Avocation8

Avocation

Author: enigmaticblue <enigmaticblue@yahoo.com>

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine, but Joss said I could play. Really.

Archive: Anywhere that already has my stuff. Anywhere else, just ask.

Summary: The gypsies curse the wrong vampire, and by the time they rectify their mistake, Spike has been fundamentally altered. Nearly a century later, the Slayer needs help, and there's only one person qualified for the job. Of course, he's not real interested in taking it.

A/N: I have a secret (or not-so-secret) weakness for early canon Spuffy fics. The only problem is that Spike is evil. No, really, he is. Which means that actually writing Spuffy pre-chip requires more suspension of disbelief than I can manage. Reading it is a different matter altogether. So, this is how I write early canon Spuffy. By altering events entirely. By the way, the title comes from a Robert Frost poem, "Two Tramps in Mud Time." Pay special attention to the last stanza.

Chapter 35

"Thorns, shattered glass, sickness, crying: all day/they attack the honeyed contentment. And neither the tower,/nor the walls, nor secret passageways are of much help./Trouble seeps through, into the sleepers' peace./Sorrow rises and falls, comes near with its deep spoons,/and no one can live without this endless motion;/without it there would be no birth, no roof, no fence,/It happens: we have to account for it..." ~Pablo Neruda, "Sonnet LV"

Neither Spike nor Buffy particularly wanted to go back to the school, since that would mean leaving Willow in the clutches of Faith and the Mayor. There wasn't much of a choice, however, since they didn't know how well city hall would be guarded, or where Willow would be held.

It was too dangerous for Willow for them to go charging in on a rescue mission.

Spike hated being the bearer of bad news, though. He hated the expression on Oz's face when they told him and Xander that Willow had been caught. "We're going to fix this," Buffy said. "Oz, I swear we're going to get her back."

"We go back," Xander said, uncharacteristically serious. "Full-out assault."

Spike shook his head. "It's too dangerous. They'll see us coming, and they'll kill her."

"They know how much she means to us," Buffy agreed. "And we have something they want."

"You can't be serious!" Wesley objected. "That box is key to the Mayor's Ascension. If you give it back to him you'll be putting the lives of everyone you love at risk."

Xander glared at him. "This is Willow we're talking about. I call that a fair trade."

"The box must be destroyed!" Wesley insisted. He yelped as Spike slammed him back against the wall. "Spike, surely you see—"

"What I see is that we have a very simple choice," he growled. "We can lose Willow now and stop the Mayor now, or we can get Willow back now and stop the Mayor later. I vote we stop the Mayor later."

Wesley glared at him. "You're not in charge here, even if you'd like to believe you are. You are—"

"Absolutely right." Buffy's voice was cold. "Spike is right. We stop the Mayor later. Maybe we're back to square one, but I'm thinking Willow being alive makes up for that."

Wesley shook himself free of Spike's grip, turning to Giles. "Mr. Giles, surely you will talk some sense into them. There's a duty that must be done here, and—"

Spike had seen Oz quietly go over to the pot they needed for the ceremony to destroy the Box of Gavrock. He'd been fairly certain that the boy was going to make the argument moot, and Spike had kept his mouth shut even though he could have stopped him.

After all, he'd probably do the same thing if it had been Buffy in the Mayor's clutches.

Even if he was brassed off at the chit.

The crash silenced the crowd. Oz didn't even say anything; he just took his seat at the table again.

Buffy set her jaw, turning to Giles. "Make the call."

~~~~~

Willow was fairly sure that she didn't like being in danger. At the same time, even through her dry mouth and rocketing heartbeat, she couldn't regret it. Not when she didn't fold, and not when she had gotten some alone time with the Books of Ascension, plus a few torn pages. If she made it out alive, Giles was going to be thrilled.

She didn't doubt that she would make it out alive. Willow knew that Buffy would either come after her, or they would make a trade for her. She trusted the Slayer—and Spike. They were both really good at the hero-thing.

In fact, Willow was beginning to think that she might want to give being a hero a go. She could go to any university in America, and several in Europe, but what she most wanted was right here in Sunnydale.

Here, she got to help save the world on occasion. Plus, there was Oz, whom she didn't want to leave behind, and her friends. Buffy would probably end up staying, and Spike was sticking around. Xander would still be here, at least after he got back from his trip around the 50 states.

Besides, if she went off to one of those big schools, Willow knew she'd be one smart girl among hundreds. In Sunnydale, she would be the big fish with the opportunity to be a real kick-ass Wicca.

So, by the time the Mayor told Faith that he'd made a deal to get his box back, Willow had figured out which college she was going to.

It was funny how clear things got when people were threatening to kill you.

~~~~~

Spike shifted from foot to foot. He didn't like this, didn't like the fact that they were actually going to make the trade, didn't like the idea that they were going to trust the Mayor and Faith to do as they promised.

The bad guys never kept their promises. He knew that from experience.

There didn't seem to be another way to do it, though, and Spike was ready to take action if necessary. At the first sign of foul play, he would show the Mayor just how quick a vampire could be. He'd have Willow safe and Faith dead in a heartbeat.

"It's all locked up tight," Oz declared, checking the last door.

Xander grimaced, giving his baseball bat an experimental swing. "That doesn't make me feel trapped."

"One way out means one way in," Buffy said. "I want to see them coming."

As if her words summoned them, the lights went out, throwing the cafeteria into darkness. Spike shifted immediately, the better to see by.

The unlocked doors flew open, and two vampires walked through, followed closely by the Mayor and then Faith with Willow in tow. The Mayor stepped out into the middle of the room, and Buffy moved to meet him.

Mayor Wilkins grinned like a kid. "Well, this is exciting! Clandestine meetings in the middle of the night—I feel like we should all be wearing trench coats."

"Let her go," Buffy ordered.

The Mayor shook his head. "Not until I have my box."

Spike stepped out of the shadows. "Here it is. Come and get it."

Mayor Wilkins looked over at Faith who moved forward, dragging Willow along with her. She snatched the box out of Spike's hands at the same time that he made a grab for Willow, thrusting her behind him. "So this is the famous Spike," the Mayor observed as the transaction was taking place. "Somehow I thought you'd be taller."

"What can I say?" Spike replied. "Compact works better in my line of work."

The Mayor's expression remained affable, but his eyes narrowed. "I can imagine. Somehow I can't imagine that you and a nice girl like Buffy have much in common. You're a killer, a mercenary. You fight for the highest bidder, and she has a sacred destiny." He looked at Buffy. "Where's he going to be when the money runs out?"

Buffy glared at him. "That's none of your business."

"And what happens when you start getting older and Spike stays the same age?" Mayor Wilkins asked. "You know, I married my Edna May in ought-three, and I was with her right up until the end. Not a pretty picture, I can tell you. Wrinkled and senile and cursing me for my youth."

"What makes you think I'll survive to die of old age?" Buffy asked. "After all, I've died once already."

Whatever else the Mayor might have said was cut off by Snyder's entrance and all hell breaking loose.

The policeman who ended up holding the box had apparently never heard of Pandora, since he let his curiosity get the best of him. The demon-spider leaped from the box onto his face, and his screams alerted the rest of the room to the fact that something was loose. Thankfully, the box fell in such a way as to prevent any more of the creatures from escaping.

Spike was not terribly fond of spiders. It wasn't a phobia—he just didn't like them. Seeing the giant, spider-like thing coming out of the box was going to have his skin crawling for days.

It didn't help that the thing had disappeared into the darkened room after the policeman collapsed. Spike felt sorry for the man, but at the same time he felt it served him right for peeking into a closed box when he had no idea what might be inside.

Of course, that left the rest of them to deal with the creature, with no hint as to its whereabouts.

Spike could hear Wesley's whimpers behind him, but he ignored the man, concentrating instead on trying to locate the thing. "Do you hear it?" Buffy murmured.

"No, I—" Spike felt the thing drop down on his back, and he let out a startled, "Bloody hell!"

"Spike!" Buffy quickly yanked it off, throwing it against one wall where it left a slimy trail as it slid to the floor.

"I wouldn't leave that box open," the Mayor warned as another spider-like creature tried to skitter out.

Faith hurried over to the box, slamming the lid shut and smashing the creature. She gathered the box up in her arms, backing away from Buffy and the rest of them.

"Is that all of them?" Oz asked.

"Uh, no," the Mayor said cheerfully. "There are about fifty billion of those little suckers in there. Raise your hands if you're invulnerable." There was no reply. "No? Well, we'll just be going then."

The vampire guards scrambled out the door just ahead of the Mayor, and the remaining police officer followed close on Mayor Wilkins' heels. Only Snyder remained behind, staring at them. "Snyder? You in there?" Buffy asked.

Snyder glared at all of them impartially. "You! Why can't you all be selling drugs like normal students?" He turned on his heel and left.

As the others turned to make sure Willow was okay, Spike slipped back into the shadows and then out the door. There was no need for him to stay.

Not tonight, anyway.

~~~~~

The euphoria over Willow choosing to stay in Sunnydale for college was dimmed by the knowledge that Spike wasn't talking to her.

When Buffy realized that he'd left the cafeteria without a word to anyone, she had immediately called his cell phone in spite of the lateness of the hour.

He hadn't answered.

Buffy called the next day during her lunch period, and Spike still didn't answer. She had made sure to wear her bracelet, and she wanted to be sure that he was going to be at home before she came over after school.

She wasn't sure what to do at this point. Buffy could let Spike be, or she could try talking to him. The Slayer had the feeling that the more mature response would probably be to talk it out, but she really would rather avoid that at all costs.

But she missed him. A lot.

That was why she wound up on his doorstep as soon as she had loaded up on mochas with Willow, pounding on the door when Spike didn't answer right away. "Come on, Spike, I know you're there," she muttered, not quite ready to start yelling at him and risk the neighbors noticing.

Technically, Buffy didn't actually know that Spike was there, since he had been known to go out occasionally during the day. He might be running an errand or looking for information on the Mayor's Ascension, or any number of other things.

Or he could just be refusing to talk to her.

Buffy tried banging on the door one more time, deciding that if Spike still wouldn't answer, she'd just go home.

"Will you shut the bloody hell up?" Spike demanded, jerking the door open and glaring at her. "Some of us are trying to sleep!"

Buffy winced. Spike was shirtless, barefoot, and his hair was tousled, which meant that she'd definitely made him get up. Probably not the best way to begin a conversation.

Of course, he looked hot. Really hot.

"Sorry."

Still frowning, he asked, "So what's so important?"

"I wanted to talk to you," Buffy replied. "You didn't stick around last night, and—"

"You didn't need me there. Red was safe and the job was done." Spike turned on his heel and stalked back into the dim interior, but he left the door open behind him, and Buffy took that as an invitation to enter.

"Spike, I—"

"Are we done?" he asked, a mixture of anger and hurt and defeat in his tone. "Is that what this means, Slayer, because I don't have a sodding clue as to what you want."

Buffy fidgeted, her fingers playing with the bracelet he'd given her. "We're not done, Spike. Not unless you want to be."

"You're going off, aren't you?" Spike asked. "To some fancy school?"

She laughed bitterly. "I was fooling myself. I'm the Slayer, this is the Hellmouth. I don't get a 'get out of jail free' card." Buffy wouldn't meet his eyes. "I thought you were okay with me leaving."

"Okay?" Spike asked. "Not okay. I'd do it if that's what you really wanted, but you said you wanted to stay." The words came out as an accusation, but Spike wasn't sure he wanted to take that back. "You said you wanted to stay, and then—I couldn't find you."

There was more to his words than the simple statement of fact. Buffy hadn't been wearing her charm, and Spike hadn't been able to locate her. It was about her saying one thing and doing another without giving Spike a heads-up. It was about shutting him out.

It was about them living in different worlds, like the Mayor had said. The difference was that the Mayor had no idea what they were willing to give up to be together.

In truth, neither Buffy nor Spike knew the answer to that themselves.

The Slayer couldn't have articulated any of that, but she understood it at the same gut-level that Spike seemed to understand her. Not that she always managed to do her best for the people around her. Buffy knew—based on the very occasional flash of insight—that she could be really self-centered. She could take the people she loved most for granted. It was a measure of her trust for Spike that she believed that he would always be there.

It was a measure of her love that she couldn't imagine him not being around.

"I'm sorry." Buffy hated apologizing, but she knew she wasn't going to get out of it this time. What she wasn't able to say was that it had largely been about watching Willow dithering over all her opportunities to go to virtually any school in the world. It had been Cordelia's snide comments about how Buffy was never going to go anywhere, because there would always be the Hellmouth to guard. It had been the natural desire of an adolescent to get away from home, to go somewhere new. She had wanted that, or thought she had.

But she didn't know how to put any of it into words. Nor could she tell him that the best thing about staying in Sunnydale was his presence.

Spike didn't appear to be mollified in the least. "Wish you would tell me these things, at least." There were the faint signs of a pout on his face. "I don't bloody well intuit these things, Buffy. You can't expect me just to read your mind and know what's going on."

"I know." She winced, knowing that she hadn't done very well by Spike. "I really am sorry."

"Yeah, well..." He trailed off, running a hand through his already-tousled hair, seeming not to know how to take her apology, or what to say next.

Buffy cleared her throat. "I woke you up. I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Spike replied.

They were suddenly back in the awkward stage again, as if they hadn't long since grown out of it. "I should go."

"You don't have to." Spike spoke quickly, not sure why he wanted her to stay, but not wanting her to go either. He was still angry, but he'd missed her company.

Buffy hesitated. "Do you just want to watch TV or something? I mean, you could maybe get a nap in, and I'll just stay for a while."

"That'd be alright," Spike replied, trying to sound as if it didn't make any difference at all whether or not she stayed or went. As though he hadn't just asked her to stick around.

As though his eyes didn't reveal his longing. Spike never had been all that good at concealing his emotions. His eyes gave him away every time when it came to matters of the heart.

That's why he'd liked doing business so much. The heart didn't have to get involved.

"Okay, then I'll—" Buffy stopped and muttered. "Oh, the hell with it."

She had crossed the distance between them in a heartbeat, pulling his head down and kissing him before Spike had a chance to figure out what she was doing. He had been standing there looking so good—she just wanted a taste.

Spike returned her kiss hungrily, his tongue meeting her own. Her hands were doing some wandering, as were his, and when she pulled away briefly to catch her breath, Spike took a step back. "What are we doing, Buffy?"

"We were kissing," she replied. "And we were doing a really good job of it. Could we resume?"

He frowned. "I'm still pissed off."

Buffy sighed. "Then no kisses?"

She was pouting, and Spike felt himself softening ever so slightly. "Don't spring that kind of thing on me again." He glared at her, showing no sign that his anger was fading. "You can't just decide what you're going to do and expect me to go along with it."

"I'm the Slayer, Spike," Buffy shot back, stung. "That's what I do. I make decisions and plans, and then we carry them out."

Spike shook his head. "No, luv. We make decisions and plans, and then we carry them out. I can't keep you safe if I don't know what's going on, and I can't be your partner if you're the one who's always leading." He set his jaw stubbornly, knowing that she could easily tell him to sod off. "And I won't accept less than a partnership, Buffy. Done the other, and it nearly killed me."

Buffy wanted to argue, but Spike had a point. She didn't want him to have a point, but from the expression on his face, he wasn't going to accept less than an equal partnership. If she tried to run roughshod over him, she might still have a patrolling partner, but she wouldn't have a boyfriend.

She didn't want to lose either.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"You're right." Buffy nearly choked on the words. She really didn't like admitting that she was wrong, no matter who she was doing the admitting to. "Leaving you out of the loop is a bad idea." He raised an eyebrow. "And if I forget my bracelet at home again I'll at least give you a call."

Spike's face softened completely, the look in his eyes almost tender. "Don't want to keep you on a short leash, pet. That's not what this is about. We both have our own lives. Right now, though, with everything that's going on, I think we need to stick close together."

Buffy took a deep breath, leaning in towards him, feeling a sense of relief when his arms came around her. "I want you close," she admitted.

"Glad to hear it." Spike kissed her, his caresses creating a slow burn between the two of them. He wasn't deluding himself; Buffy would try to shut him out again. That was just the way she was. Now, however, Spike had a promise that he could remind her about the next time she tried it.

No matter how much you might love someone, it never hurt to have a little leverage.

"My heart is like a singing bird/Whose nest is in a watered shoot;/My heart is like an apple-tree/Whose boughs are bent with thickset fruit;/My heart is like a rainbow shell/That paddles in a halcyon sea;/My heart is gladder than all these/Because my love is come to me./Raise me a dais of silk and down;/Hang it with vair and purple dyes;/Carve it in doves and pomegranates,/And peacocks with a hundred eyes;/Work it in gold and silver grapes,/ In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys;/Because the birthday of my life/Is come, my love is come to me." ~Christina Rossetti, "A Birthday"

Oz was fairly certain that dating Willow had taken at least fifteen years off of his life. There had been the time that she'd nearly gotten burned to death, then the time she'd shown up as a vampire, and now this latest debacle with Faith and the Mayor.

And that was just this school year. There had been plenty of close calls last year too.

The only reason he'd allowed Willow to go home by herself last night was because it was too late to do anything else. Late enough that it didn't even make much sense to go to bed, since they would both soon have to get up for school.

He had band practice the next night, and so it was late evening before Oz managed to meet Willow at the school library. They were all spending as much time researching the Mayor's Ascension as they could, especially given the fact that it seemed inevitable at this point.

Oz couldn't regret making the trade, though. Not when Willow sat next to him, throwing occasional glances in his direction. In response, Oz entwined his fingers with hers.

"Have you gotten your dress yet?" Buffy whispered, obviously trying to avoid bringing the wrath of Giles down on them.

Willow and Buffy ducked their heads, starting their conversation up again as soon as it looked like Giles wasn't paying attention to them. "What?" Willow repeated, quietly this time.

Buffy shrugged. "I haven't talked to Spike about it, and I don't know if he'd even want to go."

"It's not that big of a deal," Buffy said, trying to sound like it really didn't matter to her.

Oz had been a silent participant up to this point, and now he raised an eyebrow. "I will?"

"He'll be okay with it," Willow stated. Oz didn't bother asking how she was going to make sure of that. His girlfriend was wearing her resolve face, and that usually meant she got what she wanted.

The vampire was apparently in a very good mood. Willow had noticed that he was usually either all business or surly when he wasn't happy. Spike only teased when he had cause to be cheerful. Willow was glad to see it, since that would make her job easier.

Her eyes narrowed. "Don't give me that innocent act. I know you've seen enough movies to know exactly what a prom is. You're not that out of touch with pop culture."

Spike's lips twitched, and he started filling the kettle. "Fancy dresses, monkey-suits, bad music, concentration of hormones. Right?"

Willow didn't argue. She merely added, "And a teenage rite of passage. Ours is coming up. You need to take Buffy."

"Don't play dumb, Spike!" Willow scolded. "Every other dance has been completely ruined for her. Spring Fling was when the Master showed up, the ghosts and Angelus pretty much killed the Sadie Hawkins dance, Homecoming was SlayerFest..." She raised an eyebrow. "Are you getting the picture?"

Spike decided that Willow was not going to react well to teasing. She was too intent on her goal of getting him to agree to take Buffy to prom. Honestly, it wasn't something that had even crossed his mind, simply because it wasn't on his radar screen. Since Buffy hadn't said anything to him about it, he hadn't thought about it.

"I want you to make sure Buffy has the best prom ever," Willow replied. "And a tux is required. I already asked Oz, and he said he'd help you rent one."

Spike laughed. He couldn't help himself. "I know how to get my hands on a tux, pet. This won't be the first occasion I've had to go to a black-tie affair. Right before I came to Sunnydale, I—" Spike broke off, realizing that the story was probably not one he ought to be telling to an impressionable young girl. "Point is, I can get a tux."

Willow wasn't sure she trusted him to get it right. "You should take Oz along just in case," she suggested.

"If you like," Spike said, not too bothered one way or the other. The werewolf was good company. "Anything else I ought to know about?"

"Tickets," Willow said, suddenly remembering. "You'll need to get tickets. Or Buffy could get them, but—"

"Let me guess," Spike interrupted. "It's traditional for the bloke to purchase them."

Willow nodded. "Oh, and a corsage, you know. Maybe dinner before if you can manage it."

"I can manage all manner of things, Red," Spike replied. "How about I get you the money, and you can get the tickets for me?"

She smiled, relieved that she hadn't even had to pull out her resolve face to convince him. "Okay," she chirped. Willow paused. "Spike?"

Spike sighed. "Buffy—she's never going to be your typical girl, yeah? And I figure she'll miss out on enough of the things your typical girl gets to do, including having a normal boyfriend." He smiled wistfully. "If I can give her a nice evening—why not? Besides, it'll be nice to be the bloke with the most gorgeous girl on my arm. Haven't had many chances for that."

Willow gave him a sharp look. "What were you like when you were a human, Spike?"

"Wasn't that special," Spike replied, and the look in his eyes made it very clear that he wasn't giving out any more information on that front. "Let's just say that I never made it to any fancy parties with a girl on my arm."

Willow felt a sudden kinship with Spike. She'd often gotten the impression that he was just like her and Xander and the rest under the surface. It made her like him even more. "I'll get the tickets for you."

"Thanks, Red," Spike replied. "And thanks for letting me know about this. Wouldn't have wanted Buffy to miss this because I was a git."

"Oh, I'm planning on it," Spike replied, his expression very much like that of a cat contemplating a saucer of cream. "It'll be a night she won't forget."

Spike gave Oz a wry look as he exited his house. "So Willow got you roped into this, too?"

Oz shook his head. "He's got his own guy he's getting a tux from. I think they're related somehow."

The only visible sign of amusement was the twinkle in Oz's eyes, and you had to look closely to catch that. "I don't know, but knowing his date, he'd better come up to scratch."

"Who's he taking?" Spike asked, more out of idle curiosity than any real desire to know. "Not Cordelia."

"She's got her eye on Wesley." Oz ignored Spike's snort of amusement. "Xander's taking Anya."

"She's new, so probably not." His lips twitched. "She said she found Xander less repulsive than any of the other guys at school."

Oz knew his audience; Spike nearly lost it. "She said that? And he's going with her? Is the boy that desperate?"

He shrugged. "It was Anya or no one. She used to be a vengeance demon or something."

Spike lifted an eyebrow. He'd met a few vengeance demons in his time. He'd even spent a couple of nights with one back in the '30's. They had both been in between assignments, and it had been nice to pass the time with a woman who knew who and what he was. Since she focused mainly on lovers who were cheated on—of either sex—they got on quite well.

Oz didn't argue. Although he didn't think anyone was sorry that there was one less demon to worry about, Spike had a unique perspective that the rest of them lacked. For his part, Oz wouldn't have minded shedding his darker half. The wolf was never something he was comfortable with.

Their conversation basically ended when they reached the formalwear store. Oz had ostensibly gone along to help Spike, but the vampire was obviously an old hand. They were in and out in a little over a half hour, and Oz couldn't resist satisfying his own curiosity when they'd left. "I thought Willow said you needed help."

Spike smirked. "Red thought I needed help." He hesitated, deciding that what he probably shouldn't tell Willow could be confided in Oz. "Last job I did before I came required showing up at a black-tie event. Never pays to buy your clothes for that kind of thing because there's always a good chance it'll get ruined."

Spike was warming up to his story now. "Anyway, I needed a date to look authentic so I hired a girl. Didn't have much in the way of brains, you know, but she looked good." He made a face. "I should have asked for a smart one."

"So I left the girl by the bar with strict instructions to wait for me there," Spike said. "Bought her a drink to keep her occupied and went off to find my target. I had to do a bit of maneuvering to get him alone, since he was a vamp and watching somebody dust tends to rile the crowds."

"True." Oz well remembered watching his first vampire dust, although he couldn't say that he was "riled." More like interested.

"Found him, staked him, and then this screaming started up." Spike shook his head. "Stupid bint had followed me, and she brought the whole place down on us. Had to fight my way out of there, and I had to fight her too while I was at it since she thought I was some kind of freak. Finally had to knock her out just so I could think. Ended up completely ruining that tux." He grimaced. "Didn't even get paid for the job. Bloody bastards said the deal was for me to get out clean."

"Dumped her in a hotel room with the cash for the night." Spike shrugged. "Figured she'd explain it all away. By all rights, I shouldn't have had to pay the chit. She was the one who cost me my fee."

Oz didn't think it was so strange that Spike had paid the woman, even if he grumbled about it. He had a pretty good idea of Spike's character at this point, and he got the sense that the vampire wouldn't leave somebody behind, and he wouldn't cheat them out of what they were due.

At the same time, Spike would probably have no difficulty cheating at cards. It was a conundrum.

Spike shook his head. "Figured we'd get around to discussing it tonight." He checked his watch. "I'm supposed to be meeting her about now anyway."

Oz could see that Spike was impatient to be off, since he was bouncing on his toes. "I've got to get to practice."

Their eyes met in shared understanding—two men who were hopelessly in love with their girls. In the end, nothing more needed to be said.

Buffy shifted uncomfortably. It wasn't like Spike to keep her waiting on his porch. She was beginning to wonder if she shouldn't just start patrol without him. It wasn't as though he wouldn't be able to track her tonight.

She shook her wrist, feeling the cool silver hit the back of her hand. Knowing what she did, Buffy wasn't about to leave it at home again. Not unless she had to for some reason, or Spike was with her.

"Buffy!" Spike came jogging up the walk. "Sorry I'm late, luv. Had to run an errand."

"I'd have called to let you know, but you're not the one with a cell phone," Spike teased.

Buffy rolled her eyes at him. "Talk to my mom. She's the one in charge of that sort of thing."

"Might be able to arrange something," Spike said nonchalantly. "I could point out how useful it would be in emergencies."

"If you can talk her into that, you will be a miracle worker," Buffy replied, falling into step next to him. "So what was your errand?"

"She said prom was coming up in a week or so." Spike gave her a gently chiding look. "Why didn't you tell me it was coming, luv?"

Buffy shrugged. "I didn't think it was that big of a deal, and I know you—I didn't know if you would want to go. It's a kid thing, and—"

"It's your thing, Summers," Spike interrupted. "That's good enough for me. Like I told Red, it's not like I've never gone to a fancy party before. I think you can trust me."

"That's not an issue." Buffy hesitated. "I just didn't want to assume you'd go, and then with Faith and everything else..."

Spike shrugged. "It'll keep for a night." He tilted his head and tucked his tongue behind his teeth. "Could be for a whole night."

Buffy raised her eyebrows. "So that's what this is? You're going to the prom with me just so you can get into my pants," she said, feigning anger. "Just like a guy."

"You know it," he shot back. "Unless you have a problem with that." Spike leered at her. "I've got all the time in the world."

"How long would you wait?" Buffy was suddenly completely serious in one of her quick changes of mood.

Spike frowned slightly, giving the question the serious consideration he thought it was due. "Dunno," he said honestly. "Longer than most maybe. I'd like to say I'd wait forever, but—well, I may not be human, but the same principle applies."

"If it makes you feel any better, I don't think I could wait forever either. I've never been patient-girl." Buffy slipped her hand into his as they started walking again. "Do you ever think about what the Mayor said, Spike? About being immortal?"

He pulled her in closer, putting his arm around Buffy's shoulders. Although Spike appeared to be intent on their conversation—and he was—he was too much of a hunter to completely pull his attention away from their surroundings, ready for any hint of danger.

At the moment, though, this thing between them was more important than demon hunting.

"Sometimes." Buffy couldn't believe she was actually talking about this, but then again she'd developed the habit of talking to Spike long before they'd started going out. Now that they'd seemed to get most of the wrinkles ironed out of their relationship (for the moment), it was easy to talk to him again. "I have a hard time thinking that I'm going to live long enough to make it a problem."

Spike didn't bother to hide his wince, although he didn't tell her not to say things like that, or something similar to shut her down. "You might surprise yourself, pet."

"Maybe," Buffy admitted. "I guess it doesn't seem like that big of a concern right now, you know? Most of the time, I can't see past next week. Thinking about actually growing old makes my brain hurt."

"Sounds like a plan." They walked along in silence for a while, enjoying the night and each other's company. "Spike?"

"Dunno. Thought so at the time, but looking back I'm not so sure. Not knowing what I do now."

Buffy didn't bother asking him what he knew now. She had the feeling that she knew exactly what he was talking about.

Giles opened the door with a warm smile for the woman on the other side. "Joyce."

Their kiss was neither chaste nor brief. "Mmm." She smiled contentedly. "Hello to you too."

"Does Buffy know where you are tonight?" Giles asked, taking the paper bag full of groceries from her.

"Oh, I'm sure," Joyce replied airily. "But since she's with Spike, neither of us are inclined to ask too many questions."

He started setting the fresh vegetables and meat on the counter, trying to decide how to frame his response. It had been his suggestion to have dinner in, rather than going out. As much as Giles enjoyed the physical aspects of his relationship with Joyce, there were many other things he appreciated about her company. Not least was the opportunity to have a conversation with another adult, not surrounded by adolescents.

Well, there was always Wesley, but the other Watcher seemed little more than a child himself at times. Really, the way he devolved to a stuttering lump when Cordelia came around. It was shameful.

That was why Giles had been looking forward to this dinner all day. He certainly didn't want to ruin it right off by sticking his foot in his mouth. "The way you've handled all this," Giles said, struggling to find the right words. "You've been the epitome of grace under fire these last months."

"I mean it," he continued, seeing that she was going to brush off his compliment. "With all that you've had to deal with, I just wanted you to know how much I admire you."

Joyce shook her head. "There's nothing to admire, really. I'm just doing the best I can, just like anyone else would be."

"The fountains mingle with the river/And the rivers with the ocean,/The winds of Heaven mix for ever/With a sweet emotion;/Nothing in the world is single,/All things by a law divine/In one spirit meet and mingle—/Why not I with thine?/See the mountains kiss high Heaven/And the waves clasp one another;/No sister-flower would be forgiven/If it disdained its brother;/And the sunlight clasps the earth,/And the moonbeams kiss the sea—/What are all these kissings worth/If thou kiss not me?" ~Percy Bysshe Shelley, "Love's Philosophy"

"I know." His fingers didn't slow, and Buffy breathed out a heavy sigh, melting bonelessly under his touch.

"We have the meeting." Buffy knew she didn't sound convincing. She didn't want to leave either.

"Then it'll be another five," she responded, echoing exactly what Spike had been saying for the last fifteen minutes. Not that she wanted him to stop. She didn't. Buffy let out a little gasp as Spike found the last knot behind her shoulder blade and pressed, the pain startling her before it was released, leaving behind a very relaxed Slayer.

Spike wiped the massage oil off of his hands with a towel. "Any time, luv." Buffy had come over to finalize their plans for the evening and had made a comment about her neck being stiff. Before she knew it, Spike had gotten out the massage oil. The telephone call about the emergency meeting had come right in the middle of the Slayer's massage, but Spike had insisted on finishing before they left saying that she should be relaxed for their big night.

"Maybe you'll let me return the favor tonight," she suggested, pulling her shirt over her head. When Spike looked pained, turning away to look for something, Buffy put a hand on his arm. "I don't care about the scars, Spike."

He wouldn't look at her. It wasn't that he was self-conscious about his appearance—hardly. It was simply that the way he looked, the scars that marked him, had never mattered to anyone before. Anyone except for him, at least.

Buffy traced the scar that ran through his eyebrow. "So where did this one come from?"

"Where else?" Spike replied. "It was right before the gypsies caught up with us again." He was quiet a moment. "He had a knife and I got in the way."

"I think it's kind of cool." Buffy pressed her lips to the scar, to his opposite cheek where the faintest of lines could be seen, to his lips. "Is it tonight yet?" she whispered.

"No, and if we don't get moving, Rupert will see to it that we don't make it 'til then," Spike said ruefully, cupping her face with his hand. He wasn't quite sure what to say, and that was a rarity for him. Spike wanted to tell her what she had done for him—what this place had done. He felt like a new man.

Spike had always lived hard and lived for the moment. He liked his work, and he liked living the good life when he could.

But what he had forgotten was how it felt to love another person—and he'd never really known what it meant to have someone love you back. Spike hadn't felt this good since Drusilla had first turned him—before he'd turned his mother and tainted his new life, before Angelus had taken his girl away from him, before all of that.

Buffy turned her head to kiss the palm of his hand. "Let's go before Giles sends out a search party."

Xander wasn't sure quite what to think. There was a part of him that delighted in the fact that Cordelia had finally joined the world of the working class. The other part of him, the part of him he actually liked, could see just how difficult this probably was for her.

It would be like Willow losing her smarts, or Buffy losing her strength, or him losing his sense of humor. What do you do when you lose something that makes you, you?

"Bloody hell," Spike murmured as they played the tape through again. "Haven't seen a hellhound in a long time."

Spike nodded absently, watching as the hellhound tore into the boy trying on a tuxedo. "Yeah, guy I knew kept them as guard dogs."

"What happened?" Willow focused on Spike rather than on the TV, not wanting to see the attack again. Buffy was doing the same thing.

"The hellhounds were bred for the Machash Wars," Giles said. "They're killing machines, feeding on the brains of their enemies."

"They are particularly vicious," Wesley agreed. "It's imperative that we find whoever is controlling this beast and stop it."

"What I don't understand is why that thing has such good taste," Cordelia commented. "It chucked Xander and went right for the guy in the tux."

"That's what I'm trying to tell you," Cordelia said. "It doesn't make any sense that something that ugly would know good clothes. Look at the suit. It's got really clean lines."

Wesley cleared his throat. "If we could stay on topic, please." He looked at Cordelia. "What were you doing in the shop?"

"What else?" Xander asked, interrupting. Maybe Cordelia had deserved to get knocked down a peg or two, but that didn't mean that anyone else had to know about it. He knew how badly she wanted to keep her new status a secret. "Burning a hole through daddy's credit card."

Wesley hit the pause button, and Oz pointed at the figure on the screen. He was standing by the store window with a black device. "I think we found our hellraiser."

It took some searching, but Oz finally identified the boy in the tape as Tucker Wells.

"Let me guess," Wesley said dryly. "He was quiet, kept to himself, but always seemed like a nice young man."

"He didn't seem the murderous type anyway," Oz replied. "Something must have happened to him."

"Hey! I got into Tucker's email account," Willow announced excitedly. "Listen to this email he sent to another kid. 'Those Sunnydale High lemmings don't know what awaits them. Their big night will be their last night.'"

Giles summarized. "So we have a threat against students on their big night, hellhounds trained to attack people in formal wear..." He trailed off, realizing where that was leading.

Oz sighed. "As usual, Sunnydale knows how to put the special in special occasion."

"Don't even think about it," Spike warned her. When everybody turned to stare at him, the vampire nearly snarled. "I did not spend good money to rent a bloody suit and get tickets to have my girl cheated out of her big night by some maladjusted git."

Buffy straightened. "Spike's right. We're going to have a prom, and it's going to be perfect. Wesley, go by Tucker's house. I doubt he'll be there, but it won't hurt to check."

"Right, that should be fine," Wesley replied, knowing that he wasn't going to get much else in the way of concessions from her.

"Oz, you said you know this kid that Tucker emailed?" When Oz nodded, she went on. "See if you and Willow can't track him down."

"What about the magic shop?" Spike asked. "Might as well check to see who's been buying supplies to raise hellhounds recently."

"I can go," Xander volunteered, thinking that the dress shop was near by. Maybe he could do something to make up for what he'd done to Cordelia. Just a little.

Buffy nodded. "Good." She glanced over at Spike. "You up for checking out the meat packing plant?"

The guy at the meat packing plant was helpful enough, giving her the address Tucker had his brains delivered to without a lot of questions. As soon as they got the address, Spike called the library. "I'm sorry, Spike, but we've found nothing on our end."

"We've got an address," Spike replied. "The Slayer and I will check it out and meet you lot at the dance. Best not to wait on us."

"You lot have a good time and keep the dance floor warm for us. We'll take care of it." Spike smiled at Buffy. "Between the two of us, we should have this wrapped up in no time."

Spike shrugged. "Giles said he'd pass along the message. There's not much they can do without the information we have, so it makes sense for them to enjoy themselves."

He shook his head. "Let's just get this taken care of. You can thank me when we're dancing."

It was surprisingly easy to deal with Tucker and his dogs. Buffy and Spike arrived just as he released the first hound, and Spike dealt with the beast while the Slayer tackled Tucker. After killing all the demons, Spike dropped Buffy off at her house before driving home to grab a quick shower and change into his tux.

By the time he arrived at Buffy's house, the prom was just starting, which meant that they wouldn't miss much, even if they were fashionably late.

Joyce merely raised an eyebrow, although she thought "pretty well" was something of an understatement. If she didn't miss her guess, Buffy was going to be with the best looking guy there, and she couldn't help but be happy for her daughter. Joyce was thankful that Buffy was going to get at least one normal high school experience.

Joyce knew that he wasn't just referring to that night, and she appreciated the promise. Oddly enough, it seemed that a vampire might be her daughter's best hope for survival. "I know you will."

Spike's gaze went right past Joyce to a point beyond her shoulder, and she turned to see Buffy coming down the stairs. The Slayer had put her speed to good use, and she couldn't have looked better if she'd spent hours on her appearance.

Spike stepped to the foot of the stairs, holding out his hand for her like a true gentleman. Buffy took his hand, amazed that the suave man standing in front of her was the same guy as the punk she'd met when he first got to town. Spike looked incredible, his tuxedo perfect, his hair elegantly mussed—and he was hers.

"You look amazing," he whispered, bringing her hand to his lips in an old-fashioned gesture that made her knees go weak.

Buffy paused to kiss her mom goodnight, and then she allowed Spike to escort her to the car. "This is so weird," she said as they were driving to the school.

Buffy shook her head. "No, not you. Going to prom without having to worry about hellhounds or vampires or demons. Just being—"

"I've told you before, luv, this is new for me," Spike said softly. "I don't know how to do this because I never got the chance to try." He paused, glancing over at her as he cut the engine on the Mustang. "But I want to make this work. I'm a long-haul sort of guy."

They walked inside the school hand in hand, meeting up with Giles just inside the door. "How did it go?"

Buffy wrinkled her nose. "No, that's okay. The food they have at these things is never great."

"I'll get you a plate," Spike said, disappearing into the crowd, leaving Buffy to look after him fondly.

Giles didn't need his glasses to see the glow on her face. "You look lovely tonight, Buffy."

Giles straightened his collar self-consciously. "Yes, well, chaperones are supposed to blend, the better to spy on the students. At least, that's what Snyder assures me of."

"You should have asked Mom to come tonight," Buffy said quietly. "I'll bet she would have been your date."

"Well, I'm not saying I'd be jumping up and down for joy, but—" Buffy took a deep breath, well aware that she was about to blow her image as an oblivious teen. "She's been happier with you around."

Spike appeared just then, juggling two plates and a glass of punch for Buffy, and doing a much better job of it than most of the other guys attempting the same feat. "Here you are."

Spike just gave her a look. "It's about blending in, pet. A little trick I've picked up over the years."

The impending squabble was cut off by the arrival of Willow and Oz. "Buffy!" Willow beamed at her. "You look amazing!"

"Just fine." Spike took a tentative bite out of some hors d'ouevre he didn't recognize and then popped the rest into his mouth. "Got there just in time."

"The lines for the punch," Willow replied. "That's pretty much it. You guys were a lot faster than we thought you'd be."

"We're speedy," Buffy agreed. She put down her plate and cup as a slow song came up. "Let's dance."

Spike wasn't given a chance to protest as she pulled him out onto the dance floor.

He could take a hint. Oz didn't waste any time leading Willow out onto the dance floor. Giles watched the two couples for a moment before joining Wesley over at the punch table. "How did everything turn out?" Wesley asked.

"Quite well, it sounds like." Giles kept his eyes on his young charges. They had all matured quite a bit over the last year or two.

Wesley realized how that might sound. "For a vampire, I meant." He hesitated and then confessed, "I've been doing some reading, you know. I wasn't allowed—it wasn't something I had time for at the Academy. I thought he was nothing more than a myth."

"Hmm," was Giles noncommittal reply. "Spike is much more interesting in the flesh."

"I suppose you will have to ask him." Giles looked across the room to see Cordelia entering, looking just as lovely as ever. She paused as passed Xander, saying something to him that Giles couldn't quite catch. The boy just nodded. It was the most civilized exchange that Giles had seen for months.

Wesley had seen Cordelia at the same time, and he immediately started to fidget. He knew it was terribly improper to even be looking in her direction, but he couldn't help but think that one dance wouldn't be so bad.

Before Wesley could ask the older Watcher what he thought, another student asked Cordelia to dance. In spite of arriving without a date, it looked like her dance card would still be full.

Xander wandered up to the two of them shortly thereafter with Anya on his arm. "Giles! Wesley! How's it going?"

Giles couldn't keep himself from smiling. Xander sounded downright desperate to get a break from his date. Then again, that's what he got for taking an ex-vengeance demon to the prom. "Just fine." He smiled at Anya. "Are you enjoying yourself?" he asked politely.

"It isn't very exciting," she replied. "And I've had better food, but it's not too bad."

"How's that for an enthusiastic response?" Xander mumbled. A fast song came up, and he thought that maybe now would be a really good time to cut off the conversation. "Excuse us."

There were only a few more songs before the DJ cut the music and the MC for the evening walked up to the stage. "What's this then?" Spike asked Buffy in a whisper.

"They give out awards to the senior class," she replied. "I think Xander's hoping to get Class Clown."

Spike pulled her back against him, and Buffy leaned against his chest, her hands gripping his where they rested on her stomach. It had been an absolutely perfect evening, and it could only get better as far as Buffy was concerned. They would wait for the prizes to be given out, maybe dance another song or two, and then slip quietly away.

She was so lost in her thoughts of anticipation that it took Spike's hands on her shoulders to pull her out of it. "Buffy, look."

The eyes of the student body seemed to turn to her at just that moment, and she could sense Spike fading back into the shadows. Jonathan was on the stage now, looking uncomfortable in his role as announcer. "We have another award to give out. It's the first year for this one. I guess there were a lot of write-in votes. Anyway, the committee asked me to read this. 'We're not good friends. Most of us never found the time to get to know you, but that doesn't mean we haven't noticed you. We don't talk about it much, but it's no secret that Sunnydale High isn't really like other high schools. A lot of weird stuff happens here.'"

Buffy turned her head as she heard various students in the crowd call out strange things they had seen, like zombies and hyena people. Whoever called out Snyder's name got a few laughs. She wasn't quite sure what they were all getting at, and her stomach was churning as she tried to anticipate what was coming next.

Jonathan waited for the crowd to quiet, and then he continued. "But, whenever there was a problem or something creepy happened, you seemed to show up and stop it. Most of the people here have been saved by you, or helped by you at one time or another. We're proud to say that the Class of '99 has the lowest mortality rate of any graduating class in Sunnydale history." He paused to allow for applause. "And we know at least part of that is because of you. So the senior class offers its thanks, and gives you, uh, this."

Someone off-stage handed him a miniature, multi-colored umbrella with a plaque attached to its handle. "It's from all of us," Jonathan said. "And it says here, 'Buffy Summers, Class Protector.'"

The Slayer wasn't sure that it was the best moment of her life, but it was close. To hear the applause from her peers, the cheers—to know that they had noticed her efforts—it felt good. No one wanted to be taken for granted, and Buffy knew now that she hadn't been.

As she walked up to the stage and took her prize, Buffy was aware that this might be the only time that her work as the Slayer was acknowledged, but that was okay. She had this moment, and a little something to remember it by.

Buffy looked out into the crowd, and her eyes found Spike. She had no doubt that her night was about to get even better.

Buffy and Spike didn't stick around for long after that. They danced a little longer, snickered over Wesley's stuttered request for a dance with Cordelia, and then they said their goodnights.

The drive back to Spike's place was short, and made in silence. Buffy could feel the quick flutter of anticipation in her belly. She was nervous, not knowing what it would be like this time. Would it be different? Better? What if she didn't do it right? What if Spike was disappointed?

As though sensing her rising anxiety, Spike reached over and laced his fingers through hers. He could feel her racing pulse, and he squeezed her hand. "We don't have to do this."

Spike gave her a long look. "You know I wouldn't hurt you, right? You trust me?"

"Then we're good." Still playing the role of gentleman, Spike went around the car to open her door for her. They maintained contact as they entered the house. Spike locked the door, and Buffy trailed behind him to his bedroom.

When that door was closed, Spike turned to her, and his eyes were so hungry for her, that Buffy felt all her fears melt away. He wanted her; she wanted him.

They didn't speak. Words seemed somehow superfluous to the moment. There would be time enough to discuss the dance, and her prize, and what they felt for each other.

Instead, there were only the hurried movements of their fingers on buttons and zippers, the slow exploration of the other's body, the soft whispers of skin on skin. There was nothing but each other and the moment, and that was enough.

"...Oh, love is a journey with water and stars,/with drowning air and storms of flour;/love is a clash of lightnings,/two bodies subdued by one honey./Kiss by kiss I travel your little infinity,/your borders, your rivers, your tiny villages;/and a genital fire—transformed, delicious—/slips through the narrow roadways of the blood/till it pours itself, quick, like a night carnation, till it is:/and is nothing, in shadow, and a flimmer of light." ~Pablo Neruda, "Sonnet XII"

Buffy woke suddenly the next morning, the spot on the bed next to her empty. She sat up, her eyes searching the room, clutching the sheet to her chest. There was no sign of Spike, and she couldn't help but remember the last time she'd slept with a vampire and awoken alone.

It would be just her luck to have put Spike's soul in jeopardy right on the eve of the next Apocalypse.

"Making coffee and seeing what I had for breakfast for you," he replied, wondering why the Slayer looked like she'd seen a ghost. "Something wrong?"

"No," she replied, trying to ignore her momentary panic. Spike was obviously still himself. "I'm good."

He sat down on the bed next to her, handing her the mug of coffee. "No, you're not." Spike brushed her hair out of her face. "You're okay, right? I didn't hurt you last night, did I?"

Spike pulled back a little, raising an eyebrow. "I don't know, luv. You tell me. I'm pretty sure you were there too." At the hurt that flashed across her face, he sighed. "Sorry, Buffy, but you're trampling my fragile ego here. If you're asking if it was good for me, then, yeah. Last night rates right up there as one of the best nights of my life."

Spike suddenly put together the pieces of the puzzle. "Oh, bloody hell, pet. That's—" He cursed fluently. "You woke up to Angelus."

He kissed her, slow and deep. "Still me," he murmured when he pulled back to let her catch her breath. "I know the kind of mind games that bastard played, Buffy, and whatever he said wasn't true. Take it from the guy in love with you. Last night was bloody marvelous."

They hadn't said the words yet. Sure, Buffy had her suspicions, but Spike hadn't told her that he loved her, even during their lovemaking. "You're in love with me?"

Spike gave her a sheepish grin. "Yeah. Not exactly how I planned on telling you, but—"

She cut him off with a kiss of her own. "I love you, too." The words were easier to say than she thought they'd be, falling off her lips with a naturalness she found surprising.

They stared at each other, neither one knowing what was supposed to come next. Their nervous laughter started at about the same time. "That wasn't so hard," Spike observed.

"No, it wasn't." Buffy glanced away shyly. "I didn't think I'd be able to say that again."

"I didn't either." Spike stroked her cheek. "Wish this thing with the Mayor wasn't hanging over us," he said wistfully. "I'd whisk you off someplace for a bit, just the two of us."

Spike winced. "Yeah. I keep forgetting about that. Speaking of—" He glanced at the clock. "She going to be completely brassed off about you not coming home last night?"

"Mom knew I was going to be out all night," Buffy replied. "I didn't tell her I was coming back here, but I imagine she could figure it out. I didn't want to lie, but—"

"Probably not." There was another self-conscious pause. "Thanks for going with me last night."

Faith didn't ask questions these days. In fact, she didn't even think the questions. It wasn't that she didn't know that what she was doing was wrong. She did. Killing a harmless old man in cold blood pretty much topped the list of "wrong things to do." The Mayor had said the guy needed killing, though, and so Faith took her knife and got to it.

She had started down this road, after all, and now she was stuck on it. Everyone had always said that she would come to a bad end, including her mother.

Faith wasn't going to come to a bad end, though. She was going to be the Mayor's right hand man. There was nothing bad about that. Maybe she'd be evil, but she'd be better off than Buffy and all her little friends.

Besides, maybe it wasn't so bad being evil, not when she had him. Not when he treated her better than anyone she'd ever known before.

Spike came through the sewers, yawning. He hadn't been sleeping for long before Buffy called to inform him that they had a situation and new information on the Mayor. Would he come? He snorted to himself. Spike wished he'd been able to kill Angelus by more unpleasant means than a quick staking.

It was obvious that some of Buffy's more glaring vulnerabilities came from that bastard.

He hauled himself up through the manhole easily. Well, it didn't really matter. It was his job to get Buffy—and the rest of them—through this apocalypse, and then he could take his time making sure the Slayer understood just how wonderful she was.

Spike already had several sonnets floating through his head, much to his chagrin. Not that they were ever going to see the light of day, of course.

He walked into the library to find Anya the center of attention. "You've never seen a demon."

Buffy raised her hand. "Excuse me? I kill them professionally." She held out a hand in silent welcome for Spike. He came over to her side and put an arm around her waist.

"All the demons that walk the earth are tainted, human-hybrids." She shook her head. Spike could smell the fear radiating off of the girl. Whatever she'd seen, it had frightened her badly. "The Ascension means that someone becomes pure demon. They're different."

Anya shook her head, trying to clear her mind of the memories. Xander's mention of the Ascension had her running scared. He had made her come and talk to these people, and all she wanted to do was run. It wasn't like she could teleport out anymore, so she needed to arrange transportation. She needed to leave before this demon rose, because there wasn't anything anyone could do to stop it.

Anya glared at her. "Much bigger! Bigger than you can ever hope to face! Are you even listening to me? If you stay, you will die, which is why I'm planning on getting out of town."

"Stay for just a little while," Giles coaxed. "The more we know, the better chance we have."

"You don't have a chance," Anya said sullenly, but she nodded anyway. "I'll stay for a while, and then I'm going to start packing."

Buffy pulled Spike off to the side once Giles started interrogating her on the rituals they knew the Mayor had been doing to prepare. "We've got a job tonight."

"What's that?" he asked, taking the newspaper from her when she handed it to him, frowning at the headline. For a second, Spike couldn't see the relevance that a murdered professor would have to their current problem, but then he saw that the man had been stabbed to death. "You're thinking Faith?"

Buffy nodded, glad that they were on the same page. "I don't know why the Mayor wanted him dead, but I think we should find out."

Both of them turned to see Willow and Oz entering the library. "Red really doesn't like the girl, does she?"

"Xander issues," Buffy said wisely. "Plus, Anya was partially responsible for bringing Willow's doppelganger."

Spike nodded, then dipped his head down for a quick kiss. "Missed waking up next to you today."

"Poetry is nice," Buffy replied. She might have risked another stolen kiss, but she saw the library doors swing open behind Spike and the Mayor enter.

Buffy wasn't quite sure how Spike moved so quickly, but he was immediately beside the table, putting himself within easy reach of the Mayor and her friends. The Slayer quickly followed after stuffing the newspaper behind a couple of books.

The Mayor was alone, and he paused to admire the stacks of books. "Well, so this is the inner sanctum. Faith told me this is where you concoct your little schemes." He chuckled, and the sound held more menace than laughter should have. "It's so nice to see kids interested in books in this modern age. So what are you reading?" Mayor Wilkins reached for the nearest book on the counter, inches away from Giles.

The Watcher stood his ground, his eyes flickering to the sword that lay on the counter. "'The beast will walk upon the earth and darkness will follow. The several races of man will be as one in their terror and destruction.' Aw, that's kind of sweet. All that coming together."

"You never get even a little tired of hearing yourself speak, do you?" Buffy asked.

Giles grabbed the sword laying on the counter and thrust it through the Mayor's chest in one smooth motion. The Mayor staggered back, but quickly regained his balance, pulling the sword out and wiping off the blade with a handkerchief. "Now, now, Mr. Giles," Mayor Wilkins scolded. "Violent outbursts in front of the children? They look to you to see how to behave."

The Mayor gave her a long, hard look. "I smell fear. That's smart. If it makes you feel any better, some of your deaths will be quick. Don't miss my commencement address." He tossed the sword on the counter and turned to leave. "It's going to be one heck of a speech."

Buffy could feel Spike's hands on her shoulders, providing an anchor. "Cocky bastard, isn't he?" Spike murmured in her ear.

The Slayer smiled a little at that. She took a deep breath. "Giles, I think we need to get started on this now."

"I agree, Buffy," he replied. "But there isn't much we can do at the moment. We don't even know what kind of demon the Mayor is going to become, much less know if he can be killed. If his invulnerability transfers..." He trailed off, and they all took a moment to think about how scary that would be. If the Ascension couldn't be stopped, and the Mayor couldn't be killed, fighting him seemed pretty pointless.

She shook her head. "No, I think I should be the one to let her know what's going on."

Buffy gave her friend a grateful look but shook her head. "Nothing, Wills. There's really not much you can do, but if you could stay available, that would be good. Maybe this professor's death will give us something."

"Then you mean to investigate at the scene of the crime?" Wesley asked. "I don't think it's wise to go by yourself."

"Which is why I'll be going with her," Spike said. "We've got it covered, Watcher."

Buffy looked at Spike. "Do you mind sticking around while I get Mom on her way?"

"Go, luv. I'll be here." They shared a look, and then Buffy hurried out of the library, the others following close behind.

Spike looked at the two Watchers. "Well, we got any plans for how to spend our time?"

Giles picked up the sword the Mayor had tossed down. "How are you with a blade?"

"I want to work off some energy, and Wesley is hardly up to my standards." Giles ignored Wesley's very vocal protest. "Would you mind sparring?"

"Hardly." Spike's eyes glittered in anticipation. He had some energy of his own to work off. The eve before a battle always put him on edge. Spike stripped off his jacket and threw it at Wesley, then neatly caught the sword Giles tossed to him. "Watch and learn, Wesley."

Giles grinned, knowing that he could let Ripper out—for a little while anyway. "En garde!"

"Mom, I can't be distracted worrying about you," Buffy replied. "I need to know that you're safe."

Joyce sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. "And that's not something I get."

"I'm sorry." Buffy sat next to her. "I know I'm not the daughter you wanted. I wish—"

"Buffy." Joyce cut her off. "You're everything I could have wished for, even if this wasn't what I'd planned." She took a deep breath. "I know I'm going to regret asking this but—how was your evening with Spike?"

Buffy knew exactly what her mom was referring to. She had actually arrived home shortly before her mom, who had apparently spent the night at Giles' apartment. They had eaten breakfast together, and Buffy told her all about the prom, but neither of them mentioned not spending the night at home.

Buffy had wondered if her mom would say anything, or if she'd just do the selective memory thing that she was usually so good at. It appeared that they were going to talk about it. "It was really good," she admitted. "He's—he's good to me, Mom."

"I know he is, sweetie," Joyce said, sighing over her little girl's growing up. Buffy wasn't a child anymore; she hadn't been a child for a very long time now. "Do you love him?"

Buffy leaned her head against her mom's shoulder. "I'll keep him safe, and Spike will keep me safe."

Buffy shook her head. "I have no idea. The Mayor apparently sent Faith to kill him, so there was something here he didn't want us to know. What that might be..."

They started collecting what papers and files they could find from the mess Faith and the police had left behind. It was mostly research in language Buffy found indecipherable, even if it was in English. "Volcanoes," Spike muttered, pausing to look at the top sheet of a sheaf of papers. "Odd thing for the Mayor to be worried about unless there's one about to erupt here in Sunnydale."

"Beats me. Who knows what's going on in his head?" Buffy asked rhetorically. "For all we know, he's crazy."

"About as well as you'd expect." Buffy straightened, stuffing one last folder in the box. "She asked me about prom night."

"No," Buffy replied, smiling. "We didn't actually talk about it, you know. It was more like we—talked around it. She's in love with my Watcher."

"They were discreet," Spike corrected her. "Besides, if it was my mum, I'd have turned a blind eye too."

Buffy let him take the box from her hands, and then she fell into step beside him as they made their way back to his car. Spike had been forced to park a couple of blocks away for lack of available spots. "You know what really sucks?" she asked.

"Everything should be good right now," she complained. "I've got a hottie for a boyfriend—" Buffy completely ignored Spike's good-natured leer in response to that comment. "—I'm going to graduate from high school, Mom and I are really getting along right now. I should be looking forward to a summer of hanging out with my friends, but the Mayor has to go and ruin it with a big apocalypse. It's not fair."

Spike considered that for a moment. "Good chance this is the one I was supposed to be here for. If it wasn't for the Ascension, I might never have come."

"Good point," Buffy pouted. "Darn it. Now I have to be thankful for an apocalypse. How messed up is that?"

"Probably not as messed up as a vampire falling for a Slayer," Spike replied dryly.

Buffy rolled her eyes, about to argue over who had fallen for who first, when she saw the arrowhead protrude through Spike's chest. She caught him easily, letting the box fall, looking around for their attacker, but she couldn't see anyone. "Spike?"

"I'm okay," he said through gritted teeth. "Bloody hell! I've been shot more times in the last year in this sodding town than in my entire history."

"That's Sunnydale for you," Buffy said, breathing a sigh of relief. If Spike wasn't dust, he would be fine. "Looks like I'm going to be driving your car after all."

Spike glared at her, but he didn't try to argue. He was in no shape to be driving and he knew it. "Put one scratch on my car, and you're dead meat."

Buffy shook her head, tucking the box of papers under one arm and wrapping the other around Spike's waist. "You do love your car more than me."

Willow hadn't been sure what a person's first time was supposed to be like. It wasn't as if she could ask Buffy what it had been like with Angel, not with how things had turned out. She'd gotten a few details about her night with Spike, but that wasn't really Buffy's first time, so Willow wasn't sure if she could anticipate anything based on Buffy's euphoric look when she'd asked the Slayer if it was good.

It was good, though. It was different than she'd expected, and now she felt different—as she'd tried so eloquently to explain to Oz.

But it was good. Making love with Oz made her feel connected to him in a way she'd never been connected to anyone else.

Even now his hands were gentle, and Willow could feel the steady thudding of his heart under her cheek as she lay against him. The moment couldn't have gotten any better.

After she'd hung up, Willow started searching for her clothes. "Shirt, shirt, shirt," she muttered, shifting the bedclothes out of the way.

"What's happened?" Oz asked. He had already gotten his pants on and wordlessly handed Willow her shirt.

"Thanks," she said absent-mindedly. "It's Spike. Someone—probably Faith—shot him with a poisoned arrow. Buffy needs us."

Oz sat back down on the bed to pull his shoes on. "I didn't think poison worked on vampires."

"It doesn't normally." Willow had managed to recover the last of her clothing and she straightened it out, finger-combing her hair. She really hoped that their activities weren't going to be obvious to the rest of the gang.

She probably should have been looking up spells. If she'd stayed at the library, she could have been researching this poison already. Guilt started creeping in. If they hadn't—

"Stop it," Oz said gently. When Willow looked startled, he smoothed out a strand of her bright red hair. "There was nothing we could have done."

They rested their foreheads together for a brief moment, gathering themselves together. This had been but a brief respite. It had been necessary, and it had been good, but it was only a respite.