CHAPTER 28

Two hours alone in the backyard with only a few stars and numerous insects as unwilling companions was enough to drive Spike back into Casa de Summers. Taking one last look at the partially visible blackness of space, the vampire wheeled around and bounded gracefully up the steps.

Mindful of the time of night, he gingerly closed the door, making sure to lock it, in the unlikely event that they were paid another unexpected visit by a vampire that didn’t require a personal invite. He walked silently through the kitchen and listened at the entrance of the living room for signs of life. He heard the distinct pattern of two different heartbeats as well as the deep breathing of the same individuals. He crept into the room quietly and what he witnessed stirred his undead heart like nothing ever had.

Before him just in front of the couch bathed in the soft glow of the lamp, was Faith, curled in a ball. She slept on her side, her thin arms crossed over her chest, knees drawn to her elbows. Her head rested comfortably on the stomach of an exhausted slayer. Buffy's legs were crossed at the ankles and her right arm was draped protectively around Faith's shoulders while her other hand rested gently on the young woman's head. A true look of peace was etched upon the two women's nearly identical features and it was all that he could do not to cry at the beauty of it all.

His heart heavy with joy, the vampire addled over to the two women and sat cross-legged at their feet, marveling at the completeness of the scene. It was in this moment that he wished to die. Not out of grief, heartache, or apathy of his all-too-complicated un-life, but to catch glimpse of such a perfect memory was fleeting for him at best and why not die when he was at the pinnacle of his existence? It was doubtful that life would get any better for the likes of him.

Raising his knees to his chest and encircling his legs with his arms, Spike cocked his head to the side and studied the rise and fall of the two young women. They looked so peaceful and radiant, as if they were untouchable by the ills of the world. The things they had gone through were too much for women who had yet to reach their twenty-fourth birthday. If only I could take their pain away, he thought to himself and wiped at his eyes, refusing to tear up at the scene before him.

Spike didn’t know how long he sat there, watching the subtleties of the two women in their sleep but the next thing he knew the warm sensation of familiar lips against his cool skin awakened him from the realms of a dreamless sleep.

"Morning, Mr. Undead Guy," Buffy cooed sleepily. Spike forced his eyes open and was greeted by the sight of his beautiful slayer, crouched in front of him.

"Hey, luv," he answered. Glancing around the room, he noticed the lights were off and that it was still dark outside. "How long 'ave I been out?"

"About twenty minutes, I guess," she replied and sat next to him. She sleepily lay her head against his shoulder and Spike automatically snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her into a protective embrace. The silence stretched between them, though it was not strained. Rather it was similar to the silent walk they shared back from his crypt a few hours ago. Finally, the peaceful quiet was interrupted by the hushed voice of Buffy.

"So, where'd you go?"

"Luv?"

"When you left earlier, where'd you go? I know Tara went out after you and all, but I didn’t think she found you. At least she didn’t say anything about it." She risked a glance up at the platinum blond and was rewarded by an unreadable mask.

"Didn’t go nowhere, luv. Had a few smokes out back with the Tink is all," he said matter-of-factly, desperately resisting the memories that had plagued him.

The look on Dawn's face before he was thrown from the tower.

Buffy's crumbled body as the sun outlined her face-beautiful even in death.

The realization that being with him was killing Buffy.

Knowing that he was responsible for them not getting back in time to help Dawn…

"It's not your fault," Tara had said. But wasn’t it? Hadn't he promised Buffy he'd protect the Niblet 'til the end of the world? Funny, that in the span of nine months he had welshed on that promise twice already, not quite the dependability Buffy was counting on. But what could she expect from an evil, soulless thing incapable of love?

"You still see yourself as evil and if anything bad happens, especially to the people you care about, it has to be your fault." Spike shivered as Tara's words continued to cloud his self-flagellation. She was wrong, it was his fault. His fault that Dawn had been taken. His fault that Buffy was hurting so much. Hell, he idly considered whether he was to blame for Joyce's death.

"…If you're looking for me to tell you how bad a person you are, or how this is your fault…you're talking to the wrong person." The vampire stiffened as he remembered the determination and assuredness behind Tara's words. Being the one to see through people was his job, yet the usually timid Wicca had cut to the heart of his insecurities in a matter of minutes. She had laid it all down on the line, speaking the truth like he usually did.

"Spike?" Buffy said. She had sensed the tension rip through her companion a few minutes ago and wondered what had the blond vampire so up in arms. The first time she had called his name, it was barely above a whisper, as she didn’t wish to disturb the still sleeping Faith before them. This time as she called his name, Buffy nudged him in the ribs with her elbow before he finally snapped out of his malaise.

"Sorry, luv," he said absently. Still concerned, Buffy maneuvered herself in position to look him directly in the eyes.

"What's going on, Spike?"

"It…"

"And don’t give me that 'it's nothing' bullshit," she whispered fervently. "Besides," her voice softened, "last time you said that, I had to stand and watch you playing the part of the undead rock star."

Spike stared at her for several seconds before breaking out into a halfhearted grin. "Thought you liked my little rock number, luv." His scarred brow arched suggestively and Buffy couldn’t stop the heat from rising through her body and she sheepishly looked down, studying the floor.

"I did." It came out almost inaudibly and even with his enhanced hearing, Spike was barely able to make it out.

"You did?" He queried, obviously surprised.

"Yeah, I did. You weren't half bad with the singing," she said noting that it was his turn to study the floor under them. "Guess it's all that practice you have with the Sex Pistols and all."

Spike snorted. "I'll have you know, pet, that The Sex Pistols are, for all intents and purposes, legends."

"Of what? Lame names?" she muttered and was rightfully greeted by a sharp pinch on her leg. "Hey," she said indignantly before smacking his offending hand away.

"Serves you right, talkin' about greatness like that," he huffed. " 'Sides, you can't even make an informed judgment when you haven't even heard the bloody group play."

"Oh I have information, all right: Sex Pistols. 'Nuff said."

"Whatever. Bloody bint," he muttered under his breath.

"But that's not the point," she said, encircling his hand with both of hers. "The point was that you bared yourself to me sans the chains and it was…" she fumbled over what to say next. "Well, it was a once in a lifetime thing. And I don’t mean in 'the summoning the Lord of the Dance demon from hell to take my sister as his bride' way. I mean it in the 'man singing to the woman he loves' sort of way." Buffy made sure that his ice blue eyes were on her when she had emphasized the word man.

Spike took in the sight of his sleepy-eyed slayer, not knowing what to think. The past day had been a bevy of emotional twists and turns that had them both still reeling, pleading for a much-needed break in the action. But fate was sadistic and he knew they would never get a reprieve as the world was always in peril and someone was always in need of saving. All he did know that, if possible, he would meet those demands by her side, if only she allowed him.

"We should get the baby bit to bed, luv," he said, motioning to the huddled young woman on the floor.

"Yeah, but where should we put her?"

"The Niblet's room is…" Spike began and immediately cursed himself for his brazen stupidity. Buffy's hands had tightened over his and Spike knew that despite the brave front, Buffy was still out of her mind with worry.

"Sorry, pet. Might insensitive of me."

"No. It's okay," she murmured and ran her hands through her hair. Dawn's abduction was just another worry on the list of evil's attempts at driving the slayer insane. It was a new tactic though no less effective than attempts at fresh slayer-ki-bob.

"Buffy," Spike addressed the slayer forcefully. The demand in his tone was enough to jolt her from the ever-increasing burden that she carried across her back.

"Listen to me pet and listen good. We are gonna find the Niblet. We always do. And you'll see; not a hair on her tiny head will be harmed. I swear to you."

"But what if he already has hurt her?" She expressed the thought they both feared.

"But he hasn’t and we both know it." He hoped the false confidence in his tone was enough to convince Buffy that everything was all right. The small smile that crept up on her face let him know that she was forcing herself to believe it.

"We should get her into bed," Buffy whispered and motioned to Faith. Spike nodded his assent and walked over to her huddled form. He gingerly positioned his arms underneath her and was surprised when she rolled into his embrace. He lifted the slight girl into his arms like an infant and made his way toward the steps with Buffy closely behind.

"I guess Tara is staying here," Buffy remarked as she peeped through the window before securing the curtains. Spike glanced back at her and smiled before he continued the slow walk up the steps.

Nudging the door open with his hip, Spike casually navigated through the dark room of the missing teenager. He smirked as posters of N 'sync and several other abominable excuses for modern musicians littered Dawn's walls. Guess I'm gonna have to show Niblet what real music is, he mused before reality unceremoniously dumped a pitcher of ice cold water on his mental retreat.

Though he had told Buffy that Dawn was okay, he really didn’t know that was the case. He hoped beyond hope that it was true but what if she was right? What if who ever it was that nabbed her had already done the deed and harmed her? Killed her? Or worse--turned her? The medley of thoughts that pervaded his mind caused his body to stiffen. The soft moan of the figure in his arms was enough to distract him from his thoughts. He placed Faith's head on the pillow and held her legs up enough to pull the covers from under her bottom. He affectionately covered her with the thin sheets and the comforter before gracing her forehead with a tender kiss.

"Daddy?" her sleepy voice called. Spike jumped at Faith's plea and he saw her eyes flutter open, barely able to focus.

"Yeah, baby bit?" He answered automatically, startling himself with the ease at which he accepted the title she had just addressed him with. May not have been her father, but I was her daddy.

"I'm scared," she said and her thin arms wrapped around his neck before he could do anything.

Not wanting to pull away from her strong grip, Spike settled himself onto the bed and enveloped her with his own embrace. "Scared of what, luv?" he asked while he stroked her hair.

"That you'll be gone. That I won't see you again," she sniffled into his duster. The pain and fear in her voice was enough to have tears prickling at the back of his throat.

"I'm not going anywhere, baby," he assured, "I'm not going anywhere."

Faith's grip around his neck tightened for an instant before she relaxed her grip and her hands hung limply on his shoulders. "Promise?" she asked as sleep began to claim its hold over her again.

"Promise," he whispered in her ear and he hugged her firmly to his chest, afraid to let go.

I'm going to be a Daddy, Spike thought. Even if it wasn’t in the biological sense, he was almost satisfied in knowing that this small woman would be his in everything but blood. A very small part of him was glad about the latter, considering that she wouldn’t inherit his insecurities or penchant for evil. He could tell that all her traits were strictly from her mother. Her strength of character. Her resolve. Her stubbornness and somewhat flippant attitude, though he may have rubbed off a bit of the last two on her. The point was that Faith Summers was nothing but good. There was no evil in her and that was enough to let him know that she was not his.

Tara may think I'm not evil, he thought bitterly, but I am. Always have been, always will be.

"Daddy?" Faith called and it was evident that she was, for all intents and purposes, asleep.

"Pet?"

"You're a good Daddy and I love you," she said and kissed the spot over his heart before falling into the oblivious realms of dreams.

The tears that had been abated earlier cascaded down his cheeks and Spike didn’t understand why. What she had said, though he wouldn’t know it until later, was exactly what he needed to hear. He knew Dawn didn’t see him as bad and neither did Tara. Even Willow, whom he had threatened on numerous occasions didn’t look at him with a "Spike is evil" glare. Anya, well, that chit didn’t care one way or the other. Truthfully, aside from the whelp, only Buffy really thought that he was still evil though her actions tonight had been a total one-eighty from her previous convictions about him. Still, he had tethered the line between man and monster but those eight words from the child he didn’t know was his was enough to push him over into the right direction.

No, he didn’t realize it now, but for Spike the message had implanted itself deep down in his core; he was a good man. And once he finally accepted that, nothing would ever be able to take it away from him.

***

Buffy had watched as Spike cradled Faith in his arms and whisked her into Dawn's room, laying her down on the partially made bed. The tenderness he exuded with her touched Buffy in a way she had never known. True, his affection had been there earlier but that was around other people. Then, of course, there was the fact that since then she had found out that Spike was Faith's real dad in every way, shape and form.

"Daddy?" She heard the young woman call out as Spike tucked her underneath the covers. The love with which she said it was too much and Buffy stifled a choked sob by raising her small hand to her lips. She lowered her head, tears threatening to spill for the umpteenth time before she left the two alone and went to her room.

The petite blond took several minutes to brush her teeth and rinse her face before she made it to her room. She softly closed the door behind her and immediately went to fasten the drapes, blocking any attempts of the moonlight from stealing a view of her solitude. How long had it been since she had returned? Three months? Five? Six? She really didn’t know and didn’t care either. All she knew was that she had felt more in the past day than she had in all those months combined. She was so despondent when she had returned save for the fleeting moments with Spike. Buffy had wrongfully assumed that she was devoid of even the basest emotions though, if anything, tonight had confirmed she did have the full compliment of emotions.

Buffy undressed quickly and wriggled into a half-shirt that was barely enough to cover her now bra-less chest. She slid under the sheets and sighed at the coolness of them on her warm skin. Her hands were laced behind her head as she stared blankly into the darkness above her.

Her mind was on overload and she couldn’t help but long for the simpler times in Los Angeles when her parents were together and she was just Buffy Anne Summers; little Ms. Popular herself. It seemed like a lifetime ago and, in truth, it was. Six years, two deaths, a new baby sister not to mention the death of her mother and no less than five apocalypses later (throw in two vampire boyfriends) and where was she now?

"Lost," she whispered to the quiet shroud of darkness around her. She sighed deeply at her admission. So much nonsense (important, but nevertheless nonsense) cluttered her brain to the degree that she had no idea which way she was facing most of the time. It was by sheer luck (Or Spike) that she had gotten this far. Though it was a constant reminder of how normal she was not, the slaying was actually the part that kept her halfway on the road of sanity. The deluge of other things--bills, work, taking care of Dawn--the more mundane things of life that steered her clear into the median and swerving into a cow ditch.

How did Mom do it? She thought for the countless time. Though she hated it at times, Buffy felt that slaying was actually a godsend to her. Before it, she had had no clue as to what she wanted with her life and even now, when she thought about the possibilities of retiring from her slayer-hood, she still drew a blank as to what her life goal would be. She'd welcome the dusting of a vampire or lopping the head off a particularly nasty demon to dealing with teachers for Dawn or balancing the checkbook any day. But dealing with them both was something beyond difficult.

"It's not mission difficult, Summers, it's mission impossible…" she muttered to herself and laughed harshly just as her door opened discretely.

"Slayer?" Spike called, not too loud.

"Yeah?"

"You decent?" He asked seriously before adding a trademark sexually charged innuendo. " 'Course, not that I mind you indecent in the least."

Buffy smiled lightly at Spike's continual turn into the sexual. "What do you want, Spike?" she asked though her voice contained a hint of amusement.

Half-expecting some snarky comment, Spike was taken aback at Buffy's somewhat mirthful response. Taking it as his cue, he slid between the partially open door and its frame before closing it. He noticed the darkness of the room, only slivers of moonlight sneaked through the pulled curtains. Hands in his pockets he approached the bed, stopping at the foot before addressing Buffy nervously.

"I put Faith to bed," he informed but never took his eyes off her black boots.

"How is she?" Buffy asked and sat up. She didn’t even notice as the covers pooled around her waist.

"Fine," Spike replied desperate now to find something interesting on the floor but failing miserably. Out the corner of his eye, he caught the sight of her pert nipples poking through the thin fabric of the shirt and it was enough to stoke the fire within that always simmered in his desire for her. "Sleeping like a baby." He finally managed to prevent his feet from taking root and slipped toward the window.

"Where are you going?" she asked as he reached for the curtain. She tried to keep the apprehension out of her voice but failed miserably.

His arm stopped short of the curtain and he let it drop to his side. "Bout to head back to the crypt is all. Don’t wanna wait 'til good old Mr. Sunshine…"

"Stay," she said simply and Spike couldn’t help but stare at her in amazement.

"What did you say?" he asked, not believing he had heard it.

"Stay," she repeated but with more feeling. To get her gesture across even more, she scooted across the bed and pulled the covers back partially. He saw her smile as she patted the empty space beside her and he couldn’t help but to beam like a fool.

Wasting no time, Spike stripped off his clothes, his eyes never leaving the green spheres of the woman he loved above all things. He stalked over her, not bothering to hide his arousal as he slipped beneath the covers and drew her close to him. He kissed her fully on the lips, enveloping her touch, her taste, and her scent. The minty fragrance of toothpaste and that flavor that was distinctly Buffy's danced across his tongue as he lapped at hers in a languid ritual. His hands traced over the smooth curves of her body and though he knew every inch, every centimeter of her, he couldn’t help but feel as if every time he touched her that it was, in fact, the first time.

As his hand cupped her thong-laced butt, Buffy moaned into the mouth of her cold lover. She draped her leg across his thin hips and pulled him closer, feeling his erection bounce expectantly against the lace of her panties. The familiar taste of Spike invaded her senses and it took all her willpower not to ravage him then and there. She didn’t want that at all. She wanted what they had in the crypt, the slow, rhythm-filled dance in the forest. Not that she didn’t like the way he pounded unmercifully into her flesh as if it was his duty to cripple her, no, she loved that. But if she was to change the dynamics of their relationship, things had to change. Of course, every once in awhile, the hardcore shagging wouldn’t be too bad, now would it?

Spike read the deliberate motions of Buffy's flesh and knew that she wanted to experience the rightness of their lovemaking from earlier that night. It was taking a great deal of willpower not to just rip those silky panties away and shove his engorged cock into her like it was his only hope. But she didn’t want that now and, for the most part, neither did he. Truth be told there was something even more precious that he wanted than her body at the moment.

"No," Buffy whined as Spike slowly pulled away from her. Her lips searched for his as her hands palmed at his naked flesh.

Spike had to fight the urge to acquiesce to her demands but he didn’t want to just yet.

"Buffy," he said as he caressed her flushed cheek. "Open your eyes, luv." He grinned as she huffed before opening her lust-filled eyes to gaze at him.

"What's with the stopping?" she asked and stuck her bottom lip out for effect.

"None of that, luv," he said before leaning in for a quick kiss.

"Why not?" She stuck her lip out even further.

"Because…"

"Because?" She scooted closer toward him as her hand found his prized possession.

Although he was focused, Spike couldn’t help but growl in satisfaction as her petite hand wrapped around his aching cock. He balled his fists tightly, clutching at the air before he was able to gently nudge her hand away.

"Spike?" Her voice was filled with a bevy of emotions. Lust. Confusion. Irritation. Disappointment. And fear.

His brow furrowed at the thought of the latter. Why would she be scared? He thought and dismissed the question just as quickly. He had already surmised earlier that the one thing she needed above all others was reassurance that he wasn’t going to pull a disappearing act. And to her, turning down her sexual advances meant only one thing.

"It's not like I don’t want to luv. There's not much I'd rather be doing than shagging you until the bloody cows come home." She visibly relaxed before speaking.

"And what would you rather do than that?" Her hand skimmed across his rippled abs, eliciting a guttural sigh.

"Well," he said and brought her hands up to his lips, taking the time to kiss each knuckle individually. "Numero uno on that list would be to make love to you until I died." Their eyes met and Buffy's lips parted in awe. The adoration on her face was a sight to behold and Spike thought that for a fleeting moment she was going to say the words that he so much wanted to hear. Instead, she leaned over and kissed him softly on the lips. When she pulled back, she gazed into his eyes and Spike felt the chill up his spine at the foreign look she gave him. It was filled with something he had never been shown and he couldn’t discern it.

"So what's number two?"

Spike snapped out of his wandering mind and focused on what he wanted to say. " 'S not near as interesting as the other two options, luv, but it's just as necessary. Maybe even more so."

"And that would be?"

"Talk."

"Talk? Is that some sort of slang for…"

"I want to talk to you. No, I want you to talk to me." He squeezed her hands for emphasis.

"Talk about what?" she asked cautiously. Don’t ask me about Faith. Don’t ask me about Faith. Don’t ask me about Faith, the mantra repeated in her head.

"Us."

"Oh," she said and relaxed just a fraction.

They sat in silence for several minutes; both lost in their own thoughts, waiting for the other to speak. Though she had wanted Spike in every physical sense of the word, she really did want to talk to him as much as he did her. She had never gotten the chance to ask him about what was going on when he returned from outside. There was something about him that sagged when he had come in, as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders just as much as she felt it upon hers. But where did she begin? She didn’t have confidence to just blurt it out like he did. She wasn’t the master of initiation that he was.

Unless it revolves around slamming my lips into to his to shut him up, she added ruefully.

Spike, too, was lost as to where to begin. He wanted to ask about Faith and what she and Buffy had discussed. He wanted to tell Buffy what Faith had said to him and if she knew why. But most of all, he wanted to ask her about them. True, they had discussed it earlier but there had never been a definitive answer though it was as good of one as Buffy had ever given concerning their relationship. Still, as insecure as he was, it did nothing to alleviate the doubts within that screamed at him to rid himself of her before she broke him completely.

"So," the sound of his accented voice cut through the silence and seemed to echo through the room. "What were you laughing about earlier? When I came in?"

Buffy sighed deeply and rolled over to her back though she kept a firm grasp on Spike's hand as she gazed at the familiar nothingness of the dark. Her eyes were adjusting and she could trace slight patterns from the ceiling unlike a few minutes earlier.

"Nothing. Everything. Why does everything have to be so hard?"

Spike sighed inwardly, thinking it was the same Buffy: pitying herself that the world gave her a raw deal. He knew it wasn’t fair, but sometimes she aggravated him with her victim attitude.

"Thought we went over that earlier, luv," he said as evenly as possible.

"I know," she sighed and turned back to him. "It's just that, I just can't do it all by myself. I mean, there's the house to take care of. And Dawn, oh my God. I forgot what teenagers were like. I really don’t remember being so rebellious…" she stopped when she heard a snort. "What? Something funny?" she asked defensively.

"Nothing. Just the sick little notion you have in your head that you weren't rebellious."

"I wasn’t," she defied in a small voice.

"Bollocks. You are the Queen of Denial, aren't you, pet?" He saw her trademark scowl surface but refused to head for higher ground. "I mean, you are the most stubborn person I know…"

"And how would you know?" she asked indignantly, eyes blazing.

"Takes one to know one, luv. Takes one to know one." Her demeanor lightened considerably and she couldn’t hold in a slight chuckle.

"Well-maybe I am just a little bit headstrong."

" 'Little bit?" he scoffed. "Yeah, and bloody Siberia is just a little bit cold. Face it, Slayer, no one is as obstinate as you are. I applaud your mother for not bashing you on the head with a crowbar at an early age."

"Hey," she shrieked and slapped him on the arm. "Not a good visual."

" 'S not like she didn’t have it in her as my head can attest to. Almost brained me with that bloody axe. 'Stay the hell away from my daughter.' " He smiled wistfully at the memory. "Wish I could thank her for that."

"Huh?"

"Well, if it weren't for her parental masquerade as the bloody Calvary, we wouldn’t have gotten this far."

"How so?"

"C'mon, luv. I had you dead to rights and you know it. Oww," he shouted after a less than playful shot to the ribs.

"Whatever," she snorted and turned her back to him. Not two seconds later, she was back to facing him. "That’s such crap. I had you right where I wanted you."

"Oh, right," he rolled his eyes at her. "Guess you were waitin' for the moment after I cracked you with the two-by-four to spring your plan into action, huh?"

She frowned for a minute before cracking a smile. "Okay, so maybe you did have me there. But I so kicked your ass on Halloween."

Spike smiled and kissed Buffy on the forehead. "Yeah, you did. Kinda had me runnin' with my tail between my legs, you did." They were silent for a few moments, reliving the close calls they had, times where one or the other could have been killed. Why had it never come to that? Neither one would ever be able to answer that question and they didn’t want to know the answer. It was much better just to speculate.

"It's not just Dawn and the house," Buffy started seriously. "It's everything. I was thinking before you came in that, as much as I complain about being a slayer and the hard choices I have to make, at least I know where I fit in when it comes to that. At least I know what I'm doing. I always complain about wanting a normal life and the more I think about it, if I did get the chance to have one I'd have no idea where to start. I mean, what am I good at? Slaying? Doubt there's many job openings for that in the real world.

"I just don’t know how Mom did it," she sighed and unconsciously wiped a stray tear away. "Over and over again, she did it. Get up and get Dawn ready. Go to work. Get back and fix dinner. Deal with the teenager issues. How do I deal with those when I'm not too far removed from being a teenager myself? Yeah, I may kick ass and have more battlefield experience than most Navy SEALs will ever have but what about everything else, Spike? My social and professional skills are limited at best."

"C'mon, luv. It can't be that bad. I fancy you've got skills you don’t even know about."

"Like what?" She propped her head up on one elbow. "Let's have a looksie at my domestic skills first. I can't cook. I suck at driving. I can't organize my bills if my life depended on it. Then there's the whole Dawn issue. We won't even go there. Now, on to my professional expertise. Let's see what we have behind door number two. I can't type and the only job I have had is working in a fast food joint I can barely stomach. Not much in the way of career advancement there, now is it?" She snorted in frustration. "Sometimes I think that the Powers have a twisted sense of humor. 'Let's bring the Slayer back and let her live longer than any other slayer. When she gets a certain age, why don’t we take away her slayer skills and watch her fumble through the rest of her life with no clue as to what to do." She dropped her head in defeat only to feel Spike's cool fingers prop her chin up.

"Look at me, Buffy." He demanded. She was taken aback at the command in his voice but complied nonetheless. "Everything you just said is nothing but rot. You know what I see when I look at you?" She shook her head. "I see the strongest woman that I know. A strong, determined, selfless individual that does things because it's the right thing to do. Not because it's easy. No skills? You think you have no skills? What about you refusal to give up? That alone puts you ahead of fifty percent of the wankers in the world. You are bold and daring, willing to take a chance. That's another twenty percent out of the way. You keep a level head when everyone else around you is falling apart. Knock out fifteen more. That leaves fifteen percent of the world."

"And that fifteen percent has what I don’t, right?"

"I'm not done, pet."

"Oh," she said sheepishly.

"Then you have friends and family…and me," he lowered his head before he raised it again. "Each and every one of us will do anything, even die-for you. How many people can truly say that?"

"You would die for me?" she whispered.

Spike stared at her and Buffy couldn’t help to notice it as the most sincere look she had ever seen from him. Even when he'd said he loved her, each time, he kept a small shield up to deflect the pain he knew he'd feel. In that single moment, Buffy knew.

"I'd walk into the sun itself for you, Buffy." He said softly. "Without so much as a second thought."

Buffy didn’t know what to say. The honesty behind his words was staggering. This immoral creature of the night would lay down life and limb for her but she knew it was more than that. He had done the same for Dawn and she surmised he had saved the Scoobies on more than one occasion while she was gone. The more Buffy thought about it, the more she realized how lucky she truly was. To have friends--no, they weren't even friends now; they were family--that she had was a one in a million thing. So maybe she wasn’t well to do in certain areas, but her support system that was her family, not to mention the love of the former Scourge of Europe. His words helped her see the truth; she was so fixated on what she didn’t have or what she couldn’t do that she was blind to the things that she did have and the things that she could do.

Buffy leaned in and kissed Spike again, not for the sake of passion but for the sake of gratitude. "Thank you," she said after she pulled away, "for everything."

Spike nodded, as he didn’t trust his voice to express it in words. The feeling in the kiss went well beyond lust, passion, and desire. It even surpassed love. That was the beauty of it; the kiss expressed all the things she couldn’t, for all the things he had done that she had no words for. It reminded him of the one she had bestowed upon his lips after his torture at the hands of Glory. But considering his deeds since, Buffy had put even more of herself into it. For that moment, the kiss was enough to tell him that she loved him. She may not have been in love with him, but she loved him in someway. Guess that may have to do, he thought. In the end, even if they only remained friends, as long as she loved him in some capacity, it would be enough. It would have to be. And he knew that that love would be what would sustain him through the rest of his days.

CHAPTER 29

"You never answered my question from earlier," Buffy said as she nestled against her lover's cool flesh. Though their naked bodies were pressed against one another, they had not made love. Instead, their hands had explored the familiar crests and curves of one another as their lips and tongue danced to a refined melody. Neither one had the answer as to why it hadn't escalated further thought it had felt like that was enough. The emotion they had felt had somewhat dissipated and they were content to just lay there in the darkness, two creatures on opposite ends of the spectrum, as each other’s comfort.

"Couldn’t quite answer your questions, luv, what with the right good snogging we were involved in," he smiled, nuzzling his face into the dizzying scent of her hair. No longer was it pure Buffy but a blend of the day’s events. The wild smell of nature on top of the calmingly musty scent of the crypt mixed with sweat and the lasting remains of her vanilla shampoo. But one thing was certain; still there, underneath it all was the undeniable scent of Buffy.

Buffy laughed and slapped the vampire teasingly in the chest. "And I wonder who’s idea that was," she jokingly accused.

"Not like it was hard, luv. Beautiful woman in dental floss knickers laying beside me…not hard at all."

"Well," she said and grabbed his member in her hands, "it feels hard to me."

"Careful girl," he said, rolling on top of her, "or else you just might get staked." He finished by lancing his tongue across her jawbone.

The cool feel of Spike's tongue against her flesh was enough to start the familiar pulse between Buffy's legs. But as much as she wanted to feel him inside of her, she wanted one thing just a little more.

"Spike," she said, gently pushing him off. She smiled as he groaned in indignation, though he complied.

"I wanna talk."

Spike's first instinct at Buffy's words was to laugh, though it was cut short by a stake-like stare from the petite blond. He bit the inside of his cheek to prevent another guffaw and it took several minutes before he was in control of himself enough to speak.

"What was that, luv? For a minute there, I thought you said you wanted to talk," and his infamous smirk reappeared in all its glory.

"You know, you can be such an ass sometimes," she seethed and roughly turned away from him, crossing her arms like a petulant six-year old.

"Buffy, luv," he cooed and put a hand on her shoulder only to have it jerked away. He tried again with the same result before he decided that a little force was needed.

With vampiric speed, he grabbed both of her shoulders and whirled her around, clutching her to his chest. "Now, are you going to stop pouting like a baby or am I gonna have to hold you like this all night until you do stop pouting like a baby?"

The morose look on Buffy's face slowly dissipated, and was replaced by a more serious one. Spike wasn’t sure whether or not he liked what her face was telling him. Yeah, and I'm the bloody poofter that always wants to talk, he moaned internally.

"Spike," she said softly as her features twinkled with concern. His hands to residence around her waist and he dropped his gaze from hers. It was something about her tone that scared him…like she knew his big secret.

"You never told me what was wrong earlier."

"Well, 's not like it was my fault," he huffed. "You were the one goin' on and on about my little song and dance for you." It was his turn to pout and he glared at her furrowed brow before crinkling his in confusion as she smiled.

"What?" he asked slightly unnerved.

"You…and me," she said and shook her head in disbelief. "God, I can't believe I'm gonna say this but we are so much alike."

Spike leaned back in order to get a better look at her. "You feelin' okay, Slayer? Cuz for a minute there I thought you said…"

"We are so bloody alike," she finished with an amused snort.

Spike couldn’t help but return the laugh. She had that effect on him when she let out genuine amusement. It was more enticing than blood was to him and he couldn’t get enough of it, though he often wished he could be privy to it more.

"How so pet?"

"A little secret about me Spike…of course you probably know already," she rolled her eyes to the ceiling, "but I tend to get a tad defensive when someone asks me something I don’t wanna talk about." She glanced over at him and noticed the trademark smirk was firmly in place.

" ‘A tad defensive’ she says? Hate to burst your bubble Slayer but you’re more impenetrable than the Walls of bloody Jericho itself."

"Hey!" she said and elbowed him in the ribs.

"Just bein’ honest, luv."

"Well, keep it up, Dead Boy," she stroked the inside of his thigh and lowered her voice seductively, "and you’ll see how impenetrable I can be."

"Watch it, Slayer," he said huskily, "you’re not playin’ by the rules."

"My room," she kissed him languidly, "my rules."

"Still not fair, pet," he managed between kisses.

"You know what they say; all’s fair in love and war…"

They lost themselves in each other’s tender touch for several minutes before Buffy nudged him away again.

"What?" he asked as she looked at him in reprimand.

"You’re stalling."

"What?" He asked incredulously. "It was your bloody lips that were all over me!"

"Well," she said sweetly, "my room, my rules. And rule number one states…" she trailed off, allowing him to finish for her.

"That what Buffy says goes. Am I right?"

"Good to see you’re catching on," and she kissed him once more on the lips before scooting away. "Now, spill it."

Spike turned his head to the ceiling and pursed his bottom lip between his teeth. As much as he didn’t want to talk about what was on his mind, he really didn’t see a choice. True, he could have strong-armed Buffy into leaving him alone but where would that leave him the next time he wanted to talk? Least by doin’ this, I may get her to open up a bit more.

Buffy studied her lover intently as her eyes had adjusted to the moonlit room. His sunken cheeks had retreated even further into his face, a trait she had learned signified him being in deep thought. She smiled as she watched him chew his lip with a dogged ferocity all the while his eyebrows scrunched in concentration. Either what he’s gonna say is really serious or he’s editing it for Buffy, she conjectured. When he hadn’t spoken for another few minutes, she opened her mouth to encourage him along when he uttered his first words.

"You know, I still dream about it."

"About what?" she asked, confused at his conflicting tone. Though it brandished the same hard edge on the surface, underneath it was an abundance of…Buffy couldn’t quite figure it out just yet.

" ‘Bout savin’ you," he answered. This was so hard for him, to actually admit that he failed her and finally have her realize it. How would she look at him? With disappointment? Anger? Pity? Or worse, would she cast him off in disgust for letting her die? For letting Dawn be taken? Would she banish him from her and the Niblet’s lives for good? His mind struggled with his heart, the former understanding that she would never blame him though the latter stressed that she should.

"Anyway, I was just upset about the Niblet and all," he waved casually after deciding against a true confession of his most shameful act. "Figured that it wouldn’t have happened if we were here."

"Well," Buffy said, choosing every word carefully, "it’s not like we really would have been prepared for a vampire that doesn’t need a personal invite and all. I mean, what’s the chance of that happening? I mean, I understand what you’re getting at and I can’t help but feel the same way…" she drew in a deep breath before letting it out. "But it won’t help beating yourself up about it. It’s done and all we can do is focus on what’s necessary to bring her back unharmed." She stared at him pointedly before he risked a glance toward her. "You taught me that." She kissed him on the nose and he smiled back--tiredly, she noticed. Something wasn’t right. The complete lack of fire in his gaze, the way he had started talking about saving her, the deliberate smoothness of his tone. Buffy gazed at him intently and gasped. It was right there on his face and the glassy film covering his eyes and the way his face had shrank when he had said he still dreamed about saving her.

"What is it, luv?" he asked after the sharp exhale garnered his attention toward her and away from his self-depreciating thoughts.

Buffy stared at the blond vampire who gazed back at her in concern. She had almost pushed herself off the bed when everything had fallen into place. Her hand had automatically shot over her lips and now she dropped it slowly back to the bed.

"You still blame yourself, don’t you?" she whispered and Spike immediately tore his gaze away from her hazel stare.

"Well, if I hadn’t held you up, maybe the Niblet…"

"Not that," she interrupted and leaned a little closer toward her wary lover. "You still think it’s your fault that I…died."

Once the words were spoken, Spike felt a piece of him shatter. Never in a hundred lifetimes would he have thought Buffy would ever suspect the truth about his failure. Hell, it hadn't been more than a few hours that she had truly shown she cared and that he was more than a 'convenience'. He had no idea what to do so he did something very rare for him; he remained silent.

Buffy couldn’t help but look at the downcast vampire in an eclectic blend of horror, shame and sympathy. How could she have not seen it before? Oh, I was too stuck on how everything affected me, how hard it was for me. I never thought two shits about what Spike felt or what he was going through, she berated herself. All these months of using him for her own benefit and she had neglected to see, or even consider, that he had feelings. No, that wasn’t true at all; she knew he had feelings when she had called him convenient, knowing that she was twisting the knife into his belly.

"God, Spike," she whispered as the guilt threatened to choke her, "I've been such a bitch to you."

Spike presented a ragged smile at her self-deprecation and gently brushed a wave of hair out of her eyes. "Well, guess you have to be to stay on your toes, being the Slayer and all." His attempts at humored had no effect on neither of them.

"No," she said and couldn’t help the mist forming in her eyes. "I've been more than a bitch. They don’t even have a word for what I have been to you." Her eyes fell to his chest and she was unable to look into his blue oceans without falling apart.

Spike wanted to say something but what could he say when she was speaking the truth? She had been a bitch, using him when she felt the need while degrading him at every turn when said need had been satiated. True, he had done nothing to stop her, but his inability to say no didn’t excuse her actions to any degree. Still, he loved her and no matter what she had said and done to him, he didn’t want her to feel any pain.

"Luv, it's all right," he placated, trying his damnedest to lie. "You were going through a difficult time in your life and I was just…"

"What?" she cried, nearly hysterical as their eyes met. "Just because you're there means that I can treat you anyway I want. Oh wait, I forgot," she mocked sarcastically, "you don’t have a soul, ergo, no feelings. Isn't that what I said." She saw him bristle at the memories her words undoubtedly conjured and immediately laid a hand on his taut shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Spike. I am so sorry," she said as tears drifted down her face. She still found it difficult to look him in the eyes and settled for his lips. "I have the one thing in you that I never thought I'd find; a man who loves me, all of me. Someone that doesn’t treat me like I'll break, someone whose not worried if I can kick his ass or not and someone who sees my faults and accepts them." Buffy was stunned at how easily the words poured out her mouth and she paused for a second but continued lest the ever-comfortable denial reared its ugly head.

"Spike, I really don’t know what to say. I'm always complaining about having a normal life--God knows I'll never have one--but the defining thing of being normal is standing right in front of me." She shook her head in disgust. "Sometimes I wonder if Tara missed something and I did come back wrong."

"Buffy," Spike said, "it's not like that at all. There is nothing wrong with. When I said that, I was being a bloody wanker. You are fine, pet."

"So why can you hit me? Why can't I even look my friends in the eye? Why do I treat someone that risked his life countless times for me like shit?" She noticed that his mouth opened and closed like a fish and no words emerged. "It would have been better off if I would have stayed dead." As soon as the words were out her mouth, she heard the strangled sob catch in the vampire's throat. When she finally looked him in the eye, Buffy really wished she could die rather than see the pain visible in his face. Here I am rambling about how evil a bitch I am and just forget about what he's feeling. Ever the selfish bitch, Buffy.

"There have been a lot of memorable nights in my hundred and twenty odd years, you know? Told you about my dances with the two slayers. Getting back at all the gits who berated me at that party the night Dru changed my life. Pounding the great Poof into the ground with the crowbar. That time you kissed me after Glory 'ad made me her whipping boy, " he glanced at her furtively, "the first time I was inside of you. Never forget a moment.

"But," he closed his eyes and let out a ragged breath, "the happiest moment of my entire existence was when I saw you walk down those steps." His eyes open and focused on her. "And for the first time in over a century, I think I felt my heart beat. For a hundred and forty-seven days, I dreamed that I saved you or that I could see you one last time…never thought I'd get the chance to. I couldn’t even think straight. Didn’t even think about how I failed you until I got back to me crypt. All I could think about was 'Why wasn’t I better?' Until you came to see me that night, I thought you'd be disgusted with me…" he trailed off and Buffy could see how much this admission was costing him. She could practically feel the sorrow and guilt flow off him in waves.

"Spike," she said gently and took his hand in hers, "you didn’t fail me."

"Didn’t I? Last thing I remember is that you…died because of me. Because I wasn’t fast enough or strong enough. You put your faith in me, something I had wanted from you for months and when the time came, I failed. I let you die," the last four words were spoken below a whisper and it was a miracle to Buffy that she heard them at all.

"Spike," she said with conviction. "You did not let me down. You did what you could. That was all I asked. How could I ask anymore?"

"But…"

"And I chose to jump off that tower. It wasn’t your fault."

"That Dawn didn’t get cut? That the portal opened? That there was no way in hell you were going to sacrifice the 'Bit, no matter what it cost? C'mon, Buffy. You never had a choice because I never gave you one." Tears that were once threatening now spilled freely down the vampire's cheeks and Buffy could do nothing but sigh.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?"

"Because," he forced through tears, "I am nothing but an evil, soulless thing. There is nothing good in me." Spike was so distraught that he failed to realize the irony in his words though the meaning was not lost on Buffy and she let her own tears burst forth.

"You're wrong, you know that?" she spoke calmly despite the ache inside of her.

"Wrong, luv? How so?"

"You may try to be the Big Bad. You may try to be evil. Hell, some of your actions may still be questionable. But you are not evil, Spike. Far from it. As far as the soul goes…it doesn’t matter when you have humanity. And there are at least a hundred and forty-seven things good in you. For everyday you watched over Dawn. I knew you would watch over her and you did; for that, I thank you." She smiled and Spike couldn’t help but to grab her into his arms. There were no kisses, only the tender embrace of comfort as he held onto her as a final vestige of life.

"As far as being a 'thing'," she whispered into his ear, "you're far from it. You're a man, William. A man that I am proud to know and honored to have love me. And if you're looking for forgiveness for that night, don’t look at me," he stiffened slightly until she finished her thought, "because there was never anything to forgive. You did your best and for that I am proud of you." She took a deep breath as she listened to him fight the tears. She hadn't finished but she didn’t think she could say the words that, at this moment, she knew she felt for him. Despite her bravado, she was still holding a piece of herself in reserve and she wasn’t sure how to let it go. But she could say one thing, to let him know just how much she thought of him.

"I trusted you with her life then and I still do," a sob escaped his tight lips. "But more than that, William…I trust you with my life…and my heart…" she wanted to say it but at that moment, the hurt and pain and everything surrounding it burst forth and Spike cried in earnest. She held him like a child, whispering soothing words in his ears as he sobbed into her shoulder. Her own tears crept across his skin as she rubbed circles around his naked back.

Spike had only felt pain like this when he had come across the slayer's broken body all those months ago. As it was, all the pent-up shame was being released from its reservoirs in his memories. He had always thought he'd live with it the rest of his life and a part of him would. But the brunt of it all slowly dissipated from his soulless core and the weight perched atop his shoulders lightened considerably. She had called him a man (twice tonight) and had given him her trust. It was something that he could not fathom and he made a silent promise to himself that he would walk through the sun itself than to see her die again.

He had been given his reprieve and he knew that, at the very least, his steps would be considerably lighter now.

PIECES OF THE PUZZLE

Seth had always thought it funny how words had such a powerful effect on people, even more so than actions. Regardless of whether or not you knew the truth by way of intuition or behavior, words had a way of making even the most obvious things real. He had been thirteen the first time he had killed a man and despite the four gunshot wounds to the man's chest, the adolescent Seth didn’t process what he had done until his shocked friend had blurted out "Jesus, Seth. You killed him…" He had known the man was dead right away, the hoodlum's eyes had, in fact rolled up to the sky, staring at the twinkling stars overhead, unblinking. But it had been so surreal and up until that point and he had gazed upon the bleeding body with all the fascination of an infant watching a favorite toy disappear behind a parent's back. He half expected the guy to sit up, dust himself off, and finish his task of doing God knows what to the two friends. Once what he did sank into his gray matter, Seth was despondent for days, unable to get past the finality of those three words.

Though that had been a profoundly negative experience, he had found that even the most welcoming news had a way of sweeping the rug from underneath you. Three simple words had changed his world that first time when he was thirteen and it was three simple words that changed it even more nearly now.

"What. Did. You. Say?" he forced out through clenched teeth, trying desperately to keep the anger at bay. After he had gotten over the shock of what Jennifer had said, the rage that she had dared compare herself to his only love was almost too much and he had to resist the urge not to sink his teeth into the bitch and drain her dry. In all honesty, he really didn’t know why he hadn't already.

"You already know, don’t you?" she asked, mirroring his internal thoughts. "You feel it, too," she said as she ran her fingertips across his chest.

The hairs along the back of Seth’s neck rippled from her touch as well as her words. The truth was that she was right; he did feel it. Fact of the matter was that, when he had first laid eyes on her at the bar, aside from the deep sense of fear that coursed through his undead bones in her presence, there had been something else; a sense of familiarity that tickled the back of his mind. And that faint tickle had grown with every minute he had been with her. She was Emerald, to that he had no doubt.

But then, why did Emerald look so much like Dawn?

Paying no mind of his nudity, Seth rolled out of bed and stood on the flawless hardwood floor. He faced Jennifer with wary eyes, his hands combing through his tousled locks. Slowly, almost painfully, he finally regained his voice.

"What? How?"

Jennifer graced her lover with a placating smile before she crawled towards him on all fours, stopping at the edge of the bed, inches from him. She kissed the flesh below his navel and was rewarded with a husky growl before her hands clasped at the sides of his waist and she pulled herself to her knees.

"Tell me," she said softly and planted a ghost of a kiss against his chest. "Tell me about Emerald. What did she look like?"

At first, Seth glared at the beautiful woman before him as if she had grown two heads but almost as quickly, his iced stare melted as images of his once love filtered through the confusion of the past two minutes.

"She was petite," he said wistfully, his hand instinctively cupping the bronze cheek of the woman before him. "Her face was so young, like she stopped aging before adulthood or something. And it was in her eyes too," he peered into the obsidian coals that stared back at him, mesmerized by the adoration he saw there. "Just like yours. Darker than night but filled with a life of its own. And her hair," he poignantly ran his free hand through Jennifer’s disheveled locks. "Just like yours-same as her eyes, except hers was a mane that trailed down to her waist."

Jennifer almost smoldered at the look of love visible on the vampire's face and she wanted nothing more than to love him. It had been less than a day and the feelings he wrought from her were that of two people that had been together for years.

"But what about her?" Jennifer chided. "What was she like? Aside from the physical."

Reminiscing about Emerald had brought a calmness over him that he rarely felt. He gently maneuvered Jennifer to the middle of the bed and stretched out beside her, clutching at her possessively.

"First off, she was strong. Stronger than anyone I've ever met. She was so untouchable; nothing could get to her. Even me."

"What do you mean?" She asked, her fingertips stroking his chest.

"C'mon, honey. You've been around me long enough to know that I can be a grade-A dick. Hell, look in the dictionary under self-centered, egotistical and prick and they will have a picture of me under each entry complete with cross-references to evil, sinister and sadistic. But hey, evil here, right?" They both chuckled softly, such a natural sound to the both of them.

"Fact of the matter, love, I was evil way before I became a card carrying member of the undead. That was me and Emerald's time," he said his voice choked with distant memories, "nine months. Nine short months was all I had with her." he sighed heavily. "But anyway, like I said, even my attitudes didn’t faze her. I mean, she got annoyed but never really pissed. Well…" he said, remembering the one moment when he had been afraid for his life.

"What?" Jennifer asked, craning her neck just enough to catch a touch of--shame? Regret? Fear?--flicker across his eyes.

"There had been this one time where I was being not quite the gentleman to an ex of mine I happened to run into…

"Em," he addressed her softly, palms raised in supplication. He forced himself to close the remaining distance between them despite his leaden feet that so desperately wanted him to flee.

"I promised her," he said, his hand absently stroking the raven mane of Jennifer.

"Wow," was all she said. Never would she have believed that the killer before her would have ever been placated by the simple request of a young woman, no matter the potential consequences. But her wonder was short lived as the final pieces of the puzzle aligned.

"I wasn’t lying," she said after several minutes of silence, "when I said I was Emerald." Seth tensed underneath her though he bit back whatever scathing retort or violent action that passed through his mind. He wasn’t sure why, but this time he was going to hear her out.

"How?" he muttered, his tone held only a slight hostility that was drowned by his wonder.

"It's called the Enjoining," she began and could almost feel his brow furrow as his stare burrowed into the top of her head. "It's a ritual older than time itself. It is where the essences of two beings are brought together to create a greater Being. The vast majority of beings, whether demon or otherwise, have not the power within them to take part in it. Only those specially gifted have even the mental comprehension to even fathom it."

"Wait a minute," Seth interrupted, a hint of incredulity lacing his words. "I have been a vampire for ten years, and in that short time, I have seen a generous amount of demons capable of what you are talking about. Myashna demons, in fact, absorb their victims to the point that they are able to take on the victims' physical and mental traits for a short time. Then there are Zhanasets, whose powers grow the more essences they absorb, whether it is demon or human. Then…"

"It's not the same," she interrupted, irritated. "Do you not think that my title as the First has no meaning?" She said, controlling the darkness within her that threatened to bubble to the surface at his condescension. "I have seen things that are so hideous that even someone as powerful and 'fearless' as you would cringe at. Things have walked the planes of existence that are beyond comprehension. Things whose powers were almost limitless. And you know what?" She asked and purposely bore her nails into his flesh. Seth hissed as her nails ripped through the first, then second layer of skin, though he did nothing to stop her. That fear that coursed through him at their first meeting was back with a vengeance and for once, the vampire kept his mouth shut.

"The only thing--besides God--that they were afraid of was me." With an inhuman quickness, Jennifer was on top of Seth, her nails still clawing at his shoulders. She felt him grow hard underneath her though the fear and uncertainty in his eyes was almost overpowering. She smiled down at him, grinding her hips into his erection.

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Seth was terrified. Despite the ministrations of her sex against his member, the only thing he could see was an Evil that cascaded off her in waves. It was an almost overwhelming sensation and the vampire couldn’t help but feel as if he were drowning in it. Her eyes, much like Emerald's used to do, were completely black, though there was no green effervescent glow to counter the blackness of her gaze.

"You know why they were afraid of me?" she asked and bucked her hips viciously against him, eliciting a groan from the vampire. Seth was trapped between a triumvirate of emotions--fear, anger and arousal fought for dominance within him though the first continued to remain in the lead.

Jennifer smiled sadistically at Seth, reading the bevy of emotions that were visible in his unnatural blue eyes. The scent of fear that pervaded her senses was intoxicating. She had forgotten the addictive effect fear was, especially when it came from a creature as powerful as the one underneath her.

She leaned towards him, her thick mane of rave hair trickled across his face, and whispered in his ear. "They were afraid, Seth," she kissed him lightly on the check, "because I could make them do anything I wanted." And as quickly as she had mounted him, she was now laying beside him.

It took several minutes before Seth could speak again and when he did, he couldn’t quite keep the hoarse aftershock of fear from his tone.

"How?" he asked though the borrowed blood that sung through his veins already knew.

"You know, humans and demons aren't as different as you'd think," she said matter-of-factly. "I mean, yeah there's the whole penchant for destruction in demons, but there are more than a few humans who harbor that trait. Most demons feel no remorse, what with the absence of a soul, though there are those that do. Just like there are humans who feel no guilt taking the life of another. People think that demons don’t have souls--they are wrong. They have them all right. The difference is that a demon's soul does not function in the same capacity as a human's. But that's not important right now. The important thing is to know that a soul just does not appear from the ether."

"What do you mean?" Seth asked, his curiosity in the matter overriding his fear. "I mean, is there a Souls-R-Us or something that gives 'em out?" There was no humor in his question, only a twinge of doubt that, if anything, was there by habit than his distrust in her words.

"Something like that," she smiled before licking her lips lasciviously. She saw his adam's apple bob and his muscles tense. He wants me, she thought as her own core began the familiar burn between her thighs. But it'll have to wait.

"To be simple, a soul is nothing more than a reservoir of energy," she saw his dubious expression and amended her statement. "Okay, so it's not nearly that simple. But for the purpose of what I'm telling you it is. A soul is very similar to energy in the fact that not only does it exist indefinitely, even before inhabiting a body, but it can never be destroyed."

"What about vampires?" he asked, his interest growing even more. "I thought that the human soul was hijacked by the demon which in turn destroyed the soul."

"Now that is something I have yet to get to. I will save that for later. Now, let's just stick to the purely human and purely demon souls.

"Like I said, souls are already created even before they are needed. For every demon or human that will inhabit this plane of existence for the next millenia, there is a soul already waiting for it's enjoining with its mortal host. Now," she gazed at him poignantly, her charcoal eyes burrowing into his, "think about it; these souls aren't just flitting around on there own, partying like it's 1999 or anything like that. Just like prisoners, a warden of sorts is needed to keep them in check. Someone or something that preceded the creation of the soul. Someone or something that is, in fact, the template from which they were created. Something ancient, something older than time…" she trailed off, letting him absorb what she was saying.

Seth frowned when Jennifer trailed off. She had told him quite a bit about things he had only idly considered, never really interested in finding out the entire truth. But now, that was exactly what she was giving him. Demons and humans both contained souls? That said souls are preconceived well before there is an actual body for it to inhabit. That a 'warden' was needed to keep…

Jennifer smiled when she saw the rationalization behind the eyes of her vampire lover. They were wide in disbelief as his mind finally made the connections with her hints as well as what he felt before her.

"You," he choked out. "It's you. You are the keeper of souls…"

"Well, in a way, yes." She replied simply.

"What do you mean 'in a way'?"

"Think about it. Just like energy requires a main source…"

And that was when he knew. "You aren't just the First Evil, are you?"

"The First demon soul. Pure in its darkness, untainted."

Seth laid his head back against the pillow and stared at the bespectacled ceiling. He ran the hand not embracing Jennifer shakily through his hair. This was getting to be too much, even for him. So the soul coiled within her mortal shell was none other than the First demon soul. If it weren't for what his own 'soul' told him, he'd probably be laughing hysterically now but as it was, he could only gape at the magnitude of it all. Still, as he regained a semblance of clear thought, he realized that she still had not answered his question.

"Okay, all that is fine and dandy, Jen, but what about the piece about you being Emerald? Where does that fit in to all of this?"

Jennifer smiled again and snuggled closer to her lover. As she did so, his body stiffened as his tension mounted. It wasn’t everyday you found out that your lover was the First Evil.

"Do you know about the Creation, Seth?"

"Uh, not much of a Jesus-freak, sweetheart. Being all evil like I am."

She chuckled lightly before continuing. "Well, the Creation, as told in the Bible is accurate, more or less. Of course the whole seven-day idea kind of falls by the wayside since time was nonexistent then. Anyway, what I'm trying to get at is that, since the beginning, the most important thing in this world has been Balance. In creating day, He also created night. With man came woman. Love beget hate and yada, yada, yada. But before all that, He brought forth into being, for lack of a better term, the yin and the yang. Good and Evil. And he blessed them with the power over their kind." She sat up again and drank in his hard, ashen body. Her desirous thoughts were beginning to supercede her need to explain to him the importance of it all.

"The power," she said as she bent down and flicked her tongue against his nipple. Seth inhaled sharply, torn between listening to her revelation or plowing into her like before. From some unknown crevice in his mind, Seth was able to steady his body as her warm lips alternated between speaking and kissing his body.

"The power to control those whose soul was taken from them to start," she bit down on his nipple hard, drawing blood. "To strike fear into the hearts of all, and able to manipulate all souls though controlling only those created from our essence." Her hands danced across his taut flesh that had soon lost much of its previous tension.

"So," he said between ragged breaths, "since your essence is what demonic souls are taken from, they are yours to control?"

She smiled in a sexual taunt before answering, "more or less."

Seth ignored her cryptic reply and concentrated on what was really on his mind. "That still does not tell me what you have to do with Emerald. Or why you need the girl."

At that, Jennifer paused and studied him carefully. There was still so much he did not know and she doubted he ever would understand even if he did know. Regardless of that, he did deserve to know the truth about his future lover.

"Think about it. I am the First, the source of all demonic souls. If I am, and you know that everything has Balance, then…" she paused waiting for his reply.

This time, as Jennifer trailed off, Seth 'got it'. It wasn’t just an inference or a partial truth that he understood. No, it was the truth of the matter. The truth about Dawn, Jennifer and Emerald.

"The girl, Dawn," he said with wide eyes, "she is the First Good and true spirit." He sighed heavily at the implications of it all. That small girl harbored in her the Purity of life within her. It was something that, despite what he had just said, was scarce to comprehend.

"Yes, lover," Jennifer drawled, "she is the First Light. That light which was used to spark all of Creation. It is that reason why she has access to all the dimensions and gateways throughout time and space--and even portals that mortal minds can never grasp. She and I are opposite sides of a coin. Where she is the well from which humanity's souls rest, I am the pit from whence demonic souls are created."

"So, why is it that she doesn’t know?" Seth asked. If Jennifer was correct, the young girl could have incinerated him where he stood when he had kidnapped her. Instead, she had fallen prey to unconsciousness as any mortal would have.

"This mortal shell that we both inhabit limit our power. Even a demonic shell could not contain the powers that we have been gifted with. The last time I was here, I was nothing more than a wraith, taking shape when necessary but still limited. It will always be that way, even if the powers within her awaken, she will never contain the power that she is. Just like me. She can still do things that I cannot and never will be able to. Though I can traverse the dimensions, my influence is sometimes limited and I am unable to bring others forth through portals like she is."

"Why is that?" Seth asked.

"Because of what she is. Her Light is able to penetrate even the greatest shrouds of darkness."

"I thought it was all about Balance, though."

"It is. And where she can do that, my influence on humans is much more effective than her effect on demons."

"How so?"

"In her true form, demons in her presence shriek and wilt in decay, until they are nothing. That is the power of her Light. My effects on the human soul is much more subtle. There is no physical manifestation of my effects though the metaphysical effect is seen through their actions meaning that it is much easier for a human to switch to the side of evil than a demon switch to good."

"Sounds like a fair trade," the vampire mused.

"Yeah," she replied sarcastically.

"What?"

"It's not important. The important thing is that the Enjoining take place without a hitch."

"This Enjoining…why are you doing it?"

Jennifer smiled viciously. "Because, once we become as one, I will possess the ability to traverse dimensions as freely as she. We will be joined…"

"And Emerald is the union of you both," he said, expressing his earlier realizations.

"Yes." And with that, Jennifer's mouth descended upon his.

As she kissed him, Seth could not help but avoid the distractions that played in the back of his mind. Emerald--his Emerald was the perfect union between Good and Evil. It was staggering on one end but at the same time, made perfect sense. Emerald had once told him, before he was turned, that if he found out what she really was, he would have run from her. Of course, he had dismissed her claims but now…now he wasn't so sure if he wouldn’t have done just that. For as evil and sadistic as he was as a human, compared to his current status, he was a choir boy. The human in him most likely would have bent under the fact that he was sleeping with the original Evil.

But as deep as his thoughts were, Seth's mind shut down as he felt Jennifer's hand guide his stiff member inside of her tender flesh and was soon lost in the blissful pleasures of the body. He had once thought that making love to Emerald was the closest he would ever get to heaven. Now, as Jennifer viciously rode him, he couldn’t help but laugh internally at the fact that he was inside the fiery depths of hell itself.

He knew that, sooner or later, he would get burned. The only problem was that he didn’t care.