, she still kept the Master vampire’s identity a secret. That and one other minute detail…

"Oh my God," Willow said, her voice weak and thick with tears. Neither her nor Tara had been able to keep their eyes dry as Faith laid it all on the table. How Seth was physically the most powerful demon in her world, despite being a vampire and only a decade out of the box, so to speak. Gabriel had imbued Seth with the gift. It was deemed the Gift because for whatever reason, Gabriel could sire only one vampire. And his child received the powers that the half-vampire (by birth) had accumulated through the years he had been trapped in some unknown hell dimension. A hell dimension that, for some reason, he was able to escape at Faith’s conception. Thus, slayer and vampire/warlock (that was what Gabriel had now become) were inexorably linked, the prophecy declaring that it was Faith and Faith alone that had the power to defeat Gabriel. There was a minor problem with that, however. Though the prophecy stated that she was the only one that held the power to bring Gabriel down, two tasks that had to be completed first. For reasons that the young girl neglected to elaborate to the Wiccas, both Buffy and Spike had to die at the hands of one that loved them more than life and was bound to them by blood. It had been the reason Buffy had killed Spike, to weaken Gabriel’s hold on the world. Buffy had then gone to Faith to finish the job. The younger slayer had struck her mother down but did not kill her. She had left Buffy, refusing to take her mother’s life despite the hate she felt when she saw Buffy plunge the stake into Spike’s heart.

The second roadblock was that even if the slayer and vampire part of the prophecy was satisfied, there was still Seth to contend with. As mentioned before, he was peerless on the physical level. Not only was he faster and stronger than all demons, but he also was protected by a magic ward impenetrable by even the strongest of magics. That particular nuance was not confirmed though the second part of the prophecy did affirm that no one would be able to defeat the ‘childe of Apocalypse’s Harbinger.’

Willow rolled what parts of the prophecy Faith had been able to quote concerning Seth over in her mind…

Faith couldn’t quite recall the rest of it, though she had relayed that the gist of the other part was that the only person that could destroy him was the power that created him. And it wasn’t as if Gabriel would destroy the one thing that held him in power.

The redhead sighed. She glanced over to Faith. Her head rested against Tara’s shoulder, the Wicca’s arm firmly around her shoulders while her hand absently stroked the woman’s strawberry blond hair. She could see the fatigue around the girl’s eyes. It had been a long day for Faith and her confrontation with Seth and subsequent confession to them had taken a vast toll on her.

Willow shivered at the mere thought of what Faith had to endure during her nine months of captivity. She had been tortured almost daily and violated in so many other ways though Seth was the only one allowed to touch her. Willow didn’t have to be told the things he did to her. The scars, both physical and emotional, were easy enough to see. How the girl was resilient enough to push it all aside was beyond her. Guess she got the strength of Buffy and Ang…

Willow stopped in mid-thought. Something didn’t add up. Faith had said she was Buffy and Angel's child but…it just didn’t feel like it. Though Willow hadn't practiced magic in over two months, she could still sense auras on people. And Faith's felt nothing like what she remembered of Angel.

Paranoid much? A voice in her head sounded off. You haven't seen him in what, eight months. And before that, how long? The voice was right. Maybe the lack of 'Angel aura' emanating from the girl was because she had forgotten what his felt like.

But wouldn’t that make it easier to detect? She asked herself. It would. And it's not like I don’t feel anything, either. What I feel is totally familiar… I know Tara is better at this than I am but…Willow closed her eyes and concentrated. She let flow the natural magic within her, one that didn’t require supplies or incantations, one that wouldn’t endanger her from falling into the darkness.

The redhead willed the tiny probes that represented her own self to touch and prod lightly against that of Faith's. The energy bled off of her and though Faith was too out of it to notice, Tara picked up on the vibes immediately.

"What are you doing?" She asked tersely, snapping Willow out of her probe. The non-practicing Wicca peered at the face of her once lover. The glare Tara gave her would have been enough to make Willow cringe at any other time but not this time.

"Oh my God," she whispered, putting her hand to her mouth. Faith raised her head and glanced from Tara to Willow.

"What's going on?" she asked tiredly.

"What is going on, Willow?" Tara demanded, anger rising in her voice.

Willow stared in disbelief at the huddled form of Faith next to her. Things started to add up. The way Faith avoided Spike's gaze when talking about her father. The fact that she didn’t actually say that Angel was her father, they had assumed. And Willow had dismissed the guilty look that haunted the girl's eyes during the pow-wow earlier. And then there were her eyes…an unusual mix of green and blue, the purest forms of each. Angel didn’t have blue eyes…

"Angel…he's not your father, is he?" It was more of a statement than question. Willow leveled her eyes at the blue/green swirls of the Summers woman who sat up in alarm, her eyes widening.

"W-what are you talking about, Willow?" Tara asked breathlessly after several more moments of silence.

"She's not Buffy and Angel's child."

"T-that…ca-can't be. She looks just like Buffy. She…f-feels like her," Tara stammered as she pushed Faith away, trying to get a better look at her.

"Oh, I didn’t say she wasn't Buffy's daughter. She is," Willow continued. The confidence she felt was almost alien to her. She hadn't felt this sure of herself since before the whole Tabula Rasa spell had gone awry. And it wasn’t because of her sucking the brain from a hell-god or speaking into the minds of her friends that was giving her this particular high. It was the knowledge that she had something in her powerful, yet good. It was just a matter of listening to that part of her and not overdoing everything…but that had to wait. There was a much more pressing matter that she had to get through.

The mortified reaction of Faith only assured Willow even more that her hunch was true. She mentally cursed herself for not picking it up earlier. Faith had lied for whatever reason, and it was time that the truth came out.

"Faith is Buffy's daughter. I can feel it on her. But I don’t feel any part of Angel."

"Bu-but the whole vampire thing. She said she…" Tara started but Willow interrupted.

"Oh, she's part vampire all right. Just not Angel's…"

"Then who…?" Tara asked before her widened eyes alerted Willow of that she, too, understood.

"Yep, I can't believe I didn’t feel it earlier."

"Feel what?" Faith croaked out.

"Your father on you."

"Wha...what do you mean, my father? I already told you…" she managed weakly.

"No, you never told us. We only assumed that Angel was your father. You didn’t actually say it. But it doesn’t matter. What does matter is why you didn’t tell us the truth?"

"I did…" she tailed off.

"C'mon, Faith. Spike is your father and you know it." The room was silent for a moment before a loud clang turned their three women's attention to the foyer. All three gasped at the shell-shocked form of Buffy, wavering back and forth, as if she would fall over any second. Her eyes were wide in disbelief and her lips were parted as if to speak though no words came. But the women on the couch didn’t need words to know what she was thinking.

Buffy had heard every word.